My worries seem to be for naught. China airlines believe I do not need a visa to get into Korea with my six-month-challenged passport. Why do I dwell on such things? I know I should let go, worry about the more important things, but for reasons beyond my control, my mind spins on these thoughts, reliving fantasies that do nothing to appease the worries. After catching Chuck’s comment on sewcrates, I’m calmer now. How can both Chuck and China airlines be wrong?

Last night, I left Doolies a few hours before the end of her photo shoot, catching a ride back to the apartment with Doolies’s parents. I slept well, even after Doolies returned home and woke me up. I’m sitting in the lounge waiting for my flight to Korea. I’m remarkably well rested and very excited to visit Chuck in Korea. We only have a couple of days, but I’m sure he’ll figure out how to squeeze in plenty of sightseeing and photo opportunities, and, it should go without saying, sake drinking. I think transplants such as Chuck are better tour guides than those born to a place. I need only think how useless I am for tour guiding in NYC. When you’re born somewhere, you tend to take your city for granted and know less about the touristy spots than the big red buses that clog the streets.

I’m babbling now. Perhaps I’m a bit more tired than I believed. I’ll nap on the plane and be ready to hit the streets running. I should have more to say tonight. These travel entries have been disappointingly short.