Mudfest Mania

On Friday night, Kris and I stood at a crossroads. We had booked a place on a bus to a place called Boryeong for the weekend, to attend a rather unique festival that was taking place there. It was not a music festival, or a flower festival, or even a craft beer festival. It was a festival celebrating the wonders of mud. We were uncertain whether we would rather be content at home for the two days of freedom from children, or at this bizarre festival with some potentially scary strangers who happened to live in our town. Looking back at how much we enjoyed the weekend, we needn’t have even considered missing Mudfest.

One of the major reasons for our trepidation in the hours leading up to departing for Mudfest was the apparent emphasis on drinking alcohol that permeated the Facebook message group prior to the trip. It would seem that many of our Mudfest comrades would be having big weekends indeed, and we weren’t sure if we were comfortable with that. These intentions came to become truth soon enough, as the drinking began before we even stepped foot onto the bus. However, we decided to share the first few drinks with everyone, and this helped ease us into the rest of our time together. We arrived at our accommodation in the early hours of the morning and did some brief exploring of the area before Kris and I decided to call it a night, leaving some of our party to explore several bars.

Kris decided to share a few more drinks than I did on Friday night, and felt rather poorly on Saturday morning. This experience was shared with the others amongst our group who overestimated their capabilities to process alcohol, and for most of our group, Saturday morning and afternoon were spent in our accommodation, nursing various symptoms and not moving a great deal. Once some strength had been regained, Cards Against Humanity was cracked open, and there followed several hours of inappropriate laughter and bonding between us. While the majority of Boryeong was spending their time getting covered in mud, we were perfectly happy to be inside, having a good laugh together.

Today, then, was our day to see what exactly about mud was worthy of celebrating in its own festival. Kris and I rose early, leaving behind most of our group (who had made a concerted effort to drink more on Saturday night than they had on Friday night), to explore the wonders of mud. And we were very, very pleasantly surprised.

We had expected there to simply be a large pool of mud to splash around in, cover yourself with, and then proceed to take more selfies than should probably be allowed. While there were indeed two large pools of mud, there was so much more than that. There were slides. There was mud football. There was an obstacle course. There was even an inflatable gladiatorial arena, where you would beat another person with a foam cylinder, attempting to knock them off of the pole that you both sat on. It was a veritable mud theme park. And, for most of the attractions, the victor of the activity got to throw mud upon the body of the loser. My own victory over Kristen in the gladiatorial arena was indeed sweeter after covering her with mud. Everything was more fun with mud.

Like our recent field trip to the ‘water park’, it astounded me how activities that seemed so simple proved to be so incredibly enjoyable. We bonded with some new friends. We threw frisbee on the beach. But, most prominently, we got covered in mud, and had a blast doing so. We will see our Mudfest comrades again. We will return to Mudfest next year if we decide to stay in Korea. I am simply hoping that I will be able to, one day, remove all of the ninja-like mud from many nooks and crannies on my person.

Everybody Loves Water Pistols

Today was our third field trip at our first school in Korea, and it was by far best we have had up until this point. While our expectations and initial impressions may have been rather low, the day quickly turned to on one of the most positive experiences we have had with the children. What turned the day into such a good one? Nothing more than a parking lot, two blow-up slides, an inflatable pool, a host of water pistols, and a rediscovered chlidishness inside us teachers.

For the whole month, we have been aware that the field trip would be to a water park. Our initial thoughts of travelling to a massive theme park with three-storey slides was quashed by our co-workers who had been at the school for more than a year. They told us that in previous years, there had been little more than a couple of slides in a small parking lot. When we arrived at the ‘water park’ this morning, they were proved correct. I looked upon the two slides, splash pool, and pavement with dread. I felt that the children would quickly be bored, and the day would turn into a constant hunt for explorers seeking entertainment outside of the small oasis of fun. How wrong I would be.

The children ate their snacks, which ranged from healthy fruit to exotic sweet things, and changed into their swimming clothes. The slides were ready, and so were the children. I was not ready for how much fun would be had in the short time we would spend in a Korean soccer academy’s parking lot.

The children soon became one with all of the watery objects, sliding and swimming and sliding again. Almost as quickly, the first streams of water flew from a water gun. Thus began the aquatic warfare that would not cease until the ‘adult’ teachers were told it was time to return to the reality of the school. The majority of children had brought water guns with them, of varying size, functionality, and effectiveness. The teachers happily scavenged any guns that were left unattended, and I managed to sample almost every means by which children and other teachers could be covered in water.

