gathering for dancing!!!

SoKo has delivered me some great shows.  Headin to Seoul today for Global Gathering.  It's gonna be sick.

Check out the lineup here: Global Gathering Korea

pumped to see justice again...

digging the summer from under my nails

School is back on. Summer is officially over--the free weeks, not the heat. We're still melting, bitching and moaning about the humidity, relying too heavily on air-cons and paparazziing our weekend adventures. The parties are back to being punctuated by days of desk-warming and repeat-after-mes to smooth away the engrish ingrained in the over-worked brains of Korea's youth.

I missed my students, my coteachers, my school. It's good to be back.

I miss summer already.

Beaches, mud, festivals, Beijing...the last few months have overloaded me with new friends, crazy visions and more dancing than even I thought possible (is that possible?).

International BBoy Championships, International Graffiti Festival, Seoul: July 3-4

Heading up to Seoul for a weekend with the girls, we watched poppers and lockers and breakdancers battle it out onstage while beats were delivered from some top djs from around the world. All of Korea's dance traditions were brought together in an amazing performance of popping, locking, traditional drumming, martial arts, breaking and even some fans to bring it all together. Best cultural display I've experienced in Korea.

We walked by a river where graffiti artists climbed ladders to tag their soul onto Seoul cement. We sipped coctails in the sky above the lights and noise of one of the great sprawl of the city. Our version of a funkified sex and the city weekend--just Seoul instead of New York, flipflops instead of prada heels. Love my girl time.

Boryeong Mud Festival: July 17-19

A soju-filled bus ride delivered our crew to the West coast waters of Daecheon beach in the middle of the night. Small town, huge waves, loads of white people. We crammed into over-booked, under-cooled motel rooms, two on the floor, two on the cement bed. Shared our bunks with mosquitos. Woke up to rain, wind, and giant waves. Didn't stop us from finding the mud. We slid, wrestled, hosed and painted. Walked around in wild colored war paint--intox and detox all at once, hail the amazing powers of Boryeong mud. Rode waves and fought to survive and celebrated our exhausted triumph with 30+ bottles of makoli the restaurant owner kept going and purchasing from the store for us. Woke up to a sunny day and kissed our dirty bodies goodbye to return to inland civilization.

Pohang Fireworks Festival: July 25-26

Five of us cram into a car late Friday night and roadtrip up the east coast in search of the penis park. We stop in several small, dark towns, knock on doors of minbaks (guest houses), are turned away no-room-in-the-inn style (poor Mary, how we empathize), and finally end up on a cliff about a small port town in a shining-esque motel with an empty front desk and a vending machine for room keys. Not sure about the size and worth, we snag a key left on the desk and sneak into a room, crumpled from the one-hour bookings notorious in rumors of Korea's seedy hush-hush sex scene. Whack in our 50,000won, three in bed, two on floor, giant splooge stain next to me on the headboard (lovely reminder of what awaits us in the morning...). The coast is beautiful, the penis park is hilarious. An actual park like many others, with traditional pagodas, shrines, yet this one is teeming with phalluses--including a ten foot penis statue we all rode like a bull and a moving penis cannon. Also including a recreated whore-house with a man pile-driving a woman in a room scattered with old currency, a man in the next room counting it all up, and a little boy peeking in on them through a window. All with unnecessary detail. The visiting Koreans laughed just as much as we did. Conservative culture my ass.

We left for Pohang, in time to spend a bit of time with the crew on Bukbu beach-ee. Posco, the steelworks factory that juts out across the right side of the beach, usually offers little more than an industrial rape of the scenery and the potential development of a superpower for all of us who swim in its toxic waters. But this weekend, Posco offered an explosive celebration to make any July 4th display jealous. 87,000 fireworks set off in one hour. Massive. Four countries were competing with their displays, Korea, of course won (we all thought Japan deserved it, but that would NEVER happen here)and a bonus KPOP girl group performance. Thousands of Koreans crammed onto the river walk, streets, hills, all standing there, not oooing and aaahing at all. Just crammed, craned people, clapping when performances ended. Very un-Korean, considering their screams an wails even at seeing someone cute on the screen in the classroom.

Required night of Pohang makoli revelry brought us back to Bukbu, where late night swimming and dancing in the sand led us into the morning. A beautiful, explosive weekend in so many ways.

Jisan Rock Festival: July 31-Aug 2

Early Friday a few of us bused up north to the mountain resort of Jisan. Instead of a ski lodge, the valley had been converted to camping rock festival and cancun spring break. Away from straight-line, back-to-back tent city, people set up camp in every odd bit of land they could grab in the trees. We staked our claim in a flower bed, sleeping in the tiger lilies and a forest filled with spiders. We beat the heat in the giant pool they had built at the bottom of the ski slopes (massive!!!) and rolled and battled on giant inflatable toys when we weren't sipping mojitos (REAL lime and mint!!!) poolside. Saw some amazing Korean bands that didn't play Kpop. Got up front and rocked out to Belle and Sebastian, Vampire Weekend (BEST), Massive Attack, Pet Shop Boys, and others. Spent three glorious days rocking out in the ROK: great DJs, danced like wild animals with the fire dancers at the Poi Stage, painted faces and bodies, buckets of tequila, foam dance tents and more. Made poetry in a creek with a bunch of amazing Koreans. Bailed on the midnight bus home to stay another night for the best treasure: I stumbled upon a circle of Koreans in the empty main stage field. We grew to about 25 for a Monday morning sing-along, our harmonies boosted by the free end-of-festival booze and the charge still pulling us through the weekend.

