I didn't have anything that resembled a clue which bus to take on a Monday morning in November last year. Instead I studied a fold-out street map of Milan, scribbled a crude map onto the back of an Esselunga receipt and strode out of the apartment block, through the green gates and onto Via Airolo. Thirty minutes to walk six inches on the map? Easy, I thought, forgetting that I hadn't checked the scale of the map. The streets in Milan were splattered with more dog shit than I'd ever seen. A great deal of nimble footedness was required if you were to successfully make it from A to B without caking your soles in it. It was a strange conflict of emotions that I felt that morning; all at once outraged that citizens should think it acceptable to let their canines squat, shivering in the icy Lomabardian winter wind, squeeze a moist one out onto the pavement then walk off without any outward display of embarrasment, chastising of the dog or attempt to scrape it up with a few sheets of newspaper - yet - in a total state of innocent wonder that there still exists here the dried, white fecal matter we lovingly remember from our childhoods. They must still add bonemeal to their dogfood in Italy - what a discovery - I hadn't seen that shit in twenty years! Forty minutes later - the route I'd sketched had taken me up and onto a raised section of dual-carriageway with little in the way of a pavement - I turned right onto a road named Via Castellino da Castello. This matched the pencil scribblings on another little piece of paper I had in my pocket. My Scuola Materna was on this road. I found it - Number 5- and kept on walking past, gradually breaking into a run until I found a children's playground to sit in. What the fuck was I doing here? I began to panic. I was about to walk into an Italian state-run pre-school and teach English, alone, to a room of twenty screaming five year olds who'd most likely never heard a word of English in their tiny, thus far meaningless lives. I can assure you this is a more daunting task than a lecture theatre of thirty advanced level teenagers. I'd done that four months previously and it was a breeze. So there I sat on a park bench in the cold, loading little white rocks into my crackpipe before lighting and inhaling to the pits of my lungs, which I can assure you is probably an extended metaphor for taking a few deep breaths of crisp Milanese air before marching in there for what turned out to be a delightful morning of finding out what each and every one of the little knee-high being's favourite colours and animals were. All in Italian of course as they couldn't even say 'Hello!', but I was about to change that by introducing them to the Disney themed 'Hello Song!' that I had on CD. I gathered them into a circle and pressed play. I've broken copywright law and made a video slideshow of the 'Hello Song!' accompanied by some pics of my time in Italy. Enjoy.
Lyrics (my own signature dance moves follow in brackets):
Hello Children! How are you? x 3 (WAVING. SMILING. JUMPING. WINNING!)
Fine, thank you! We are fine! (Thumbs UP in the air, spinning in a tight circle)
Hello! Hello! Hello! (PUNCHING the air and shouting 'Hello!')
Hello! Hello! ... (Mime counting to 3 in the air before final Hello)
HELLO!!! (Jump and touch the SKY!)
...collapse... (Get breath back before kids demand an encore)
I have just calculated as accurately as possible how many times I must have sung and danced to that song in my 5 month stint in Italy. Two thousand four hundred!
I can look back upon my time in Milan and confidently say that I had a good time. It may not have felt like it at times, especially in the deepest, dark-grey recesses of the Northern-Italian winter when outside of the pretty Centro Historico, the rest of the city was about as depressing as watching a looped slow motion video of a dog being put to sleep. The nightlife was shockingly poor for a city of 1.3 million residents and there were times when I just wished I was back in Seoul for a manic 12 hour binge, farting raw soju out of my arse and lighting it off a cigarette, watching the terrific trail of flame arc over the side of the rooftop terrace of Roofers pub in Itaewon, as my friends laughed - Oh, how they laughed in my dreams!
Things we did do well in Milan were dinner parties with copious amounts of Peroni and Chianti to wash down the fantastic food. There were two flats of teachers living on the same street - Via Airolo, nr Maciachini - in gated apartment communities. Every now and then we'd have each other over for exquisite Italian feasts, really making the most of the dazzling array of high-quality ingredients, one thing I actually preferred about Italy over Korea. Enormous artichokes, bright purple aubergines, fresh fish, cured meats, killer pesto, astounding olives, and when we didn't feel like cooking we lived next to a good pizzeria - we were in food heaven!
Winter began mercifully to recede towards the end of February and the feeling of the city completely changed. The sunshine invaded dark corners of streets I had originally felt oppressed walking down, and in the warmth and glow of a slowly breaking Spring, hidden beauty was revealed in their architecture. Some even became a joy to stroll down in the mornings in search of a short, bitter espresso and cornetto - the classic Milanese breakfast for on the go. The strongest coffee imaginable, and something resembling a croissant - not, as you might be imagining from the name, a conical ice-cream from the UK. I started seeing a pretty Italian girl named Loredana, older than me by three years, but nothing much had the chance to blossom as I'd already accepted a job offer from my old boss in South Korea, that was to begin on March 28th. I missed Korea hugely and once the thought was planted in my mind there wasn't ever really a chance I'd stay. I accepted and handed in my four weeks notice to the company. On my last night in Italy, a Thursday night, Loredana, her sister Maria and friends threw me a going away party at their apartment on a very long road that kept changing names as you went up it - Via Carlo Imbonati, Pellegrino Rossi, Alessandro Astessani... Once up the creaking staircase in their ancient building, we knocked on the door and it was opened by Maria who told us Loredana was still in the process of getting ready, but to come on in and help ourselves to food. Platters of ham, cured meats, cheeses, olives and breadsticks were laid out upon a table. I couldn't believe they'd gone to these lengths for me - it was completely lovely. Maria poured me a glass of red wine as I set down the bottles I'd bought on the red table cloth. Then Loredana appeared in a little black dress that I still remember to this day. It was quite stunning and I made sure to tell her so. "Damn! Am I really leaving Italy tomorrow?", I thought. The night wound on and lots of Italians turned up. I didn't know half of them but they were very friendly and good company - we quickly set about getting to know each other so that we might at best feel a drunken sense of cameradery by the end of the night - it was after all my leaving party. My British friends Rob and Cameron made their excuses and left, leaving me happily pouring red wine down my throat. By this point, 11pm, a guitar had appeared and I joined in with their loud Italian singing where I could. I impressed them by singing all the words to a famous partisan protest song, Bella, Ciao! It had also been used to accompany a famous protest video made by the Iranian Green Movement, who I'd spent a month with earlier that year. I had learned the lyrics by listening to and eventually joining in with my Iranian friends.
Then there was Italian folk dancing mixed with a little bit of flamenco, which the two sisters were expert at and tried their best to teach me. At one point I had one of them clasped to my chest, right hands held together and thrust out in front of us, a bright red rose held by the stalk between my teeth, ten Italians singing with zest and playing guitar, everyone really happy and pissed. I think it was approaching 2am when a knock was heard at the door and we were told to keep it down. "Last year we had the police around!", said Maria. "But we don't do this kind of thing too often".
The next day I flew on Emirates to Dubai where I spent a full day, before boarding an Airbus 380 to Seoul Incheon airport. I sat down today to write about a recent trip to Jordan and Israel, but then I realised there were some huge gaps that needed filling first, so my next blog will be all about Korea: Round II. Over and out.
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
The Story of the Terminator and the Robocop
One day, a little terminator was running around the battlefield. He ran over a fighting robocop and hit him up! The robocop hit the terminator with his head. "Please kill me!" said the terminator. "Let me kill and how know? I will kill you." The robocop laughed. "Kill me? A little terminator? Ha! Ha! Just kill." said the robocop. The next day, two terminators put a bomb in the robocop hotel. The robocop got touch in the bomb. The terminator laughed and burial, but he couldn't die. The terminator heard the robocop. He came and bomb a big hole in the throw. He help the robocop die. "Thanks for kill me I want to die" said the robocop. "And I'm sorry. Now I know that I will die. Bye!"
