When my eyes opened to yet another Monday, I was overcome with anxiety once more. The sporadic bursts of lightheadedness hadn't faded. Recovery had been inadequate. Nevertheless, I peeled myself away from the safe cradle of the bed and proceeded with preparations.

​It was a gloomy, gusty day. A handful of employees had likely extended their long weekend by one more day, for the parking garage was noticeably empty.

The mid-morning saw a "coffee walk" around Square One. At first, I had wondered why all retailers were still shuttered. In verifying the time of day, I realized I had never once roamed the mall quarters at the early hour of 9 AM.

A few select establishments were open, namely Walmart, Tim Hortons, and Au Pain Doré.
Promotional posters for Hot Cross Buns at the latter caught my attention initially, but the Chocolate Moelleux was the item ultimately acquired from the short-lived saunter.

The cashier depicted the specimen with a "chocolate mousse"-like texture. However, sampling the extra-dense portion with a tongue depressor wooden spoon back in the office, it was found to be an incredibly rich ganache instead.

The aluminum container in which it resided was greasy on the outside and lined with specks of granulated sugar on the inside. Having not dissolved completely during the baking process, one could perceive visible patches of condensation incited by the sugar particles along the interior circumference.
Served chilled, the Chocolate Moelleux resembled a hybrid of a ganache and an upright molten lava cake. Interestingly, the ganache was not uniform, instead featuring a viscous yet pliable centre and fully set edges. There weren't any distinctively alluring elements to the concoction, thus I deemed a repurchase at $4.75 plus tax to be unwarranted. For my purposes, I could create a similar product with minimal effort using excess ganache.

I returned to am excruciatingly long morning, which led me into noon. The immediate task at hand was dropping off donations at Hazel McCallion Central Library. The convenient drop-off location constituted the ideal opportunity to participate in the city's Recycling Collection Drive.

Afterwards, I braved a drizzly trek into the mall.
While there were a number of ongoing sales and promotions, MEC offered not a single cycling glove for testing and evaluation.

That evening, I decided against a second consecutive office day. Woes were drowned in Black Sesame Glutinous Rice Balls with yellow cane sugar syrup.

Emerging as a consequence of my work-from-home breather were Ginger Molasses Cookies, the sole recipe from Smitten Kitchen Keepers that I've crafted again and again.

There was two deviations from her recipe: my go-to substitution of fresh ginger for candied ginger and the not-so-novel inclusion of Gingerbread Finishing Sugar in addition to turbinado for coating. Any increased gingerbread-y essences were indistinguishable, and the cookie was rendered utterly cloying as a result.

​I paired the batch with the last of two packs of Drip Coffee from 곁에, relishing in the beverage more than the staggeringly sweet specimen in hand.

With great power comes great responsibility.
Unfortunately, in my case, only one applies. (Hint: It's not the former.)

​Following a brief break of snacking and matcha latte-ing, I entered into my new position without too many thoughts. After all, I had just returned from vacation not long ago, with the strike-related concerns chasing its start.

​Glad I was to now be granted a far nicer commute of twenty minutes. That said, I was utterly unaware of the situation that would unfold over the subsequent few days.

​The office was great - a tall building with underground parking, separate towers for public and security-controlled access, and brilliant views of the surrounding scenery. Of course, Square One was in extremely close proximity as well. Most of the open cubicles had been equipped with modern setups, including charging stations supporting Type C, universal docking stations, and sit-stand desks. IT was great too - many topics of interest were digitalized and easily accessible by employees old and new.

However, the downsides of the new position soon became evident.
For starters, the workload was beyond imaginable. The team comprised of just four in total, myself included. The transition of responsibilities would ensue before I was even fully onboarded. Worst of all, I'd be left in the dark about IT equipment, benefits, mandatory training, and more.

I had little to no time alone on my first day, which I hardly expected. At least I'd be left to poke around the intranet, or so I thought.

A lengthy morning meeting eventually led into noon. I departed for the mall for errands, not knowing it was just a five-minute walk away. The trip between Square One and Celebration Square always averaged at least ten minutes by car.

After procurement of Lindt couverture, I was due to return for my second round of "training" meetings, wolfing down a Gold Bunny just prior.

