A Seoul kind of feeling

We shake hands and Mr Han wishes me a good journey. Then he looks at me watchfully and asks: "What room are you in?"

A little wary, I hesitate, then eventually buckle and show him my ticket.

"Ah - 210. Me too," he says, producing his ticket. We lose track of each other during the boarding process but when I open the door to room 210 Mr Han is there, sitting barefoot and cross-legged at a low table next to a window that looks out to sea. It appears it'll be just the two of us in this spacious yet cosy four-bed berth.

"Would you like an egg?" asks Mr Han, revealing a bag of two hard-boiled eggs.

"Er, no thanks."

"But I have two. We Koreans, we like to share."

"No, it's OK, thanks. I only like warm eggs."

I explore the ferry. The New Golden Bridge V has three levels, with a convenience store, duty-free shop, bar, restaurant and karaoke booths. There are no casinos or nightclubs. Though modern, it's more functional than flashy.

The passengers are an even split of Koreans and Chinese. I see dozens of them giving their feet a vigorous scrub in the large bathrooms. Others are playing cards in the sprawling dorm rooms, which resemble a kind of dojo, with floors covered in tatami mats.

On the open deck areas, families snap photos of each other and groups of men sit on benches cracking nuts, smoking, spitting and, in some cases, drinking whisky and playing cards.

As we leave Qingdao, the sun starts its descent and the sky behind us turns pink.

Back in room 210 Mr Han, now in reading glasses, is nosing through a book and swigging from a bottle of Chinese vodka. "You want some?" he says, peering over his glasses.

I decline, then ask him how he speaks English so well. He was an aircraft flight attendant in the 1970s. Now he does import and export work, specialising in calligraphy scrolls.

We chat about Korea and how it differs from China and Japan. As he strokes his moustache, I anticipate a deep and meaningful response. "Not much," he says. "Mostly the same. Noodles, chopsticks, temples, tea, beer. The wind blows from the west to the east and most things carry across. Ah, but we have kimchi. You will see kimchi everywhere in Korea. And Hangul - our alphabet. You can learn it in a day."

Pondering Mr Han's pearls, I head out on deck for a breather before returning to the room with a Pot Noodle and some sweets. I offer some to Mr Han. He accepts, then says: "You drink beer?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"I will prepare beer."

He dashes off and, a few minutes later, he's back with Korean lager and biscuits, which he begins to divvy up. Then he turns on the TV. Flicking through the channels, he grunts when Kim Jong-il appears on screen, then settles, happily, on a Korean melodrama.

At 9pm, he calls it a night and shuts the curtains on his bed. "Go to sleep early, wake up early; good for me."

Before dawn, I hear the TV. Mr Han is up. It's 3.30am. I sling in my ear plugs and manage to sleep until 10am. When I surface, Mr Han is in his graceful position at the low table, reading again and slurping another Pot Noodle.

I've come to like Mr Han.

When the call comes to disembark, Mr Han says: "Follow me. I will guide you to Seoul."

Though he has been nothing but kindness, I can't help but feel slightly wary. Why is he being so helpful? Has he phoned ahead and told an army of muggers to jump me? He knows I'm carrying a laptop, a camera and some cash.

Should I trust him outside the safe confines of this ferry?

We swoop through customs and Mr Han hails a taxi. Ten minutes later we're at Incheon metro station. I offer to pay for the cab but he's having none of it.

"You're the guest," he says.

As the metro zips towards Seoul, Mr Han shows me photos of his children then suggests some places I should visit in Korea.

"Next stop is yours," Mr Han says, holding out his hand. "It was good to meet you."

Waving goodbye - and sad to see the back of my new friend - I leave the train and the station and walk to my hotel. Mr Han was the genuine article, a friendly stranger, a lesson in how slow travel can offer you experiences quick flights can't.

Weidong Ferry (www.weidong.com) travels between Qingdao and Incheon on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (and the reverse on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays). For business class (a place in a four-bed berth), a one-way fare is 890 yuan ($135).

- Sun-Herald