Yogiga

Went to an afternoon gig in the Yogiga art gallery. It was a warehouse space, no natural light, a dizzying smell of gas. A bookshelf of mouthwateringly obscure CDs for sale. Loved it.

A Korean duo came on, sampling struck metallic pots, the notes stretched out in infinite waves, reverbed. At a table one performer sat spraying foam from a canister by a mic, covering the slab on the desk til the can was done.

No, it was momentous, really majestic and timeless. I swear.

I bought a 2002 CD compilation of Korean artists on the Cavare label. It's a decent selection of lo-fi sounds, standouts including Oh! Brothers, with their two cracking little rock & roll numbers Thank You, Girl plus 陽気なツイスト (or the 'Wah Wah Wah song' as I call it). Ladyfish are another good band, 日曜日 午後4時 being of a swinging 60s Parisian style much like Merry-Go-Round , who're behind the Franco-organ waltz of さいころ. I also enjoyed My Low Array, whose Sunglass Fume features some Beckesque swamp guitar warpings (the Mellow Gold Beck).

I think it's time this blog turned more cultural.

Oh! Brothers >

cock & balls

Having a beard is of course fascinating to the Korean kids. Some elementary kids were curious enough to ask if I had a hairy chest to go with the scruffy face. That's when they went wild, the crazycrazycrazy kid rambling up then drawing on the board some Valentine scenario of me opening up my shirt to show a ladyfriend my chest hair all carved into the shape of a heart. She of course runs off and screams, in some variations drawn in felt tip with 2 breasts perched upon her shoulders (?)

The chubby kid then drew me as another stick figurine, my cock & balls unleashed upon the titted shoulder girl, sticking out like carrot and peas.

#

Today I was walking for dinner when I saw an old man standing in my way, face staring at mine in concentration in the middle of the pavement.

I look down and see his old fat stubby cock in one hand, taking a piss in the night.

It was only half 7, you dirty old git!

Happy Valentine's

V Day began with me stumbling home out of a taxi, soju drunk. Actually, there was no stumbling. I was dignified and feelin fine. I was sick.

Up at 8.15. Again, I'm in a pristine mental condition and I manage to get to work. It's a Saturday open day for the kindergarten folks. I somehow look fairly respectable, cos I really am the kind of guy you want teaching your kids.

#

The evening I'm with a nearby community of teachers, contemplating whether kiwi soju is a good idea as I sit with two guys I sort of know for ten minutes or so. They're entertaining two Korean women of an older age, playing a drinking game involving the piglet tail of a soju bottle cap. It has to be flicked, something like that. The jockish younger man is hoping to score with the fuller of the two ladies, but when he gets up to empty himself outside the bar, said woman shuffles forward in his absence to ask me solemnly with blank eyes

'Do you love me?'

I make my excuses.

Your high nose bridge

Soju. Made me stumble out of a taxi home, could barely keep in a straight line. It was my first time, voice coarse out of karaoke. I'd drunk it straight, a drink that tastes weaker then vodka but breaks you down with a deadlier makeup.

The next morning I went to church still drunk, wide awake and pristine mentally. I don't know why I go there to be honest. It was a comfort zone in my 3rd week out here, introduced me to fellow foreigners. But I'm such a snake in the grass - I don't believe. But... I want to. And I respect the warm kinship of belief, and I respect how it brings out the good in most.

A nice guy, American, he took me hiking that day. Sure I say. First time for everything. I'm in fucking Korea, why not? So we go to a baby mountain, I take pictures of a lovely Buddhist temple, the statue offerings outside. And then we get to the hiking. Gorgeous landscape.

Five minutes in, I'm panting, I'm spinning. My eyes cannot focus on anything. I'm seconds away from fainting. I'm ready to up chuck. Dumb fuck! I'm still drunk! I hadn't had lunch, I'd slept less than 5 hours, and I think I can take on a mountain? I had to sit down to avoid an embarrassing collapse. My colleague was not impressed. We made our way back down to his scooter. It didn't start up so we just rolled downhill with no power in the spring sun. Our helmets made me think of Daft Punk.

#

Think it was the same night when I went to my favourite PC Bang.

'OH WOW WELCOME!' a young woman shouts when I walk in, open arms. She works at the place but it's the first time I've seen her. Her colleagues blush around her.

'Hi, thank you...' Bemused, also blushing.

She grabs a card and offers to seat me, shouting in a great accent let down by a slightly off-key syntax.

'WHERE ARE YOU FROM? DONT YOU THINK I AM SO CUTE, SO PRETTY?'

She is gorgeous and she knows it, framing her face and bowing, upturned eyes.

'Neigh' I say, Korean yes.

'DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?'

Ooh, here we go I think!

'No'. English this time. No time for messing. 'Do you have a boyfriend?' (Twat).

'YESSS' she squawks faux-sad. 'I'M SORRYYY'.

Fair enough. Time for some music.



You're falling for me / Your high nose bridge / How is my body?

crazy crazy crazy

The only bathroom I like in Korea is the one in my studio. And the one at the 63 Building.

They're never heated, the dryers never work, paper is scant, and you can't get hot water. A jacket is essential wear for a public piss.

