Jeonju: My First FC Seoul Away Game, Jeonju's Hanok Village, and One Big Mistake

Without even realising it I’ve fallen into a new social bracket that is even more alternative than being a “hipster”. I have become a “football hipster”. That’s not to say I am a hipster who has an interest in football. You know the type, the self-confessed alternative thinkers who happen to read the same sources and then miraculously have the same ideas, who dress unconventionally yet identical to the other free-thinkers, but who happen to watch the occasional Manchester United match. I mean I am a football hipster. It was far too mainstream to stay in the UK and support my beloved Arsenal, I had to travel to Korea and spend my weekends following FC Seoul home and away, take in the Korean second division (the K-League Challenge) when there are no top flight games available, and listen to the latest episodes of 48 Shades of Grey, an English podcast on all things K-League. What have I become?

Karl and I chose FC Seoul’s fixture against Jeonbuk Motors as our first away game, and booked our places on the supporters’ bus.

At 9am we boarded the bus and it was time to pass around the beers and cocaine. Unfortunately the party-pooper bus driver had banned both substances so we had to resort to sneaking soju on and drink that discreetly.

The 400ish supporters arrived in force at one of the 2002 World Cup Stadiums, now occupied by Jeonbuk Motors. The game was disappointing from a Seoul perspective as Jeonbuk won 3-0. Losing an away game quite emphatically deflates the entire positive atmosphere of the day. It’s the same as having something that you really enjoy, a lovely bonfire for example, and then someone comes along and urinates on it, but you’ve had to travel three-and-a-half hours to witness it. That’s what the game was like.

The only remedy to our sorrows was more beer as we prepared for the night out in Jeonju. The night was a bit of a blur. It involved bar hopping, assisting a man with his bungeobbangs (a fish shaped Korean street food dessert), and ending up in a club where I achieved the amazing feat of falling asleep standing up (I had been drinking for 16 hours or so).

The guy left his stall to get change, and we filled in for him.

The next day came round (no hangover), and we explored the Jeonju’s famous traditional-style Hanok village. Eating the local food, and reading about the history was mildly interesting.

I have to admit that something terrible happened that weekend. Blog followers, after reading this you may lose all respect for me. You should be preparing to delete me as a friend on Facebook, to burn any evidence of our friendship, and if you see me I would understand if you violently attacked me in the street because…I’ve…put on traditional Korean clothing and posed for pictures. I’m sorry.

I’ve been in Korean for over a year and every time I’ve seen a foreigner wearing the clothing I cringe. The outfit is called a Hanbok, it is usually worn for special occasions and earliest murals of them date back to the 3^rd Century BCE. They are guaranteed to make all foreigners look like utter twats. I am now a member of that undesirable club.

Karl talked me into it. “C’mon, it’ll be a laugh!” Yeah, and it was, for everyone else in Jeonju! I hadn’t even got it on yet without feeling like a knob.

The only benefit of wearing one was that we got a lot of attention from some average looking females who wanted photographs with us.

After sheepishly meandering around we went back to the rental shop, and handed them back (sweaty, thus confirming the stereotype that all Caucasians sweat (sorry white people, I had a lapse of concentration and now more people know of our shameful, clammy secret)).

Mistakes were made on this trip. Another checkbox ticked, and another which I wish remained unticked, but shall forever dishonourably hang over my head.  

Seonyudo Island: I'm Not As Brave As I Used to Be

I’ve been back in Korea for only 6 weeks and I’ve already had 2 holidays. Unfortunately, my holiday doesn’t really coincide with other private institutions so I opted to go on this mini adventure alone. I decided to go to 선유도 Seonyudo, a group of islands off the west coast of Korea. The islands are connected via bridges allowing you to leisurely cycle around. It was the perfect remedy for 4 weeks of stress-less work (since the last holiday I went on to Jeju Island).

