A Series of Unfortunate Events: Korea Edition

I am so sorry to tell you that, as is so often true, nice travel photos don’t capture the complicated reality of traveling to and living in a new country. So here is your (Lemony Snicket-inspired) warning about this post: these stories are all about the inability to be truly understood, the endless waiting around for the slow-grinding wheels of bureaucracy, and the frequent annoyances caused by sheer bad luck.

You will most probably slip into an unbreakable spiral of depression and anxiety while reading this post, so just go ahead and skip to another post that I have kindly decorated with pictures of brightly colored temples and delicious food (like this one). I implore you, if you have any semblance of self-preservation or any remaining joie de vivre, stop reading this post now. Click elsewhere and live in ignorant bliss. You have been warned.

Chapter 1: The Computer Catastrophe

I thought that bringing a newly purchased Dell laptop with me would make my transition to sabbatical so easy – I would have everything I needed for both lab and home right and my fingertips. (Oh, foolish me!) My laptop had other ideas. Perhaps suffering from severe culture shock, it decided to start randomly losing power during the last days of our quarantine. It soon went totally dead and would not under any circumstances power up. (Catastrophe!) My only consolation was that my data was all backed up to the cloud, but now I had to figure out how to get my computer repaired in Korea. (How fun!)

When I contacted Dell support to see if I could get a warranty repair, I was told that since I had relocated to Korea for more than six months, I needed to transfer my warranty to Korea. (Delightful.) I followed their instructions and after getting some conflicting information from US and Korea support over several days, I somehow attained a warranty registered in Korea that would cover the repair. I knew I was successful because when I logged into the Dell support website everything was now in Korean! (Bonus!)

That was just the beginning of the fun of course, because I foolishly moved to Korea without being able to speak or read a word of Korean. The support team had mercy on this poor linguistically challenged American. They (very quickly) figured out that my Korean language skills are quite hopeless and that I needed English support. They forwarded me to a tech who was based in Singapore to help me on the phone. He ordered an in-person repair visit, but the scheduling department had to call to set up the day and time. When they did, my inability to communicate quickly led to the suggestion of an email exchange (where we could both rely on translation software).  Sure enough, the next day a Dell repair tech visited at the appointed hour and replaced my motherboard in 40 minutes. My laptop was miraculously restored to life! (Dare I hope again?)

Chapter 2: The Visa Vexation

During this bleak and computerless time, I went to SNU for my first in-person meeting with my colleague Yuhno Lee, whose lab I will be working in during my sabbatical. (Why are you still reading this? I warned you!) Yunho and I chatted for a while, and I could tell he was slightly hesitant to bring up a (not so) small problem: the visa that they had gotten for me was not going to work. (Magnificent!) In turns out that my visa would not let me be employed by both SJU and SNU at the same time. Without some sort of official status at SNU, I would not be covered by insurance – vital in the event of any laboratory accident. (What a happy thought!) Thus, I could not start working in the lab immediately. (How vexing!) Luckily, we could get the visa changed with a visit to the Seoul Immigration Office. (Sounds lovely! What could possibly go wrong?)

A few days later, Yunho picked me up and had Jonghoon, his postdoc and most senior member of the group with him. We headed to the immigration office, and I was not sure into which circle of hell we would soon arrive. I’m still not sure which circle it was, but I now know that going to the immigration office during a global pandemic is a great way to induce a panic attack. The waiting room (imagine a DMV with crippling wait times) was packed – not much social distancing was in effect – there were simply too many people. The normal procedure when visiting the office is to sign up for an appointment, but with the first available appointment several weeks away, we chose the only other option: take a number and wait in a long line. (Cool!)

Mercifully, Yunho had a plan: an early lunch to kill time while we waited. We went to a nearby restaurant for lunch … followed by a leisurely coffee at one of the few open coffee shops … followed by a protracted wait in Yunho’s car for an additional two-and-a half hours. As my number approached, Jonghoon took me inside with all my paperwork in hand and once we were called, navigated the entire process for me.

Thus, a mere five hours later we had accomplished our goal – applying to change my visa. Of course they didn’t just hand me the new visa. On no, that would be downright convenient. Within only four weeks, I can go back and pick up my Alien Registration Card (ARC) at the same office. (Hooray, something to look forward to!)

In the meantime, I am left to take my time to orient myself to the Lee lab. The postdocs and students are showing me some of the standard lab preps, procedures, and instrumentation. I’ve been participating in group meetings, getting to know the group members and reviewing the latest literature in the field. I anxiously await the text message that will inform me that my ARC is ready. (Oh grind away wheels of bureaucracy, grind way!)

Chapter 3: The Camera Calamity

Not long after my computer broke, I was greatly consoled by the fact that I could still take photos even if I was unable to edit them on my laptop. (What a foolish thought!) It was only a few days later that we visited the Seolleung and Jeongneung Royal Tombs in Gangnam and the next disaster struck. My Canon SLR camera began persistently giving an error saying that it could not communicate with my lens. Foolishly, I only brought this one lens with me seeing as it is my most versatile. I tried everything I could think of to fix it, but no luck. I could not take any photos. (Calamity!)

Despite this bad luck, Seoul is a big city and our apartment is within a few subway stops of Namdaemun Market where countless camera shops are located. Being a bit wary of rolling the dice with a random repair shop, I located the official Canon store and we made our way there. They quickly directed us to the third floor where I handed my camera to the man behind the counter. He pointed at my lens and indicated the inside of the lens – saying “flower.” I gathered that he was referring to the aperture mechanism that opens and closes to change the amount of light that is let into the camera. He typed in the repair cost into a calculator (the equivalent of $100) and said “two days.” I gave him my Korean phone number, and he took the lens and gave small slip of paper with my name written as “frter.” (Seems legit. What could possibly go wrong?)

Somehow, in spite of being led astray by foolish optimism in the past, in exactly two days I received the call and went to collect the lens, which was restored to working order. At least in these difficult times as I await the wheels of immigration bureaucracy to grind out a piece of paper that says I am not an illegal person, I can both take photos and edit them. (What a small comfort in a cruel, cruel world.)

Epilogue

(Why are you still reading this? Did I not scare you away with my inauspicious adventures?) Now you are probably feeling just as I do: utterly at the mercy of life events beyond my control. (What an annoyance!) Such is the life of an unlucky traveler – doomed to wander helplessly into each strange and possibly disastrous day. Destined to rely on the kindness of new friends and every stranger he meets. Even as I write these concluding lines to this depressing post, I receive the long-awaited text. My visa change has been approved. I can once again experience the unparalleled joy of returning to the Seoul Immigration Office in only two weeks’ time. (What a fitting end to this series of unfortunate events.)