When I arrived in Korea to begin my mission in 1972 it was mid-August and in the middle of monsoon season. It rained pretty hard for the first week I was there. My transfer to Kwang Ju wasn't scheduled for a week after we arrived, so I spent the first week working out of the mission home. Everyday, the Assistants to the President would take me to an area somewhere in Seoul and have me pair off with those missionaries for the day.
When it finally came time for me to travel to southern Korea to begin my work in Kwang Ju there had to be a change in plans for my trip. Because it rained so hard there had been some flooding and the railroad tracks were washed out. So instead of taking the train to Kwang Ju, I was put on a bus, by myself, and told to expect to change buses half way down once I got to a city called, Chun Ju. Well, it was pretty scary being alone without a companion and not speaking or understanding Korean very well. The trip to Chun Ju was pretty uneventful and I arrived at the bus station without a problem. By the time I got off the bus there was already some old guy who had grabbed by suitcase and had it on his backpack. In Korea, they use a "backpack" that is sort of an A-frame made out of wood to carry things around. This old guy was hoping to make some money by carrying my suitcase. I told him in Korean (at least, I think I told him) that I wanted to go to Kwang Ju. I thought the next bus that I needed to take would be right there at the bus station. But the old guy started leaving the bus station and I was concerned because I didn't know what to do. He eventually stopped at a taxi stand and started giving my suitcase to the cab driver. This had me concerned because I knew Kwang Ju was still far away and a cab ride would be extremely expensive. I told the cab driver (at least, I think I told him) that I wanted to go to Kwang Ju by bus. By the way, all along these guys were talking to me in Korean and I had no idea what they were saying.
The cab drove down the road for a bit and then pulled into another bus station. It turns out that here is where I was to catch the bus to Kwang Ju. Nobody told me that there were two bus stations in Chun Ju. I wonder now if I should have just stayed on the first bus and waited for it to stop at the second bus station. Anyway, I was able to purchase a ticket to Kwang Ju and was soon on my way again. The trip to Kwang Ju was interesting. The road was gravel and bumpy the whole way. I had my cassette tape recorder stowed over my head in the luggage rack. It was enclosed in a fake plastic cover with a strap. When I finally got to Kwang Ju there was a hole worn in the cover where it had bounced repeatedly against the luggage rack.
When I got to Kwang Ju, I got off the bus and went into the bus terminal building to wait for my new companion to arrive and take me home. I waited and waited and waited. Nobody came. I remember looking around at the people in the bus station. All eyes were on me. I was the only me gook salam (American) in the building and must of been quite a sight for these Koreans. It was not that comfortable having everybody staring at me. Eventually a nice girl come up to me and asked if she could help (at least, I think that's what she asked). I told her I was a missionary and was waiting for my companion to come for me. We ended up going across the street to a tea house to see if we could find a number in the phone book to call. I was uncomfortable before, but now I was in a tea house with a really cute girl and was really uncomfortable. We found a phone number for the church and made a call, but nobody answered.
I thanked the girl and went back to the bus station to wait. Finally, I spotted three American missionaries walking toward me and was so glad to see them. One was my new companion, Elder Fisher, and the other two were missionaries that shared our house, Elder Tate and Elder Webb. I can't remember why it took them so long to pick me up. I just knew it felt safe to finally have my companions with me.
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