Apostrophes, Lanterns And Two More Kids.

It has been more than two weeks since I wrote a blog, and what a two weeks it has been. I have managed to do a great deal and yet not one bit of it is probably of much interest to anyone reading this. In fact a good deal of it wasn't even interesting to me and I was there doing these things by choice.

As I was writing my last blog about being invited to numerous festivals including a lantern festival, my mobile phone bleeped at me. Just as I finished writing that I would never change my shallow existence, I checked the text message, it was from my friend Yatesy:

"Lantern Festival in Seoul this weekend, what do you reckon?"

I looked at my blog. To stay true to my words I would have to refuse this invitiation, or I could totally backtrack and agree to go. As always I stuck to none of my guns and cheerfully agreed to see some lanterns.
Little Spoon, Dubs and Zucchini completed our group and it was off to Seoul.

The first stop was for traditional tea in a Korean Tea Shop. I love my tea, but I like Tetleys or to my American readers "English Breakfast Tea" and this ramshackle little joint had a menu of teas and not one option for a mug of Tetleys with milk. I curled my lip and glared at the waitress, but being the gentleman that I am agreed to order one of their traditional teas and not cause a scene.

I ordered "Dew Tea" which upon its arrival appeared to actually be dew collected from the ground in the morning, heated in a small pot and sold to gullible tourists for seven thousand won (Seven US dollars). It tasted of nothing. Which was preferable to the pot that Zucchini ordered which tasted like a cross between treacle and mud.

Dubs was happy with his pine nut tea, that had two pine nuts in it, and Yatesy drank some bizarre dishwater with dried flowers floating in it. Little Spoon was at this point already in a bar with friends drinking Bourbon. I'd missed a trick, but at least I was being cultural.

Lantern Festival next, and it was interesting to begin with. Sort of a glorified Blackpool Lights and if you are not British and don't know what Blackpool Lights is like, imagine a much tackier, smaller scaled version of the Seoul Lantern Festival.

The river was nice and some of the lanterns were decent, but some of them were just odd and there appeared to be half of the city in attendance which meant it took me two hours to walk about half a mile. Here are some of the lanterns from the good to the odd...





I was generally happy I went to the Lantern Festival but I wouldn't rush back, it was too busy and there were too many lanterns for my liking. That said Seoul was brilliant and I returned to Daegu full of optimism about a new blog.

But my chirpy state of mind was brutally crushed by some stinging criticism of my blog from a good friend back home. This little upstart works in publishing and is reading this now. She lambasted me for my lack of apostrophes. Well let me explain myself.

I am what is called in some circles a maverick. I don't teach English in the way you people deem it proper and I laugh in the face of grammatical rules. I embrace apostrophes for contractions like a long lost friend, but I spit in the eye of apostrophes for possessives like a long lost enemy.

You might not like my renegade spirit, but one day we will live in a world where writing "Donalds pencil case" is the norm and the old bigots from the past will have to hide behind closed doors and bemoan this exciting and dangerous new era.

Rest assured my kids are taught from the pages of my own book of rules and as they flourish under my assinine tutorage, I get the joy of having yet more surreal conversations.

The first exchange was with a tiny girl of about eight years old in my lowest level class who struts around the school like she is a rap star, kisses her teeth at students and will shake her fist at me if she dislikes something I've said. On this day she wanted to ask about my parents and how tall they were. I explained and she nodded gravely and then filled me in on her own situation.

Tiny Gangster: "Ah good teacher. My mother she is a very tall and a very fat"

Me: "Oh I see, and how about your father is he tall too?"

Tiny Gangster: "No teacher is a crazy. Mother is crazy tall and fat, but my father he is a very small and a very fat."

Me: "Oh...I see. Well..."

Tiny Gangster (interrupting and shaking her fist): "My mother...I want to her a punching."

Me: "You want to punch your mother? Why?"

Tiny Gangster: "Because she has the ugly face."

