HERE IS A CHAPTER EXCERPT FOR YOU TO READ FROM MY BOOK BOUGIE IN KOREA!
READ THE SYNOPSIS FIRST!
Bougie in Korea: My Guide to South Korea (For Adults) – Book 2 in the Life of Bougie Series
This is a love letter to Korea. It is part fiction and nonfiction. The nonfiction part is a guide that talks about different things you can do, see, and eat in Seoul, Korea. It is taken from my point of view of what I saw and did. It also shares views about what I have been told by people that I met there and ideas that were inspired by my multiple travels there.
The fiction part is a continuation from my first book, Bougie in New York, in which the main character, gossip columnist Tina West, has decided to go to South Korea when her life becomes comically complicated in New York. She falls in love with Korea almost immediately and shares her adventure. HERE IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE FICTION PART OF THE BOOK:
I, Tina West,
loved Korea from the moment I stepped off the plane. The airport was bustling, with crowds of
people dashing about in mobs, end destination unknown to me. It reminded me of Grand Central Station in
New York City during rush hour.
But
I had no time to marvel at the hordes of people. I had to find my
contact/driver. There were so many
people with signs and flowers in different languages. I mean I speak French and
Spanish, too, but that won’t help me here. Using English was my best bet, but I
hoped that my driver would spot me first.
My
blond haired, blue eyed, khaki wearing, model-type friend, Donnie, had arrived
a week before me. He wanted to get to
know his new surroundings before we started teaching. I would have come with him, but I had to meet
a deadline with a prominent entertainment magazine.
I was wearing my trademark palomino cowboy hat
and 62” double looped pearls. However, I
decided to swap out my usual feather bustier for a more demure black sequined
top to accompany my long black pencil skirt (with high slit – natch!) and knee
high stiletto, black leather boots. My
auburn red curls fell below my shoulders from beneath my chapeaux. My eyes were done cat eye style and my lips
were bright red.
“But
how will he know what I look like?” I
wondered to myself. “I hope they gave him my picture. I also hope he’s cute.” I get caught up in a lot of bullshit in my
head when I’m traveling. What does it
matter if he’s hot if we never find each other?
What is wrong with me?
When
I first got off the plane, I saw a group of people waiting at the exit
gate. Everything written was either in
Korean, Japanese, or English. People of
multiple nationalities, but for the most part Asian, were waving signs with the
names of the parties they were looking to meet. Elegantly dressed men and women
were dashing about, here and there. I
was told to expect a young Korean man by the name of Oscar (his Western name).
When
Koreans are dealing with Westerners they have both Korean and Western
names. Perhaps it’s because Westerners
just aren’t smart enough or caring enough to understand how to say an
Easterner’s name. I can understand if
they don’t want to deal with our ridiculous pronunciations, so they save
themselves the annoying hassle of repeating themselves 50 million times.
I
stood there for about 5 minutes, searching the crowd for my “handler”. Then,
like an angelic apparition, one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen
appeared.
“Hello, Tina! My
name is Oscar. I’ll be escorting you to
your apartment.” He smiled his pearly
whites.
He was about 5 feet 10 inches tall with jet black hair
that was in a cute Caesar cut and a perfectly done point in the back. He was toned, but not muscular like an
over-beefed body builder. His skin was smooth and lightly tanned. He had soulful, deep brown eyes and a rich,
deep sexy voice. He was wearing a gray,
pinstriped suit that was perfectly fitted and paired with black, wing–tipped
shoes. He was also wearing a very
expensive watch. The best part – no
wedding ring on fantastically manicured hands!
However, as I also learned in America, the lack of ring doesn’t always
mean anything.
Of
course I was thinking about what else he could help me with. “Well, OK!
You are a very welcome face! I was afraid that I had messed up the
directions.”
“Don’t worry. They
gave me a picture of you, so I knew who I was looking for. You’re much more beautiful in person. You’re in good hands,” he said sincerely.
“I can definitely see that!” I replied.
He
helped me with my three huge bags of luggage.
I had my carry-on filled with the necessities, in case my baggage was
misplaced: underwear, bras, and my two pink negligees for sexual emergencies.
We walked to the front of the terminal and made a quick
stop at the currency exchange to change my dollars into Korean wons. It made me feel so official. Then we packed up Oscar’s luxury Korean vehicle
and he whisked me away to the city of Seoul, the capital of the country.
The drive to Seoul was exquisite. There were serene, majestic mountains and
miniature island-type landforms sprinkled throughout the water. We drove across a spectacular white
suspension bridge. I felt as though I
was driving into the clouds to meet Zeus himself. The fantastical effect of the landscape was a
benefit that came with the partially rainy day. Actually, it was monsoon
season, but it was like a surreal dream.
I couldn’t believe that I was actually here and this was my reward.
Oscar was kind enough to narrate the scenery for me. He was filled with so much history about the
country and the city. He got me right up
to speed. His low buttery voice was
music to my ears. I could have listened
to him forever. He lulled me to
sleep. I felt safe.
Apparently, he felt the same. After we arrived at my residence, he asked me
to dinner. We went to a cute little soju
(alcoholic beverage) cocktail bar across the street from my apartment. The place was cozy and served fantastic soju
fruit juice cocktails in colorful amoebic-looking pitchers. The drinks were dangerously delicious and we
found ourselves making out and talking about personal things way beyond what
was appropriate for the timeframe we had known each other.
We ended up at my
apartment.
