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

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”.

Veels geluk, Petro! Seemeeu Poespas! (Busan!)

It was our first weekend out of Seoul for a while and it was to visit Petro in Busan for her birthday. We took the train and it was my first time on the KTX (Korean Train Express) Korea’s high-speed train. It’s basically the exact same as the National Rail system in the UK… except that it runs on time, is reliable, is quick, they offer good customer service, the prices don’t rise every week, and the trains aren’t cancelled if there are a few leaves on the track. Basically the same.

We arrived in Busan and met Petro and the rest of the peasants. Many drinks were had and we checked-in to the pension at 3am.

For those that don’t know what a pension is, it’s a cheap guest house. It’s one room where by you sleep on the floor. When looking for a room price often dictates where you stay and sleeping on the floor is generally fine but with copious amounts of alcohol and an uncomfortable night led to the worst hangover I’ve ever had. That’s not an exaggeration, it was the worst hangover I’ve ever had. I felt horrendous. People often say that, it’s an overused phrase, but I felt so bad that morning that if someone had given me a rope I’d have made good use of it. It was a life low point. If I got hangovers like that every time I drank I would give up alcohol.

Busan is on the coast, and when you go you have to go to the beach. Unfortunately for us it was pissing down with rain and was bloody freezing but in true British style and bit of rain wasn’t going to stop us. It’s the equivalent of going to Brighton or Skegness, you have to go to the beach regardless of the weather. After the beach we went sightseeing around Gamcheon Cultural Village, a quaint place full of colour, art, and too many stairs.

We meandered around an interesting market and I stepped back into the 90s. We found an electronics shop that haven’t updated their stock since 1990. This was their shop window.

Seriously how do they make a living? Who still needs to buy a CD Walkman, a Dictaphone, a cassette player, or an old CRT television? Seriously? When was the last time they sold something? It was probably when Will Smith bought a cassette player when they were filming the intro for The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

Afterwards we found The Pub. A pub actually called The Pub. That’s such a great name. Karl and I have been thinking of opening up a decent British pub in Seoul and that would be the perfect name to steal. We also considered that once our pub is established of branching out into the exotic dancing industry and we were going to call the club The Titty Bar, two perfect names for two perfect places. One day… We arrived at The Pub just as my hangover wore off.

The drinks kept on coming and we had another night out in the university district of Busan. We went down to the beach armed with fireworks to celebrate Petro’s birthday with a bang! This seemed like a nice idea but 15 or so drunk people letting off explosives is actually a stupid terrifying idea. Worse of all someone had the brainwave to give the big-headed mong (Karl) the fireworks. This is a man who I hardly trust to hold a cigarette in his hand let alone gunpowder and a lit fuse. Luckily everyone came away unscathed.

Not entirely sure where we went after the beach but it was a good night and like most good nights there was the lure of a kebab. Upon closer inspection Karl and I noticed the chap selling the delights of the intoxicated was Turkish. Regardless of how drunk we get our hatred for Turkish people will never diminish. Karl and I have made up our minds and we have sided with the Cypriots, for this reason we refused the kebabs despite how delicious they looked. Along with Bof (the influencer), as a unity we also hate all things from Wolverhampton, Tottenham, and Derby, the four worst places on the earth.

Another night on the pension floor and to my delight… no hangover! This time around it was Karl who had the hangover and I was laughing at him. We stepped outside and to our surprise it was warm and there were clear skies. Not only were they clear but they were also blue, I didn’t think blue skies existed in Korea, as it turns out not all of the country is filled with pollution. We went back to the beach to retake all the pictures.

We headed to the pub for lunch and again in truly British fashion we had fish and chips by the seaside. One of the best parts of the weekend was seeing Karl’s cheeky smile when he realised the pub did gravy. The northerner went ahead and ruined his meal by flooding his plate with gravy, it was moronic but he was in heaven.

We opted for an afternoon cruise along the coast to finish off the weekend. It was delightful. The water was a little choppy which led to a rocky boat ride. Throughout the cruise they played some dodgy music, it almost sounded like weird Northern Korean propaganda music, we were supporting the regime and riding the waves at the same time!

We docked and made it safely back onto land. We all survived a Korean boat trip.

We walked down the beach and we noticed this guy.

Yeah, that’s a man in a thong. I mentioned earlier that there were blue skies and it was reasonably warm but it wasn’t that warm… actually scratch that, it’s never that warm! It’s April in Busan, not July on Copacabana Beach! There are children about, put that away!

We said our goodbyes and made our way to Busan Station to get the KTX back to Seoul, we checked our train tickets and realised that we’d missed our train by about an hour and a half. We never thought to check the time we were returning to Seoul, we really are a pair of mongs. We had to buy new tickets which meant we were standing for two and a half hours on the way back north. All-in-all it was a great weekend. It was awesome to catch up with Petro, Leon, Michael, Mikey, and meet many more new friends! 

Yes, I know… ooooh! New friend friends!