Also Not For the Faint of Heart in Asia: Commuting

Since we’re on the topic of commutes, I feel the need to submit a description of mine, which must top the list of smelliest commutes ever, if nothing else. I take the bus to work – a 20 minute ride when there’s no traffic, but it usually takes about 40 minutes – not a terribly long commute here in Asia. There are, however, so many things wrong with the rest of the trip that I don’t even really know where to begin.

Let’s start with the most overwhelming aspect of riding the bus in Korea; the smell. As has been pointed out in a prior post, Koreans admittedly shower about twice a week. They also eat the national food, kimchi (a concoction of garlic, red pepper, and cabbage, all fermented for optimal pungency), at every meal. Korean men, in addition to all that, chain smoke, go out drinking with co-workers every night until they pass out in the street (see photo to right), and only own one suit. I’m not really sure that you can even get an idea of what the amalgamation of all those smells is even like, but let me try and paint a picture for you.

Garlic, spice, sweat, and alcohol emanates from people who have not showered since the night before when they drank themselves into oblivion and woke up only to take a few puffs on a cigarette, have a couple mouthfuls of kimchi, and put the same suit from yesterday back on before hopping on the bus. By the time I get on the bus, its packed to the seams with people emitting near-lethal fumes – and the fact that I have showered and brushed my teeth that day suddenly seems a waste of a good thirty minutes of what could have been extra sleep. The bus drivers, wanting to make sure that my commute is always a particularly painful experience, jack up the heat until I can practically see the stench hanging in the air.

What really makes it unbearable is the total refusal by all the rest of the people on the bus to allow me to crack a window and get a breath of fresh air (something that really doesn’t exist in Seoul, but hey, its all relative). On numerous occasions I’ve reached across the person lucky enough to have gotten a seat on the bus and opened the window – just a crack, I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t want to pass out before I get to work – only to have them glare at me and then slam the window shut. Apparently, Koreans don’t like feeling the wind in their hair. Fine. But the refusal to acknowledge that there are other people aside from themselves on the bus who might be feeling a bit stifled is quite extraordinary.

Finally, throw in a bus driver who thinks he’s driving a mini cooper, and you’ve definitely got a recipe for disaster. On a crowded bus the only thing keeping you from being thrown to the ground if you aren’t holding on for dear life is the unlucky person standing next to you. If the bus isn’t crowded, people are routinely thrown off their feet. It’s a commute that would drive a weaker person to quit their job. I’ve merely resorted to moving within walking distance of the office.