I've been in my new apartment for just over a week now. Of course, this being Korea, nothing works smoothly. As I'd mentioned previously, no one was too keen on informing where I would be moving or how any of it would go down. In addition to the general pleasure that everyone seems to take in depriving me of useful information, there were some personnel changes made at the GHD and I was assigned a new foreign babysitter.
So last Thursday, I go in person over to the GHD to figure out exactly how the moving process will take place the next day. Unfortunately, my GHD person isn't there. "Maybe you forgot that she is not here on Tuesdays and Thursdays?" Yeah, maybe. And maybe you're just baiting me and trying to get me to get angry and flip out.
I'm finally able to contact my GHD person and learn that I just need to have my stuff packed and proved the security code for the movers. Friday I can meet her and she'll provide me info about where I actually need to go to be reunited with my earthly possessions and begin extended habitation.
Friday, I hand over my old keys and receive and address and information about the commuter buses. Everything seems set. I leave that evening to go to dinner with coworkers relatively confident that I actually do have a home. As I pretty much expected, dinner included a bottle of whiskey and I wound up getting dropped off at my new place at about 1AM.
I get on the elevator and it refuses to move. After some confusion I remember that I never learned the words for 'odd' and 'even' and possibly that is the problem here. Enter elevator on opposite side. Bingo! Brandon + whiskey: 1. Korean language: 0
I find my apartment number. There's a banner beside it and posters on the door. I assume this must be b/c it was recently vacated. Seems strange that they advertised it so heavily since I've been scheduled to move here for quite some time. Oh well. I try the key code I was given. Nothing happens. I try it with various combinations of '*' and '#'. I succeed in making it beep angrily at me. Brandon + whiskey: 1. Korean Door: 1.
With no one to consult, I assume that my inability to open the door is probably a function of the whiskey and resolve to stay in the Mojo Hotel I saw next door and try again Saturday morning. The Mojo Hotel doesn't live up the glory of the Mul Hotel. The room is bigger and costs less, but without surround sound or air temperature control in the bathroom, what's the point?
I awaken earlish Saturday and walk out into the garish red light of the 7th floor hallway at the Mojo Hotel. I feel like crap and want to go back to sleep. I go to the apartment and find a security guard at the information desk. He speaks a little English and I explain that I'm couldn't get into my room and ask if he can show me how I need to enter the key code. He asks what room. I tell him. He tells me I can't live there b/c that's the model room. I remember the banners and am angry. I thank him and call the GHD.
I explain the situation to the GHD person.
"Oh, your apartment is #___. Didn't the apartment people in the show you to your actual room when you got there yesterday?"
The most frustrating thing about being here is that there's really nothing to direct anger at. Yelling at this girl or even asking why the hell she would tell me the model apartment will not really accomplish anything. There will be no satisfaction. Instead I just angrily say I will try it out and call back if it doesn't work and hang up.
Turns out the key code did work once I had the right door. And all my stuff was there. Behold:
My desk is a board stuck in a bookshelf. Perfectly functional, just struck me as odd that desks are sold like that.
The one thing that did make me happy was that my apartment is much higher than the model room I was told. So instead of looking out to see a building, I get this view. All in all, I really like the apartment. As soon as i can figure out where to buy a recliner, I'll be set.