It took 5 hours to get there from Seoul (3½ on the coach and 1½ on the ferry), but it was totally worth it. It’s stunning. The colour I associate Korea with is grey. Grey buildings, grey sky, grey rivers, but here there was a spectrum of colour. Blue sky, green islands, white sand, and the sea was clean. Not like the murky waters of the Han River, it was clean, and a rich blue. It was worth the journey to end up somewhere that felt more like the Caribbean than Korea.

The islands are remote. There are about 3 shops, 4 restaurants, no ATMs and no wifi. I was cut off from the world. I rented a bicycle, paid the ₩10,000 (£6) fee, no questions asked, no record of my ID, just a “bring it back tomorrow” attitude. I love Korea. I spent the afternoon cycling around the southern islands before retiring to the beach, with a beer…or 3.

After spending the night in a love motel (which was rather depressing as I spent the night alone) I explored the northern islands and again later returned to the beach to relax and sit in the shade…with a beer…or 3.

Along the beach runs a 700m zip line. The departure point of the line is 50m up a tower. I lounged on the beach and watched many people (adults, children, old ladies) zip across the beach. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the joyous mood I was in, but I decided to give it a go. I paid the ₩15,000 (£10) (I got a “handsome man” discount of ₩5,000 (£3)), and got the lift to the top of the tower. The doors opened and I immediately thought that this was a bad idea. The scenery was amazing, but the prospect of jumping from 50m was not. Since doing a skydive I’ve developed a fear of heights.

Alongside me in the lift was a couple. Being the English gentleman that I am I protested that they went first. They were scared but they did it. Now it was my turn and the only people around to judge me were the staff. I told the guy that I wasn’t doing it. He argued with me, and even tried to grab me to hook my harness to the zip line. I ducked and dived and evaded him. I was back in the lift and was heading down.

The doors opened again, this time on the ground floor. The staff who helped me into my harness then helped me out of it. They were pleasantly understanding until the “boss” turned up and he was more than happy to laugh in my face. He explained that there would be no refunds, but to be honest, I’d have paid another £10 not to have done it.

I’m not Bear Grylls. I’m not an “adrenaline junkie”. I don’t need to chase the next high. If I want that addictive “high” sensation I’ll start taking heroin. At this stage in my life I am officially ruling out bungee jumping, base jumping, zip lining, or any activity that requires me to jump from a considerable height. I’m not as brave as I used to be, but there’s no shame in that.

I went to the shop, got some more beers, resumed my position on the beach and continued to watch the brave/stupid people on the zip line.

It was a great few days away and I learnt a lot about myself.

Photo Blog: Jeju Island: Korea With Palm Trees

Although I enjoy my job I will always welcome a break from work, and after only 2 weeks in Korea I was off to Korea’s top summer holiday destination – Jeju Island. Karl and I had holiday which overlapped so we went together.

Jeju Island may be famous to Koreans and those who live here, but it is hardly known outside of the country. It is a tropical island south of Korea. It has beautiful scenery and nature, blue skies, and hot temperatures. It’s “famous” for having the largest mountain in the Land of the Morning Calm, Halla Mountain (1950m), and for delicious tangerines. I have no interest in climbing a mountain that takes a day to go up and down, and as for tangerines, I couldn’t tell the difference between a tangerine, a clementine, or a satsuma, so the island’s trademark items were lost on me.

Seongsan Ilchubong Peak: A former volcanic island

Love Land: A park filled with sexual sculptures...lots of couples and then Karl and I.

Cheonjiyeon Waterfall: Walking on wet rocks in less than appropriate footwear.

Hyeopjae Beach: Looking at girls in bikinis.

Other Places:

Jeju's nature, mountains, rivers, palm trees, and the sea. 

I didn't find out what this building was, but it looks good.

These statues are synonymous with Jeju.

Anyway, we're back home in Seoul now. Going to the pub tonight to watch the Community Shield between Arsenal and Chelsea. I'll tell you after the game about how much I care about the result. If we win, then it will be a statement of intent for the season ahead, beating the champions and rounding off a good pre-season. If we lose, then I'll claim it's an irrelevant fixture that has no bearing on how Arsenal will preform in competitive games, and Alexis Sanchez is still on holiday after his exploits with Chile in the Copa America. 

