The 11th Hour

Despite setting the initial move-to-Korea wheels in motion last August, and having an excessive amount of free time to plan, prep, and pack in January and February, I still smacked into the 11th hour way past midnight.  Two open suitcases, a massive duffel bag, a ridiculous amount of shoes (more on that later) and several other miscellaneous items were scattered across the 8th-floor Victoria apartment I’d been temporarily renting.  The PCL to Vancouver boarded at 5 a.m., my flight left at noon, and sleep was not on the agenda.  Thank God for my close friend and packing GODDESS Gaeli, who possesses mad spacial and temporal skills she needs to share with the world. 

In the time it took me to decide which bag was best for stowing my ’09 tax receipts (carry-on), she had folded, packed, zipped, and weighed my life into three tidy packages and stacked them neatly against the wall.  Only a pair of nail clippers, two coins, and a purple lighter remained.

Gaeli the Packing Goddess

We had just enough time left for the important stuff: polishing off our last bottle of grigio, hamming it up for my new camera, and saying a long goodbye under the sky. 

See you on Skype!

Loading my gear into a cab at 4:45 a.m. and taking off across the Johnson Street Bridge, I was a little tired, a little wired, and officially on my own.  Year in Korea, here I come.  No big deal, right?