I grimace. That sounds expensive, and with Mom against this trip, I’m on my own financially, so I need to be careful. “I’ll be fine with the subway. You said all the signs are in English at Seoul Station.”

“You have luggage. No. The car is the right thing. The train cars have this small space for bags and you have to transfer at Seoul Station, which is very busy. I’ll show you tomorrow, okay? Make sure you go to the man wearing a blue suit and a red tie. He will wait for you near the rental station for the internet modem. Also do not worry because he speaks English, too. He has your mobile number and will text you if you can’t find him. I told him where to go, but show him your address and he will take you directly there. Please, Hara, or I will worry too much about you.”

There’s genuine grief in my friend’s voice, and since I don’t want to add to her burden, I capitulate. “All right, but I’m paying for the car when we see each other tomorrow.” Boyoung makes some noises of protest but I ignore them. “One of the security guards is glaring at me. Let me call you back after I get through customs and find the driver, okay?”

“Yes, good.”

We say our goodbyes and I allow myself a brief moment of panic as I tuck my phone away. I give a tight smile to the uniformed officer, whose facial muscles do not move, and proceed through the customs line.

I’m an adult. I’ve traveled outside of Iowa before, so while the Incheon airport looks more like a small, futuristic city than a travel gateway, I feel confident I can find my way to the Airbnb, especially if I have someone dropping me off at the front door. It’s a splurge but worth it. Plus, Boyoung sent me a handy cheat sheet of words—not that I can pronounce any of them, but she assured me if I showed my phone to any traveler, someone would help me.

“People are nice in Seoul,” Boyoung had said when she finally realized that I was making this trip no matter how many times people told me it was a mistake.

It was strange how the more people told me not to go, the more I wanted to leave. No one could change my mind, not even my supervisor, who said that while my two-week vacation could be approved, I wouldn’t be able to take one more day off for the entire year, not even around the holidays. I didn’t care. I went home and started packing.

Once Boyoung realized I was coming regardless of any argument that anyone could offer, she said—actually demanded—that I allow her to be my tour guide. Like I would say no to that. Because her classes had ended for summer break, Boyoung returned to Korea first while I waited for my passport to arrive in the mail.