With my days of being a valid TPL cardholder coming to an end, I began to review outstanding destinations of interest on the TPL Map list. The Toronto Zoo surfaced as a candidate of value, given that no other known source would grant complimentary admission. (PRESTO perks would save 20% at best.)

I successfully reserved a Saturday spot prior to vacation, but, as the day of the planned visit drew near, I found fatigue overwhelming me. There were few days remaining until the job transition, and tirelessly had I slaved within the walls of my house to accomplish all the tasks outstanding.

Grudgingly, I went. Departing at the early hour of 9:30 AM had been my proposal, for risking loss of exercise time was not in the agenda. In the face of inadequate rest, I slid into the passenger seat reluctantly, eventually dozing off periodically with my head bobbing involuntarily over the course of the commute.

There was minimal traffic along our route. By the time we had pulled into the asphalt lot, it was just 10:16 AM.
"Let's leave at 2 PM." I announced.
My browsing partner had nodded in acknowledgement, however I knew it was too good to be true. The concept of time is finite for me, yet (regrettably) fluid for others. As expected, we wouldn't be able to depart until every section of the zoo had been covered. In this sense, it worked in my favour that not all sections were viewable by the due to climatic needs of animals.

​The entrance of the zoo was different from my recollection, likely since ongoing construction resulted in pedestrian detours. Traversing from the parking area to the entrance involved meandering about construction fences at dedicated pedestrian crossings. Signage was ample, thankfully so, as the crossing was situated at the parking egress area, just before the toll gates.

Parking was charged at a flat rate of $20. Visitors had the option of paying via QR code or upon exit with the assistance of a staff member.

​The entrance area was bustling with families with young children even within the attraction's first hour of operation. That said, I found the bathroom facilities quite pristine; whether or not it was owed to the early hour and comparatively lower visitor volumes is uncertain. Kitschy and inviting was the underwater theme. I also appreciated the hooks along the counter for placing bags while handwashing and a hand-drying mechanisms built into the counter, one allocated per faucet and soap dispenser set.

Maps were positioned throughout the facility: one providing an overall view of the zoo grounds and another providing a detailed view of the area in which one was standing.

​I was utterly indifferent to our itinerary, given that my presence was to enable entry (presentation of library card and reservation email; no ID required) and accompany my browsing partner in the leisurely browsing of animals. Had I been visiting for the first time, my approach may have been different, and my response energetic instead of lax.

​Australia was up first, primarily due to its proximity to the entrance/"Discovery Zone".

View the full album HERE !

Ingredient preparations finished the previous day, Sunday would mark the busiest of all weekends with nonstop baking and chores.

A total of three projects would ensue at 9 AM sharp:

1. Granola
2. Matcha White Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies
3. Tiramisu

​The cookies would be produced in bulk, intentionally for the purpose of bidding farewell to all those on my floor. On the other hand, the Tiramisu was an exclusive gift for my supervisor, who had played a vital role throughout my time from the very first day. With the pâte à bombe using two egg yolks, I saw the opportunity for another batch of scale-free granola.

Matcha White Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies

The cookies were adapted from Sunday Baking's 1 Batter 4 Types Korean Famous Ugly Cookies recipe. Instead of splitting the dough for different flavours, the base would be kept consistent for one large batch of matcha cookies.

Theoretically, the total cookie dough base should have weighed in at 350 g x 4 = 1400 g

Add-ins were scaled up 4x as follows:

•  ̶3̶2̶ ̶g̶   → 24 g matcha powder *
•  ̶1̶2̶0̶ ̶g̶  → 130 g chopped white chocolate
•  ̶1̶2̶0̶ ̶g̶  → 130 g toasted hazelnuts

​Yield: 50 cookies

Baked across four trays, the total yield was 50 cookies of roughly 2 inches in diameter. Due to the high proportion of baking powder, the cookies domed instead of spreading. Surface fissures were apparent across all batches; browning was particularly evident on the trays baked for longer. That said, the interiors did not vary vastly in moisture levels in spite of the noticeable colour change.

​I found the cookies generally tasty, but lacking in chocolate and subdued in grassiness. That said, not everyone enjoys the intense complexity of matcha, thus the resulting subtlety may have actually worked in my favour for office distribution.
Textural variance was minimal, as the specimen was mostly dry and crunchy. The amount of baking powder can probably be reduced to enable a soft, pliable center in the next iteration.

