"What do you think of Korean people?" Friendly and helpful, of course; which on the whole they were. The streets were clean; a necessity as much food trading was done at floor level. Street food-vendors were in abundance: hot-dogs on a stick and dipped in batter were a local favourite; bananas, slices of pineapple and water melon were also popular. Rubbish-bins overflowed with sticks and banana skins. "What is your work?" I would change this to suit my mood. I was away to do nothing more than move along, look and see, read and write, and take a few pictures. I couldn't say that was work. "Would you like to read this?" The booklet was invariably about believing and the wonders it could do to my life. "Thank-you. I believe and isn't it wonderful," I would smile. I had been verbally manoeuvred once again in the preacher's chess-game, that would always end with a very polite: "Welcome to Korea," and "Have a nice stay." We flew above darkening clouds, the sun had slipped below the horizon, the outside light slowly faded. I returned to Paul Theroux's 'Great Railway Bazaar'. I was flying, but we had a similar fascination with motion.
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