Until next time...

Life In England, Coming Back to Korea, and the Worst Night Out of My Life

OK, so there’s been a change of plan…

I’m now back in Korea. I genuinely didn’t want this to happen, I had decided that I needed to go somewhere new, but there was always a difficult barrier to overcome. Either it was a contract condition that I wasn’t happy with, or I had to be in the country for a face-to-face interview, or the salary to cost of living ratio was too far out of balance. The easy option was to go back to Korea.

I had originally decided to stay in the UK for 6 months, but life in Bedford isn’t all that interesting, the novelty of home had worn off, and although my parents were happy to have me back, my feet were itchier that a bad case of crabs. So, I’m back in hot, humid Seoul. Back at my old school, living in my old apartment – it was like I was never away.

Don’t get me wrong, the time I spent home in England was great. I got to spend time with all of my family, and either they’re all excellent liars or they genuinely missed me while I was away. I got to reconcile with family members that I haven’t seen in 15 years? And of course I got to catch up with a great bunch of friends. It would appear that no matter how long I might have been away there would have been a great reception upon my return. I couldn’t have asked for more.

Despite all the great things of home; the people, the food, (some of) the nights out, and a reasonably priced Guinness, there were aspects of being home that bothered me.

Something that I never realised before was how racist people are towards Asian people. Some people knew that I’d been away, and others I had mentioned it to them, but as soon as I did it opened a flood gate of seemingly accepted racism. The worst I heard were “How is your Thai bride?”, “Good morning, Vietnam!” and “ching chong ching”. The ignorance is strong with these people. "Thai bride", "Vietnam", these aren’t even relatable to Korea. They’re completely different countries. And “ching chong ching”? Even Jim Davidson and Mel Gibson would conclude that this Chinese gibberish is too racist for their tastes.

For some reason people still think it’s acceptable to say racist things about Asian people. I don’t think these same people would say bigoted things about other races or nationalities. It was another contributing factor that made me want to leave earlier than planned.

And here’s another thing, I was in South Korea, not North Korea. No, I didn’t meet Kim Jong-Un. No, it’s not “basically China”. No, there isn’t continuous warfare between the North and South. And the 2018 Winter Olympics will be held in Pyeongchang not Pyeongyang – they’re different places. I probably shouldn’t be annoyed with these misconceptions, after all there is very little Korean exposure in the UK. With the exception of Psy’s famous hit, Park Ji-sung, and, apparently, AFC Wimbledon’s love of Shin Ramen, people know next to nothing of Korea.

Did I have doubts about going back? Sure. Will it be the same? Will the second year have too much to live up to? I don’t know, but I’ve dallied on too many big decisions recently. I managed to convince myself that it wasn’t the right time to go and live in Japan, Hong Kong, China, or Vietnam (which is very hard to do!) and I couldn’t do the same with Korea, I didn’t want to wait any longer.

The reasons to go outweigh the few to stay. I was doing a meaningless job where the topic of conversation of each day was tits and fanny. Don’t get me wrong I love tits and fanny as much as the next man (unless the next man is Ched Evans) but I don’t want to talk about it every bloody day. There was the boredom of home creeping in, lacking a sense of adventure, learning nothing new. These are valid, obvious reasons to continue exploring a country I am so fond of living in.

When considering my last two weekends in England they are at the two ends of the spectrum of enjoyment and one was a definite factor in leaving England so rapidly. My penultimate weekend was an unplanned night out, usually these are the best ones, but this was not one of them. It all started well, a few lads and I played a couple of rounds of 9-hole foot-golf (football and golf for those without an imagination). 