Tiramisu

Tiramisu is a creation whose authenticity is often overlooked in favour of simplicity. In reality, the traditional variation is hardly a last-minute compilation.

​Life lately has been exhausting to say in the least. Following my return from vacation, I've been keeping busy with plenty of transitional items, making the most of my last few trips downtown, and, of course, resuming routine as I know it.

While I've yet to review majority of my trip content, flashbacks of fond memories occasionally surface in my mind, paving the way for impromptu creations and detours.

Biscoff Basque Cheesecake

With strong impressions left by Wonder Cookies' vanilla-laced Basque Cheesecake and cream cheese readily available in the fridge, setting out to compile a Biscoff Basque Cheesecake took minimal effort.

Adapted from Sunday Baking's latest Basque Cheesecake formula, my rendition would omit vanilla bean and use 130 g of Crunchy Biscoff spread instead. In place of whipped cream, I substituted an equal amount of evaporated milk by mass. Indeed, evaporated milk is thinner than heavy cream, thus results in a reduction in fat content - and likely silkiness as well. That said, I'd like to think that the incorporation of the Biscoff spread compensated for smoothness in texture (due to existing stabilizers) and enhanced stability.
My final deviation from Sunday's recipe was omitting the step of straining the mixture, as this would separate the biscuit bits of the Crunchy Biscoff spread.

​Sunday instructs baking the cake in a convection oven at 420 F for 20 minutes. By this point, I have learned that my ever-unreliable standard-sized convection will never accomplish the job satisfactorily. The countertop toaster oven was set to 425 F, and my 7.7 inch Instantpot pan was slid within.
I had used a baking temperature of 425 F due the oven temperature settings increasing in intervals of 25 F. After 20 minutes of baking, I used the Broil function for about 1 minute, but quickly cut the heat to prevent the edges from setting too quickly.

The subsequent step was arguably the hardest: Waiting.

The cake was allowed to cool to room temperature on the stovetop before being transferred to the fridge, where it would rest until the next morning.

​After a grueling 23h wait, it was time to reveal the results. Patience had rewarded me: The cake was fantastic - absolutely perfect! 

Read Part 1 HERE !

While it may seem surprising that I embarked on this trip without a comprehensive list of POIs, the main objective was, simply, to move freely. 

For the Jeju leg, in particular, I hadn't scheduled beyond the Hallasan hike and O-Sulloc Tea Museum/adjacent Innisfree boutique. My goal was to enjoy a scenic coastal drive along the perimeter of island, regardless of which side, and I requested in earnest for this to take place at every possible opportunity. Not being the driver though, I had little control over how things would unfold.

​My browsing partner had expressed an interest in roaming the Jeju Stone Museum, to which I had no oppositions. We selected an eatery in close proximity to the museum and made our way over from Gimnyeong Beach. Again, the asphalt was remarkably smooth and intact, while the pavement markings sharp and pristine. Within the boulevard was a multi-use path, distinguished with blue line paintings and separated from the roadway with planters and an abundance of signage.

​Nangtteule Shimpang involved an approximate thirty-minute drive, leading our eventual arrival to be past the 1 PM mark. We parked across the street in a vacant gravel lot, but there was a total of seven spots directly in front of the eatery as well. Parking beyond the designated rectangles parallel to the direction of travel wasn't uncommon either. In true suburban fashion, parking appeared possible where plausible.​

The menu was posted outside the sliding doors of the restaurant as well as within.

Upon being greeted at the door, we were gestured towards a four-person table. Tissues and utensils were already present at the table's edge. Warm water, individually packaged wet wipes, and cups would soon follow. An ordering slip was also presented on a narrow clipboard, presumably corresponding to our table number.

The front-line staff comprised of a few young men clad in black t-shirts and at least two middle-aged men. One of the older staff neared our table to take our order, though we hadn't yet decided at this point. The situation would be repeated with a younger member of staff, until I finally relayed our request of the Nangtteul Jungisk.
At first, the server responded with concern, as there was a minimum order of two Jungsik sets. I nodded my head in acknowledgement and changed the count on the order slip from one to two. Traditional Korean meals are often configured to have minimum order requirements, though I had initially believed my markup automatically indicated a two-person portion, each priced at 15,000 KRW.

​Orders of jeon were foregoed, for the size described was larger than our appetites could stomach. That said, I adhered to a single order of makgeolli, not knowing 3000 KRW would entail a cauldron-sized portion. 