It was a very crunchy Monday, all of us traveling home, wordless, brain-dead. Amazing.

Beijing: Aug 3-10

One week in Beijing was not enough. We passed through metal detectors and saluted Mao at the beginning and end of our trip, heralding our pass into "communism." China felt less communistic than Korea--it was full of diversity, nasty bathrooms, bums on the streets, and people eager to rip us off if we weren't the wiser (lucky for me, I am a wiz at haggling ^_^). We stayed in a nice hotel if you ignored the sewage smell that would creep in and the fact it was so hidden every taxi ride was a battle. We braved the subway, sometimes so packed you couldn't move to exit), taxis, buses. Navigated our way through hutongs, got our spirit on in temples, climbed the wall (scaled it, more like), smoked hookahs on rooftops, relived the olympic glory in the Bird's nest, ate duck (and I forced down jellyfish), dim sum, more tsingtao beer than I care to recall, haggled for tourist items that for once were appropriately made in china while scorpions writhed on sticks in snack street, saw pandas and got pissed about the big cat display, danced through the forbidden city in the rain...phew. Not all of it. Hardly.

    

My top two experiences in Beijing were, however, not listed above. My friend Sean had a friend-of-a-friend one time connect that, through the glories of facebook, saw we were going and met us there. Shanshan, our beautiful tour-guide into the secrets of Beijing. With her help we found ourselves at the finest and oldest 6-story (still had to wait) duck restaurant, a small family restaurant tucked between the skyscrapers of downtown, and to a big gay chinese birthday party Saturday night. We dressed in our beach gear for the theme, took shots of cheap chinese liquor and headed into a posh little apartment-cum-bar filled with half dressed, very hot men, caviar, dancing, little light up party favors, a cake with a penis, and plenty of suggestive smiles. 

 Gay parties are the same back in Kansas, if a little-less polished, a little less Asian-colored (do not mean to sound racist or insensitive, I promise. My friends from these circles will entirely understand) It was wild, ending in an over-packed, over-priced dance club where the men were too focused on their pairings to dance openly, so we left. What a riot of a night.

The other highlight of Beijing was when our group of four became two and Kevin and I, eagerly trying not to waste our last day, had an adventure searching out, and being rewarded by finding, the 798 Art District. We strolled through an old converted industrial section of the city. Factories-cum-galleries. Cafes in tree tops. The entire place was an interactive walk of eye candy. There were sculptures everywhere outside, from a giant train, giant Stalin heads, Giants in cages...it was awesome. We walked, climbed, touched, posed for an unimaginable amount of photos, and finally fled the head to a standing-only bus back to the city, back to the haggling of Silk Street. 

There's so much more to tell.  So much of the city we didn't even see. I can't believe we were going to try and cram both Beijing and Shanghai in one week.  Never would have worked.  So glad we stayed.  Kevin and I really lucked out having that extra day with all we were able to cram into it.

My impression of Beijing was one where past-present-future all collide into a wild and quite interesting study of humanity. The service was terrible, the bathrooms disgusting (I opted for the alley several times after walking in on 6-squatting shitting woman with no stalls to divide them), and we were melting and dripping in the heat the entire time, but we forgive these things, or add them to the flavor of the experience. Beijing was refreshingly diverse--clothing, body type, behavior, structure...It was impressively successful in its chaos.

Bag checks and cameras and metal detectors were constant reminders of regulation, but other than that, it was not the cold hard communist place people invision it to be.

Amazing week. Exhausting, dirty week. It was nice not getting stared at all the time, nice not feeling like a fat cow in a field of gazelles. But I was surprised I found myself very excited to be back in Korea, another land of plastic--but at least plastic smiles and toilet seat covers ^_^

Handsome Furs concert, Daegu: Aug 12

Another amazing night taking down Daegu with Gi and Kelly. Started with dance-juice in a bag (really strong stuff!) from vinaroo, then headed to a club: Teengirl Fantasy (DJ pair from Chi-town) and Handsome Furs danced us into the morning. I got to talk to them for a while at the bar (amazing stories to be shared, really cool people). The epic night (as they always are) ended with us passed out waiting for the am train on the steps of Lotte Dept. store. Laughing the hole way back to Gumi.

Seoul for skin and ska: Aug 14-15

So sick of rice. I miss bread and whiskey and the prairie, so I've got an ode to it tattooed on my back now. Went up to Seoul for the ink with Gi. Spent the day in a tattoo parlor with the boys of B2K (some old R&B group from Cali), watching WWF on one of their laptops. That was painful, the needles weren't.

Jisan reunions followed, catching the end of a Korean ska band and getting drinks with beautiful souls in Seoul. Ran into about 5 different people from the festival. The universe keeps running us into each other.

International Body Painting Festival, Daegu: Aug 29

One of the tamer festivals I've been to in awhile, full of Eye Candy, painted bodies, painted faces, painted nails. We sat on the grass and watched belly dancing, martial arts, norae, mamma mia shouts, and walked around to see the artists marking magic on naked bodies. Quite cool to see.

Followed by the usual Daegu revelry. After a vinaroo pitstop reunited me with some pohangers with paint, I found myself in a colorful crowd: I as an anime doll, with a pirate, a cow, a cherry blossom, some varicose-veined cheeks and a cat. We were about the only ones downtown at night with face paint, and a few odd looks would bring a reminder through the blur that we were quite a site that evening. Sunday brought the discovery of an English commune for hippy expats--a bookstore, organic cafe, clothes-swapping, yoga-teaching, drum-circling top floor of goodness. I will return.

