The Vienna pictures are dominated by Schönbrunn Palace. It was completely overwhelmingly huge, and it was only a summer palace. Those Habsburgs lived in style.
On the “return to Korea” front, despite my persistent jetlag, I return to work, at the same job, tomorrow. My coworker is off to Canada for his vacation, and I’m working with someone that substituted at the school last year around this time.
I can’t say I’m looking forward to going back to work, as my boss asked me if I wanted to spend several hours covering classes for my vacationing coworker I have no interest in teaching late into the evening. (Good thing I have an approval clause in my contract! Stay till 9:30? No thank you.)
We dropped off gifts to our Aunt’s house today. There is a sort of common agreement, they slip you some bonus cash as you are leaving for the airport then you have to get souvenirs for relatives. The last time, when we went to Cambodia, we didn’t get something for a boy, and he sulked for a week. He asked for a “Macgyver knife”, meaning a Swiss Army Knife, when we returned. We got knives for every male in the family, complete with engraving. Good, small, easy to pack gift.
We were a little worried when we saw the customs check list. The form asked if you were bringing in any “guns, knives, ammunition, radioactive material, or anything to be used for terrorism.” We asked the stewardess, and she said we have to check, “yes”, even for something like a pocket knife given for a gift. Then, when the plane was landing, there were even videos about how strict customs was, and that no fruit or vegetables would be allowed into the country.
When we got to the baggage station, there were dogs roving around checking bags and everything. There were more customs agents working when we arrived in Incheon than I had EVER seen in all my previous trips combined, and now we had a check in a box saying, “Yes, I’m carrying lots of KNIVES”.
We got up to the customs line, and the people in front of us were routed to a checking station. They were a family of three, with lots of baggage. We handed the customs official our checklist, and she waved us through. I thought she was pointing to some dark, undefined location I couldn’t see as she moved her hand through the air. “Where will I be anal searched?” my eyes followed her point. To the exit.
“Just go through. No check.”
I’m not sure if her eyesight was bad, or that I had listed Switzerland and circled knives in the checklist to try to give her a clue why we were carrying such items with us. In either case, she didn’t care, and we walked out of the airport much relieved.