While sixteen dollars would earn me a Stainless steel teapot at best, my mouth dropped agape at seeing the ceramic vessel and accompanying wooden ladle. Thankful to have a chauffeur, I summoned my grandest efforts to deplete the medium-sized pot.
Past experiences with homemade makgeolli had informed me of its staggering strength. Meanwhile, I had never met a bottled or canned version that hadn't led to nausea and discomfort.

But this rendition was unlike any of the aforementioned varieties. For starters, it was delicious! - a balanced, milky composition with neither excessive sweetness, bitterness, nor grittiness. Three bowls vanished with ease. I even managed a fourth and part of a fifth before reaching capacity. After all, I would require sustenance in conjunction with the alcoholic beverage. Had I been sharing the pot with another appreciator of liquor, it would have been depleted swiftly.

I awoke to sunshine and a beautiful, glorious morning. Jeju during daytime was drastically different from the night before, and our chosen pension admirably accentuated its beauty through strategical incorporation of windows and skylights.

From the second floor, one could relish in the gradual overtaking of dawn - where darkness transformed into a lush, breathtaking field, where azure waters could be spotted in the distance, and where sunlight peeked through intertwining layers of cloudy mass.

Jeju was stunning.

​Getting ready in the sauna-style facilities also set the tone for the day. Seemingly boundless blue skies could be seen through the ceiling cutouts, instilling a sense of cheeriness and excitement.

​Two sets of outdoor slippers were provided on a shoe rack, while exactly two chairs were tucked underneath the square table. At the far right of the patio was a barbecue station, while the left a view of the (paid) indoor-outdoor private pool.

Coffee was prepared from the Kanu sticks previously procured from Lotte Mart. Each of us took to a flower-adorned ceramic mug from the array above the sink to enjoy the aromatic beverage.

​The internally soiled, red microwave on the countertop seemingly doubled as a toaster oven, with knobs to adjust baking temperature on the side. Tous Les Jours' Chestnut Pain Suisse was successfully reheated using the mechanism. Its surface was delightfully crunchy, featuring the covetable strips of crispiness seen in Le Génie's atrociously pricey rendition, while the cross-section flaky and encasing a subtly sweet chestnut paste. The creation was simultaneously the best item of the bakery haul and a satisfactory start to the day.

Read Part 2 HERE !

​"Pick a place to eat." I had said. In retrospect, it would have been easier to decide upon a place then lead the way to the car.
My browsing partner was sluggish to budge and took no initiative to settle the issue of supper, only lamenting that the proposed options had been deemed unacceptable by me. And they were: grilled meat spots and homestyle Korean fare that we could eat in Seoul shouldn't be chosen over local finds of Abalone or shrimp sashimi. Of course, my suggestions of these delicacies had been turned down without remorse as well.

Eventually, my suggestion was accepted and realized. Naver Maps did not include hours for all restaurants, thus we would need to venture out and confirm personally. The sun had set completely by this point, cloaking our surroundings in an ominous dark veil. The rural roads were devoid of streetlights; the rental car's headlights were our sole source of illumination in navigating to the main road. Intensely tinted windows did not help our case.

In the nearby Sehwa business area, we found a Public Parking Lot. The lengthy paragraph underneath could not be quickly deciphered while driving by, thus we relied on tools such as Papago and Google Lens to explain the restrictions. Truthfully, the chances of being ticketed were low. Not only was the lot was deserted, we did not encounter a single soul during our short-lived stay. Temperatures had plummeted to the high single digits, while strong winds made walking unenjoyable.

​Practically every eatery on the premises had shuttered for the evening. Our eyes brightened at the sight of an illuminated restaurant. We pulled open the sliding door excitedly, only to lay eyes on an empty seating area. An elderly man called out to us, "끝났어!" They had ceased operations already.

Instead of departing immediately, the adjacent gift shop piqued my curiosity. In I went without a moment's hesitation.

The unexpected stopover revealed a plethora of unique, handmade trinkets, eventually assuming my favourite souvenir stop of the trip. From tile magnets to Stone Grandfather and Hallabong plushes, I ecstatically plucked various items from the shelves for purchase.