My personal favourite was a foam water cannon in the shape of a pink unicorn. Apart from the ridiculousness of the image that was created by my wielding this weapon, it was also remarkably good at its job. Its operation was simple: put the end of the tube into the water, pull on the handle to suck water in, point it at your target, push the water out again, and watch as your quarry is covered in water. The only limitations were the strength of one’s arm and the limited water capacity. In a young girl’s hand, it made a soft stream that reached a few metres. In my hands, it was a siege weapon capable of reaching across the entire parking lot, from the floor to the top of the taller slide. I had more fun than I probably should have through drenching children. And I wasn’t the only one.

The pools were prowled by students and teachers equally determined to spread watery havoc to the best of their ability. Children played. Teachers forgot that they were meant to be working, and played as well. Work was a foreign concept in the small playground where we enjoyed a bubble of simple childish joy.

While I one day might look back at my experiences in Korea and see all of the bureaucracy and duties and mundanity of day-to-day teaching, tonight, I remember what it feels like to be a child for a while. I cast off my glasses, my negative attitudes, and my disciplinary teaching facade, and sprayed children in the face with a pink unicorn. Today was a good day.

We Don’t Speak Any More

We used to be Brothers.

And Sisters.

We laughed.

We cried.

Together.

But we don’t speak anymore.
 
 

You moved.

I stayed.

I moved.

You stayed.

We changed.

And we don’t speak anymore.
 
 

One word.

Hello.

Who will say it?

Smiles, tears?

Old times, new times.

Until we can’t speak any more.

Chicken, Venting, and the Weekend of Sloth

Tonight marks our first true Friday night since the MERS recovery classes took away the large part of our Saturday, and we most certainly relished it. We left work, ate chicken with our co-workers, and then bumped into one of our friends from around Dongtan on our walk home. All in all, it was an uncharacteristically social start to what we have dubbed The Weekend of Sloth, but a most enjoyable one.

Today, the teacher’s room was filled with a strange mixture of exhaustion from the week and excitement for the weekend. A full two days off? Unheard of! We were all itching to get out of the work doors, and the moment the time came around, we vanished from the face of the office. The majority of us walked to a regular barbeque chicken haunt of ours. We sat down, ordered food, ordered drinks, and were very merry indeed. We spent a couple of hours doing nothing more than eating great chicken, having some beer, and spouting whatever came to our minds. We spoke of everything from children to sports to games, avoiding serious topics so as not to ruin the celebratory atmosphere. Once we had eaten our fill, Kris and I parted ways with the gentlemen on their way to various locales and liquors.

Whilst we were walking home, we bumped into one of our friends, a fellow teacher, albeit from the school a little way from our school. As we walked our mutual way home, talk was far more serious than with our jolly co-workers. We discussed breaches of contract, questionable communication from superiors, and the perils of vegetarianism in Korea. We walked all the way to our house, sat down for a time, and vented some more. It felt good for all involved to get several grievances off of their chest, even if it was not to anyone that could actively do anything to fix the problems whirling throughout the conversation. Once we had all let off necessary steam, our friend left, and Kris and I returned to our normal nightly routine: we played a game of DotA2, read some comics, and generally lazed about the blisteringly hot house, giving off a sweaty glow.

Gloriously, this is to be the trend for the weekend. Apart from a Dungeons & Dragons session on Sunday and grocery shopping tomorrow morning, we are likely to not leave the house or see another human in person. We will not have the chance to do this for another short time, because we are taking trips both next weekend (to a mud festival) and the weekend after that (TO JAPAN). Accordingly, we have dubbed it The Weekend of Sloth. And it shall be wonderful. After spending six days a week at work for the last two weeks, we will relish simply being able to waste some time. Because, after all, time that one enjoys wasting is not wasted at all.

Seoul Spring League: Season Finale

For most of our time in Korea thus far, playing Ultimate in the Seoul Spring League has been a regular feature of our Sundays. It has given us much needed exercise, forced us out of our anti-social cave of a home, and a host of new friends. This past Sunday, the season came to an end. However, it did not end with a whimper, but with a string of tense matches and more chicken than we could have hoped to eat. In short, it was an eventful, memorable end to a fantastic season of Ultimate.

We started the morning with hope – the playoffs were elimination rounds, so if we won two games, we could compete in the final against the top-ranked team from the league, and challenge for the title. Uncommonly for our team, we had enough players to field a full team with several reserves before the game even started. We warmed up, threw a bit of disc to get our throwing arms ready, and stepped onto the field for our first game.

