June 20. Serendipity.

An early flight to Seoul. I am so careful not to miss it that I spend the night in the airport. Twenty box for my taxi driver it's a long way from downtown Taipei to the international airport. I arrive there at 2am and try to lay down on the chairs (why don't they have benches or double seats where you can fold yourself so nicely) but I stay awake. Waiting for a flight is not waiting for Godot of course, the flight will come with certainty and if not the cancellation announcement will come with even greater certainty. And if that doesn't happen, that means there is a general system failure and waiting is useless anyway. The floor is cleaned, the sun rises, taxis arrive, passengers talking waiting in line. The check-in counter opens baggage goes through the röntgen beams we are asked to wait until our bag has come through, just in case. Is there also a coffee at the other side of the security check? Yes, of course. A very long corridor connects the terminals, it's fun to run here. Yes, let's run here like a child. See all the businessmen in their suits do they ever smile or go crazy? I don't think so. Their well-fed bellies need the seriousness for their justification. It's fun to run, run and make fun passing the business bellies. Many people have taken out their computers and put them on their laps. Their laps are kept warm by the heat of their calculators. So, I run and look at them and through the windows and at the carpet - how much work it is to vacuum here - hello! hello! There is something I want to tell you. O, is that so? Yes, and it's, it's... can't you see it, it's that thing... that... you are so bloody serious aren't you? Your loins are warm aren't they? You are connected, wired in an intricate lacework of connections: your well-fed belly, your wife whom you promised to take care of at the altar, your boss who has filed off the rough edges of your responsibility to the smooth object of mere accountability, your childs your boundless love to them nobody will ever question. It's interesting to see... they are all connected... to justify perfectly, seamlessly your obscenely rich existence. What are you talking about? I am not obscenely rich. My neighbor is. No YOU are compared to the child in Afr... I have a child their, in Somalia, my wife takes care of it. They do send beautiful pictures of it. It goes to school now, and it gets medical attention. We support it through an organization. So the child-in-Africa thing is a node in your web too. What are you talking about? About how your mind works. It's all about yourself and the justification of your material well-being. I don't like this conversation. I do more good to the world than you. But you can never be shaken up thoroughly, you can never be, caught by surprise, your web is woven. Does it matter? Of course, it is... important... You have to be open to things beyond your web. They, deserve, it. I don't think I really get you. Open, like ruled by all the possible tasks out there, instead of by the same web of prejudicial attitudes. Open, like... your gate? My gate? Your gate is closed. You missed your plane. Think about it. You can't argue your way into being more suitably connected to reality.

I did not miss my plane of course, and arrived in Seoul after a safe flight. One hour time difference. A comfortable shuttlebus takes me to the city and I start recognizing buildings like the nyuk-ship-sam (63-story) building on the island Yeouido. It is raining. I walk into a shopping mall (this city boast with shopping malls and miles). Unfortunately, I miscommunicate with my couchsurfer and let her wait (sorry!) - I meet Kathryn Dresdenfae at her hostel first. Our hearts are completely filled up with this serendipity thing. She just bought her flight here because she had to temporarily get out of China due to visa issues. By total coincides she is in Seoul on the day I arrive here. And since we both keep our travelblogs, you could compare her June 20th entry, wouldn't that be fun?! Anyway, we have a great afternoon. In the evening I meet Yeon, my couchsurfing host, at a subway station and we hop on a bus to take me to her studio on the green Namsan mountain. She is as friendly - and cute - as a person can possibly be.

Oulu. With John Lennon and Che Guevara.

Monday morning I left, and my friends dropped me off at a bus stop on the road to Ylkaviesa, a town 28 kilometers away, where I waited with my cardboard sign and my thumb. After a while, I decided to walk and began to sing, inspired by the many car that passed by, ignoring my sign, and the one car that slowed down yet sped away when I walked towards him. I got a lift from an older couple, but ended up in the same situation, 28 kilometer down the road. At a roundabout I waited, and went to the gas station. There was a man who said he could take me to Oulu, and that I had to wait 20 minutes because he would go into town first. He did not come back. In English I think they call it being screwed. The interesting thing was that he was able to be so immoral to me only because his wife - the evil genius - had urged him to do so. And she remained invisible behind the toned car glass. The man only needed to say the words "you wait 20 minutes", he didn't feel he was accountable for the vile intention that came with those words. Anyway, I had caught inspiration for a story about a lifter that stayed endlessly without being picked up and survived just because he believed so strongly in humanity and also these lines were created and initially hummed (later yelled) alongside that road in mid Finland:

Mr. McCormack
High on his truck
and he never takes a hitcher (sound of passing truck - real)
Mr. McCormack High on his truck and he never gives a f**k

But would he have taken
this one hitcher
yes he would have run into Lucky McHotten (sound of passing car - real)
and he would have gotten
so much richer
aaa-haaaa

Two Hungarian interpreters brought me to Raahe. Thank you, guys. A young woman finally took me from Raahe to Oulu and even gave me a glass of juice in her apartment. Thank you, Sanna! We said goodbye at a gas station in Oulu, where I soon had my next remarkable experience ...

The truth about the Motorcycle Diaries

Yes, I know... you won't believe it... the man who saw me at a small gas station in Oulu and offered me a coffee as I told him I was hitchhiking north, did look like John Lennon when he was younger - when he was much younger, than what had remained was a loudly belching TV addicted heavy drinker who pulled out his front teeth in order to take a more comfortable sip from his Finnish Karnu-beer. But he was really kind. I really enjoyed being at his place - Thanks, Tuomo! I slept well on an old mattress on the kitchen floor.

Hangin' out...

So my senses for the Amazing Coincidences were tickled... and in marched his brother who looked like Che Guevara on the photographs they showed me. It was so cool, hanging out with those two men in their mid-fifties and laugh together about two of the greatest men of the twentieth-century (okay, they are my personal favorites). I made some quick shots of the black and white photographs and you can see the result here. By the way, there has been an encounter between Lennon and Guevara, you can read about it here.

Those two Finnish guys on a motorcycle - isn't it priceless?

It felt a little bit like 'Men without women', thus it felt like Hemingway who would be a good third man in our illustrious company. Without intending to be arrogant, I felt like Ernest myself. Instead of an old man struggling with a fish, I had a hitchhiker in mind, struggling with the passing cars that never stopped, yet keeping his wonderful faith in humanity. It was of course inspired by my hitching that day.

They had made long motorcycle trips in the eighties and nineties, for example to Hammerfest, which boosted my 'Going North'-mindset. Let's see.

Tuomo proudly showed me a Lenin-bust and said he had visited Moscow 'many times'. At that moment the James Bond movie 'Golden Eye' started, which has the smashing of Lenin statues in its introduction video... So here we were, total strangers to each other, watching James Bond and smiling in our hearts about the similarity with Lennon and Guevara. After the movie we saw some issues about Obama, whose victory a few days later caused me to celebrate so much.

Tuomo was a metal worker, and I was reminded of a crucial voting group during Obama's campaign. All fell into place before the lights went out.