St. Patrick’s Day, along with New Year’s Eve, is usually an
overhyped holiday. People pretending to be Irish for the day, crowded pubs, and
pretty much everyone saying “potato” or “top of the morning” in their worst
Irish accents. The day used to annoy me, but over the last few years I’ve
loosened up and have actually appreciated the influence that such a small
nation, of only 4 million people, have had on the world. For one day everyone
wants to be Irish, apart from Italians because they’re better than everyone at
everything, everything except being considerate and courteous.
We found out that there would be a big celebration in
Sindorim, with live bands, dancing, and drink. It sounded perfect. Having
arrived a little hungover from the night before it was the perfect way to start
celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.
The event was great, the bands were good and everyone was in a joyous mood. Whenever I hear Irish music, especially the fiddle, it always takes me back to visiting my Irish grandparents when I was a kid. They'd always have The Dubliners playing on cassette in the kitchen or some other Paddy with a guitar while my nan would make the Sunday roast. Anyway, a few beers in and we got chatting to genuine Mick
and a Canadian girl.
The Canadian asked how could she tell who the legitimate
Irish people were, I explained that they are easy to spot. They are the ones
who cannot stand on St. Patrick’s Day, who have flowing red locks, and are
sunburnt in March. As the not-so-Irish beer was going down I could feel my
Irish heritage starting to flow through my body, and although B*Witched weren’t
playing the curse of Michael Flatley took over.
The celebrations were winding down, the live bands were
packing up and heading to Itaewon to continue the festivities in the many Irish
drinking holes in the foreigner friendly part of the city. We were drinking up
and getting ready to leave when I got a tap on the shoulder, it was Matt
Pearson. Hardly a celebrity, but he’s a chap I went to school with for over 10
years. I was stunned, we had no idea that both of us were in Korea let alone
drinking in the same vicinity, at the exact same time. We bumped into each
other 9,000km from where we both grew up. Coincidence or stalker? I’m still not
sure yet.
As we were leaving we were asked by a group of guys “Do you
guys want to come to a party with free alcohol?” Is this even worth asking on
St. Patrick’s Day? So Josh, Karl, Alejandro, and I followed a group of unknown
foreigners to the land of the free booze. Only a few stops on the subway and we
arrived at a place that looked like it had taken the worst parts of Luton and
Burnley and merged them together. It looked like a war zone, but I think most
people would still walk through Kabul for the promise of free alcohol on St. Patrick’s
Day, so we persisted. About 10 minutes later and the doubt started to kick in,
Josh, Karl, Alejandro, and I start to look at each other suggesting ‘is it
worth getting stabbed for free beer?’ I still haven’t made my mind up on that
one. We carried on. We followed this group of foreigners that looked all the
more dangerous the further into the unknown we went, when they turned around
and looked at us. Oh shit, this is where were going to get mugged, stabbed, and
raped. They asked us “do you guys have any idea where we are or where we’re
going? Because we don’t have a clue!” Salvation! These guys were as clueless
and desperate for alcohol as us (although I’m sure they were a little less
scared at the prospect of getting mugged, stabbed, and raped by Josh, Karl,
Alejandro, and myself). It turns out that the entire group of fifteen or so
foreigners were being led by an Andy Martin look-a-like (a Wootton Upper School
reference). We finally arrived at the place, with no exaggeration it was a junk
yard-crack den. It was like something out of a movie, there was an angry
looking biker gang outside, and probably a druglord inside waiting to use all
of our rectums as the perfect hiding place to smuggle heroin into North Korea.
What a man will do for free alcohol, hey?
We went in and it turned out to be an art/tattoo exhibition.
Not only that but we had found the Holy Grail, the free bar! The exhibition was
called Kulture Kustom Artshow Respect. Spelling culture with a K is pretty much
the opposite of culture, but who am I to complain?
With free drinks in hand we thought it would be rude not to
have a wander considering their generous hospitality. The first exhibition we came across was a tooth gem stall. I
said to Karl “shall we both get one?” To which Karl replied “Let’s drink more
Jaeger and then decide. I don’t think I can make such an irresponsible decision
in the daylight.” Great thinking, Karl. There were guys getting tattoos, custom
motorbikes, live art paintings, it turned out to be great and none of us got
mugged, stabbed, or raped which was a bonus!
Despite the delights of free quality alcohol Alejandro still
persevered with his 2 litre bottle of Cass.
The strangest exhibition was just a
lady sitting with a dog. If you’d had asked me “do you want to see a woman with
a dog?” I’d have obviously said no, but then if you’d had asked me “do you want
to see a woman with a dog and free Jaeger?” I’d have obviously said yes. One of
the foreign lads who arrived with us decided to get a tattoo, he was Canadian
and thought it would be a good idea to get the Canadian maple leaf on his arm,
a decision I’m sure he wouldn’t regret in the morning. It was probably best not
to mention to him that they were using wet wipes to sanitise the equipment.
Certainly a wise decision.
We left the exhibition/heroin house and went to Itaewon, where
we met up with Susie and Angie. We went to a pub called The Wolfhound and we
drank copious amounts of green beer until the wee hours of the morning.
All in
all a great day.