We were facing Gaksi, a team that we had previously defeated in two very close games. Both of these games had gone down to Universal Point, the Ultimate equivalent of Golden Goal in football. We were fairly evenly-matched, and this showed in our game. We dominated the first few points, quickly rising to a 7-3 lead with some quick, surprisingly co-ordinated manoeuvres. We then got complacent, and Gaksi fought back with some of their own slick inter-play between their handlers and cutters. As time ran out, the game went to universal point once more. This time, we were not able to stop their momentum, and we lost the game 8-7. We were gutted.

Despite our heads drooping slightly from the loss, we had no time to rest, as we were set to play the bottom-ranked team of the league five minutes after our loss to Gaksi. No rest for the wicked, indeed. Again, we quickly gained a lead over the other team, and let it slip slightly in the middle of the game. This time, however, we rallied and managed to close out the game with a win.

This allowed us to reach the third-/fourth-place play-off game against Choraengi. They were known for fierce yet fun games, and for managing to consistently field a horde of players. The game lived up to its reputation, and both teams fought hard. As was common with our team, the game went down to Universal Point. Everyone attending watched as both teams ran on their last legs to try catch every disk, to make every possible cut, in the hope that it would be the difference between victory and defeat. In the end, Choraengi had one amazing passage of play left in them, and we lost the game. We finished fourth place out of five teams. While we were a little downhearted, we had still had a great day filled with Ultimate. And great things were still coming.

Once we had finished our game, we sat and watched the final between Gaksi and the league-toppers Imae. It was a tight game, with both teams truly on form. Imae proved a little too strong, as they had done all season. The game dragged on, and as the sun rose high in the sky, there was but one phrase dominating the chants from the sidelines: “CHICKEN!” For once the final was complete, there was said to be a feast of chicken and beer waiting at a nearby restaurant. Everyone was tired, hungry, hot, and the feast called to us, promising to soothe all of our ills. With the cheers for poultry pushing them on, Imae managed to secure the win and the league as a whole. Chicken was soon to be upon us all.

We all packed our things and walked what felt like forever in the stifling sun, until we reached our oasis of umbrellas. Once we were all seated, pitchers of ice cold beer and frosted glasses were handed out, and we all heartily grabbed our first (and, for some including me, last) mugs of the cool amber liquid. Promptly after that, mountains of Korean fried chicken were placed on every table, and we all ate like the kings and queens of obscure sporting achievement.

There was a brief but well-put-together awards ceremony, celebrating the best of the league during the season. Kris was crowned Female Rookie of the Year! Once this was finished, we all returned to mingling, talking with former comrades and former adversaries alike. It was a wonderful bonding experience, and showed once again the unique power of Ultimate to bring people together.

As the day wound on, Kris and I ate and talked our fill, and we left amongst the last few stragglers. We left behind buckets filled with chicken bones, plates wiped clean of their delicious chicken sauce, and many empty pitchers. More importantly, we looked back and saw friends that we will see both on and off the field in the future. Friends we did not have when we first arrived. Friends that gave us memories that will be among the happiest we have from Korea so far.

Flicker, Aflame

We are going to Japan! We received a confirmation from the Japanese Embassy, telling us that our passports are ready for collection. All we have to do is travel to Seoul, pick them up, and we are sorted. Therein lies the rub. With the hours we work, even the most insignificant bureaucratic task requires more planning than a politician’s response to a sex scandal.

The majority of bureacratic entities in Korea, be they embassies, banks, or immigration, work normal weekdays, just like we do. This means that we would have to take at least a part of the day off in order to allow this to happen. For a normal person working a desk job, this can vary in difficulty from packing up and leaving to filling in some forms. For a teacher, however, it requires a good deal more. Who is going to replace you in the class while you are gone? Have you planned lessons for that time? Are those plans comprehensible to people other than yourself? All of these considerations are of utmost importance when one thinks about taking some time off in a hagwon.

Nevertheless, we have been in communication with our director surrounding this, and we have a couple of days where we could potentially leave the school for a few hours. Our excitement for Japan is growing! In less than a month, we will be in the land of many childhood fantasies, and we cannot wait!

Flickering Dream

When we were sitting back in South Africa a year ago, contemplating whether we actually wanted to go to Korea or not, we drew up a list of pros and cons. Amongst the list of pros was the fact that we could (we thought) easily travel around Asia, because we would be so much closer to the region than we would be back in South Africa. One country in particular that we both wanted to visit was Japan. We thought that it would be simple to get to Japan, with it being only a short flight from Korea. We became very excited at the prospect of getting on a plane and an hour or two later being in the country that is the heart of so many geek cultural icons. Nintendo, Pokemon, anime, manga: all of these things come from that small island. We dreamed of seeing their roots with our own eyes. Had we known how difficult and frustrating the process of getting into Japan would be, our dreams would be much more faded and greyscale.