This story was written by Carol. Carol is actually a boy. I wish the Korean teachers would listen to me when giving a new student an English name. A co-teacher recently approached me to ask "How do you spell the name 'Cabin'?". I replied that there is no such name, and that a cabin is in fact a wooden structure often built in forests. 'You know, like a 'log cabin'?'. But the reply comes 'No, here Cabin is a name. How do you spell it?'. 'Oh, you must mean Kevin. K-E-V-I-N'. 'No, not Kevin, Cabin. C-A-B-I-N.' She knew how to spell it. What was the point in asking me then, other than to prove a twisted point. A point that even eludes me. Each of my classes at school now has a bi-weekly writing class. I set the theme of the story and provide on-site troubleshooting as the miniscule creative sections of their brains start getting down to work. On this occasion, I certainly didn't set the theme of 'Robot blood-bath'. It was something flowery. 'Two cute little animals make friends in the most surprising of circumstances', perhaps. This was the result. I'm very fond of how at the beginning it is the terminator who wants to die, but at the end there's a twist and it's the robocop who actually wished for euthanasia - and duly got his wish. My favourite, laugh out loud point would be the excellent use of the word 'burial'. It comes out of nowhere, and actually gets the point across without any need for correct grammar.
On my birthday, I received a letter from Ray. Ray is a little girl, so please dispel any images of a fat, ageing gangster from the East-End. Really, do my teachers use a joke website to come up with these names? I met a Korean girl the other day who was devastated when I told her that her choice for a new English name was traditionally male. Rory. I only know one Rory, and he's a fat, bearded English comedian. What is wrong with these people? And what's wrong with names like Lucy, Rachel and Emma for girls? Instead, we are naming boys after sheds and girls after serial killers. I'm going to suggest that we call the next girl 'Horatio', and the next boy 'Mausoleum' - I think they would go down well here. The letter was written on pink paper and intended as a tribute to me, but it really just made me sad. It highlights the danger of using a dictionary to translate every single word, even conjunctions, and taking the first word the dictionary throws up each time. I knew all the words on their own, but together it was just terribly strange and I felt uncomfortable and unsure of myself after. Brace yourselves.
"Teacher birthday congratulation giving is late but.
I am Ray.
Small the futures and letter send, like afterwords *heart* dialogue tries with Korean.
Low price English still and well does not receive the help of computer.
Is like that but my mind being put in the small middle ear treat!!
Character now ends.
Today one day *heart* when is happy become.
Birthday congratulates.
By- By- *heart*"
Wrapped up inside this letter, presented to me as a scroll, was an even smaller letter on pink paper. My heart sank further.
"Dear Ben *heart*
Us to teach in future well. To afterwords birthday
date to infrom (sic) certainly.
Probably also the next birthday does not know like
this time the map which will have work. One day send,
today well, Happy Birthday Ben!
Your Student Ray".
Despite the hearts and well-wishes, I really am left unsure how she feels about me. If it had been wrapped around a brick and hurled through my apartment window, I would assume my days were numbered and that somewhere within its text lay the code for the exact time and date when I would be killed by the Korean Yakuza.
I really love making activities at school. Recently, things have changed dramatically so I have a lot more leeway to create and implement my own material. I am rising to the challenge, making a portfolio to show to future employers and having a lot of fun along the way. You can get kids to do pretty challenging work as long as you throw in the opportunity to draw a picture on the same piece of paper, even better if you throw some freshly sharpened colouring pencils into the deal. Today, I challenged them to write a letter to an agony-aunt type character named Mr Know-it-all, and then to follow it up with an imagined response. My catchphrase at work has become 'Come on, use your 상상 kids!'. 상상 reads 'sang sang', and is Korean for 'imagination', and this is something that doesn't come naturally anymore to these kids who have had it either drummed out of them, or the opportunities to exercise it are so few and far between that that part of their brain has shrivelled up. So, 상상s at the ready, some of my favourite girls got stuck into this activity. I sat back and wrote a letter of my own to Mr Know-it-all.
"Dear Mr Know-it-all,
My name is John Rambo and I'm a Vietnam War veteran. I have a problem. I really like killing people. Lots of them. I sometimes can't find any people to kill so I have taken to dispatching entire families of baboons, high up in the jungle canopy. It's quite easy to kill a baboon. You just creep up behind one and push it off the branch whilst it's asleep. At night, I hear the screams of fallen comrades and I remember the smell of rotting ditches in POW camps - I gaze up through gaps between bamboo shoots to see captors urinating upon me, and I think 'Just you wait until I'm free, you'll wish you'd never been born. Live for nothing, die for something etc'. Oh yes, back to my problem - what's a good recipe for Raspberry flapjacks?"
I'll be spending this Christmas skiing with friends in Korea. Have a splendid one.
This story was written by Carol. Carol is actually a boy. I wish the Korean teachers would listen to me when giving a new student an English name. A co-teacher recently approached me to ask "How do you spell the name 'Cabin'?". I replied that there is no such name, and that a cabin is in fact a wooden structure often built in forests. 'You know, like a 'log cabin'?'. But the reply comes 'No, here Cabin is a name. How do you spell it?'. 'Oh, you must mean Kevin. K-E-V-I-N'. 'No, not Kevin, Cabin. C-A-B-I-N.' She knew how to spell it. What was the point in asking me then, other than to prove a twisted point. A point that even eludes me. Each of my classes at school now has a bi-weekly writing class. I set the theme of the story and provide on-site troubleshooting as the miniscule creative sections of their brains start getting down to work. On this occasion, I certainly didn't set the theme of 'Robot blood-bath'. It was something flowery. 'Two cute little animals make friends in the most surprising of circumstances', perhaps. This was the result. I'm very fond of how at the beginning it is the terminator who wants to die, but at the end there's a twist and it's the robocop who actually wished for euthanasia - and duly got his wish. My favourite, laugh out loud point would be the excellent use of the word 'burial'. It comes out of nowhere, and actually gets the point across without any need for correct grammar.
On my birthday, I received a letter from Ray. Ray is a little girl, so please dispel any images of a fat, ageing gangster from the East-End. Really, do my teachers use a joke website to come up with these names? I met a Korean girl the other day who was devastated when I told her that her choice for a new English name was traditionally male. Rory. I only know one Rory, and he's a fat, bearded English comedian. What is wrong with these people? And what's wrong with names like Lucy, Rachel and Emma for girls? Instead, we are naming boys after sheds and girls after serial killers. I'm going to suggest that we call the next girl 'Horatio', and the next boy 'Mausoleum' - I think they would go down well here. The letter was written on pink paper and intended as a tribute to me, but it really just made me sad. It highlights the danger of using a dictionary to translate every single word, even conjunctions, and taking the first word the dictionary throws up each time. I knew all the words on their own, but together it was just terribly strange and I felt uncomfortable and unsure of myself after. Brace yourselves.
"Teacher birthday congratulation giving is late but.
I am Ray.
Small the futures and letter send, like afterwords *heart* dialogue tries with Korean.
Low price English still and well does not receive the help of computer.
Is like that but my mind being put in the small middle ear treat!!
Character now ends.
Today one day *heart* when is happy become.
Birthday congratulates.
By- By- *heart*"
Wrapped up inside this letter, presented to me as a scroll, was an even smaller letter on pink paper. My heart sank further.
"Dear Ben *heart*
Us to teach in future well. To afterwords birthday
date to infrom (sic) certainly.
Probably also the next birthday does not know like
this time the map which will have work. One day send,
today well, Happy Birthday Ben!
Your Student Ray".
Despite the hearts and well-wishes, I really am left unsure how she feels about me. If it had been wrapped around a brick and hurled through my apartment window, I would assume my days were numbered and that somewhere within its text lay the code for the exact time and date when I would be killed by the Korean Yakuza.