Daegu Wants to Funk: September 4

Finally, a theme party worth getting dolled up for (though my Manhattan crew threw theme parties to put these expat-korean born dress parties to shame). BUT we got our headbands on, shiny tights, bangles, glammed and glittered up our faces and we ladies strut the town to meet at JEEEP (by far our favorite bar in Daegu). Thank you, my dear Mr. Sean Cridge who got the party to happen. Funk and disco ruled the night (except for an odd hour where a different dj took over for a bit. boo) and I am proud to say I lasted til 6 am in leather leggings and my 2nd night of heels in Korea. Smokin!

Three of us ended up in a makoli bar with some random koreans, enjoying squid and peppers and drinking from bowls until the sun came up.

There is an expat summer in-brief. So much more happens. There are too many quirky stories to keep up with, but here we are, celebrating, learning, living...mostly celebrating ^_^

Korea has been kind to us, and while we bemoan our lack of things from home, we revel enough to fill those holes. I make it a goal, everywhere we go, to get some kind of cultural event and some kind of partying in (usually heavier on the latter), and I'm doing a damn good job of it. Experience so much we can't even sleep.

I'm really happy here--a sustained happiness plateau that I've been riding for the past year or so. At this point, I don't feel like I'm doing much growing over here in Korea, just living and getting to know what it means to be a part of these different cultures--westerner, weagook, korean, human. Livin it UP! (And while I'm here, what better way to spend my time than enjoy it, eh?) We are the rockstars in this country--for the locals and expats alike. We gather and build and let loose a storm of excitement wherever we go.  Say kimchi.

powerful little collisions

a few weeks ago, under explosions in the sky of pohang and swimming rivers of makoli that fed into bukbu beach, I met a really fantastic man visiting friend here in SoKo.  Connections ensued, and for two weeks our paths collided in the skies of gimcheon and in the woods of jisan and now he is off and away in saipan.

in jisan I found more.  I ran into an EPIK guy, from orientation, whose name was less memorable than his face, and somehow through smiles and cocktail bag chats our paths converged through the maze of the festival.  

and then there were the gyeongsaners i found beneath an umbrella toasting me with buckets and enticing me under their shade to catch up, but instead of catching up, my saipan friend and i followed a diversion down to the creek where our universes crashed head-on with Hoon and Junghwa and Hong, where tequila sunrise and moleskine notebooks presented an arena for some truly epic wandering and wondering.  I saw them again this weekend, reunited by a jisan band and the bars of seoul.  seoul for the soul, this therapy in the form of conversation and poetry session in a red-boothed bar.  

and then there was the pink-haired british pin-up, who I only briefly reconnected with walking down the streets of Seoul, opposite ways, but both stopping for a shout and cheers to our shared memory

and then I revisited the morning, the sunrise service of Jisan, where i met rob and becca, both from different groups, brought together by our circle of singing and drinking koreans enjoying sunrise setting on our festival.  becca who danced and ran for drinks with me, i bumped into Saturday night in Hongdae while out with the Hoon and Junghwa, my other Jisaners.  And amazed faces said it all just then.  and then Mr. Rob, British Rob, with the smile-big-for-life face, just as familiar in Sunday afternoon revelry as he was in Monday morning revelry at Jisan, I ran into him at an Irish Pub in Itaewon.  

and then the man getting the rat tattoo while B2K were waiting or their ink, bumped into us on the street the next day, the pain still fresh in his eyes, with some local know-how to get to the yuk (station).  

these are not all of them.  not even close.  Here, I mostly have the recent, recurring ones.  The ones in this past month that have rocked me, and them, enough to make a lasting note in each of our lives.  I'll give em a whole post ^_^

Almost 49million people in this country, and yet we bounce around and run into each other like charged little molecules, gravity and whatever ions we need to exchange pulling us back into each other again and again.    I love the smallness and infinite vastness of this world.  I love that I can have a thirty minute conversation with a complete stranger and know that we will both carry it with us, impacted by our words and shared energy for as long as we need to remember it.  Even when he's off in Saipan, or she's swallowed up again in Seoul, they carry a bit of me with them.

x

On a side note, it has been ages--AGES, I get it!-- since I have last posted.  Sorry.  SoKo never stops, never sleeps, and so neither do I.  

Quick recap, then revisits, I promise: 

Shows I've been to: Major Lazer, International Breakdancing Competition, and Korean Ska Band in Seoul.  Pinnacle the International Hustler, and Funk and Soul DJ set in Busan.  Hood Internet, Teengirl Fantasy, Handsome Furs in Daegu.  Jisan Valley Rock Festival, including Belle and Sebastian, Vampire Weekend, Massive Attack, Pet Shop Boys, Muse, 3rd Eye Blind, a Korean Marley cover band, foam dance tents, a giant pool, sunrise sing-alongs, etc!!!

Festivals: Boryeong Mud Festival (craziest, muddiest party I've ever been to), Seoul International Graffiti festival, Busan Sandcastle festival, some Daegu art festival, Pohang Fireworks festival, Jisan rock festival...I feel like I'm missing some...

And I can't leave out Beijing--7 glorious days exploring past-present-future crammed into one of the most interesting cities I've ever been in.  Phew.  