Our most deluded thought was that we would simply be able to walk into Japan without a visa. Reading on forums online, we were spun tales of flights of fancy for a weekend with no more than an hour’s planning at an airport. We thought that we could be able to do that as well. One factor we didn’t take into account is that the people who penned those tales of whirlwind weekend trips were from the United States of America, and held USA passports. The USA passport was recently ranked the fifth most powerful passport in terms of accessing countries without a Visa (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/11552784/The-worlds-most-powerful-passports.html). The South African passport sat in a distinctly lackluster forty-second place. Crucially for our purposes, Japan is not on the list of countries that South Africans can travel to without a visa. Maybe next time we’ll travel to Belize, or even visit the dictatorland that is Zimbabwe.

Once we realized this, we began the process of applying for a visa. We booked our accomodation via airbnb.com, bought our plane tickets, and submitted what we thought to be the necessary documents, including our Alien Registration cards (essentially a dompas that allows us to work as a foreigner in Korea), passports, and the statement from our joint bank account. We were told that we would receive an email the following day notifying us if there were any additional documents that we would need. Two agonizing weeks later, we sent the Embassy an email asking for follow-up, hoping that they had simply forgotten to let us know that we could collect our visas. If only. The weak light of our dream began to fade – the visa could take two weeks to print after an accepted application, and our time window was closing.

As it turns out, there were two major problems with our application – our accommodation did not appear to be licensed by the Japanese government, and there was no bank statement for my application (our bank account is in Kristen’s name). The first problem was fixed relatively quickly by booking at a hotel that is properly licensed for the duration of our stay, and submitting that booking to the Embassy for application purposes. No, we have no intention of staying there, and we will cancel the booking the moment that we hear that our application has been accepted. Apparently this is a common practice amongst travellers to Japan, and is the easiest way to get governmental approval. It is understandable that accommodation from airbnb will not be licensed, as it is essentially people renting rooms from their homes online. Nevertheless, once we submitted the illusory hotel booking, it was accepted. That left only the banking details still to fix.

This problem would remain unresolved for far longer. The first representative from the Embassy that we spoke to simply could not comprehend that I simply did not have a bank account. We engaged in a frustrating exchange of emails trying to explain this to them, but the concept simply would not dawn on them. We tried to set up an account for me, but there apparently needed to be three months’ worth of transactions to show financial stability. We even debated forging my name and account number of my account onto one of Kristen’s bank statements. Luckily, about a week of constant back and forth later, another Embassy employee began to talk to us, and seemed to understand our situation. He saw that the account was stable, and had enough money to provide for our stay. All we need to do now is provide an official document from our employer stating that my salary gets paid into Kristen’s account each month. With this insurgence of logic into the conversation, the light of our dream began to grow bright once more.

Today, our journey towards a visa may be drawing to a close. Our employer should provide us with the necessary document at some point today, which we will happily send off to the Embassy. Hopefully, by this weekend, we will hear whether it has finally been accepted. We are beginning to see the bright colours of our childhood characters surrounding us with nostalgia and happiness. In about four weeks’ time, we’ll see them with our own eyes, and not just our imaginations. And that will make all of the hassle worthwhile.

+1

While the majority of the world (as represented by my Facebook feed) celebrates the landmark ruling in the US legalizing same-sex marriage, Kristen’s mother’s time in South Korea is coming to a close. Her first week here was filled with travel around the country, kayaking, and time together, the last one has been significantly more toned down. While love wins in America, responsibilities have won out in South Korea.

It has been a refreshing experience having Dalene with us on our adventure, even if it has only been for a short time. Her presence has helped us rediscover our urge to seek the small aspects of Korean life and culture that make it so different from that of our home country. Giving ourselves daily missions to show Dalene something new showed us how much there truly is to see and do within both Dongtan and Seoul itself. Dalene was initially blown away by the scale (particularly the vertical scale) of Dongtan, and was content to wander its streets in search of curiosities whilst we tried to keep children from running amok nearby. And then she went to Seoul for the first time.

We took her to Myeongdong, one of the major shopping capitals of Seoul. She was instantly entranced by the closeness of everything, how tiny shops could be filled to the brim with everything from jewelry to confectionery to dog couture. The smells of a host of Korean delicacies and street food mingled with the sound of people from every part of the world all reveling in the combination. And trying to find that cute shirt in a size greater than that of a small child. After this trip, Dalene returned to Seoul repeatedly, sometimes with us, but most often alone. She probably knows more about Seoul than we do at this point.