Peggy doing what he does best

It was suggested that we go for a few beers after in the neighbouring town of Newport Pagnell, hardly glamorous, but I’ll rarely turn down a few beers with the boys. At this point I did express my concern as I was wearing a Galatasaray football shirt, but was told that it shouldn’t be a problem. A few pubs into a pub crawl and I was approached by UKIP’s poster boy, some product of the Hitler Youth’s sister programme – the Farage Adolescence. He felt that he needed to take time out of his night to inform me that, as I was wearing a Turkish football shirt that had the Islamic star and crescent emblazed on it, that by wearing the shirt I was “supporting and funding ISIS”. Really? The Galatasaray board of directors had a meeting and established their season objectives: to acquire the best available playing staff, to remain profitable and sustainable financially, and to send a couple of youth players on loan to al-Qaeda FC. (And if that mong is reading this (which he definitely is not, he’s probably got his head buried into the latest edition of The Daily Sport) the star and crescent was originally a symbol of the Ottoman Empire. The symbol became associated with Islamism in the mid-20^th century, so the crest on the shirt is more an association with Turkish history rather than any religious connection.) We bid the awful man adieu and made our way to Milton Keynes - this was a terrible idea. I was rejected from every establishment for my choice of shirt and was even spat on. I went home soon after. (Can you tell I’m still angry about that night?)

The following weekend was by contrast sensational. A day and night out in London. Beers on the train down, beers by the river, watched the Football Manager “derby” between AFC Wimbledon and Watford, beers at the game, cycled to Camden on the Borris bikes (this was funny at the time, but a rather dangerous idea), beers in Camden, met some Koreans and showed off my terrible Korean language skills, more beers, and then got the train back to Bedford. No drama, just a great day without religious hate, or airborne saliva. Why can’t every weekend be like that?

Anyway, I’ve been in Korea for a few days, it was all rushed in the end and I didn’t get to see people properly before leaving, which was a disappointment.

Sorry if this one seemed like a rant, it’s just I haven’t written for a while.

Thanks for reading.

شكرا لقرائتك

Okuduğunuz için teşekkür ederim

Barcelona: It Didn't Take Long for Bedford to Become Boring

It took a mere two weeks of being home to become boring, so I needed a new adventure. Plans were discussed, flights and a hotel were booked and before I knew it I was off to Catalonia with Karl and Bof, two friends from university. It was a great excuse to meet up with Bof having not seen him for 18 months. It was less exciting to see Karl on the other hand, if anything I've seen him too much in recent times.

The first afternoon and evening was spent in the many bars around the Las Rambla region in Barcelona's city centre. I'd like to say that we sampled the local beers of Catalonia, but it was mainly just San Miguel. We drank a lot of them, so maybe that's a positive review? Although, I've been known to drink a cocktail of Tesco Value vodka and lemonade. If anyone from the San Miguel marketing team is reading this and they want a quote, the Tefl-on Don says "San Miguel's alright".

Tuesday was a stunning day, we spent the afternoon taking in the sights of the city from a rooftop bus. It's the best way to see a city that boasts churches as its main attractions. Take a picture from the bus and move on. We did stop and have a look at the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona's famous unfinished Catholic church. Apparently construction started in 1882. What the hell have they been doing for 133 years? I'll tell you what they haven't been doing - working! Stop sleeping in the afternoon, get off your arse and get it finished. It's no wonder that their economy is in the pan. Then they have the audacity to try and charge me a €15 entry fee. For what? To have a look around a building site? No thanks.

Lazy builders still haven't finished the Sagrada Familia

The bus tour took us to the other sites of Barcelona including the Columbus Monument, The Olympic Stadium, and around the foothills of Mount Tibidabo where we went hiking. We were at the end of this path, and we came to a clearing, and there was a lake, very secluded, and there were tall trees all around. It was dead silent. Gorgeous. And across the lake I saw, a beautiful woman, bathing herself. She was crying...

The Columbus Monument - Christopher Columbus pointing towards America (apparently he's pointing in the wrong direction!)

The evening rolled around and it was time for the main event - Camp Nou. A visit to Barcelona isn't worthwhile without taking in the "tiki-taka" playing style of FC Barcelona.