School starts this week, but the fun don't stop (but playing around with the language and using poor grammar will...)

an epic korean birthday: crazy is one weekend older

After a week of Woody-less combined classes (he was off honeymoonin), students stressing over midterms and anticipating one of their few weekends at home, and editing enough engrish essays to make my eyes cross, TGIF! Not only Friday, but the first night of an epic birthday weekend in Daegu half-planned the night before.

Treat me like the queen bee, Friday night I was out with my boys. Dan, Eoghan, Jack, Kevin catch the train from Gumi. Meet up with Tom, Sean and Blake (surprise!), grab back-alley rooms at the Green Motel. My second room in korea. 25,000won gets you a bed, tv, fridge and a bathtub. Nice.
After that's all sorted, it's back into the neon crowds to a noodle shop for a quick korean dinner where Tom introduces us to two Korean friends he made. Friends we made, now.

They take us to a laser and smoke-lit basement bar, swanky and empty enough to let the beats echo. Jeeep (why do koreans love the extra letters?) Crown is cheap. Tequila is cheaper. So it begins. Lights and mirrors and music, and I don't care that it's early, I'm going to dance. Tom's friend is the dj's brother, and he gladly spins us up some funk, some mj, whatever we wanna say. It's good. We fawn over the beautiful mystery-ethniced (korean-american, after a bit of diggin) beautiful bartender whose smiles and conversation take a long time to coax out. Later I even get her to do a bit (very small bit) of dancing. We mingle, we dance. Our new friends keep the shots coming, keep the smiles coming, keep the beats coming. Smoke and mirrors and laughs and lights and a birthday shot that looks like a prop from Abyss (151 creme-de-menthe bailey's--I called it!). One tequila two tequila blackoutkorea.

What a wonderful little hotel room. Bright and early peekin out at the sunshine over a Daegu Saturday. My first real soak in Korea outside of the saunas (even I have to fold myself up to fit into the tub). Bum around wakin up watching a real crap movie on tv (kangaroo jack?) and rally the troops that are Eoghan and Dan next door. Gotta meet people at one. Gotta find food.

Daegu sunny Saturday is packed with people. After food, comes my next big birthday treat: Coldstone's just had it's grand opening. I get a chocolate-peanut-butter-taste-of-home then it's off to the yuk to try and meet up. Rallying troops is hard--i don't even know who's planning to show. But once we figure out the locker mess, wait for the gumi bears and pohangers to show, let the boys from the night before off the hook, we've got a group of about 14 on the subway, bound for Woobang land. More waiting, more walking--beautiful park, though--and we're those kids in the car: are we there yet? arewethereyet? We see towers, rollercoasters, hear screams. hen we find the queues. Koreans--and what! white people! (which really includes every color of english-speaking foreigner)--they're everywhere. Tickets. People. Lockers. Picture by the giant birthday cake just for me (ok, for the park's 15th, good timing though). Sorted. We are in.

Theme parks are pretty much the same in just about any part of the world. There are rides--bit and small, a chaotic battle of carousel music, colors, lights, food, smells that all battle for your attention.  But in Korea they're also full of matching couples and cartoons on steroids. And tons of tulips polkadot walks.   Rollercoasters! Rollercosters! Waits in line. Excitement. Some queazy hung-over stomachs. Corn dogs with sugar. Batting cages. A stage show of Elvis, Beyonce, Lady Gaga. Feelin like kids again. Adrenaline and jollies. A birthday gift of tiger ears, that go nicely with the pink hat Kelly crowned me with, courtesy of a Dunkin Donuts birthday.

 A trip up Woobang tower to see the city of Daegu and watch a bungee jumper fall past the window.  We stick our faces in cutouts characters from around the world.  Blow kisses at the camera in the "kissing zone."  And then we gawk at how the city sprawls.  All of the towers we go up do this to us: we just have no sense of the density of this country until we step back and look at it from above.  While enjoying the lovely view, we a go on the Sky Toilet, exposing our unmentionables for anyone with high powered binoculars.  Do I even need to mention how much I enjoy the fact that you can take a crap on Daegu?  Haha.  We're done.
After a whole lot of walking, waiting, riding, standing, and eating.  We leave Woobang land behind, and hop train back to downtown Daegu.

After meeting up with yet more people and trying and failing to coordinate dinner plans, we collect some free soju on the street and our group of 12 wind through the streets to Dijon, a posh little restaurant promising Mediterranean and hopes of hummus but really is just fusion-Italian like all the others. But we dine in style with REAL garlic bread. Melt-in-your-mouth real butter and nothin sweet about it. Goes great with my salmon salad. Yummm. Done.

Meet ups in Billi Bowl. Reunited again! Here, in one place, are the Gumi Bears, Pohangers, Yeongcheoners, Gyeongjuers, even some from Busan (I don't even know all the city nicknames yet).  Somehow, even when we see each other almost every weekend, these reunions are epically played out--hugs hugs hugs.  Waegooks overrun the bar, but we drink slow, wait slower, and ease into the warmth and noise of the evening before trying to rally far too many troops.

Off we go to GoGo.  Well, in all actuality, we wind through the daegu maze trying to find a space to accommodate us all.  Our forces divided we call and grasp out with phones, overcome the distaste for GoGo and follow the pull towards capri sun coctails until we take all find ourselves in the basement with glosticks on our wrists and superbly strong coctails in our hands and beats beats beats getting us moving.  And all we can do is celebrate.  Together, under poorly written engrish signs and neon scratching our faces, we dance our way through the night, dance our way past embarrassment.  At some point Sean dons the robot head, the dj gives me a couple shout outs, the 300 arrive in togaed legions bearing ice cream cakes, the ears disappear along with inhibitions and we get a healthy riot of craziness going to overtake the club .  And  through all the partyin, people move in and out of the bar, but our epik family creates a nucleus of energy that seems to suck all the people we know into daegu, into a dingy basement club, into a mess of a show where we all have stepped outside time and into the beats.