​When it came to confirming price or stock availability, I was able to communicate with the lady behind the cashier without issues. All the items were reasonably priced, with wallets at 10,000 KRW, cartoon coasters at 8,000 KRW, and tile magnets at 6,000 KRW. I also acquired the last Hallabong decorative 수새미. Originally positioned for display purposes only, the staff member had no qualms whatsoever packaging the handmade item for sale.

​My final bill totalled 59,500 KRW - about half the price I would have paid for a handful of souvenirs in North American cities. As a token of gratitude, I received a complimentary carrot pen. Pyeongdae ri was known for carrots, after all.

​Pitch black were our surroundings. By navigating towards the main road, we chanced across the Sehwa Beach and a nicely delineated pedestrian walkway along its south perimeter.

​I slept past 1 AM after hair-washing and bookkeeping needs. One is likely to believe that I would fall into a deep, uninterrupted slumber given the previous 48 hours, but this was hardly the case.

Although the room was cooler this time around, quality of sleep remained poor. My browsing partner had turned off the fan at the foot of the bed. Towards the middle of the night, I turned it back on, but forgot to aim the base in my direction, nullifying its cooling effects.

Around 5:50 AM, I awoke, then continued sleeping fitfully till 6:34 AM. By this point, I could no longer resume rest and resolved to fight through the fatigue.

Gearing up in comfortable attire, I announced a solo last-minute run to Seoul Station, then rushed out with an eco bag in tow.​

​It was during this journey that I discovered the nearby tunnel entrance to Seoul Station - a fixture that had been overlooked previously.

One wrong turn took me to the filthier section of the terminal, one that felt barren - save the noticeable presence of homeless residents. Many of these residents were elderly, if not middle-aged. Some shouted at commuters while remaining stationary, yet not in an aggressive way like Toronto or Vancouver. The utterances were disruptive, but mainly song-like in nature.

Eventually, I found the double escalators that led me up to Connect Place and Lotte Mart, where I had explored the previous day.

​Then, by adhering to coloured signage, I found myself in the KTX terminal we had hurriedly bypassed on the day of departure. The terminal was met with a bustling scene even in the early hours of the day.

The terminal operated not only as a transit hub for municipal, regional, and airport connections, but boasted plenty of food vendors and retail options as well. Within the KTX terminal were bubble tea (Truedan), pretzel and buns, cakes and smoothies, and even a fish cake counter.

I was positively salivating peering at the selection from beyond the glass windows. Prices ranged from 3500 KRW to 4000 KRW per stick, which I, someone who hails from a land where flat fish cakes are a rarity, considered extremely affordable.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​Waiting for boarding in a toasty environment was unbearable. Yet, it seemed that only I was unaccustomed to midday UV rays permeating the glass windows.

The cramped aircraft hadn't helped my case either. It had been years since I had last sat in Economy. Besides the narrow corridor of the passenger plane, tray tables adopted the now-obsolete folding type. To make mattes worse, my table was positively grimy, bearing indicators of a distinctively brown drink spill - either coffee or Cola. My browsing partner had opted for the window seat, and I saw that tables closer to the window were cleaner than the aisle. I scrubbed at my seat with vigor, only to never really utilize the tray table over the one-hour flight.

Another feature of the small, old aircraft were buttons and twist fans overhead. Despite my greatest attempts to sleep during the flight, I was rudely awoken by turbulence. Thankfully, the fan had been set on max to improve air circulation around me. There were no barf bags in the seat pocket in front of me.

Advertising was prevalent throughout the inside of the plane, making it easy for brands to leave an impression. This promotional approach was not unlike the ads spotted in subways, with the exception of celebrity spokespeople. Korea truly enjoyed such association, to a degree I shall never comprehend.

​Likely in light of the recent Jeju Air tragedy, safety and evacuation demonstrations were executed to tremendous detail. One of two flight attendants progressed through the steps of using the oxygen mask, all while looking absolutely soul-less. She was very unimpressed, and reasonably so if she had demonstrated the same sequence upwards of twenty times in a day.
I had placed my backpack on my lap instead of sliding it underneath the seat in front of me. While the flight attendant had strolled the aisles, she had not urged me to tuck the bag away as Air Canada staff would undoubtedly have.​

​Despite being delayed at the gate, boarding of passengers took place at an astoundingly quick pace. Closing of the aircraft door and taxi proceeded nearly immediately. That said, takeoff was delayed, resulting in an arrival time of 10 minutes past anticipated.