I really love making activities at school. Recently, things have changed dramatically so I have a lot more leeway to create and implement my own material. I am rising to the challenge, making a portfolio to show to future employers and having a lot of fun along the way. You can get kids to do pretty challenging work as long as you throw in the opportunity to draw a picture on the same piece of paper, even better if you throw some freshly sharpened colouring pencils into the deal. Today, I challenged them to write a letter to an agony-aunt type character named Mr Know-it-all, and then to follow it up with an imagined response. My catchphrase at work has become 'Come on, use your 상상 kids!'. 상상 reads 'sang sang', and is Korean for 'imagination', and this is something that doesn't come naturally anymore to these kids who have had it either drummed out of them, or the opportunities to exercise it are so few and far between that that part of their brain has shrivelled up. So, 상상s at the ready, some of my favourite girls got stuck into this activity. I sat back and wrote a letter of my own to Mr Know-it-all.
"Dear Mr Know-it-all,
My name is John Rambo and I'm a Vietnam War veteran. I have a problem. I really like killing people. Lots of them. I sometimes can't find any people to kill so I have taken to dispatching entire families of baboons, high up in the jungle canopy. It's quite easy to kill a baboon. You just creep up behind one and push it off the branch whilst it's asleep. At night, I hear the screams of fallen comrades and I remember the smell of rotting ditches in POW camps - I gaze up through gaps between bamboo shoots to see captors urinating upon me, and I think 'Just you wait until I'm free, you'll wish you'd never been born. Live for nothing, die for something etc'. Oh yes, back to my problem - what's a good recipe for Raspberry flapjacks?"
I'll be spending this Christmas skiing with friends in Korea. Have a splendid one.
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
Hong Kong
There was an agenda to my trip. My parents lived in Hong Kong for two years before I was born, and I grew up hearing stories and pouring over album after album of photographs of the place. It planted the seed that grew into the fully-grown travel bug I have now, and Hong Kong was always at the top of the list for when I was eventually old enough and able to take off around the world. I wanted to feel a connection to the feelings I got about the place growing up - from pictures, anecdotes, scrapbooks filled with books of matches from strangely named bars, and ancient Lonely Planets that had ended up on the family bookshelf - and therefore to feel a connection to my parents' experiences of living and travelling there.
I was disgracefully lucky to actually arrive in Hong Kong. I woke up around two hours before my flight took off, knowing full well the airport coach from my town takes two hours and ten minutes to reach its destination. Also, it was Korean Thanksgiving weekend so the traffic was near-enough guaranteed to be abominable - you could say that the odds were stacked against me. I woke up not to an alarm, but to the sound of an inner-voice screaming. I began shaking even before reaching for my phone to check the time, as it was very light outside my window and I had planned to wake up sometime in the hours of complete darkness. Upon visually confirming the time, I leapt out of bed and temporarily lost my mind - I wasted a valuable ten minutes walking around in a tight and naked circle, unable to think a single coherent thought except for some basic momentary firing of synapses leading to the muttering of expletives. Eventually I pulled both myself together AND some clothes on, swung on my backpack and sprinted up and over the jagged steps into the park that leads to the main street and the taxi rank. I pleaded with the taxi driver for help. Miraculously, this marvellous man who must have been in his late fifties, spoke back to me in good English - 'Tell me the time of your flight'. I did, and he said 'I think you have missed it already'. It really did seem like it. Fortunately, he was totally okay with doubling the speed limit in places - and the sensationalist Korean media had done such a good job of scaremongering about road conditions that the roads were in fact deserted! These factors combined so that I was at the airport 50 minutes later, in plenty of time for my flight. I printed out my boarding pass and went through customs.
Once at Hong Kong airport, I followed signs for luxury shower rooms. Like a soiled tramp, I wandered into the private arrivals lounge and paid quite a lot of money for the use of a private cubicle. I took an expensive taxi ride across Lantau island (why I didn't just take the bus is even a mystery to me) and arrived in Tai O - a fishing village that has remained nearly entirely the same whilst the actual city has transformed. The whole village is built on stilts over the water, and it is very much a working place - but also geared for tourists at the same time. I queued up for a boat trip around the stilt houses, that then took us out into the open South China Sea to search for local Pink Dolphins. I really enjoyed the whole experience, and noted that it really can't have changed that much since the early eighties - still the same houses on stilts, temples burning the same heady incense. Later on my first day, I took the metro from the main town on Lantau island all the way to Jordan station on Kowloon side. My accommodation was Hakkas Guest house, third floor of New Lucky House on the corner of Nathan and Jordan. It wasn't pleasant but at least there was mould growing everywhere. The beauty of it, however, was that you walk out of exit B1 of Nathan metro and the entrance to the building is right there in front of you. It's owned by an old Hong Kong gent by the name of Kevin Koo, who is as mad as a box of frogs, overbearing and highly annoying - he just doesn't shut up, then when it's at last your turn to talk he doesn't listen because he's just pausing for air. My Lonely Planet promised a good chance that he would invite me hiking in the New Territories on the Sunday, but I think I'd have refused on the grounds that I would've probably ended up dashing his head against a rock until movement ceased. It's true that I have added reason to be Anti-Koo, and that is that my laptop stopped working under suspicious circumstances during my stay at Hakkas. After 7pm each day, Koo buggers off home and a 7 foot Chinese mute takes over the reception desk. It was tremendous fun getting home night after night at about 5am and waking up this ogre. After ringing the doorbell of the Guesthouse, I'd hear banging and crashing, then a light would come on and he would come to the door in his underwear. From the look on his face, I could actually see him searching his mind for details of where he was, what his name was and why he was answering a door in the first place. As soon as he swung it open I dived past him and into my room, looking back briefly over my shoulder to see in the gloomy light a sudden shock of recognition flash across his face. The penny'd dropped. He'd remembered his name.
My first night, I walked down Nathan Road from Jordan metro station to the Kowloon Star Ferry terminal. I had been expecting something resembling chaos. My mother even skyped me as I was walking. "I'm on the Nathan Road, Mum!". "Be careful! Oh that place's just like Blackpool now", came the response. Well, that was a speculation based on 25 years of absence - completely untrue. I felt totally safe, offered to have a suit made for me just three times - and I was only offered drugs once! "Oh mum, I'm walking past Chungking Mansions now" - "You wanna buy some hashish, my friend?" said the short Indian man in front of me. I burst out laughing. I was obviously on the phone, did he expect me to get a note out and do a one-handed drug deal on the street?! Once at the harbour front, I stood and drank in the overwhelming skyline. Superlatives abound - one of the top ten sights of my life and it's likely to stay that way no matter where I go. The crossing on the Star Ferry to Wan Chai was very exciting, although it's reportedly a much shorter journey than it used to be because Hong Kong harbour has been extended out into the water on reclaimed land. Still, the same iconic boats are in operation, so it felt special. My heart leapt at the sight of a quote on a Star Ferry poster, taken from National Geographic - "Crossing Hong Kong harbour on the Star Ferry is one of the top 50 travel experiences of a lifetime".
Later I met a couchsurfer (www.couchsurfing.com) in Causeway Bay, by the name of Kelvy Wong. She worked for a top modelling agency, and as such had managed to get me on the guestlist for two of the most exclusive clubs in the entire city - usually the reserve of models and movie stars, tonight 'Play' and 'Volar' were our stomping grounds. We ate Japanese food, including the part of the squid not normally eaten (the gristly bone from inside). The clubs were in Lan Kwai Fong, the main nightlife area on Hong Kong island. On the way from Causeway Bay to Central, we rode on an ancient tram and Kelvy gave me the lo-down on what to say to her gossiping colleagues upon meeting them. She didn't want rumours about us, and apparently their minds weren't open enough for the concept of 'couchsurfing' to be a reasonable excuse. We spun a yarn that I was a friend of a friend from London, and she had been asked by said friend to show me a good time in Hong Kong. Waterproof. Lan Kwai Fong was reportedly nothing to speak of in the early eighties, so the investigative stuff was put on hold for the night. We had our names checked off by doormen, whilst a long line of folk were being steadily turned away for not being famous enough. Some of the looks we got. Out on the street it was meltingly hot and humid, and I was sweating badly from my face. This probably helped the doormen to identify me as a 'celebrity' - "Hello Sir. You're obviously on copious amounts of cocaine. Come on in. Would you care for a face towel?". Once inside I mopped up before meeting Kelvy's colleagues from the modelling agency. They were very attractive and friendly to me for the whole night, I genuinely thought they had liked me until she told me later that they are the fakest people she knows. Oh well, there was much fun to be had mocking vain Russian male models. Kelvy and I set about stealing their headbands and laughing at their reactions. There was a lot of gurning going on. "Are they on drugs, Kelvy?". "No Ben, don't be silly!". Volar was more of the same but bigger and even more pretentiousness. I enjoyed it hugely for one night and one night only. Any more though, and I just couldn't have coped. We caught a 24hr minibus back to Kowloon side, and spent the early hours stalking the side streets off of Nathan Road in search of food. We found a shop called Ebeneezer's, serving a multitude of food for drunks. I had me a delicious Doner kebab. She had a not-so-pleasant fish curry. Then home!
