One Crazy Korean Night: A Saga in 4 Parts (IV)

Here’s the thing. Being new in country, it’s tough to distinguish between a regular Broken English Dude and an actual Crazy Korean Dude.

That’s no knock on South Korea. The fact that we got into his tent to begin with is a testament to the people here. Given the same invitation in the States, there’s no way we would take that offer. Nor should you.

Our school director probably summed it up best:

In Korea many good people. Some bad.

I had an inkling this was one of the bad ones when the CKD began patting the top of my head. I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt—sleeping walking, perhaps—and shrugged it off. After he took a pass at CM, then tried to force me out of the tent saying, No three, no three! Only two, only two! it was pretty clear where things stood. That pile of pigs feet in my shoe was less about hospitality, and more about wining-and-dining.

Jersey came over afterwards, having heard the commotion from our exit. He felt pretty bad. After all, he had talked us into the whole arrangement. He tried to encourage us, though, with these words…

Look, Korea’s not like that. I’ve (edit)-ed three (edit)-s this month and I’m no super-star. The guy’s probably not even gay, I mean not for real. He’s just the crazy uncle that everyone hopes will get married, but he can’t, so it’s like he’s in prison. There are all these (edit)-ies around, but he can’t get ‘em, so it’s like he’s in prison, in prison looking for any piece of…umm… Look, you guys can sleep in my tent. No, seriously, it’s no big deal. Really. Besides, you don’t want to be out here anymore, do you?

The last point, at least, was a good one. It turns out that while we were with the CKD, Jersey had encountered a similar situation. The group of campers he was with suddenly split off when one dude decided to break out his keyboard. You could still hear the music; it sounded strange. Apparently the keyboardist had been giving off some weird vibes as well.

As the three of us crawled into an even smaller tent, Jersey had more wisdom for us…

Remember, life isn’t about George W’s conservative, Middle-East agenda. It’s about the sun, the moon, and the stars. I know it sounds stupid now, but the sooner you realize that the better.

And don’t steal my stuff, or I’ll kill you.

With that, we settled down for the third time in one evening, as the crazy keyboard kept playing, long, long into the night.

One Crazy Korean Night: A Saga in 4 Parts (III)

Meanwhile, the CKD is still drinking. We probably wouldn’t have noticed except for his unique method of opening bottles, which involved flipping an unopened bottle upside-down in an attempt to pry the lid off another bottle. The obvious problem with this is if (and when) the upside-down bottle itself becomes opened, instead of acting as the intended bottle-opener.

If that’s confusing, try drawing a series of diagrams. Should you end up with a huge spill by the end, you’ll know you got it right.

Despite the CKD’s best efforts, Jersey still held our rapt attention. Sure, it was probably nothing you couldn’t get from the History Channel, but fireside this Garden-Stater seemed like an itinerant guru. He ranged over Asian subject matters with effortless aplomb, from the origins of Hangul script to the niceties of Vietnamese culture.

Then the CKD blurted out these words:

Ad;kdfjj;af, a;dflkjafa, a;dlfkajfa not gay.

Not gay? Did he say ‘not gay?’

Adf;alkfj, af;lkajf, Korean men not gay.

Umm, of course, why would they be?

No, no, no! Korean men not gay! Not gay!

After an extended bout of gesticulation, pointing to his camp, ours, his, and ours again, we finally put it together.

Ah, you’re inviting us to sleep with you in your tent. And it’s cool, because Korean men aren’t gay.

Ah, yes, yes…

No thanks.

No, no, Korean men not gay!

We’d been over that. And we went over it a few more times, until Jersey decided to weigh in on the subject.

Actually, what he’s saying makes a lot of sense.

It does?

Well, yeah. You guys don’t have a tent. He has a big one with room for all three of you. It’s like if he were inviting you into his home, but you said you wanted to sleep on the street instead. Seriously, it would be rude to refuse.

How rude?

Pretty rude.

So there we are, three guys in this three-guy tent. And really, it isn’t so bad. There’s enough room, protection from the bugs, and a soft ground cover to boot. The CKD, however, decides this is not good enough, takes off in his Jeep, and comes back with pigs feet and Soju, the national drink of Korea.

You gotta give him credit for the effort. But at this point we were more worried about sleep than experimenting with vacuum packed meat, which may or may not have been cooked. The few pretend bites we took made their way into my right shoe, but eventually the CKD was doing all the snacking. You could tell it was a delicacy from the way he handled it, and I for one felt a little sorry for wasting it.