The end stretches over the hours.  We all trickle in different directions with slightly altered burdens.  On this particular Sunday morning, the night takes its toll and spits many of us in the wrong direction.  No 4am train to Gumi, taxis and feet and trains scatter us.  Portia and the pohangers actually find a taxi back to Gumi.  I end up in a cab in the opposite direction to Yeongcheon, Libby saving the day as she is always so good at.  I hear the next day of bags being lost on trains, people disappearing in Daegu, and some ending up cities too far: Busan Gimcheong Ulsan.  Man.  What a gathering, what a party. Whew.

Sunday, the day for rest, the day for reflection.  I, as always, wake up entirely too early, and get to explore the quiet little streets of Yeongcheon.  Oddly enough, it reminds me of small towns in Kansas.  Not the way it looks, but the way it feels.  It feels like Horton.
Once I have my paris baguette breakfast, a bit of coffee in me, say my goodbyes, I catch a slow train back to Gumi.  Staring out the window at the camo-colored mountains and feeling the sun strobe past me, I am once again fit to burstin with my love for this country, for my transplanted family, for how fulfilling life is anywhere you are.  But I am here.  SoKo.  It is a good fit.

I finally make it back to Gumi and have a quick shower, a quick shout to portia.  We're off to explore the other side of the city.  Past In-dong to a park packed with Koreans.  Ignore the factories across the road; the long, winding, manicured park, dotted with swings and trees and fountains, overlooking the river with the mountains in the distance, lets us absorb spring.  We eat ice cream, and dodge scooters, have a look at some critters familiar to any classic US petting zoo.  We lay in some spiky grass with giant ants, under the shade of a Dutch windmill, watching a Korean woman break bullseyes and possibly records with her bow and arrow.  Sitting in a park, enjoying each others company while we recover and recharge and reflect on the past two days and nights events.  I am marinating in happiness.

Finally, it is time for goodbyes, and we walk the Pohangers towards the taxis, taking a brief stop on some exercise equipment and another to say hello to a crane on the river.  Then it's hugs, farewells, and Portia and I comfortably strolling through In-dong.  Portia, my partner in exploration always up for a bit of an adventure, suggests we go explore a temple by the bridge.  Turns out there is no temple, just a chained up traditional Confucian campus--most likely being rented out for weddings, ceremonies, etc etc.  While walking around the area, we note some Koreans who've set up a bbq under the bridge, and we both comment on how ridiculous it seems to set up a picnic, under a noisy bridge, on concrete, in the shade.  But, oh the character of Korea.

Well, turns out we have to walk under the bridge to get up to the walkway.  As we're passing them, as is the norm in Korea, several of them say hello and wave and giggle.  We say hello, keep walking, we're almost back into the sun, when one of them men call us over.  Brain dead and bedraggled, we share a why-the-hell-not look and I say yes to one more amazing moment to make this weekend perfect.  Korea provides, the universe provides.  I'd been lamenting not having enough contact with native culture, and suddenly I am presented with the Korean generosity and hospitality we have been told so much about.

Previous notions of the oddity of the location are undone when Portia and I walk over to see they've set up a nice little grill from a grate and a few bricks, a fire built right onto the concrete.  There is a nice breeze, a good view of the river, and little perception of the presence of the freeway rumbling above us.  In fact, the cool seclusion under the bridge offers plenty of room for the family to enjoy their oysters and soju, let their kids wander, and avoid the day's heat.  It's perfect.  And they invite us to share and indulge in their secret celebration.  Immediately two of the men move and offer Portia and I seats.  They have pour us soda, water, soju.  They hand us chopsticks.  Put more oysters on the grill.  Offer us kimbop.  Seem shocked that we can handle the spice, the raw garlic, the kimchi.  I love the way Koreans seem to be impressed when we enjoy their flavors.  They have SO much, and they even get a second grill of bulgogi (maybe?), and they share it all and keep refilling and encouraging us.

We spend about an hour of broken engrish and consultations to cellphone dictionaries, and many many charades and laughs.  We find out the young girls can speak some English but are too shy, and we give them some wafer cookies as a return gift, it being the only thing we have on us.  A few of the men are over 40 and repeatedly want to know if we have boyfriends, and they give their female friend a hard time for her age, another for her white pants and heels, which she proves don't stop her from squatting and joining in.  The shade stretches, and we have a movie to catch, and the awkward, broken conversation is becoming more difficult the more the soju kicks in.  So we thank them with arms and bows and kamsahamnidas and make our way up to the top of the bridge.

At this point I am about to explode at the sheer joy this weekend in Korea has given me.  As Portia and I are crossing the river, the sun cuts rays across the city's horizon, and all the greens seem brighter and golden and I can't stop exhaling AWESOME.  I've ridden roller coasters and danced my face off and pet goats in the park and eaten oysters for the first time under a bridge with a family of Koreans!  This has been the perfect weekend.

It isn't even over.  We meet Dan and Eoghan for Isaac Toast (yummm) that we sneak into the theater for a screening of KickAss.  Which did.  And Sunday night I should have slept, wrapped in the euphoric residue of a weekend done right.  But again, too happy for sleep.  Too excited for pizza with REAL RANCH DRESSING the next day.  Too excited for Daegu later in the week, for Pohang the next weekend, for midterms and summer and green and and and...