The next day, I travelled North to Mong Kok. At one time the most densely populated place on Earth, it's a lively, atmospheric shopping district that I loved. I bought a new belt because my trousers were falling down to my knees at an embarassing frequency, then found a Cantonese diner for lunch. A portion of challenging size was placed before me - fried noodles with beef brisket and pak choi. Delightful! I then went back to the subway station, where I was surprised to have my name shouted a number of times. Surely this was for somebody else? I was a long way from Korea, and I didn't know anyone in Hong Kong. Turns out it was Clare, best friend of Frank's ex-Korean girlfriend Boram. She was on holiday too, visiting her friend Pris who was also now standing in front of me. They invited me for Dim Sum. I cursed myself for having just eaten such a cripplingly large plate of food, because eating Dim Sum was at the top of my 'Not to leave Hong Kong without doing' list. Now I was being invited by a local, promising one of the best places to get it that she knew of. I swallowed and accepted the invite. We soon found ourselves upstairs in a huge place decked out in gold, many locals at tables - this was the place to be! Pris' boyfriend was waiting at a round table at the edge of the dining room. Introductions were made, and we just started ordering and eating. Dim Sum - one of the most enjoyable eating experiences of my life. Loved every bite. The rest of the day we walked and walked around shopping malls - not much soul or culture to be found there. Kowloon Park was really fun for a walk though - they had flamingos and turtles everywhere. That night we watched the light show down at the harbour, before catching a train into the New Territories right to the end of the line. A 'town' called Tien Mun, population 500,000. It was the Mid-Autumn full moon festival. We found Tien Mun park and walked amongst hundreds of families celebrating in the traditional way of eating 'mooncakes'. The moon hung in the sky, bigger than I've ever seen it, and it reflected in the park's lake as dozens of remote controlled miniature boats decked out in flashing lights and glowsticks zoomed across the surface. They sent ripples in all directions, and for a moment the lights appeared to be reflections of the sky.
I spent Sunday hiking on Lamma island. It was a needed excursion after the overdose of commercialism provided by Hong Kong island and Kowloon. I had a great day just walking through jungle paths. I took a detour right to the Southern coast of the island, and stayed far too long at the entirely deserted beach that I found at the bottom of the hill. So long in fact, it got dark. I then enjoyed pushing on through sections of path covered by thick jungle canopy, and in the light I had already seen spiders as big as one of Jon's kindergarten students. I sang. LOUDLY. At the island's second ferry pier, I purposely missed the soon to depart ferry and sat down for a set meal for one at a seafood restaurant. Squid, prawns, scallops, beer - well deserved.
That night I found a lively Irish bar. I thought about the trip over a pint of Guiness. The parts that I enjoyed the most were the parts where I could just feel nothing had changed for years. Lamma island and Tai O on Lantau island in particular. I loved that Lamma was car free, and had never seen a car on its shores in the island's entire history. Shame about the power station. If I was to go back, I would go with someone. As much as I love travelling alone, there are some travel experiences that just need to be shared with someone you know. On Sunday night I took the Peak Tram to the top expecting to be kicked in the face by the view, instead I was stabbed with a big, icy javelin of loneliness as happy couples fawned around me, mocking me with their laughter. A marvellous time was had everywhere I went, but the faceless shopping malls were all the same. I could have been anywhere. I could happily go without seeing another fucking Louis Vuitton shop for as long as I live. Unfortunately, this is a major side to Hong Kong.
Weeks later, my mum returned to Hong Kong after more than a quarter of a century. Upon her return to Seoul, we walked down the hill towards the main drag of Gangnam. I held back the story of my experience there, and asked about her trip back. "I took a taxi on Kowloon side to the road where I used to work at the hospital. The taxi driver pulled over and said 'This is it'. I asked him if he was sure, and he said yes. I got out and recognised nothing. I walked up and down, the hospital had been torn down along with the rest of the buildings that had once lined the road. All that was the same was the street name. Same all over. It's all changed Ben, it's all changed!'. Her voice was strained, and I could see her holding back the tears.
I was disgracefully lucky to actually arrive in Hong Kong. I woke up around two hours before my flight took off, knowing full well the airport coach from my town takes two hours and ten minutes to reach its destination. Also, it was Korean Thanksgiving weekend so the traffic was near-enough guaranteed to be abominable - you could say that the odds were stacked against me. I woke up not to an alarm, but to the sound of an inner-voice screaming. I began shaking even before reaching for my phone to check the time, as it was very light outside my window and I had planned to wake up sometime in the hours of complete darkness. Upon visually confirming the time, I leapt out of bed and temporarily lost my mind - I wasted a valuable ten minutes walking around in a tight and naked circle, unable to think a single coherent thought except for some basic momentary firing of synapses leading to the muttering of expletives. Eventually I pulled both myself together AND some clothes on, swung on my backpack and sprinted up and over the jagged steps into the park that leads to the main street and the taxi rank. I pleaded with the taxi driver for help. Miraculously, this marvellous man who must have been in his late fifties, spoke back to me in good English - 'Tell me the time of your flight'. I did, and he said 'I think you have missed it already'. It really did seem like it. Fortunately, he was totally okay with doubling the speed limit in places - and the sensationalist Korean media had done such a good job of scaremongering about road conditions that the roads were in fact deserted! These factors combined so that I was at the airport 50 minutes later, in plenty of time for my flight. I printed out my boarding pass and went through customs.
Once at Hong Kong airport, I followed signs for luxury shower rooms. Like a soiled tramp, I wandered into the private arrivals lounge and paid quite a lot of money for the use of a private cubicle. I took an expensive taxi ride across Lantau island (why I didn't just take the bus is even a mystery to me) and arrived in Tai O - a fishing village that has remained nearly entirely the same whilst the actual city has transformed. The whole village is built on stilts over the water, and it is very much a working place - but also geared for tourists at the same time. I queued up for a boat trip around the stilt houses, that then took us out into the open South China Sea to search for local Pink Dolphins. I really enjoyed the whole experience, and noted that it really can't have changed that much since the early eighties - still the same houses on stilts, temples burning the same heady incense. Later on my first day, I took the metro from the main town on Lantau island all the way to Jordan station on Kowloon side. My accommodation was Hakkas Guest house, third floor of New Lucky House on the corner of Nathan and Jordan. It wasn't pleasant but at least there was mould growing everywhere. The beauty of it, however, was that you walk out of exit B1 of Nathan metro and the entrance to the building is right there in front of you. It's owned by an old Hong Kong gent by the name of Kevin Koo, who is as mad as a box of frogs, overbearing and highly annoying - he just doesn't shut up, then when it's at last your turn to talk he doesn't listen because he's just pausing for air. My Lonely Planet promised a good chance that he would invite me hiking in the New Territories on the Sunday, but I think I'd have refused on the grounds that I would've probably ended up dashing his head against a rock until movement ceased. It's true that I have added reason to be Anti-Koo, and that is that my laptop stopped working under suspicious circumstances during my stay at Hakkas. After 7pm each day, Koo buggers off home and a 7 foot Chinese mute takes over the reception desk. It was tremendous fun getting home night after night at about 5am and waking up this ogre. After ringing the doorbell of the Guesthouse, I'd hear banging and crashing, then a light would come on and he would come to the door in his underwear. From the look on his face, I could actually see him searching his mind for details of where he was, what his name was and why he was answering a door in the first place. As soon as he swung it open I dived past him and into my room, looking back briefly over my shoulder to see in the gloomy light a sudden shock of recognition flash across his face. The penny'd dropped. He'd remembered his name.
