With no-one next to me on the plane and an ocean of black heads in front of me, I welcomed my anonymous solitude.
It was a chance to catch up on some neglected writing and further reading.
In Seoul there was never a quiet moment. Not even on the 'subway' returning from the Sports Complex.
Lost in thought I often studied my map and contemplated a new area of the city to experience, and search out a little Korean meal when someone would tap me on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I speak with you some little English?" a stranger, an inhabitant of the host city, would ask.
"No, go ahead." Occasionally, I did mind; especially as the conversation invariably led the same way. But I was too polite.
"My name is Lin Ho," the straight forward introduction was the most common.
Or else it was, "Can I help you?" This annoyed me; I was never lost, although often wandering aimlessly I would consult my map for new bearings.
Once the ice was broken, the questions followed:
"How long have you been in Korea?"
Everyday my answer lengthened.