Another weekend older.  Crazy.  Another weekend where I am reminded to waste no time.  Not a moment.  Each little street and alley we can walk under, each friend we reconnect with on the weekends, each shot we are handed, each table--or blanket--we are invited to eat from, each beat we are given to dance to.  We are making moments, memories (cliche as it is) and building connections that link us, not just with each other, but with the whole community that extends beyond us.  Share it.

beware the yellow dust

This last weekend was a 24 hour excursion to the East all over again. Our Gumi group went out for Japanese fish fry, light on the Soju and Max, then some Baskin Robbins on Friday night. We had to keep it calm; big day planned saturday.

We met the next morning at Dunkin Donuts by the Gumi Yuk (train station, usual place). Time for some coffee, water, munchkins, tickets. 8 of us, plus Portia and Jackie, all made our way into our various seats on the 9am train to Daegu.
I am sitting next to Jack, when a glowing westerner diagonally behind me compliments the dreads--she always wanted them, I'm all-too-excited to share, leaning across the aisle to talk. Strike one. Attendant comes up, leans over us, moving both hands down-wards, telling us to lower our voices. Ok, wasn't so sure I was being loud. I move back to the empty seat next to her, offer to share some munchkins, to which she delivers the fantastic news she is a practicing vegan--living RIGHT near Gumi. How refreshing to have some insight to an even more hard-core veg lifestyle.
Warm feelings are abounding as we share a hippied-out conversation about our grappling with the culture, the gender imbalances, the double standards. Then, strike two: the male conductor comes up to us. Tells us, we 'women' need to be quiet. No speaking. Ha, go figure. The irony of him handing us our examples of the very issues we are discussing. Well, our shared grasping for understanding, our shared excitement for this connection, only became heightened when she told me she was on her way to a Nonviolence seminar in Daegu. Oh, the positive reinforcement and direction that brief, timely seat assignment gave me. As we parted ways, me to a touristy bull-fight festival (oddly unashamed by this) and her to a community of soul-searchers I plan to connect to, we have the surity of a facebook connection, two names written on small papers. The next day, we were "friends"--isn't technology wonderful?

Well, thirty minutes later, we rush to find the #18 Banwoldang station exit. There is none, and rushing, we follow other westerners into the too-warm-so-much-for-the-rainboots weather of Daegu. There are some hundred+ westerners, milling about, waiting next to the buses of the Deagu friendship tour we joined up with. Tourism it is today. And, like all large tours, it began with a lot of waiting. We sat on the buses, were fed sandwiches (delicious sandwiches with real mayo and real bread) before we even left. But finally, we rolled out. Watched the colorfully dingy Korean country-side roll by, listening to various representatives we had grouped togetther: from the quite and respectful to the outright drunk and belligerent. By the time stopped at small area of Cheongdo, the group was filing up a dusty path towards a giant wine bottle in front of a tunnel, and like everything else in Korea, not too sure what we were doing, but just following. Following following following.

The wine tunnel, a converted old train tunnel, specialized in sweet persimmon wine (not a fan). They filed is down the dark corridor into rows of tables, where the random Korean travelers took video on their phones of all the white people eating saltines and american slices and wishing for more wine. But we walked down the dripping dark, past giant lit-up casks of wine, past a bottle-mid-pour made entirely of lights. All the way to the blue glowing end, gated off, where you could peer in at all the barrels. Turn around, walk back. Mingle with other westerners, say "hello" everytime some little Korean child got excited and waved. Not sure what was more of the attraction for them: the wine or us. Us. Hands down.

Filed into the bus again, rode for a while into steeper cuts of the mountains, looking very similar to the woods of Appalachia. And then we hit the line of traffic--cars and cars, Korean versions of tailgating? Stalls for selling, parking, etc. And the buses travel past the stadium, where banners of two raging bulls, backed by red or green, and the festival is booming. Our driver wheels us into some treacherous, traffic-stopping 5-point turns, passers-by getting out to help and all, until we finally just get out and walk the rest of the way through the carts and cars of Koreans, into the stadium. Street food accents every few steps--whole chickens, brown-sugar pancakes, roasted chestnuts, rice, silkworms. Dust. People. Soju. Gas. Rain. Despite the mill of noise, the chaos of color and Hangul and cartoon mascot security guards, the nose is the most overwhelmed.

Once we get into the stadium, our group splits a bit. Jack, Matt, Sean, Kevin and I go in search of beer. We find Max and Soju in a side-stall hof just inside the stadium (not inside the actual arena). We quickly order soju to share from dixie cups and Max, yo-gi-o to the waitress, who quickly becomes our friends. They bring us food, potato-leek cakes, kimchi, soup, radish. Even extra toats--on the house. Wee-ha-yeos (sp?) all around. Gum-bae's with photos. Kids from a table away come for pictures, to give us gifts.

After feeling like we'd made the insiders-club at the races, we work our buzzing bodies through the crowd of festivities, past paper-mache horns and drag-queens on stage, into arena to find the bulls, horns locked at the bottom, two handlers giving them periodic whips to rile them into action. There is no action. Apparently we have come in time for the standstill of the bulls, and despite the announcer's prompting applause from the many Koreans in the room, I actually doze off a bit. Waking up in time to find the bulls still locked. How anyone watches this all day, two bulls just pushing at each other, is beyond me. But eventually one breaks and runs away, the territory and title claimed by the stouter.
Enough of that, we go back to the hof. More soju, more Max, even more salad, kimchi, soup, smiles. It is a grand escape from the rains and wind that have finally hit Cheongdo (I knew my wellies were going to come in handy at SOME point).