My first night, I walked down Nathan Road from Jordan metro station to the Kowloon Star Ferry terminal. I had been expecting something resembling chaos. My mother even skyped me as I was walking. "I'm on the Nathan Road, Mum!". "Be careful! Oh that place's just like Blackpool now", came the response. Well, that was a speculation based on 25 years of absence - completely untrue. I felt totally safe, offered to have a suit made for me just three times - and I was only offered drugs once! "Oh mum, I'm walking past Chungking Mansions now" - "You wanna buy some hashish, my friend?" said the short Indian man in front of me. I burst out laughing. I was obviously on the phone, did he expect me to get a note out and do a one-handed drug deal on the street?! Once at the harbour front, I stood and drank in the overwhelming skyline. Superlatives abound - one of the top ten sights of my life and it's likely to stay that way no matter where I go. The crossing on the Star Ferry to Wan Chai was very exciting, although it's reportedly a much shorter journey than it used to be because Hong Kong harbour has been extended out into the water on reclaimed land. Still, the same iconic boats are in operation, so it felt special. My heart leapt at the sight of a quote on a Star Ferry poster, taken from National Geographic - "Crossing Hong Kong harbour on the Star Ferry is one of the top 50 travel experiences of a lifetime".
Later I met a couchsurfer (www.couchsurfing.com) in Causeway Bay, by the name of Kelvy Wong. She worked for a top modelling agency, and as such had managed to get me on the guestlist for two of the most exclusive clubs in the entire city - usually the reserve of models and movie stars, tonight 'Play' and 'Volar' were our stomping grounds. We ate Japanese food, including the part of the squid not normally eaten (the gristly bone from inside). The clubs were in Lan Kwai Fong, the main nightlife area on Hong Kong island. On the way from Causeway Bay to Central, we rode on an ancient tram and Kelvy gave me the lo-down on what to say to her gossiping colleagues upon meeting them. She didn't want rumours about us, and apparently their minds weren't open enough for the concept of 'couchsurfing' to be a reasonable excuse. We spun a yarn that I was a friend of a friend from London, and she had been asked by said friend to show me a good time in Hong Kong. Waterproof. Lan Kwai Fong was reportedly nothing to speak of in the early eighties, so the investigative stuff was put on hold for the night. We had our names checked off by doormen, whilst a long line of folk were being steadily turned away for not being famous enough. Some of the looks we got. Out on the street it was meltingly hot and humid, and I was sweating badly from my face. This probably helped the doormen to identify me as a 'celebrity' - "Hello Sir. You're obviously on copious amounts of cocaine. Come on in. Would you care for a face towel?". Once inside I mopped up before meeting Kelvy's colleagues from the modelling agency. They were very attractive and friendly to me for the whole night, I genuinely thought they had liked me until she told me later that they are the fakest people she knows. Oh well, there was much fun to be had mocking vain Russian male models. Kelvy and I set about stealing their headbands and laughing at their reactions. There was a lot of gurning going on. "Are they on drugs, Kelvy?". "No Ben, don't be silly!". Volar was more of the same but bigger and even more pretentiousness. I enjoyed it hugely for one night and one night only. Any more though, and I just couldn't have coped. We caught a 24hr minibus back to Kowloon side, and spent the early hours stalking the side streets off of Nathan Road in search of food. We found a shop called Ebeneezer's, serving a multitude of food for drunks. I had me a delicious Doner kebab. She had a not-so-pleasant fish curry. Then home!
The next day, I travelled North to Mong Kok. At one time the most densely populated place on Earth, it's a lively, atmospheric shopping district that I loved. I bought a new belt because my trousers were falling down to my knees at an embarassing frequency, then found a Cantonese diner for lunch. A portion of challenging size was placed before me - fried noodles with beef brisket and pak choi. Delightful! I then went back to the subway station, where I was surprised to have my name shouted a number of times. Surely this was for somebody else? I was a long way from Korea, and I didn't know anyone in Hong Kong. Turns out it was Clare, best friend of Frank's ex-Korean girlfriend Boram. She was on holiday too, visiting her friend Pris who was also now standing in front of me. They invited me for Dim Sum. I cursed myself for having just eaten such a cripplingly large plate of food, because eating Dim Sum was at the top of my 'Not to leave Hong Kong without doing' list. Now I was being invited by a local, promising one of the best places to get it that she knew of. I swallowed and accepted the invite. We soon found ourselves upstairs in a huge place decked out in gold, many locals at tables - this was the place to be! Pris' boyfriend was waiting at a round table at the edge of the dining room. Introductions were made, and we just started ordering and eating. Dim Sum - one of the most enjoyable eating experiences of my life. Loved every bite. The rest of the day we walked and walked around shopping malls - not much soul or culture to be found there. Kowloon Park was really fun for a walk though - they had flamingos and turtles everywhere. That night we watched the light show down at the harbour, before catching a train into the New Territories right to the end of the line. A 'town' called Tien Mun, population 500,000. It was the Mid-Autumn full moon festival. We found Tien Mun park and walked amongst hundreds of families celebrating in the traditional way of eating 'mooncakes'. The moon hung in the sky, bigger than I've ever seen it, and it reflected in the park's lake as dozens of remote controlled miniature boats decked out in flashing lights and glowsticks zoomed across the surface. They sent ripples in all directions, and for a moment the lights appeared to be reflections of the sky.
I spent Sunday hiking on Lamma island. It was a needed excursion after the overdose of commercialism provided by Hong Kong island and Kowloon. I had a great day just walking through jungle paths. I took a detour right to the Southern coast of the island, and stayed far too long at the entirely deserted beach that I found at the bottom of the hill. So long in fact, it got dark. I then enjoyed pushing on through sections of path covered by thick jungle canopy, and in the light I had already seen spiders as big as one of Jon's kindergarten students. I sang. LOUDLY. At the island's second ferry pier, I purposely missed the soon to depart ferry and sat down for a set meal for one at a seafood restaurant. Squid, prawns, scallops, beer - well deserved.
That night I found a lively Irish bar. I thought about the trip over a pint of Guiness. The parts that I enjoyed the most were the parts where I could just feel nothing had changed for years. Lamma island and Tai O on Lantau island in particular. I loved that Lamma was car free, and had never seen a car on its shores in the island's entire history. Shame about the power station. If I was to go back, I would go with someone. As much as I love travelling alone, there are some travel experiences that just need to be shared with someone you know. On Sunday night I took the Peak Tram to the top expecting to be kicked in the face by the view, instead I was stabbed with a big, icy javelin of loneliness as happy couples fawned around me, mocking me with their laughter. A marvellous time was had everywhere I went, but the faceless shopping malls were all the same. I could have been anywhere. I could happily go without seeing another fucking Louis Vuitton shop for as long as I live. Unfortunately, this is a major side to Hong Kong.
Weeks later, my mum returned to Hong Kong after more than a quarter of a century. Upon her return to Seoul, we walked down the hill towards the main drag of Gangnam. I held back the story of my experience there, and asked about her trip back. "I took a taxi on Kowloon side to the road where I used to work at the hospital. The taxi driver pulled over and said 'This is it'. I asked him if he was sure, and he said yes. I got out and recognised nothing. I walked up and down, the hospital had been torn down along with the rest of the buildings that had once lined the road. All that was the same was the street name. Same all over. It's all changed Ben, it's all changed!'. Her voice was strained, and I could see her holding back the tears.
