I’ve often said that if I die in Korea, it will probably be during a bus ride.
As we careened along one of Gwangju’s major arteries near the bus terminal and squealed around a corner on two wheels, I reached out and grabbed the handle in front of me to stop myself from tumbling into the aisle. This was by far one of the fastest bus rides we had had the fortune (good or bad remained to be seen) of encountering. Once I had prevented my forehead from smashing into the seatback in front of me at the next light, I turned to check on Tamara. She had carefully wedged her feet in between the seat in front of her and the side of the bus to prevent herself from catapulting into the exit stairway at every traffic light. Her hands were braced against her seat to stabilize herself for the wild swings around cars, pedestrians, puddles, and even the occasional corner. The world’s strangest roller coaster…
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