Coming back to Fukuoka feels a bit like watching a favorite movie. You know the places, the faces, the names, the music. You know how the story plays out. There’s no suspense only a comfortable memory that slips on as easily as an a faded shirt or scuffed pair of shoes you can’t manage to throw out.
Fukuoka feels dangerously relaxing, a place where I could easily slip into old routines – whole days spent feeding myself stimulants - new movies, television shows, music, books, games - then trying to make up for “lost” time by spending equally long hours working.
I arrived here Sunday morning, having slept - thanks to lack of proper rest in Bangkok and the timely consumption of medication just after boarding – through the entire overnight flight. Day 4 was no better. (For more on 1-3, see Bangkok Malfunction below.) I woke again to diarrhea and spent the day in hospital being rehydrated and pumped full of antibiotics – and at some rather outrageous rates. The admitting doctor refused to treat me until I signed myself in, committing myself to paying for a bed, a room, meals, a nurse, etc, etc. For 5 hours in the building, an IV, some antibiotics, and an inappropriate meal of fried fish (which I left on the tray), my insurance company will be billed approximately US$220.00. I discovered during check-out that the hospital administrator is an American. He seems to be doing a good job teaching the Thais how to bilk their customers – er, bill their patients.
Tomorrow I have my first bit of paying work since last summer, a television commercial for Walker Hill Casino, the third such commercial I’ve done in as many years. If you’re visiting Korea, listen for my voice.