Fair enough.

And although not violent or aggressive, one of my more lively classes brought up a shock result in a discussion of their favourite stars and celebrities. I asked them to give me names and reasons...and a fairly unsurprising list unfolded for the first minute.
David Beckham because he is good at football. Leonardo Di Caprio because he is handsome. Girls Generation (Korean pop band) because they are very pretty. Ji Sung Park because he is a famous Korean and plays for Manchester Utd.

As the board filled up with actors, singers and sports stars, one boy suddenly shouts out "David Cameron".
The rest of the class erupt with screams of "Who, who is he?"

I think I must have misheard.

Me: "Did you say your favourite star is David Cameron?"

Young Tory: "Yes, David Cameron"

Me: "The joint Prime Minister of Britain?"

Young Tory: "Yes, David Cameron, Prime Minister."

I stand quietly for a minute and look at this boy. He is grinning at me in a disconcerting fashion.

Me: "Okay, so erm...why David Cameron."

Now this boy is laughing and shaking his head, "No no just joking teacher."

I'm lost. Is this some subtle Korean humour that I haven't grasped yet? What's the joke? Really he likes Nick Clegg? Or maybe it was a joke about the very notion of liking a politician because he is an eleven year old anarchist. I'll never know, as he wouldn't expand upon it any more and I became distracted by one of the other students pushing crayons into his ears.

Right, I'm off to drink some tea and not the type that is made from rain water and costs me more than two beers.

Am I The Most Shallow Man In Daegu?

I am facing another personal crisis. In only five months I have dealt with numerous traumas with a heroism and ingenuity that few could match. From the disaster of my Small Off competition I rose like a Phoenix from the flames to win back my friends with a dynamic almost virtuoso vocal performance in a Korean karaoke aka Norebang.

I was then shamed into addressing my feeble physical fitness and two months on I'm still at the gym, righting eight years of wrongs. But now it is my very person that is being exposed for the shallow, juvenile shambles that it is.

Initially I put my concerns down to having too many American friends.
They are enthusiastic about everything and my quiet apathy towards planet earth and human existence doesn't always look so great when alongside a people who use words like "awesome" to describe a warm drink.

But as the weeks have drifted by, it has become painfully apparent that they are simply more rounded people than me. All of them. And not just the Americans, every single friend I have here loves all manner of things and is passionate about numerous hobbies or natural wonders.

They all like hiking for a start. This is anathema to me as the only reason I walk at all is because I wasn't born able to teleport from one space to the next and thus far none of my friends have agreed to push me from spot to spot in a wheelchair or work as a team to carry me in a sedan chair.

Enthusiastic Friend:"Hey we're going for a hike just outside Daegu, fancy coming along?"

Me: "What? Oh a friendly invitiation, well I was planning on watching re-runs of old British comedies and eating yogurt today, but as you've asked, what's at this hike? Anything to do when it ends?"

Still Enthusiastic Friend: "Well sure, it ends in a little town, we'll probably get something to eat and have a drink or two, but the walk is going to be aweso..."

Me (rudely butting in): "Ah okay, and how long will this hike take?"

Fairly Enthusiastic Friend: "About three hours."

Me: "Right well you guys set off and in about two hours and fourty-five minutes I'll get a taxi and meet you in the town."

Herein lies the problem. I'm becoming known as a man who only likes to drink beer and eat food. That's not fair, I like at least three other things and by God I want credit for them.
But everywhere I turn there are new opportunities to prove to my friends that I am a man with the depth of a paddling pool.

There is a festival of some sort every bloody week in Korea. I had probably been to one festival in my entire life before coming here and I've been to three in five months. Sandcastles, Fireworks and one based on Mud! Who the hell has a festival about Mud? Koreans. And sure I had a good time, but I still complained, it was too muddy.

