My Name is Mud

Another week passes in Korea. I play in the mud and put my mind in a bottle like some toy ship.

I finally got out of Seoul for a day. That's kind of a milestone in and of itself. I took a crowded train to Boryeong City for the annual mudfest. The whole ordeal was actually a little less muddy than I'd feared, and about as messy as I'd hoped.

In short, it was a pretty damn good time. It was nice to get out of the Seoul smog; and nicer still to get out to a decent beach with nice waves. Really, it was more of a beach fest with pools of mud on the side, which was ideal, really. Party or not, mud should always be an option.

Of course we opted-in, at least for a little bit. We fought through the mudpool for a bit then washed off the filth in the warm and wavy East China Sea. Koreans call it the West Sea. They also call the Sea of Japan the East Sea. They refuse to acknowledge other East Asian countries, it seems.

Then the mostly sunny day gave way to night and light and more of that neon glow makes Korea Korea. On the beach they had one of those awful carousel swings that were banned years ago back home. They also had pretty mood lighting; nothing quite like a blue-green-orange beach at midnight.

Speaking of colourful lights, what would a party in Asia be without fireworks? They had a decent display, and I took many very blurry pictures. But what could go better with nice blurry memories than nice blurry pictures, right?

Between the big official display and us regular folk lighting off Roman Candles and god knows what other hastily-purchased explosives, the reek of sulfur was thick and sweet and smelly-awful the whole night. I was convinced that my clothes reeked of it the next day, but I'm pretty sure that was just some part my mind that overloaded and short-circuited.

We ended off the night with an impromptu game of soccer with some random Koreans. In fact, it was a soccer tournament. Korea versus the world; us foreigners even had a player from Ethiopia. Of course, being from a non-World Cup country, the enthusiasm with which people approach 'fuutbol' is alien to me. Of course, 'alien' is pretty synonymous with 'interesting as hell' these days anyway. We played for over two hours in the middle of the night barefoot in the sand, and I can honestly say that it was the highlight of the weekend, if not my trip so far. A defining moment in a had-to-be-there kinda way.

We won the first game and lost the second, by the way.

After the beach gaming, we limped back to the minibak (think 15-20 people sleeping on a floor fit for fewer than 10.)
That was fun both due to and in spite of its discomfort.

Uncomfortable again was the train, as we had to sit on the floor with three slightly insane but occasionally funny Americans who kept putting things inside the open mouth of their sleepy companion.

Back here in Seoul (and throughout South Korea) there's been a bit of flooding, but nothing too near me. Fear not, friends and relatives, it won't reach my second-floor apartment any time soon.

And that's all that ever happened.

Ever.