My school is a shiny respectable place but there's an abandoned wringer trolley no-one's ever emptied sitting by the urinals, stinking of fish. The fast food toilets downstairs are my other option, but alas I've to hide in the cubicle cos the kids will otherwise see me pissing from the back when they run upstairs to class.

#

The subject of football led one of my 10 year olds to jabber in Hangul how Korea's teams could crush European teams any day, that South Korea could crush the whole continent with its might, punching his fist into a palm in my face.

After class I saw him outside my hagwon alone.

'Crazycrazycrazy' I said, coming right at him in surprise, swerving away. It's his favourite English word.

As I crossed the street, his rant returned, grew evermore histrionic and enraged, my back to him, laughing how he managed to drown out the traffic.


#

My school's principal is a middle aged lady, nice enough woman. She asks what I've planned for the evening, asks what chav means, what wanker means. Then she tells me she'll be spending the evening having the spots lazered from beneath her chin. What's wrong with toothpaste?

The Hollys Coffee Incident

You can go to a bar in Korea and have a peaceful time. But be wary you of the coffee chains for they attract most unsavoury characters.

It was a typically cold evening in Gangnam, the night overhead pushing down on the lights of the district, the warm glow of Hollys Coffee welcoming our party within. We'd debated Wa Bar for a while but the place holds too much history for me (private joke #1). Plus the American among us had a coupon card he was desperate to get stamped.

Because tea is sadly as scarce as vodka out here, I opted for a vanilla coffee drink, risky move at 9 in the evening, but I felt dangerous and brave after my hot bowl of tuna & kimchi, a spicy meal which always cauterizes the senses. I really felt ready for anything, even a sleepless night high on caffeine in the blood.

The three of us were discussing Kid Sister when trouble brewed outside of the cups. A drunk had walked in, a local, shouting at the guy attendant who refused to turn around to face the abuse. His female co-worker stood the storm, amazingly calm with a smile professional yet friendly to the point she could have known this bearded guy was just a harmless joke. But the man kept raising his voice and reaching over the counter for the Hollys teen who'd somehow really pissed him off. The manageress would come out and also try to keep the rabble at bay, failing.

Everyone kept chatting as if this was normal. We kept staring, slack jawed. It was an ugly scene as the younger man finally turned round to reply with a cocky smile, stepping out to the swingdoors by the till. Guy then tried to charge through the wall of 2 women.

Finally the cops came. Now, in a society as innocuous as Korea, the cops are a bit of a joke. They've nothing to do except fine jaywalkers. But here was something to deal with, some meat on the bone.

'First time in 5 months I've seen the cops here actually do something' said Steve.

So two of Korea's finest came in. And, er, well they stood around, for some reason listening to this madman's reasoning. They intervened at one point when he again threatened to turn violent. But they mainly just stood around listening, no authority. We kept staring, other customers jabbering and sipping, somehow nonchalant. They eventually escorted the nut out, or tried to, as he turned back around and pushed past them for another tirade. Korea's finest. Eventually he shook hands with the heartthrob attendant to leave peacefully. I believe a failed credit card payment may have been the issue.

Story over, til five minutes before closing time. The guy came back, having duped the police he'd gone home. The girl Holly person shooed him into the smoking area where he sat in the dark alone, chairs having been stacked already. Calmly he smoked, looking down. He was back to finish the job come 12 midnight, get the younger guy outside shift time.

We had to intervene, but we were being kicked out with everyone else.

Walking past the smoking zone, I couldn't let it go. I was too high on my vanilla pod stew.

'Annyongaseyo' I said, hands on hips.

He said the same. My invitation to walk in. He looked up at me.

'Ta ja' i said, let's go.

He laughed and muttered. I took his fag and stubbed it out.

'I said let's go', steely in English, fists pressed against his table, looming over.

Guy laughed, spat Korean in my face.

'What did he say?' I asked my compadres.

'Something about blood, hands on neck. Leave it man, he's gonna kill you' begged Brandon.

I laughed, turning back round to the drunk. I looked in his face and stared and muttered -

'...good luck', and turned away.

He charged up as expected, pushing away the table. I was ready, turning round all punches, slamming him in the gut.

'Meeanhamneeda!' I chortled. Sorry in Hanguel.

The guy doubled back for another shot, hitting me in the jaw. Cut lip. I slammed him into the slide doors of the smoking partition, a kick in the chest for good measure.

'Komapsunida, old boy'. That had done the job.

The Hollys staff were shocked and grateful, but I just kept walking out the building, past the cops, knowing that I'm the police force this country needs. English kindergarten teacher by day, delusional blogger by night.

A Twosome Place

'So what music do you like?'

I was lost and I was found, trying to reach Giheung-gu from the bustle of Megum. A 19 year old with indie band hair and buck bugs teeth helped me out. I could picture a guitar strapped to his back so I had to ask.

'Britney Spears'.
'Oh, really?'
'Um, gimmeegimmeemore-gimmee morrre...'
'Oh yes! What else do you like?'
'I believe I can fly'.
'Oh ok, R Kelly!'

He just really liked that song.

Nice guy anyway, thank you.

#

I saw the other foreign guy who lives in the neighbourhood again. It was Friday night and he nearly walked into into me when stepping out his apartment. The look of fright we gave one another attempting to say hello...he kind of hummed and I smiled sickly.

He's probably a very nice guy.