Now I'm being invited to lantern festivals, foreign film festivals, Kimchi festivals...and when I don't go they look at me, and they know I wont be watching adults making lanterns out of coloured paper, because I will be in a bar. I'm losing a little bit of them,day by day.
Soon they will grow weary of the sardonic Brit with a drinking problem routine and cast me aside like a badly made lantern at a festival celebrating well made lanterns.

My problem is that a lot of what I like is either surreal or puerile. So the Monkeys racing Greyhounds that I love or a debate on who would win in a fight out of a Rhinoceros and a Hippopotamus. In case you're wondering, my research suggests it comes down to the fight venue. On land, the Rhino wins in brutal fashion, but in the water the Hippo takes his man down...anyway...

If I don't want to be alone in my room cursing these people for their well rounded personalities and broad range of interests, I need to do something and do it fast. I have two options. Firstly I could open my mind to new experiences, try new things and expand my horizons or alternatively I could become a compulsive liar.

Liar it is then.

I can picture it now...

Friend with many interests: "Hey man, here's something you will like, we're going to a bar in about an hour, I'm sure you'll come right?"

Me: "Don't be so sure my friend, whilst I will join you later for a mineral water, I'm actually downloading Irish Gypsy Bareknuckle...erm...I mean...I've just downloaded a documentary on Nietzsche and his influence on existentialism. So once I've made notes on that, I'll see you there. Good day."

But what about when I get to the bar? I will need to continue to dupe my friends with a carefully crafted web of deceit...

Another friend with a myriad interests: "So good documentary?"

Me: "Yes although I got distracted as my new book on Renaissance Art was delivered yesterday and I've been dying to dive in."

Now Excited Friend: "Oh dude AWESOME, I love the Renaissance Era, who is your favourite?"

Me: "Oh...erm...well...I think to choose a favourite would do a disservice to the impact of a plethora of great works...anyway just a tick, I must urinate..."

This is going to be tough. Very very tough. And now it is getting worse, because my interesting friends are adding hobbies and classes to their already multifaceted characters. Dubs wants to start Yoga! Zucchini (formerly known as Emily, but everyone wants a nickname now) has taken up meditation and Rude Boy Yatesy, Tiny and several others take Korean classes.

Damn them all. I will need to hide indoors and lie about being at a class. Where am I? Oh I'm just starting my basket weaving class, and will meet them in a couple of hours. Yes yes basket weaving, I've always liked to er weave things and baskets...represent the...human spirit??

FUCK THIS.

It won't work. I have to embrace my miserable array of interests and my awful personality and use it to drag the others down to my level. I cannot change, I will not change and I refuse to be made to feel guilty about it any longer. I am who I am, and as a great man once said "I will not apologise, I'm sorry but that's just the way I am."

A Firework Festival Not To Be Missed...

Another week of outstanding teaching had drawn to a close. In my last lesson I had been teaching the kids about Egyptians and the process of creating mummies, and the fact that Egyptians dried and preserved the heart but discarded the brain came to light.

One girl frowned and asked me why they thought the brain was useless and I pointed out that thousands of years ago they had no idea that the brain controlled all the things in the body and so they didn't see it as important for the afterlife but the heart was seen as vital. She frowned some more...

Little Frown Face: "So they didn't know the brain was important...that's stupid. But they knew the heart was important, that's clever."

I nodded sagely and said that the fact you can hear and feel the heart would have drawn them in part to its importance. And she then offered a beautiful summation of one of the worlds most incredible ancient civilisations.

Little Frown Face: "I think Egpytians was part genius, part idiots"

I couldn't agree more. I mean wrapping your wizened corpse in bandages...genius. Building big houses for them in the shape of a pyramid...idiotic. Fuck Ancient Egypt and their dismissal of the importance of neural pathways.

But the frowing little wench had cheered me up and I was off to meet Dubs, Yatesy and Emily for a trip back to Busan. I had not been to Busan since my first weekend here and that excursion had resulted in a new admiration for sandcastle carvings and an unforgettable encounter with a psychotic Korean girl. Could this venture possibly live up to the last?