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
A Fish Called Fuck
One of my least favourite students from my least favourtite class, today presented me with a golden opportunity so serve them up a big shit-sandwich. It was almost too good to be true - like a practical joke gone horribly wrong, leaving me with the question 'Just what were they trying to achieve?' unanswered. I was marking the student in question's weekly test, and I came to the last question I had set them 'Tell me about your pet! If you don't have one, use your '상상' (imagination). This girl's answer was as follows: 'My pet is a fish. Its name is fuck'.
I thought 'So, this is what my liberal teaching style gets me!'. If it had been a kid I liked, I would have considered letting it go with just a word in their ear from me. But, whereas all my classes seem to love me, this one has taken against me because I make them do work. They spend the entire time I teach them looking up obscenities on their dictionaries to label me with, often letting their expensive pieces of technology read out sentences in miniature Stephen Hawking robot voices such as 'Ben Teacher fuck you'. So no, I didn't let it pass me by. I delivered the test direct to my boss's door. Within 5 minutes he was on the phone to her mum. Later on, she was in his office for a meeting. HAAA!
Later in the day, after my dinner, I walked into class at 6:05pm and stood at my desk sorting the CD player out for the nest lesson. A violent student by the name of Phillip, walked up behind a girl named Daisy, drew his fist and punched her so hard on the back it was as though he was attempting to knock a hole straight through her. The deep thumping sound was horrendous. I didn't even think - I grabbed him by the the collar/neck, marched him to the door and literally threw him across the lobby/reception area of my school. This caused quite a stir amongst my co-teachers and director. When they came into my classroom, I informed them that he'd been beating girls, I wouldn't tolerate it and that he'd not be welcome back in my lesson for the rest of the day. Gasps were made but nothing more was said. I'm proud to have made my feelings known on the matter, and stood my ground. It's one aspect of the 'culture', or list of socially acceptable things, that I will not adapt to or keep quiet about. No hitting of girls in my lessons/line of vision/anywhere near me. Got it, lads?!
It was a fine day other than that though. I had my favourite feel-good class, and yet another one of my favourite classes who have taken to getting out of their seats and jumping onto my back from the table whenever they see an opportunity - this sometimes involves a one-metre leap through mid-air when I'm not looking. Always a surprise!
The blog below is also new, not from August as the misleading date above the title would suggest.
I thought 'So, this is what my liberal teaching style gets me!'. If it had been a kid I liked, I would have considered letting it go with just a word in their ear from me. But, whereas all my classes seem to love me, this one has taken against me because I make them do work. They spend the entire time I teach them looking up obscenities on their dictionaries to label me with, often letting their expensive pieces of technology read out sentences in miniature Stephen Hawking robot voices such as 'Ben Teacher fuck you'. So no, I didn't let it pass me by. I delivered the test direct to my boss's door. Within 5 minutes he was on the phone to her mum. Later on, she was in his office for a meeting. HAAA!
Later in the day, after my dinner, I walked into class at 6:05pm and stood at my desk sorting the CD player out for the nest lesson. A violent student by the name of Phillip, walked up behind a girl named Daisy, drew his fist and punched her so hard on the back it was as though he was attempting to knock a hole straight through her. The deep thumping sound was horrendous. I didn't even think - I grabbed him by the the collar/neck, marched him to the door and literally threw him across the lobby/reception area of my school. This caused quite a stir amongst my co-teachers and director. When they came into my classroom, I informed them that he'd been beating girls, I wouldn't tolerate it and that he'd not be welcome back in my lesson for the rest of the day. Gasps were made but nothing more was said. I'm proud to have made my feelings known on the matter, and stood my ground. It's one aspect of the 'culture', or list of socially acceptable things, that I will not adapt to or keep quiet about. No hitting of girls in my lessons/line of vision/anywhere near me. Got it, lads?!
It was a fine day other than that though. I had my favourite feel-good class, and yet another one of my favourite classes who have taken to getting out of their seats and jumping onto my back from the table whenever they see an opportunity - this sometimes involves a one-metre leap through mid-air when I'm not looking. Always a surprise!
The blog below is also new, not from August as the misleading date above the title would suggest.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Summer in Korea (Feat. Poetry Corner 2)
Poetry written by my most precocious group of girls usually inspires me to blog. This batch has been no exception, so with no further ado (and no mention of how shamefully long it's been since my last post)...
'What Are You Looking At?' by Libby.
What are you looking at?
I know, I know I'm pretty better
than YOU!
What're you looking at?
I know, I know I have a big
eyes but you've small eyes.
What're you looking at?
I know, I know. I look like a
rabbit & hamster.
I know. I know.
I'm better than you!
Oh, Libby. You're only 13... So many more years for your ego to grow, so many more plain girls' lives to ruin with cruel taunts and jibes!
'She Looks Like a Beautiful Flower' by Mary
When she goes to the bed,
she looks like a purity lily.
When she plays with her friend,
she looks like fresh dandelion.
When she dances,
she looks like pretty rose.
Yeah, it's me! Mary
I can't say anything bad about this one. Once again, Mary, I think you have a talent.
'Cute Juliet's Diary' by Juliet
On Monday, my mommy
give me a present "Dog".
I'm so happy
Happy is cotton candy.
Cotton candy is sweet
Sweet is Juliet.
Just quit now Juliet - you'll never reach the dizzying heights of your sister Mary.
'Rabbit, Rabbit, Don't do that!' by Allan.
Today, my mother bought
a rabbit. But rabbit
is ate a all vegetables and
ddong (Korean for 'shit') Oh - and she eat flowers.
My mother angry with
rabbit. But, it's pretty.
What should I do? I want
to keep rabbit but my mom
angry.
Don't do that, Rabbit!
Go Allan!
So much has happened since I last posted a blog on July 1st. I should have written about each and every brilliant thing, but I let it slide. The first excellent thing to happen in July was Boryeong Mudfest 2009 - a huge free festival on the West coast. We simply had to book a space on a coach and motel room for the Saturday night. The mud apparently has healing properties and, once there, you can run onto the crowded beach and smother yourself in it. It really was liberating.
Brilliant weekend. Later in July, we hit the Jisan Valley Rock Festival. I'm panicking now because I can't think of a way to describe how amazing this weekend was, one of the best things I've done in Korea. Great in every way, spent with close friends and so very eventful. Frank and I split from the crew on Saturday night and made our ways to the second stage in a tent. A Korean reggae band, Windy City, were playing. I hadn't skanked like that since the Arts Centre in Salisbury as a 15 year old mosher, but the most enormous circle pit formed - Frank and I danced for an hour straight, totally swept away in the atmosphere. I've rated it in my top Korea experiences, 9 of which are documented so far. They are as follows (in no particular order):
1. My first ever bet in a Casino. Placing a 5k chip on Red 27 and winning 170k when the ball landed on it (Seven Luck, Gangnam).
2. Dancing to the sound of 30 Korean drummers, after dark and beer in hand, on Gwangalli beach (Busan).
3. Hiring bikes on Seokmodo, peddling/pushing them to the top of a tough hill then freewheeling down the steep hill for ages the other side.
4. My spiritual trip. Life has been better since that night.
5. Slapping on the coloured mud at Boryeong Mudfest 2009.
6. In a Noraebang in Suwon, in particular Faye's rendition of 'Ting Tang Tong'.
7. Watching Windy City, a Korean reggae band, play live at Jisan Valley Rock Festival 2009. Frank and I danced solidly for one hour and witnessed Korean people form the biggest conga line ever seen.
8. 'Top Cloud', top of Jongno Tower, Seoul.
9. Stumbling up to a Japanese Supercar on the street in Busan, then suddenly realising I was being driven at over 100mph down backstreets. I was drunk enough that no-one believed my story when the owner dropped me back at exactly the same spot outside McDonalds 5 minutes later.
Some will remain cryptic. Frank arranged for us to be picked up in a car from Jisan Valley Rock Festival, by the girl he used to give private lessons to. She had subsequently fallen in love with him, stopped paying for lessons and become very strange indeed. When she arrived just before Oasis' set, she stared at him longingly and said 'I haven't eaten anything today except for a chocolate bar. I'm on a diet so that you'll want me. I must make myself thin for you'. Poor girl.
