The cocktail of exhaustion, jet-lag and complete isolation that I was experiencing is one that I wouldn't wish upon any man and I suddenly felt a connection to Guantanamo Bay prisoners, although I was also deeply troubled by the thought that I had chosen this fate- I had plunged myself into this environment under the cloaked perception that this was my vibe- the lone wolf, the one man wolf pack. In reality I was beginning to realize that there was no such thing, and I'd either have to meet some people asap or begin hiding my razor blades.
Being really really ridiculously good-looking has its perks, and it wasn't long before I had made some mates. Closest to my heart was the local corner store owner, who couldn't speak a word of English but via primitive hand signals and a constant flow of Korean Won from my wallet into his cash register we had become friends of some sort. I would call him, "bows with a fist." The Korean teachers at my school were also incredibly warm and I slowly began to feel like I was part of some estranged family. The friendship of my students came at a cost though, and I was required to perform periodic show-and-tell displays of my hairy arms- which evoked disbelief in some and euphoria in others. My green eyes were also something of a phenomenon to the kids. I may as well have been a Cyclops.
Two of the teachers took me out into Seoul after my first week, which felt like some warped kind of a reward for surviving 30 hours in a classroom with ADD whipper-snappers. Our first stop was Itaewon, the Westerner's Mecca of South Korea. I was soon to discover however that this slogan had been earned by the 35000 US army troops that are currently posted in Seoul, and use their weekends to run riot in a part of town that is now only frequented by themselves and the hookers, transvestites and DJ's that can appease their testosterone. Needless to say I was slightly disappointed, and we headed to a small varsity town that didn't let me down in any regard. Coming from Stellenbosch- the best town on Earth- my expectations were high. But this little area felt more like an English pub village than anything else, as long as you kept you gaze low enough to avoid blinding neon signs that boasted names like TinPan and Double D's. We ran into a couple dozen poms, a few scotts and several hundred Americans who had overnight transformed in my mind from unbearable foes to my only allies. Expectations of a classy first world Korean night-life were shattered and I soon lost count of the Korean kids falling by the wayside like first-year Rhodents. It was true; Koreans could not handle their liquor. Sure they had heaps of style, I had never seen such classy attire, but any kind of finesse is lost when heaped over a toilet. I wouldn't say I was in top form myself, but it's certainly difficult to be "that guy" when there are weedy Korean kids at your feet.
The night was a success. The first train out of Seoul only left at 6am, and by that stage the three of us were conversing in a mish-mash of clicks and low grunts. When I finally got home, all that awaited me was a cold shower and a change of clothes. The next stop was Daechon beach, to finally meet some saffas and feel slightly at home with an imported Boeri and a make-shift braai. They had me at Boeri.
By the start of my second week at school I was a different man. Physically weaker yes, my raccoon eyes attested to a weekend that hadn't boasted anything in the way of moderation. But I had survived. I rolled into class tossing around Korean slang the way Toks van der Linda tosses a chippalata around a Weber, (at altitude). I knew shortcuts through town and if I had a bell on my crusty mountain bike it would have been ringing proud, announcing my arrival on the scene and letting the locals know that I was here to stay. I had been warned of the first 48 in Korea, and such warnings held some serious merit. But following the nightmarish first two nights I had discovered the secret to survival on the other side of the world. People. The lone ranger is hardcore, but miserable.
24 hour spa's, ancient castles or names of alcohol that I hadn't even heard of, each new weekend was now an opportunity to rip the lid off of it. I couldn't wait.
NB question - Is Korea ready for the smut?