With the pigs feet polished off, it was finally time for bed. As far as I can tell CM checked out first, then the CKD. I was tired too; it had been a full and educational day. Mountain climbing, bathhouse visiting, fire starting, and now a tent with the CKD. But before our night’s end there was one more discovery yet to be made.

Yes. The dude was actually gay.

To be continued…

One Crazy Korean Night: A Saga in 4 Parts (II)

The now smoldering ashes explained the sounds we’d heard before.  Crazy Korean Dude produced a small blowtorch and attempted to revive the fire through intermitent bouts on full blast.  As you can probably imagine, a blowtorch is much better at charbroiling wood than lighting it, but due to the twin barriers of language and blood-alcohol level we were unable to convey that information to our new friend.

Then we hear (in perfect English)…

Dude, that is so illegal. Guys, do not let him do that.

The person speaking is a 29-year-old man we’ve come to refer to as ‘Jersey,’ in honor of his native state. At this point, he drops into the best Korean we’ve ever heard from a white man, and convinces the CKD to hold off on his flame-throwing exhibition, at least for the moment.

Jersey, to say the least, is a unique individual. But before you applaud his language skills, know that his main communicative goal is to meet and sleep with Korean women. In spite of that—or, perhaps more accurately, because of that—he’s quite good with the language and the people.

So good, in fact, that he hitchhiked over 100 miles to Seorok. Hitchiking in Korea happens to be illegal, but he never had to wait more than 2 minutes for a ride, and even the police got in on the action.

Knowing a little Korean goes a long way.

A few minutes after the police pulled him off the highway (being on the highway without a car is very illegal) a senior officer had him on the phone with an English-speaking dispatcher.

The conversation went something like this:

Police Dispatch Lady: They want to help you, Jersey. They want you to tell me what you want, so they can help you. Just tell me what you want, and they can help you.

Jersey: Well, I don’t want to say what I really want, but um, if I could just get to Seoroksan somehow, but no, I really can’t ask for…

Police Dispatch Lady: Put the officer back on.

Moments later…

Senior Officer: We’re taking you.

Junior Officer: Shouldn’t he take the bus?

All that comment got Junior Officer was the door slammed in his face, as Senior Officer and Jersey took off without him.

You gotta love the respect your elders culture.

To be continued…

One Crazy Korean Night: A Saga in 4 Parts (I)

What’s that noise?

We’d just set up camp al fresco style, a $3-a-night site with sleeping bags under the Asian moon. I hadn’t noticed anything, but now that Charles-Michael mentioned it there was a faint whirring in the ambiance. It was revving up and winding down in strange intervals.

Look over there. Someone’s got a fire going. I think it’s a gas fire, which would explain the irregularity.

English voices were coming from the site; one of the accents was pretty good. Then someone started scrambling through the woods nearby us. That was a little creepy, but it was late, we were tired, and we thought we’d just sleep it off.

We were wrong.

…

The reason we were tired was an 8-hour mountain trek—from sea level to the top of Korea and back. We had selected Seorok as our vacation destination, a small village sandwiched between the Pacific Ocean and the foot of Seoroksan National Park. (San is Korean for ‘mountain,’ and we’ve been told Seorok means ‘bear’ but haven’t been able to confirm it.)

The climb gave us plenty of opportunity to practice our one and only Korean greeting (anyung-hasaio) and a chance to observe the natives as well. Apparently they don’t believe in switchbacks, and their old people are intense. While a Colorado trail might wind round and round a mountain, the Korean version heads straight up—with the occasional rope to help you and your 90-year-old ajjuma along.

After the ridiculously steep descent, we had our first Korean bathhouse experience. Imagine jumping from pool to hotub at your local Holiday Inn, and you’ll have good idea of what it was like. The only difference is that the water is really salty and everyone is naked.

A few misdirected bus rides and one long walk later, we chanced upon a campsite for the night. The prospect of practically free lodging drew us in, and since we didn’t have a tent or much of anything to setup we were ready for bed in a few minutes.

That’s when a man came out of the woods, saying something like this…

Adflakj qeriio therajkljr camfire?

What’s that? Your campfire?

Adlfjkfljal lkjkfja lkjlrkejal campfire?

You’re getting wood for the campfire?

Aniyo, aldkfjl afdkalfj flakjdf campfire?

You want us to come to your campfire?

Ah, yes, yes, afdfalkjf, come to campfire, yes.

Well, okay…

To be continued…