Two days later and I was on a bus to Incheon International Airport, to board a Cathay Pacific flight to Taipei, Capital of Taiwan. I had 7 days for Summer holiday so along with Frank, I packed my tiny red backpack and ventured off. Pictures to follow:
In Taiwan, I : ate snake, drank snake blood, Cobra poison and snake penis suspended in alcohol, ascended the World's tallest building (until that one in Dubai is completed) Taipei 101 and gazed out across the city in awe, hiked through jungles with monkeys and poisonous snakes, swung from rope swings into fast moving rivers naturally heated by hot springs, eaten copious amounts of chinese dumplings, gotten wired on the local 'Betel Nuts', stayed at one of the best hostels in the world (Eight Elephants, Taipei), eaten 17 pork and cheese burgers from Taiwanese 7-11s. Oh yes, and nearly missed our flight on the way back when I was convinced it was a 20:00 return. No. It was a 17:30 return! What a rush that was! Amazing week, and I love Taiwan. In years to come it will be on every tourist trip around South East Asia. Until then, I'm going to feel quite pioneering for going there when not many others have. Great country. Delicious food. Tropical island. Such friendly people. GO NOW!
Since getting back from Taiwan, I've really been enjoying Korea. I've taken the opportunity to explore Seoul a lot, and it's been great. The last 6 weeks have involved hike after hike after party after party. I've thoroughly enjoyed myself. A highlight that I'll share now is when I trekked alone to Inwangsan, North-East of downtown Seoul. A mountain famous for its seclusion and female shamans. They don't like being watched so I found a spot on the hill above the shaman temple to observe. I was able to close my eyes as they began this other-worldly chanting, drifting off to strange places as I did so.
I've also said goodbye to some close friends recently. It has been truly shit. The gorgeous Faye, who has returned to England at short notice to take up a space on the over-subscribed PGCE course she had applied to before coming to Korea. Good luck Faye, love you and miss you! (And I won't stop telling you about all the amazing Korean food you're missing out on, and the great nights out we're having). And who could forget Pyeongnae's very own Johnnie Walker. I'm not at liberty to get mushy but we miss you man! Dinner ain't the same without our chats, and I'm completely honest when I say - now that you've gone, we eat out maybe once or twice a week. No longer is it nearly every night. At least I know I'll be staying in contact with these awesome people, but it still sucks to lose friends from your close circle.
This weekend that's just gone, we explored Hongdae (in Seoul) during the day. It's such an arty place! Our goal was Bau Haus Cafe - the cafe where you can have a coffee/milkshake/beer with over 20 different breeds of dog to play with whilst you do. It was such an interesting experience, although most of the lovely happy doggies acted like spoilt cats and mainly paid attention to the nice Koreans with bags of posh bones. SNOBS.
It was about time I blogged. Today I taught my director's daughter, as I do every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. She demanded two things from me. One was a staring competition. The other was a holding-your-breath competition. Needless to say, I won both. What with this fantastic news and the recent Casino winnings - one could say I'm on a bit of a lucky streak.
'What Are You Looking At?' by Libby.
What are you looking at?
I know, I know I'm pretty better
than YOU!
What're you looking at?
I know, I know I have a big
eyes but you've small eyes.
What're you looking at?
I know, I know. I look like a
rabbit & hamster.
I know. I know.
I'm better than you!
Oh, Libby. You're only 13... So many more years for your ego to grow, so many more plain girls' lives to ruin with cruel taunts and jibes!
'She Looks Like a Beautiful Flower' by Mary
When she goes to the bed,
she looks like a purity lily.
When she plays with her friend,
she looks like fresh dandelion.
When she dances,
she looks like pretty rose.
Yeah, it's me! Mary
I can't say anything bad about this one. Once again, Mary, I think you have a talent.
'Cute Juliet's Diary' by Juliet
On Monday, my mommy
give me a present "Dog".
I'm so happy
Happy is cotton candy.
Cotton candy is sweet
Sweet is Juliet.
Just quit now Juliet - you'll never reach the dizzying heights of your sister Mary.
'Rabbit, Rabbit, Don't do that!' by Allan.
Today, my mother bought
a rabbit. But rabbit
is ate a all vegetables and
ddong (Korean for 'shit') Oh - and she eat flowers.
My mother angry with
rabbit. But, it's pretty.
What should I do? I want
to keep rabbit but my mom
angry.
Don't do that, Rabbit!
Go Allan!
So much has happened since I last posted a blog on July 1st. I should have written about each and every brilliant thing, but I let it slide. The first excellent thing to happen in July was Boryeong Mudfest 2009 - a huge free festival on the West coast. We simply had to book a space on a coach and motel room for the Saturday night. The mud apparently has healing properties and, once there, you can run onto the crowded beach and smother yourself in it. It really was liberating.
Brilliant weekend. Later in July, we hit the Jisan Valley Rock Festival. I'm panicking now because I can't think of a way to describe how amazing this weekend was, one of the best things I've done in Korea. Great in every way, spent with close friends and so very eventful. Frank and I split from the crew on Saturday night and made our ways to the second stage in a tent. A Korean reggae band, Windy City, were playing. I hadn't skanked like that since the Arts Centre in Salisbury as a 15 year old mosher, but the most enormous circle pit formed - Frank and I danced for an hour straight, totally swept away in the atmosphere. I've rated it in my top Korea experiences, 9 of which are documented so far. They are as follows (in no particular order):
1. My first ever bet in a Casino. Placing a 5k chip on Red 27 and winning 170k when the ball landed on it (Seven Luck, Gangnam).
2. Dancing to the sound of 30 Korean drummers, after dark and beer in hand, on Gwangalli beach (Busan).
3. Hiring bikes on Seokmodo, peddling/pushing them to the top of a tough hill then freewheeling down the steep hill for ages the other side.
4. My spiritual trip. Life has been better since that night.
5. Slapping on the coloured mud at Boryeong Mudfest 2009.
6. In a Noraebang in Suwon, in particular Faye's rendition of 'Ting Tang Tong'.
7. Watching Windy City, a Korean reggae band, play live at Jisan Valley Rock Festival 2009. Frank and I danced solidly for one hour and witnessed Korean people form the biggest conga line ever seen.
8. 'Top Cloud', top of Jongno Tower, Seoul.
9. Stumbling up to a Japanese Supercar on the street in Busan, then suddenly realising I was being driven at over 100mph down backstreets. I was drunk enough that no-one believed my story when the owner dropped me back at exactly the same spot outside McDonalds 5 minutes later.
Some will remain cryptic. Frank arranged for us to be picked up in a car from Jisan Valley Rock Festival, by the girl he used to give private lessons to. She had subsequently fallen in love with him, stopped paying for lessons and become very strange indeed. When she arrived just before Oasis' set, she stared at him longingly and said 'I haven't eaten anything today except for a chocolate bar. I'm on a diet so that you'll want me. I must make myself thin for you'. Poor girl.
Two days later and I was on a bus to Incheon International Airport, to board a Cathay Pacific flight to Taipei, Capital of Taiwan. I had 7 days for Summer holiday so along with Frank, I packed my tiny red backpack and ventured off. Pictures to follow:
In Taiwan, I : ate snake, drank snake blood, Cobra poison and snake penis suspended in alcohol, ascended the World's tallest building (until that one in Dubai is completed) Taipei 101 and gazed out across the city in awe, hiked through jungles with monkeys and poisonous snakes, swung from rope swings into fast moving rivers naturally heated by hot springs, eaten copious amounts of chinese dumplings, gotten wired on the local 'Betel Nuts', stayed at one of the best hostels in the world (Eight Elephants, Taipei), eaten 17 pork and cheese burgers from Taiwanese 7-11s. Oh yes, and nearly missed our flight on the way back when I was convinced it was a 20:00 return. No. It was a 17:30 return! What a rush that was! Amazing week, and I love Taiwan. In years to come it will be on every tourist trip around South East Asia. Until then, I'm going to feel quite pioneering for going there when not many others have. Great country. Delicious food. Tropical island. Such friendly people. GO NOW!