During boarding, I couldn't help but observe that Zone number did not correlate to Seat number. Being in Zone 3, we were amongst the last group to board, even if our seat was towards the front of the aircraft in the 5th row. This approach was peculiar and not very efficient as it created delays in the corridor.
One had the option of choosing seats during the reservation process, which would incur fees of 1,000 - 5,000 KRW. Those closer to the front would be priced higher than those in the rows behind. No fees would be incurred if opting not to choose a seat in advance. For those without pre-selected seats, flyers could pick from the available selection using the Self Check-In kiosk.

​The flight enabled me a firsthand peek into Korea's infamous "rush mentality". Passengers on board our flight were primarily locals ranging between the ages of 25 to 55. Not a single person waited for the seat belt sign to turn off before slowly getting up. Rather, patrons were standing up and ripping off their seat belts from the millisecond that the sign was no longer illuminated. Calls were being made and social media feeds were being watched like breaking news. Upon nearing the gate, the aircraft door opened immediately, allowing deplaning to take place. The masses rushed to get off the flight, as if the one-hour journey had delayed them half their day.

The hurried pace continued from the gate to the baggage claim area. Impressive were the consistent footsteps of those around me, to the point where no one in the office would ever declare me as a "speedwalker" had they witnessed the scene unfold.

Featuring dim lighting and low ceilings, the baggage area reminded me of Halifax and Montréal. Though, Halifax did not see as many patrons and Montréal was smaller and grimmer, without any form of embellishments.
Jeju International Airport included three photo spots near the exit, along with a promotional sequence playing on the LED screens wrapped around surrounding pillars.

Even those that had rushed to disembark the aircraft slowed near the displays. Each party took quick snapshots before proceeding on their way; such conciseness prevented a queue from forming, as one would have expected in North America with hoards of Chinese tourists.

​The most innovative method of capturing a photo was seen in a couple's use of the carry-on handle bar as a tripod. Before dashing to the display with Stone Grandfathers and Hallabong, a woman positioned her phone against the handle bar and set a timer. Then the couple dashed into frame with gleeful smiles. Absolutely adorable was this encounter - in sheer contrast to the grumbly travel companion next to me.

​There was more to explore upon exiting the baggage claim. Of note was a series of restaurants arranged in a semi-circle with a faux naturescape centrepiece.

​We'd also lay eyes on a rare WOWPASS kiosk and a decently sized Olive Young.

​I headed outside for a brief moment, leaving my browsing partner to handle luggage and investigate next steps. (Of course, the latter was not done.) Past the automatic sliding doors were dreary, grey skies, waving palm trees, and slick asphalt. Conditions were humid, concluding the arrival (or ongoing status) of a tropical storm.

​Many passengers had huddled about a nearby bus stop, likely with the intention of heading into Jeju City.

I took note of the amenities on site, including a fourth floor observatory (that we wouldn't be visiting) and muddled directions for the rental car facilities. The label of "Rental Car Shuttles" implied that such facilities were located off-site, as opposed to navigable via indoor passages of the airport.

Heading back inside the terminal, I realized my browsing partner had not made any progress with the rental car administrative activities and had, instead, been awaiting my return to commence any work. The delay in action frustrated me, for the Lotte Rent-A-Car help desk was just a few steps away.
Shaking my head in annoyance, I neared the section of the counter that offered English-speaking services and presented my reservation confirmation. The lady behind the desk was exceptionally friendly and verified my documents one by one. She explained the next steps with clarity: Given that the reservation had not been made under the same name as the International Driving Permit (IDP) holder, additional administrative steps would be required. It was advised that the IDP holder create a user account with Lotte Rent-A-Car such that booking could be shifted under the same name.
In consideration of time, she recommended that we board the shuttle to the Lotte facility first, as account creation could take place during the commute. Subsequent steps could be finalized at the rental location by on-site staff.

And so, we followed the masses and respective signage, crossing over to a covered walkway with artificial grass as carpeting. The covered corridor offered protection from ongoing precipitation. We continued trekking until reaching Lotte Rent-A-Car's shuttle bus stop near the very end of the walkway. By this point, we had grown haggard from the turn of events. Squelching patches of sodden carpeting underneath my non-waterproof sneakers had also made for heightened displeasure.

