The night before I visited Japan for the first time, I didn’t know what I was doing.
My friend had helped me buy a ferry ticket from Busan, Korea to Fukuoka, Japan. But I lived in the top left corner of South Korea, in Seoul, and Busan sits in the bottom right corner of the country.
I got off work around 7:00pm on Friday. The ferry left around 8:00 the next morning. I didn’t know what I was doing.
I knew I wanted to get to Busan that night. So I did. I made my way to the bus station, bought a ticket, and enjoyed the four and a half hour ride across South Korea.
In Busan, I knew I wanted to check out the beach and local strip called Haeudae. So I did. I got on one of the subway lines and found my way around.
On the beach, I knew I wanted to feel the ocean. So I did. After walking through the night life for a bit, I headed to the beach, took off my shoes, and strolled along the coast for about an hour and half.
The bus plus the subway plus the walk plus all the transfers equaled about eight hours. That put me at like 3:30, 4:00 in the morning. I didn’t know what I was doing.
I propped up my messenger bag facing the ocean, broke out another shirt to act like a blanket, and laid down.
It was summer of course, but the night still chilled down. The sand on my back felt especially cold. It didn’t matter so much, though. This was Busan just hours before Japan. I was too excited to care about cold or rest. Besides, I made up the sleep a few hours later on the ferry to the new country.
The whole time, I didn’t know what I was doing. But it worked out.