The day's events over, we head back to the bus, street food replaced by plastic, dampness setting in over our buzz. Bus ride to Daegu, plans for the evening, but we still lose 4 of our group once we make it to Daegu, where it is already dark, and appears to be misty (though later, we find the truth). Portia, with the best idea yet, leads us on a hunt for a sauna before a night out.

After following the red neon SA-OO-Nuh, we find the jjimjilbang, the bath house. Downstairs, pay 4,000won, get a handsized towel. Men through one door, women the other. See you in an hour. Portia and I walk in, put shoes in a locker. Get a key for another. Strip down all the way. I am surprised at how nonchalant I am feeling towards all this--maybe six various aged, various shaped, Korean women are walking around the locker area in various states of dress. Portia and I, entering the sauna, are the only white women, I the only with ink. Some stares, but few. And it is quite. We shower, then sit in a hot tub for a while. We connect, share, chat in the most basic, laid-back way. I can't handle the heat. Move to the warm, still pool. After a bit, on to a round pink-watered one. There are women scrubbing themselves with gloves; Koreans have an obsession with exfoliation, proven by the many infomercials. Others sit and shave, or just simply soak--like us--turning into jelly. Portia and I move into a hot-stone room, scrub ourselves with salt and commense detoxing. Back out for a rinse, one more hop in. Shower off, then back to the common room to freshen up.

By the time we meet the boys back outside, we are all feeling a bit like wet noodles, starved as hell, with Indian food and nothing else on the brain. As the streets of Daegu begin to fill up, all the Koreans that pass have their mouths covered, either by masks, or with fingers and sleeves. Can't be us, we just bathed, right? First real clue to the dust.

We find our Welcome India, second floor, veils and tapestries and low lights. Stuff ourselves on curry and naan for a good price, and feeling the drag of pure relaxation, try to rally ourselves for the night.

First stop: Billybowl. Billiards-bowling, drinking, fun. No fun for me, or Kevin. Too stuffed for anything. Give it a bit of time. There are too-young-looking westerners, obvious army rats, a few daeguers we recognize from the bus. Finally, we move out. Onto the streets, where the fog is thicker, the wind is stronger, and we are finally admitting that this must be the ominous yellow dust we had heard rumors of. Didn't think that'd be coming until later.

Wind down the streets to GoGo. Have a vinyl coctail (a beautiful invention, like a giant capri-sun for grown ups) and dance to a terrible dj while the boys play pool. The place is full of westerners, poorly-phrased english signs, and too much britney spears. We move on. It is at this point that Jack, Sean and Matt puss out, head for the train, and Portia, Kevin and I are left in the dust.

The next stop, a blessing, is the Lonely Heart's Commune Club. A chill waegook bar, downstairs, lined with vinyls (records this time), my first taste of some good music (Dylan, Phoenix, Avett Bros, to name a few), my first night of healthy pours of Jameson. Quiet, slightly seedy, indie-enough to appreciate without feeling too cliche. Good break from the kpop. It is here, where we have a nice, quite, meaningful chat.

Here where I realize the dust has stolen my voice, and between pushing it out and slipping into whispers, and just plain listening, I have the second best reminder of who I am. Kevin, in an unexpected shift from excitement for life and party, shares the worry that he does not want to be stagnant. ME EITHER! In all of this miraculous, fun-loving, drama-free experience--all of this shared culture, we cannot let ourselves forget what it means to grow, to share, to learn, to touch. We cannot forget to process all of this, and give back through it. Kevin's direction of the conversation, and meeting Lina on the train that morning, were such refreshing reminders, and materializations of the same worries I myself had been having. We will support and remind ourselves not to get lazy in mind and spirit.

After some good, quiet escape into our minds, the three of us head out to lose them again at Where's Bob, for a failed 80s night, where we are the only ones dancing and the music is never loud enough, and an ambulance is brought for a true drunken bastard who couldn't even stay in his stool. Duck out of that one as well.

Final stop: Club Frog. Fitting, since, after walking through all the yellow, I sound like one myself. We stand in line for a minute, pay a small cover, stuff our bags in a locker and break into the sweaty dark surging mass of Koreans that is the dance floor. BEATS. beats. real beats, not kpop. A constant flow never letting you catch your breath and we rage and dance through black and blue lights, packed like rice cakes, smashed up against each other. Occasionally we find the room to show off some steps, occasionally we find a bit of air to breath, but mostly, it's just beats, sweat and bodies. Glorious.

We have to duck out to catch the 4am train back to Gumi. As soon as we leave, soaked, red, sore, all the charge leaves us. We become zombies, dying for water, trudging to the train. Once in a while, exhaling a "man that was awesome," but never getting much more than that. Sink into the car, force ourselves to stay awake for another half an hour, then crash crash crash till Monday comes.