Well we were going to see a mammoth firework festival. Busan always seems to have festivals, last time it was the sandcastles and now fireworks. I don't much care for fireworks, but then I'm not exactly a sandcastle enthusiast and the last trip worked out great, so I was brimming with unusual optimism.

We got on the train, rang our friends Miss Dreads and Mountain to arrange a meeting spot and I tucked into a bottle of Soju and some beer as is customary on my journeys on public transport.

One hour later and we arrive and leap into a taxi "To the fireworks good man and let's not waste a moment more."

Hmmm...our good man looked puzzled. We did some firework impressions which in hindsight may have seemed just like a group of drunk white people making random noises and waving their arms in the arm whilst nodding. It's not easy being a human and trying to impersonate a small explosive projectile.

But he began to drive. This is not good. Where the hell is he driving to? What if he takes us to some weird new age club where people wave their hands in the air and make random noises whilst nodding? And then he turns on a little TV that is in his cab, and by a wonderful coincidence it was showing a firework display on it. And what a display. We point eagerly at the TV and wave some more. He understands and we race off at around 12mph through heavy traffic.

Fourty-Five minutes later and we watch the finale to the Busan firework festival on a 7 inch television monitor in a taxi. It was a great display and I don't feel we missed out at all by watching it on a tiny TV in a cramped taxi, but we are still stuck in traffic. So we decide to walk.

We meet Mountain and Miss Dreads, they wax lyrical about the display and suggest drinking on the beach and playing some drinking games. I'm already drunk and already on the way to being belligerent about their choice of games.

Dubs decides to distract me with his own firework display, by purchasing ten Roman Candles and setting them off on the beach. The display could best be described as impotent, but it's the thought that counts and cheered up I agree to play their games but in a cynical and some what spoil sport of a manner.

At about 4am I've had enough of drinking and I'd imagine everyone has had enough of me, and it's time to find a warm shelter for the night. At which point Emily takes us to something called a Jimjibong. Technically a bathhouse but with saunas and you can sleep there for $10 a night.
Without a doubt this is the most surreal, non artifically induced experience of my life. The place was six floors high and looked like a 5 star hotel.

A huge water slide ran down the centre of the building into a pool and everywhere is marble. But it is as if the hotel owners thought "We could book out rooms or we could just charge people to sleep anywhere and everywhere. Yeah let's go with the latter."

You get changed into what seemed like prison or concentration camp style pyjamas. Then you have a little mat and a small brick like pillow and sleep anywhere there is space. But there wasn't. Any room that is. The Fireworks had clearly dragged in hundreds.
God knows why, when they could have just watched it in a taxi, but it meant there were people everywhere. All sleeping. I am stepping over bodies strewn across every corridor, in every corner and on the stairwells. There is a childrens play area with kids asleep on the climbing frames.

I am creeping about like some action film hero who has put sleeping gas into the enemy headquarters. But what action hero ever wore beige pyjamas?

We wander for what seems like hours, floor to floor, room to room and then Emily finds a metal shutter, presses a button, a flashing light goes off and the shutter slowly raises up to reveal a restaurant closed down for the night. Ha, jackpot. Nobody is in there, presumably because it was locked up and nobody is supposed to go in there.

I find a fantastic spot near a buffet cart and settle down, dreaming of fireworks and drinking games. And then awake at 6.30am being shaken by an irate restaurant manager. Apparently he doesn't want me sleeping in here when customers start arriving for breakfast. The cheek of the man. I was livid, gave him a dressing down for his impudence and decided it was time to leave this bizarre, beige bath house.

As we headed back to Daegu I thought about the Egyptians and realised that Korean Jimjibongs have much in common. Huge hotels with water slides and restaurants you can break into? Genius. Hundreds of people in identical pyjamas sleeping everywhere and insolent restaurant managers interrupting your sleep? Idiotic.