​Successfully boarding the shuttle offered tremendous relief. Despite our luggage barely fitting into the dedicated storage sections, I heaved a sigh knowing that we were on our way at long last. In spite of the online documentation about Jeju car rentals - be they forums or VLOGS - reality confirmed that the process wasn't nearly as straightforward as others had made it out to be:

• For starters, there were countless rental car companies, likely the reason why rental facilities are located off-site instead of easily accessible within airport corridors.
• For every rental car company, there was a dedicated shuttle bus. These buses operated akin to standard buses, with numbered stops to indicate their boarding area. However, instead of assigning one number per company, several companies shared a range of stops with some overlap. As an example, Company A boarding would take place at stops 1-3, but Company B boarding may take place from 3-5. It didn't help that all the shuttle buses assumed a similar exterior, save the logo on the side.
• Shuttle buses were not always available. According to the schedule posted within the airport, their arrival times were staggered. On average, they would come every 15-20 minutes.

​Although there was a departure board and plenty of signage within the airport, the information was not categorized clearly for ease of navigation. The average traveller could easily misinterpret the wayfinding elements for taxis, buses, and rental car shuttle buses. Essentially, it was data overload without a sense of synthesis. There was also minimal warning, if any, regarding timing of each event (ie. syncing reservations, walking, waiting for the shuttle, travel time towards the rental facility, etc.). In addition, the advertised process did not consider those travelling in large groups with young children and elderly, nor those with copious amounts of luggage (us).
As I'd later learn, Korean appeared to operate in a manner where processes are advertised as swift and efficient, but exclude important details about preparation and aftermath.

Ten to fifteen minutes later, we'd arrive at Lotte Rent-A-Car. The facility was positively bustling. Despite the depressing weather, many locals had decided to make the trip over from the Korean mainland.

Scanning the vicinity, there appeared to be three methods of obtaining one's reserved vehicle:

1. Self-Serve Kiosk
2. Korean-speaking counter
3. "Foreigner"/English-speaking counter

Instead of placing queue markers, visitors would obtain a "Waiting Ticket" to secure their spot for service. Admittedly, I found it quite novel to have dedicated waiting tickets for domestic (Korean-speaking) and "foreigner" (English-speaking) clients. The tickets were assigned different numbering sequences, allowing customers to be directed to the appropriate staff member for assistance

​Approximately 60% of the clients were domestic visitors, either middle-aged women or families with young children. While in wait of our turn, I discovered the availability of on-site bathrooms and yet another LED screen listing customer names and the parking area of their assigned rental vehicle.

​When our number was called, the English-speaking member of staff confirmed the reservation transfer and provided an info sheet for reference. Indicated on the slip was our vehicle model, parking area, gas type, and return date. My browsing partner made a fuss about "LPG", an exclusive type of gas apparently not offered at all stations.
Adjacent to the payment terminal was a table of tourism discounts, ranging from museum and dining offers to admissions to Snoopy Planet.

​With paperwork finalized, we set out to Parking Area 6H, following the pavement markings depicting the pedestrian route.

​The vehicle was remarkably pristine - not an ounce of dust, smear, or stain anywhere! In front of the passenger seat, a sticker had been placed to confirm completion of cleaning and enforce policies to keep pets in cages and forbid smoking.

Accompanying the rental was a built-in navigation system (extremely helpful for locating local destinations) and even a dashcam!

​Departing the facility, a member of staff documented the existing fuel level. We were instructed to return the car with a similar amount, or risk facing additional charges due to insufficiency.

​Driving through Jeju City wasn't the most interesting of ventures. The streets curved abruptly and congestion was comparable to suburban neighbourhoods during rush hour. That said, it was still better than driving in urban areas. 

​We quickly learned that speed limits were strictly enforced on the island, to the extent where the navigation screen would flash red if the limit was exceeded. Cameras were also observed at nearly every signalized intersection, threatening the receipt of speeding tickets.

Although my browsing partner griped at the odd transitions of 30, 40, and 50 km/h zones, the complaints gradually decreased as we traversed into the calmer, residential areas. Much to my surprise, there were barely any vehicles on the road on Saturday evening. The estimated ninety-minute commute steadily reduced to just fifty-seven minutes.