And that is the weird thing about travelling to another country to work, particularly if you are hermits like Kris and myself: most of the time, you don’t notice that you are on the opposite end of the world from where you grew up. You learn to live with the tanks of live crabs in the supermarket. You adapt to making pork cutlet your primary protein, and not beef. You find your comfort zone of going to work, coming home, spending the hard-earned time together within the confines of your own home, going to bed, and repeating. Occasionally you leave for frisbee or have friends over for board games or D&D. You don’t go outside much.

This is why, towards the end of Dalene’s time here, things calmed down. We showed her all of the things we felt she absolutely needed to see with us, and sent her on her own quests whilst we were at work. In the evening, we all came together, ate somewhere and something new, relaxed together, then went to bed. And repeated for most of this week. This hinted at our inevitable return to hermithood. However, it also helped our house to feel more like a home, with a live-in guest making it far more variable and vibrant.

We will miss Dalene tremendously, and Skype cannot ever fully equal having someone with you in person. We will cry when we see her off to the airport. But we will also remember the good times that we have had while she has been here, and smile. We will try to keep her energy with us, and go out and see something new from time to time. We will try escape the clutches of complacency and routine, and let our love of our new country win out.

Nanta: A Culinary Theatre Masterstroke

Every once in a while, I am prone to wearing silly clothing. If it has a Star Wars reference, it can be as eclectic as Elton John. I have been known to wear a bright red Shortstraw onesie at concerts of theirs. I have even LARPed in nothing more than a fake fir skirt, chainmail, and duct tape. But never before had I gone up on a stage, worn up a chef’s hat, and stacked bowls of dumplings while a small theatre full of strangers looks on in laughter. That is a small taste of the glorious madness that is the Korean food/dance/music/comedy show NANTA.

We had heard only good things about the show, and it is amongst the top ten things to do in Seoul. So, while Kristen’s mother is here, we felt it to be a good time to go and see what all of the fuss was about.

We arrived in a theatre in the heart of Myeongdong, and the setup of the theatre built our expectations, but did not give too much away. There were the usual posters with rave reviews from places as far abroad as the Edinburgh Fringe and an obligatory facade where one could take a picture or twelve between two cardboard chefs. Once we had done so, it was time to find our seats and experience our first taste of theatre in months. And what a delicious taste it was.

I shan’t give much away, but the show builds around drumming. But not with traditional drumsticks and kettle drums. With razor-sharp knives. And cutting boards. And pots, pans, whisks, bowls, and a host of seemingly innocuous kitchen utensils. The ingenuity of the manner in which NANTA uses its set was something to marvel at.

And this sense of wonder extends to every aspect of the show. The dancing was flawless, as was the drumming. The actors never missed a beat, no matter how manic the action became. The comedic timing was exact. The show contained largely physical comedy, which helped it to pierce any language barrier that could have existed. While it was hilariously ridiculous, it never reached a point that felt excessive. I had not laughed that hard in a long time.

The show even managed to perfect something that I generally see shows misstep with – audience participation. We were so enraptured by the performance, none of the members of the audience asked to participate seemed to be averse to it. This did not depends on what we were asked to do, whether this was to wear a caricature of Korean traditional dress and sample soup, to pull a dustbin off of one of the characters’ backside, or to help prepare dumplings, as I did.

My moment on stage was brief, but eventful. I managed to nearly concuss myself with a wooden mallet, knock over a stack of dumplings, and look like a prize fool while doing it. It was glorious, and it is a memory of Korea that I will most definitely carry with me. Possibly because I will have a bump on my head to remind me. Time will tell, and hopefully heal, just as NANTA healed my negative mood.

I walked into the theatre a sullen, moderately unhappy gent, and left it beaming like a puppy who’d found the secret stash of dog treats. I recommend it highly, and will probably see it again before I leave. Probably many times. Thank you, NANTA.

Dad, I’m Sorry

Dad. I’m sorry that this will be the first Father’s Day I’ve missed.

I’m a bit busy right now.

Life is going on around me, and sometimes I need to play my part.

 

It’s hard being so far away from your calming presence, especially when things get hard or frustrating.

You would do it so much better.

You would be calmer with the kids.

You would know how to show them the wonders of the world

Without flailing like a fish in the bottom of a sodden barrel.

 

Thank you for all that you have done for me, and for us as a family.

You showed me how to be a man.

Today I shaved my beard

For I am not yet worthy to join the club of men.

Someday I will be.

But until then,

I will always look to you to see how it’s done.

 

Happy Father’s Day.

Love, Jodi.