Friday finds us in a van on a mission to the East Coast. (It seems the threat of missiles always sends us running to the sea.) This is our Korean roadtrip. The van is half the size of our apartment, large enough for us to stretch and recline as we watch the dark landscape and ruin our insides with junk foods in true roadtrip tradition.

We arrive at 2AM and check into a motel. Six to a room with blankets and some thin mats on the floor. It feels like a slumber party. Toothbrushes are shared. We sleep in, miss our date with the sunrise.

After breakfast, we walk to the sea. The waves are big, the breeze strong, and the sand coarse. There are some vendors and in the distance a misplaced cruiseship. It sits on a cliff and faces the ocean, some kind of attraction. It looks real enough to trick eyes and brain into a temporary dispute.

We don't stay long, go to a sheep farm instead.

The rest of the weekend is more routine. Essentially loafing, anything but going home. The Koreans have a word for being home and feigning absence. Do they have a word for flâneur?