We arrived at the ground in plenty of time, in hope to pay a visit to the club museum and take in the pre-game atmosphere. Unfortunately neither happened. The queue for the museum was enormous and atmosphere - what atmosphere? Where were the local fans? The majority of people there were tourist fans such as myself. Barcelona is a gigantic club that has attracted a worldwide fan base, but they've traded in their essence. It's resulted in the commercialisation of literally everything. Before the game you must pick up an FC Barcelona toasted sandwich maker, and an FC Barcelona toothbrush. How did I ever get by without them? And I know this is a very hypocritical summary as I was a tourist fan, and an Arsenal supporter, a club notoriously known for doing the exact same thing. But it's a grind a have with modern football.

Into the stadium and it is awe inspiring. The sheer magnitude of it is rather incomprehensible. Despite the capacity being 99,354 it is not that steep, but rather wide. The view is good even from the top and it's the perfect setting for an evening game. Then the teams are announced and it's exactly what I've been hoping for - Neymar, Suarez, and Messi all start. I feel truly privileged that Thierry Henry and Dennis Bergkamp once wore the red of the Arsenal, but when you hear the names that have represented Barcelona you certainly feel envious of the magnitude of the club. Players like Ronaldinho, Rivaldo, Ronaldo, Cruyff, Maradona, Xavi, Iniesta...and Hleb, the way the front three play together the fans should be honoured that they get to watch the most exciting front line in world football right now.

The show that the current XI put on that evening was majestic. Barcelona destroyed mid-table Getafe and were 5-0 to the good by half time. The team play so well and pass the ball effortlessly. It finished 6-0 and I left a little disappointed that there was only one goal in the second half. Only one of very few disappointments with going to see Barcelona play.

The crowd was subdued. Maybe this was because it was a Tuesday night game, or because it wasn't a sell out, or maybe it was to do with the thousands of tourists at the game. Of the 65,356 people there there were around 200 fans that made noise throughout.

The next stadium I go to will struggle to follow the Camp Nou.

Back to Bedford and back to work. I wonder how long it will be before I'm planning the next trip...

Istanbul - 1,551 Miles From Home

I’ve put the Indian nightmare behind me and finally completed my 16-month tour with the last stop was in Istanbul. The past 4 weeks have varied in experience from one extreme to the other, but the food has been exceptional throughout. Most recently I’ve traded in Chinese and Indian food for liberal helpings of Turkish kebabs. I need to invest in a workout DVD, maybe I’ll get Jade Goody’s as we both dislike Indians.

I really enjoyed my time in Istanbul. It’s a beautiful, clean city that has a lot of history. I was very sceptical of the people, but they have turned out to be very kind and welcoming*.

The Hagia Sophia Museum (formerly a mosque)

The Grand Bazaar

A highlight was taking a cruise down the Bosphorus, the body of water that separates the Istanbul and the continents of Europe and Asia, a must do if you’re ever here. About halfway into the cruise we moored and explored The Fortress of Rumeli, learning about some of the history of the Ottoman Empire.

The Fortress of Rumeli

An experience that I was persuaded into was going to a Turkish bathhouse. I was expecting something similar to the jjimjjilbang of Korea (a nude spa). I went with my dad; we stripped down, donned a towel and made our way to the sauna. It was very quiet in there and we enjoyed the freedom of the sauna before being summoned for our body scrubs. I walked through to a separate room, removed my towel only to see that the other men getting scrubbed were wearing swimming shorts. I exposed myself to many Turkish men. The towel went back on and the scrubbing commenced. Much like the jjimjjilbang experience they take the dead skin off you with a Brillo pad. After the scrub they give you a "massage". I think I got the massager who was racist toward English people because this was less of a massage and more of a battering. He kicked the shit out of me and I paid for the ordeal. He twisted me like a pretzel, and pressed me into the stone bed that I was lying on. The Turkish bath is a painful experience.

Combined with the Korean spa, I’ve been rubbed down by more men in the past month than I was hoping to in my entire life.

Turkey has left me with two regrets, the first is not being able to take in a football match. Unfortunately I have been here during the international break, and even Turkey was playing their 2 games away from home. The second is that I didn’t get a chance to head to the Syrian border and check out what those IS lads are up to. I suppose I have a couple of reasons to come back.

