It was the 9th October, a date that had become imprinted on my mind as RTD, Rocking the Daisies- South Africa's most notorious rock festival. Over the last few years most of us have had our calendars centered around that date and today the festival has become a pilgrimage taken by hippies and jocks alike. In the last year abroad though, I have missed such events regularly. The Soccer World Cup, Currie Cup final 2010 and National Braai Day have all been spent on foreign soil while sporting a Springbok jersey with a foreign lager in hand and Shosholoza on my lips. When RTD 2010 approached this year though, there was something else we were focused on. We had our own rock festival. And we had Fatboy Slim.
Global gathering is a rock festival that road-trips the globe, bouncing from country to country and boasting names like Faithless, Eric Prydz and Fatboy Slim. When word was out that the legendary caravan was coming to town, we snapped up our tickets with the kind of euphoria that usually accompanies a test-match at Kings Park. The fact that entrance to the concert would cost us more than a World Cup final ticket did not begin to dampen spirits, and in a matter of days a hefty majority of the South African ex-pat community in Seoul was on the roster. Party-liaison duties had somehow fallen to our local kiwi celeb, Damo the Dog-tooth which unnerved us slightly. He delivered more than his rugby team ever did though, and produced a batch of Tie-dye shirts that would have felt at home at Earth-dance. We met at the subway station, a stone's-throw from the shuttle that would take us into the wicked realm that was GGK 2010. The 25-strong crew of saffa's, kiwis, yanks and one Liverpooler who had slipped into our posse beneath a cloak of excitement and disorientation, assembled at the bus stop. When we suited-up in our tree-hugging attire the line for the bus seemed to part as people realized they were heavily outgunned, and our All-black Moses led us through the sea of nervous faces aboard the vessel that would deliver us to our own promised land. We took-over the bus like Phillistines and it was only the brave and the drunk that remained among the tie-die army. Some of us were excited, some nervous, and the rest were feeling the effects of a couple hours aboard the subway drinking Soju.
I expected to be greeted by a Rocking the Daisies atmosphere when we reached the grounds- muddy, disorganized and a huge hack. But this was Seoul; Getaway Magazine's number 1 pick of developed countries to visit for a cultural experience. If there's one thing the Koreans can do other than wiring a microwave, it is organize a function. We arrived at the gates to what could easily have been a G20 summit. There were guards in suits, translators standing by and an impressive selection of officials from whom to collect your ticket. As a South African I had arrived with my confirmation number as well as email printout and a photocopy of my ID, Passport and Alien Registration. These things just do not run smoothly where we're from. Booking a ticket online is just asking for trouble in the Republik and the saffa's among us were skeptical that ours would even be here. But we would be once again surprised by the efficiency that met our nervous ticket inquiries. Not only did these officials speak better English than those in any service department back home, but they were smiling. This threw me off somewhat- I had never come out of one of these transactions unscathed, let alone feeling welcome. After decanting a few dozen litres of Soju into plastic bottles, we entered the arena only to find that our team attire would not be turning many heads. There were people wearing everything from chicken-suits to birthday suits. We were surrounded by photographers who wanted the scoop on this army of foreigners and why they were dressed like protesters. After a couple of nervous "no-comments" we made it to our picnic site: carefully positioned between the beer tent and the stage. One trooper of ours went down like a sack of potatoes, right there before us. A heavy night followed by 3 hours of subway drinking had proved too much for him. Luckily the festival was to last 12 hours and what began as ridicule from us slowly turned to praise for a man that had clearly timed his power-nap. We were all to wilt in the coming hours, one by one, like the no-name battery bunnies in the Duracell add.
When I found the visionary (James) later that evening, he was in the front row of the crowd watching Fatboy Slim and looking like Fordyce on Poly Shorts. I made a mental note that the mockery accompanying an early nap has nothing on the second wind that it provides later on. He roped me into the front row and against the fence and there was a brief moment when I thought that being stampeded at a rock concert wouldn't be a bad way to go out. But again the Koreans impressed me with their control and although the hundred thousand humming glow-sticks behind us threatened a crushing march was imminent, everyone kept their cool and it was an awesome couple of hours. Fatboy slim really brought his A-game. Midnight arrived in a cold snap that warned us all that winter was on its way. We turned to Singha's new addition to their beer line- tequila. It didn't warm us up, just made us regret the decision horribly. Those taking refuge at the picnic site were subjected to a cold, wet blanket for warmth and a barrage of stumbling idiots for company. The only ones left standing were either on a concoction of uppers or had followed James' example and were prospering from an early day's rest.
NB Tip – Take the ridicule, and have a power nap.
GGK pics at http://picasaweb.google.com/aidan.johnson2/GlobalGathering2010#
GGK pics at http://www.0150.co.kr/main2.html?fid=344