Since getting back from Taiwan, I've really been enjoying Korea. I've taken the opportunity to explore Seoul a lot, and it's been great. The last 6 weeks have involved hike after hike after party after party. I've thoroughly enjoyed myself. A highlight that I'll share now is when I trekked alone to Inwangsan, North-East of downtown Seoul. A mountain famous for its seclusion and female shamans. They don't like being watched so I found a spot on the hill above the shaman temple to observe. I was able to close my eyes as they began this other-worldly chanting, drifting off to strange places as I did so.
I've also said goodbye to some close friends recently. It has been truly shit. The gorgeous Faye, who has returned to England at short notice to take up a space on the over-subscribed PGCE course she had applied to before coming to Korea. Good luck Faye, love you and miss you! (And I won't stop telling you about all the amazing Korean food you're missing out on, and the great nights out we're having). And who could forget Pyeongnae's very own Johnnie Walker. I'm not at liberty to get mushy but we miss you man! Dinner ain't the same without our chats, and I'm completely honest when I say - now that you've gone, we eat out maybe once or twice a week. No longer is it nearly every night. At least I know I'll be staying in contact with these awesome people, but it still sucks to lose friends from your close circle.
This weekend that's just gone, we explored Hongdae (in Seoul) during the day. It's such an arty place! Our goal was Bau Haus Cafe - the cafe where you can have a coffee/milkshake/beer with over 20 different breeds of dog to play with whilst you do. It was such an interesting experience, although most of the lovely happy doggies acted like spoilt cats and mainly paid attention to the nice Koreans with bags of posh bones. SNOBS.
It was about time I blogged. Today I taught my director's daughter, as I do every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. She demanded two things from me. One was a staring competition. The other was a holding-your-breath competition. Needless to say, I won both. What with this fantastic news and the recent Casino winnings - one could say I'm on a bit of a lucky streak.
Wednesday, 1 July 2009
Seoraksan
I've been a silent bugger, haven't I? Reason being that I've been having far too much fun! One weekend recently we caught a night bus to a city called Sokcho on the East coast of Korea, not far from the border with North Korea. We arrived at around 2 in the morning and crashed out in an incredibly cheap motel next to the bus terminal. The lobby smelt like a burning corpse so a few of us had second thoughts. Frank and I shared a room for 5 pounds each but before bed we wandered to a nearby Family Mart and bought a can of beer. Back at the motel, we sat in our seedy little room and turned on the TV. There was some Korean porn on. It consisted of a man licking a girls bum cheek and the girl making noises that suggested it was the most pleasant sensation she'd ever felt and also slightly painful. Then, all of a sudden, they were having simulated sex and I said to Frank as a joke 'Time two minutes from now'. Two minutes later it was all over in the most hilarious Benny Hill style. The facial expressions were out of Nineteen Twenties German Weimar cinema (Thanks, European Modernism module in Fresher's year!), the man in particular pulling an excellent Nosferatu. It was the most terrible thing I've ever seen! Another highlight was seeing an advert which at first was very difficult to interpret, but after a while it seemed to infer that if you take these certain pills your stream of urine would be strong and powerful. It had a before and after video of a man in a public toilet. I picked up the phone and ordered a pack, and I can honestly say I've never been happier with my piss.
In the morning, we caught a bus to Seoraksan national park, famous for being the most beautiful national park in South Korea. It was incredible! It was the sunniest, hottest day in a long time. Just inside the park there was an enormous Buddha - seriously big, humongous in fact!
We followed the path to Ulsanbawi, a mountain, through mind-blowing scenery and stopped at a temple on the way. Halfway up there was a 16 tonne boulder that is famous throughout Korea because if you get enough people to help you can rock it to and fro. We just about managed it! The rest of the climb was really tough in 30+ degree heat. At the top there was a man selling expensive iced tea that bought and marvelled at how he climbs to the top with an enormous, full metal water vat everyday. He must make a killing! We took some amazing photos and Jon pulled a mooner when there weren't any Koreans looking. Later we took the Waterfall hike that led us up a river and at the top there was a natural swimming pool. It would have been great for canyoning. Unfortunately there were signs saying 'No Swimming', but that didn't stop us. If we'd turned back down and passed on the chance to swim we would have regretted it forever. In we went, and it was glorious.
That night we were on Sokcho beach - drinking, talking and letting off fireworks. Earlier we had been for dinner and sat outside a hof when our friend Amy attracted the attention of a 40 year old Korean man and his more elderly drinking partner. This love affair began with him buying us all a round of drinks and telling us his name was Manky, but we could call him Monkey (the round of drinks was about 8 pints and some Makoli - he REALLY wanted her). It escalated from humour into something altogether more annoying and lecherous. He was so unbelievably difficult to get rid of - it took such a long time! Later on the beach, Manky kept phoning Amy's phone off the hook and it took Jon to answer it for her and pretend to be her boyfriend. Jon was coming out with such fantastic one-liners, in a great foreign accent, as 'My name is Jeff. Amy is sick. She shit a lot. My dick is hard'. We were suitably in stitches.
On the coach back to Seoul the next day, I saw a travel version of Monopoly, but in Korean, and I translated it's title back to 'Hotel Win Game'. It's called that instead of Monopoly here. That made my day.
Enjoy the photos and there'll be another lot of bundled together words and photos up on this website soon - I've been informed by the owner of a Seoul website that my blog is very well known in Korea and asked to be a guest-columnist for said site. It has given me a buzz and the motivation to get back to writing regularly. Until then, the Korea Advisor is signing off.
In the morning, we caught a bus to Seoraksan national park, famous for being the most beautiful national park in South Korea. It was incredible! It was the sunniest, hottest day in a long time. Just inside the park there was an enormous Buddha - seriously big, humongous in fact!
We followed the path to Ulsanbawi, a mountain, through mind-blowing scenery and stopped at a temple on the way. Halfway up there was a 16 tonne boulder that is famous throughout Korea because if you get enough people to help you can rock it to and fro. We just about managed it! The rest of the climb was really tough in 30+ degree heat. At the top there was a man selling expensive iced tea that bought and marvelled at how he climbs to the top with an enormous, full metal water vat everyday. He must make a killing! We took some amazing photos and Jon pulled a mooner when there weren't any Koreans looking. Later we took the Waterfall hike that led us up a river and at the top there was a natural swimming pool. It would have been great for canyoning. Unfortunately there were signs saying 'No Swimming', but that didn't stop us. If we'd turned back down and passed on the chance to swim we would have regretted it forever. In we went, and it was glorious.
That night we were on Sokcho beach - drinking, talking and letting off fireworks. Earlier we had been for dinner and sat outside a hof when our friend Amy attracted the attention of a 40 year old Korean man and his more elderly drinking partner. This love affair began with him buying us all a round of drinks and telling us his name was Manky, but we could call him Monkey (the round of drinks was about 8 pints and some Makoli - he REALLY wanted her). It escalated from humour into something altogether more annoying and lecherous. He was so unbelievably difficult to get rid of - it took such a long time! Later on the beach, Manky kept phoning Amy's phone off the hook and it took Jon to answer it for her and pretend to be her boyfriend. Jon was coming out with such fantastic one-liners, in a great foreign accent, as 'My name is Jeff. Amy is sick. She shit a lot. My dick is hard'. We were suitably in stitches.
On the coach back to Seoul the next day, I saw a travel version of Monopoly, but in Korean, and I translated it's title back to 'Hotel Win Game'. It's called that instead of Monopoly here. That made my day.
Enjoy the photos and there'll be another lot of bundled together words and photos up on this website soon - I've been informed by the owner of a Seoul website that my blog is very well known in Korea and asked to be a guest-columnist for said site. It has given me a buzz and the motivation to get back to writing regularly. Until then, the Korea Advisor is signing off.
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