The view of Europe from the Bosphorus

Back to England tomorrow, I think I’ll be the most excited person on the plane back to London Luton. 

* I must disclose that despite my pleasant encounters with Turkish people, they still have a poor human rights record, hence why they are not in the EU, and that they invaded and occupy Cyprus. I must apologise to the Greek Cypriots that might be reading this; I’m sorry for enjoying Turkey and for “pumping money into their economy”.

Delhi & Agra: 6,707 Miles From Home - Do NOT Go To India

I’m meant to be heading home west, but I took a stop 720 miles north-east in New Delhi.

For this blog, I’ll start with the highlights. The first being that after 15 months I was reunited with my old man. It was great to catch up on lost time, and I was certainly welcome for the company after the week, or so, on my own in Mumbai.

478 days apart

The second highlight didn’t even come in Delhi, it was during our voyage to Agra. Agra is the home to one of the wonders of the world – The Taj Mahal. A trip to India isn’t complete without visiting India’s most famous landmark. The building is of Islamic design and is a tomb for Moghal Emperor Shah Jahan’s third wife (that’s a symbolic kick in the ovaries for the other two). We had a tour guide take us around the complex, he explained a few things about the structure and the other surrounding buildings (all of which I’ve forgotten now). He was very annoying, and described himself as “complimentary” until the end of the tour when conveniently he had a fee. We begrudgingly paid the £12 until we found out that he had actually helped us skip 3 hours of queues, his service and the £12 seemed justifiable then. 

A few others included going to the Akshardham Temple, a Hindu temple complex. Vast in size, and intricate in design. Also, Humayun’s Tomb, a nice area, but in actuality I have no idea who Humayun was, and still don’t know which one of the thirteen graves was his. After 2 weeks in India my interest in temples, tombs, and forts was wearing thin, so maybe I’m not doing them the justice they deserve. And that rounds off the highlights in Delhi.

Humayun's Tomb

The Red Fort

I’d like to call out both Ed Lloyd and Joel Stone, two “friends” who offered advice on India, both on what to do and what to expect. Neither of which actually told me not to go. So, allow me to offer advice on what India is really like.

It is a shit hole. If you’ve ever heard anyone describe India as a “beautiful country” they are lying to you, and it’s more than likely that they’ve lied to you about other things in the past. You should consider unfriending them on Facebook. There are faeces everywhere, some animal, some human. Most countries have a designated landfill site - not India. The streets act as the landfill, a dumping ground for any waste, and when the build-up of waste is higher than average they just burn it. In the street. Next to homeless, sleeping children.

The people steal more than Scousers, they lie more than politicians, and their personal hygiene and habits have left me with more psychological scars than 2 Girls 1 Cup ever did.

You will get diarrhoea. No matter how careful you are, how much hand sanitizer you use, or how trustworthy a restaurant looks, you will get the shits. I lasted about 9 days before I was affected, I think I set a new Guinness World Record.

Delhi is the worst city I have ever been to, India is the worst country I have ever been to, and the Indian people (the ones that I encountered anyway) are the worst people in the world. At one stage I was seriously considering seeking asylum in neighbouring Pakistan, or Afghanistan.

If this blog achieves anything I hope that it discourages anyone from ever visiting India. Sure, you can go online and read a blog by some overly optimistic traveller who went to India to “find themselves”, and  describe how they had such an amazing spiritual journey, but these are the opinions of hippies. As Eric Cartman once put it: “Hippies. They’re everywhere. They want to save the earth, but all they do is smoke weed and smell bad”. You can’t argue with that. This is a blog that speaks the truth.

If you have read this far and you’re still considering going then maybe all is lost for you. Maybe your motivation is a religious retreat? I recommend reading Richard Dawkin’s The God Delusion. That book should put pay to any religious yearning you many have. Maybe your motivation is a spiritual experience? Go down the pub and have relaxing a beer.

I have written this for your benefit. Do not let the (good) pictures fool you, I'm an amazing photographer. It is a country that I wish never to return.