My trip to Jeju has been a small reminder of the sort of thing I did on the regular just two months ago, fly someplace I’ve never been and spend a week checking the place out. Now it feels like a weird luxury — it is kind of a weird luxury — and getting on a packed flight to travel someplace else just for the sake of seeing something else now feels decadent, like munching on ortolans.¹ But travel always felt like an improbable gift to me, even before the Coronavirus lockdowns. To choose not to travel, given the opportunity, is unfathomable. I suppose some people feel their world has quite enough wonder and magic in it as it is.² But I’ll never get that.

So I visited Jeju Island, at the southern end of Korea. Jeju is renowned for its natural beauty. It’s a volcanic island, and there’s plenty of nature trails winding through forests and beaches if that’s your thing. Historically Jeju has always been a difficult place to live. The nickname is sammu-samda-do, which roughly translates as “island of three abundances and three absences.” The abundances are rocks, wind, and women;³ the absences are thieves, beggars, and gates.

In contemporary times it’s known as a tourist destination. Until the Korean government liberalized there were extreme restrictions on overseas travel, so Jeju became the de facto tropical honeymoon destination. It’s subsequently developed an impressive and bonkers set of tiny amusement parks, kind of what you might expect if you were to take every mid-sized tourist trap along Route 66 and distribute them around one of the smaller Hawaiian islands.

So I’ve spent some days hiking up and down nature trails and through volcanic caves. And I’ve spent other days touring outdoor museums featuring tiny models of famous buildings, or collections of glass sculpture, or a bunch of sex art.⁴ Just as a break from the tiny AirBnBs I’ve been staying in I had hoped to crash in a semi-fancy hotel at what is a massive discount due to the Coronavirus, but disappointingly much of the hotel was shut down. I saw a total of three other guests while I was there.⁵ No restaurant open means no breakfast in the morning,⁶ and I had specifically delayed doing laundry in the assumption their service would be working.⁷

The advice one wants to give, I suppose, is that it’s important to keep perspective. I’d like to raise a counterpoint; I think it’s important not to keep perspective. Sure, it’s ridiculous to complain about the fact that I have to visit a laundromat or track down my own croissants in the morning. We’re in a global disaster. But it’s not about the croissants. Getting annoyed over trivial things — having your least favorite tea in the hotel room, or the fact that you have to walk an extra three blocks to get to the convenience store that stocks the type of chocolate bar you like — can be its own form of luxury. We spend hours every day terrifying ourselves with news about the virus. Against that backdrop, annoying ourselves with trivial concerns for a few minutes every so often can be a form of self-care.

The big COVID-19 news this week for Korea was a terrifying outbreak in Itaewon. Someone tested positive for the disease after visiting a number of clubs the weekend of May 2^nd. They went out Friday night, felt sick and went to a clinic on Saturday, but didn’t end up getting tested for the Coronavirus until the 6^th.⁸ They had visited three clubs over the course of about five hours, and authorities estimate they probably came into close proximity with over 500 people.

Up until that point, Korea had been under 10 new cases a day, often with no domestic cases whatsoever. This one was a disaster; within 24 hours an additional 18 cases were traced and connected back to this single incident, and there were serious questions as to how effectively the government was going to be able to trace and test all the contacts and the contacts’ contacts quickly enough to stop the spread.

Complicating all this is the fact that the clubs were gay clubs. Korea’s always been a somewhat conservative, insular society.⁹ Homophobia is a problem, and it’s hampered the response to this outbreak in a few ways. Authorities have discovered of the 5,000 names they have for people who visited the clubs that night — you’re often required to sign in to places just in case something like this happens — almost 3,000 are fake. Not exactly surprising if you don’t want people to know you visited, but decidedly problematic if the authorities need to trace you for public health reasons. Similarly, people are very reluctant to come forward voluntarily for testing, knowing it’s quite likely to out them to their friends, family, and employers.