The craziest, most hectic 24 hours since I have been to Korea. We started out as tourists, and somehow transitioned all the way through to dust-hardened, train riding residents, stumbling back to our apartments like we've done this for years. We are here in Korea. We are learning it and living it. Inhaling the dust, breathing out battered syllables; ingesting it and making it our own.

an epic dance through daegu

Saturday was my first trip outside of Gumi since getting here. Woke up early to throw in a load of laundry, run to the PCbang for wild graspings at plans and communication. Woot for facebook chat. After some scramblings, we had plans to meet at dongdaegu station at 4pm. Never having been there before, I went to the station a bit early to try it out. Made the 2:15 train. 30min ride, only 2,500won--cheaper than a taxi to homeplus. Sit next to a Korean woman, not much talking, watch the mountains roll by. Mist mist mist. Then Jack and Gi come up and surprise me. We make our way to the cafe car, find Tom on the way. Try our best to shrug off the biggest know-it-all thinks-he's-hot-shit American who wants to tell us everywhere we should go, hang out with us in our free hour, follow us to a rave that night--and lucky for us, no cell phones, so, "bummer dude, guess we'll have to split ways." Good day sir.

When we get to the station, we walk a bit into the drizzling neon that is the town, grab the usually sorry excuse for coffee in a colorful little second-story shop. Relax. Feet dry. Then back to the station for the 4pm-not-so-sharp rendezvous. After about 30min, a chat with a very strange Korean rando, and a guilt-buy gum purchase from a man in a wheelchair, we have a solid group of epik reunitees.

Oddly enough, a little over a week away has made their faces feel like home. Exciting rush of joy. HUGS. We hit the subway, then we hit the city; scattered sort of buddy system keeping us together. And here is our Korea: flashing lights, narrow streets, west-meets-east in Gumi on steroids. Here is where I'll come to buy my boots. Fo sho. We're all cravin a bit of warmth, a bite of food, and where are Blake, Sean, and Lindsay most excited about: Burger King. almighty! the last thing that I could possibly missing. But we stand outside, and I do, yes, have a salty warm fry. Watch some free huggers, reunite with more Epiks in passing. And then move on.

Downstairs Beer Bar--all the foreign bottles you want. Not for 6,000won a bottle, so Korean Max all around, Kamsamida. We're the only ones anywhere we go in this early light. They bring us first cheerio-like snacks. then it's nachos. then it's strawberry and apples. O'malley's popcorn and peanuts has nothing on the bar snacks here. Few bottles down, tally it up, move on out.

Down a few more streets, can't decide where to go. Libby and I run upstairs to check a swanky spot out. First bit of Korean snobbery: completely empty bar, and we are told "No. Koreans only." What the wha?!? Well, alright, we'll take our big ol' group of spenders to a more welcoming place covered in post-it notes next door. Another bottle, more snacks, until--finally--we find a spot for food.

Out of the rain and into a posh industrial set up, Swankified second floor. Pasta plates made for the sharing, all the salad you want. And, no joke, a bathroom with two toilets set up to stair each other in the face. You can talk about how great the food is while you're both grunting it out of you. Ha. Roly poly stuffed and warm, split up the bill--only 7.50 per person. How bout that for cheap. Then it's out into the rain, into the new night that's not-so-dark, and look for a new place to drink.

Found some ex-pats with word of a Happy Hour. They lead us through the streets, dancing and dodging Koreans the whole way there, a new track for the soundtrack in front of every store. Holy Grill. Canadian ex-pat setup. Good music. Endless drink happy hour. Jarrod, Virginia, Lindsay and I have a go at some foozball. Phoenix is playing and it feels like partying back in the states. And, who's there but that big ol guy from the train (who, with the help of Blake, we are able to avoid). Darts, dance, drinks. And then, Lindsay puts in a whisper and the lights come on and we treat Jarrod to a "Happy Birthday" from everyone in the bar. The bartenders treat our crew to free shots. Nice.
Then, Happy Hour ends. A hug bell is rung, and it's free shots for everyone still in the bar. Pass 'em on back. Nicer.

Back to the rain. Work our way past all the shops with winking models and oh man will I be returning soon to do some shopping. We end up at the Monkey Bar (I think) Pay a cover, get a locker, and make our way in. Now we dance. Dark and smokey with no waegooks in sight, we create a circle of foreign dancers right by the bar. Shake our hair, beat it on down, and show this country how we do it back home. oddly enough, all the music we hear are the familiar American remixes with a dj singing along with his favorite lines. Ha. But it was great. Sweating through neon lazers, we danced off that dinner and then some.

After they (not me, no sir) had enough dancing, we make our way out to a place for billy bowling (pool-billiards combo). Sip on a few more drinks, and let the last vestiges of the night trickle by us until it's 4 or so and we make our way back to find a way home. We say goodbye to most everyone at the trainstation. Hug hug hug.

Jack, Gi, Tom and I get ourselves a ticket on the next train to Gumi. We have an hour at least to wait. So we look for food. Of course, everywhere by the station is closed. Walk towards some lights under the bridge, and we find a little korean dive. Soju. Rice. meat (not for me). kimchi. radish. garlic. Yummmm... Surprisingly my chopstick-fingers were highly adept even in these fuzzy morning hours. We thank her, pay, and make our way back to the train station, waving goodbye to the last few lights of Daegu, and up the stairs to the platform. There is a small group of Koreans--ending their night I presume. Strangely we all look very alive. On fire with it, I guess.

On the train there is Tekken and internet and two other westerners we share the car with. Our spirits are high--in many many ways. It was an epic night, well worth it all. As we roll into Gumi, we wish Tom well until the next stop, and Jack, Gi, and I make our way (luckily) down the same street, branching off at our respective alleys.

It's a little after 6:30 by the time the benadryl hits in. I sleep for the whole day. And come Sunday night, I am rejuvinated in so many ways. Daegu was excellent.