So I married an Arab oil magnate

Last night at midnight I arrived in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Unfortunately, I had not achieved my goal of finding a rich European duke to marry while in Germany. Mohammed will have to do. His family seems very kind and welcoming. I think I will quickly accustom myself to the traditional dress, though at times it is quite hot. At least at night under cover of darkness, Mohammed allows me to remove it.

Okay, actually, I failed at both of my goals: I found neither a rich European nobleman to marry, nor a job in Germany. So I came to Seoul, South Korea, via Dubai on Emirates Airlines. It was so posh! Every seat has its own flat-screen tv with satellite programming. For the first time in my life I ate delicious airline food. It was an excellent flight, despite the digestive problems of the German man sitting in my row. At one point, I had to open my little overhead air blower and just point it directly at him.

I arrived in Seoul amidst dreary grey clouds and a soft misting rain. My bus to Anyang passed mile after mile of tall drab tenement complexes. The only thing standing out against the landscape were the blood-red neon crosses topping every church steeple. I'm not sure if they're supposed to be inviting or scary.

It's 4 am and I can't sleep for the jetlag. Leslie's living space is a tiny studio apartment barely big enough for one person, so I'm trying to type quietly. We both agree that the quickest way to end a friendship is to live together in a studio apartment. I need to find a job/apt. asap.

So I've abandoned one land of socks with sandals (Germany) in favor of another land of socks with sandals (So. Korea). To me, it's fashion suicide. Leslie says she has come to like it. I replied, "Who are you and what have you done with my friend Leslie?"