The outbreak’s also caused a predictable flare-up of xenophobia. Four of the first 19 cases who were identified in the outbreak were foreigners. There’s basically zero evidence that anyone from overseas is acting any differently or causing any more substantial risk than locals, but that hasn’t stopped people from throwing around accusations. There are reports of English teachers losing their jobs because parents were suddenly uncomfortable with having them teach children, and at least one long-term American employee of a local corporation has been asked to stop coming in to work for the time being, just to be safe.

Basically the surge in cases¹⁰ caused everyone to be on edge, and that often brings out the worst in a lot of people. The good news is after a tense week-and-a-half the number of daily new cases finally seem to be dwindling; the total number of cases linked to the outbreak is currently at 168, with only 7 being identified in the last 24 hours. The government finally ordered the clubs to close, and things have been getting back to normal.

I’m taking it as a reminder that no place is really completely safe. There’s always an opportunity to miss something, for someone to slip through the cracks and a new outbreak to pop up. This is the reality of life now. Hopefully you’re someplace with adequate testing and tracking that can mobilize and stop them. I’m worried far too many of us are still places where that’s just not possible.

I’m on my way back to Seoul. I don’t know when I’m leaving Korea. I assume not for at least a month,¹¹ and we’re only just starting to see some of the travel restrictions lift. I’m hopeful some options open up, but mindful they may not.

One of the things I noticed while traveling is if I were leaving someplace I’d been for 2-3 days, I’d almost always want to stay longer. If I had been there a week or longer, instead I’d feel a sense of relief, as if I was on the verge of overstaying my welcome. I just feel wired to be elsewhere. I’ve spent nearly two years hopping someplace new every week, and it still feels like I’ve barely seen anything.

At this point, I’ve been in Korea seven weeks. Nearly all the borders are still closed. I’m trying not to hold my breath, but I’ll be grateful to have a new destination.

Next: Seoul (INC) to Dublin (DUB)
Prev: Seoul (GMP) to Jeju (CJU)

Footnotes

¹ I did my level best to travel overland. But it’s a nine-hour trip that involves train and bus and ferry and then I discovered the ferry only leaves once a day and wasn’t sure I could arrange the trip leaving Seoul at 6am and then had trouble verifying the ferry was running and even on top of all that was still willing to try it when I found the website wouldn’t sell me tickets three days in advance for some reason.

A round trip ticket for the hour flight was $50.

² Hobbits, mainly

³ Lots of fishermen died in storms. But even now Jeju is famed for its strong-minded women, many of whom were forced to support their families after their husbands died. The island is maybe best known for the haenyeo — female divers who scavenge seaweed and oysters and other types of seafood from the ocean floor. This became surprisingly lucrative, and fostered a semi-matriarchal society where grooms paid dowries to brides.

Industrialization and better opportunities are finally ending the tradition; virtually all the haenyeos are now over 50.

⁴ Love Land which, okay, I can’t recommend traveling to Jeju just to check it out. But I will strongly recommend you check it out if you’re in Jeju.

⁵ Although there was a wedding party the last Sunday I was there with easily over 100 people, so so much for those social distancing guidelines.

⁶ This is particularly troubling because, although I’ve never really eaten breakfast as a regular thing, I’ve fallen into a habit of eating a large one late where possible and skipping lunch. Without that if I’m staying in I either have to run out twice to eat (and it’s already difficult finding places I can eat) or I end up just grabbing a bunch of junk food from the local convenience store and waiting until dinner.

⁷ One of the pairs of jeans I was traveling with eventually wore out. I’m down to a single pair. I did buy replacements; they’re sitting with a friend whose travel plans were canceled along with everyone else’s. So while I don’t mind doing laundry myself, I often have to wait for days for them to fully air dry, during which I can’t really leave my room.

⁸ I suppose the obvious guess for flu-like symptoms the morning after you’ve been clubbing to 3am isn’t the Coronavirus.

⁹ It’s not called “The Hermit Kingdom” for nothing.

¹⁰ I realize a “surge” of new cases to what at its peak turned out to be around 30 a day is laughable in the context of places like the US or the UK, but all politics is local.

¹¹ My brother has kindly offered to ship me a Nintendo Switch Lite, so I’ll have to stick around at least until that arrives.