At first, we regarded the navigation directions with wary, for we had guided onto a narrow, unpaved farm road. Proceeding cautiously, the reserved Airbnb came into view from afar, allowing me to confirm validity of the route. Given the muddy grounds and sharp, unsigned turns, extreme care was demanded to prevent accidentally scratching the car.

​We arrived at long last, laying eyes on the series of "pensions" I had investigated comprehensively in the months prior.

​Four tandem parking spaces were outlined before the first house. Not a single one was occupied though. A single white car was parking on a gravel lot located perpendicular to the grid; we presumed it to belong to the owner/Airbnb host.

​​​Braving ruthless gusts, we meandered towards Pension No. 1. About two weeks ago, the host had reached out to confirm booking of Pension No. 1. At fist, I was surprised given that my request was for No. 2. Ultimately, No. 1 had been the most fitting choice, for it featured the white curtains that I desired and proximity to the washer and dryer room.

​The keypad code had been provided in advance of our arrival. As my browsing partner transported luggage from the trunk and passenger seat, I worked to unlock our accommodations for the next two nights. Three attempts later, the cozy interior was finally unveiled. I was in awe!

Attractive, spacious, and beautiful, the pension aligned exactly with the images posted online. The landing area was set at a lower elevation than the ground floor, allowing for temporary storage of luggage and facilitating removal of shoes. The colourful tiling instilled a sense of whimsy, beyond allowing for ease of cleaning.

Beyond the landing area was a small kitchen, complete with sink, cooktop, and microwave. There was also a small fridge adjacent to this setup. Utensils, plates, and pots could be found in the drawers and cabinets underneath, though it should be noted that washing before use was non-negotiable. Grease and food remnants were spotted even at a distance. The interior of the microwave was also heavily soiled with bits of food, arguably dirtier than those in publicly accessible convenience stores.

​Separating the kitchen and fireplace was an elevated living room/dining room. This area provided access to the backyard, bathroom, and partial view into the adjacent pool area. Utilization of the pool would incur an additional 90,000 KRW fee, while the fireplace priced by butane and log usage. Neither were of interest to us.
Above the dining area was a projector, such that movies and television could be viewed from both levels of the building.

The washroom boasted similar tiling to the landing area, but adopted a sauna-like appeal. Wooden ceilings with skylights and a jacuzzi-style bath area were notable features. I appreciated the consistent tiling throughout, as it meant damp feet could access the towel storage without fear of floor damage and slippage. That said, the steep steps leading down towards the shower area was most definitely not accessible. We also later learned that evening that water pressure was severely lacking. The pressure in the faucet was, sadly, stronger than the streams emerging from the showerhead. In fact, the tap was so strong, splashes onto the mirror were nearly inevitable.

A single plastic cup was found near the sink. This vessel was presumed for brushing teeth, but there was only one for the two of us. In reaching out to the host, my request for a second cup was dismissed immediately, with the reasons being "sustainability" and "Korean culture". Her intent was to encourage sharing of one cup, but that we could utilize the ceramic cups in the kitchen if desired. Nonsensical in more ways than one, it appeared that she wished to refrain from direct contact with the guests as much as possible. In the end, we resolved to use the plastic cup for brushing teeth and the patterned ceramic ones for drinking water and coffee.

Save a few stray hairs in the corners, the bathroom was quite clean. Signage near the toilet warned against using too much toilet paper, as clogging was possible. This message was posted in both Korean and English, likely targeting speakers of both groups.

​The aspect that caught us off guard was the heated floor. Neither of us was accustomed to the setup, nor were we particularly fond of the added temperature when it came to food items in our luggage being warmed accidentally. Having placed makeup and coffee beans near the bottom of my suitcase, the first evening taught me to reconfigure the arrangement accordingly.

​Wooden stairs led up to the second floor bedroom. At first glance, the steps seemed to be positioned at uniform heights and distances. Only with repeated use did we find its surface dangerously slippery and the turns hazardous in dim lighting.

Aside from these design choices, the space was positively serene. The combination of slanted ceiling lights and floor-to-ceiling curtains exuded a bright, welcoming impact. Tall windows and skylights also ensured plenty of natural illumination during daytime, while a single window by the stairwell provided much-needed relief from stuffiness come nighttime.

​I took note of outlet inventory, the dust of the railing, and the view of the dining room from above. Descending back downstairs, we'd proceed to transport our bags past the landing area and gradually settle in.

Read Part 3 HERE !