Spectating Isn't About Whether You Win or Lose, It's About How Drunk You Get

For this blog post I’d like to rewind the clocks to late 2013. I’d like to tell the tale of when Ed and I became devoted Sydney FC fans. Before I divulge the story I’d just like to point out that my actions are not routine at all football games that I attend, they were a one-off. OK, maybe a two-off.

Sydney FC vs. Newcastle United Jets FC
Allianz Arena
30^th November, 2013

One sunny day in Sydney, Ed and I were talking and we decided that we would take in a football match while I was visiting him. Ed looked up the details on his phone and found out that Sydney FC were playing at home that Saturday evening against Newcastle Jets. We came up with a loose plan, meet up in Bondi for a cheeky few schooners, get the bus to the game, enjoy the delights of the A-League, and then head into Sydney city centre for a night on the tiles. Sorted.

The big day came around and everything was going to plan very smoothly, we got to the game and the first thing I noticed was the army of Del Piero fans. Every man and his dog had the latest sky blue Sydney shirt with Del Piero 10 printed on their backs. We paid the incredible sum of $15 for our tickets and even managed to use a buy one get one free coupon, try pitching that idea to the Premier League! We got there about an hour before kick-off and enjoyed a few beers pitch side, try pitching that idea to the Premier League!

The line-ups were announced and the two stellar names of the day were Alessandro Del Piero of Sydney FC and Emile Heskey of Newcastle United Jets. Emile Heskey has never been described as a stellar name, there were also another 20 names announced but they could have been the water boys for all I know.  The standard was acceptable, and the Allianz Stadium was half empty but the atmosphere was surprisingly good. The Sydney Ultras really make an effort, a few guys with megaphones getting the chants started it was rather enjoyable. In injury time in the second half Sydney took the lead, the celebrations started amongst the fans and it rained down beer from the overly excited Aussies. Wonderful. Half time came around and it was time to get more beer. The second half got underway and we didn’t have to wait long for Sydney to double their lead, the same delirious frolicking occurred, I even joined in with a bit of beer throwing myself. At one stage a brave foreign lad did an impressive pitch invasion and I managed to capture all of it!

The game finished 2-0 and it was time to head into the city. We tried to get the bus but they were full. We tried to hail a cab but the traffic was too intense so we opted to walk. Following the crowds and not entirely sure where we were heading we got a bit lost, we stopped to work out some kind of direction, not too easy when you’ve been drinking since the early afternoon. To lubricate the cogs in our brains we thought it would be a good idea to get a bottle of wine for the journey, brown paper baggin’ it. We continued to walk and somehow ended up in a residential area and as we walked we passed a house party with the front door wide open. I said to Ed “shall we go in?” As if I had to ask. We cautiously entered and we were immediately approached by a guy who suspiciously asked “can I help you?” Confidently I replied “Yeah, we’re here for the party. Charlotte invited us.” Unconvinced he said “there’s no one here called Charlotte”. Sometimes (not often) honesty is the best policy, we came clean “OK, you caught us. We were just passing and were wondering if we could stop here for a few drinks, we’ve brought wine” as we showed him the half bottle of wine that we’d already been swigging. To our amazement he said “Oh right, sure! Come on in, there are drinks in the kitchen. Help yourselves!” What?! We’ve crashed a party hosted by the nicest people in the world. There was Belvedere Vodka, champagne, beer, we’d hit the jackpot!

We noticed that it was Santa Clause themed fancy dress party so we made a small effort by putting some tinsel around our necks. We started to mingle. Everyone was really friendly, nice people, fun conversations; we were having a great time. A Scottish girl approached us she’d got wind that there were two gate crashing Brits at the party. After a few pleasantries she asked us very bluntly “So, are you two gay?” Excuse me?! We informed her that we are not gay but were curious as to why she’d ask such a question. To which she replied “Because, you’re at a gay party”. We looked around us at the people that we’d been talking to for the last hour and it was so obviously a gay party but neither of us had noticed. I turned to Ed and said “Ed mate, we’re at a gay party!” The Scottish girl could not stop laughing, the tears rolled down her cheeks as we stood embarrassed at how oblivious we’d been. We’d crashed a party full of gay Santas and didn’t realise. I did say everyone was very friendly towards us and now we knew why!

We stayed at the party, carried on drinking and had a really good night. We thought it would be a good idea to explore the rest of the house (I don’t know why). So we grabbed a bottle of Belvedere and went upstairs (honestly, we’re not gay). There wasn’t anything interesting but Ed decided that this was the prime time to go to the toilet, I waited for him. The guys hosting the party discovered me alone in one of the bedrooms and an interrogation began. They asked where my friend was, I said he’s having a shit. They weren’t happy and said it was time for us to leave; I knocked on the toilet door and told Ed to hurry up. So not only did we gate crash a party full of gay Santas, we were also kicked out of a party full of gay Santas. We never made it out in Sydney.

Central Coast Mariners FC vs. Sydney FC
Bluetongue Stadium
7^th December, 2013

The week before, during the game against Newcastle United Jets we got chatting to an eccentric Sydney fan who told us about the game the following week against Central Coast Mariners. Only an hour away on the train, there would be a good following from Sydney, so we decided to go. We had become fully dedicated Sydney fans and we were going to our first away game. Loyal.

Another loose plan was instigated, meet up for a few beers, get the train to Gosford (bogan country (bogans are Australian chavs)), have a few more beers, go to the game, head back to Sydney, and have a night on the tiles. The train only took an hour and cost less than a round of beers, which only infuriates you more to realise how much the Brits are getting ripped off for their own rail transport system.

Upon arrival we decided to try to keep the cost of the day down and opted for the finest, largest, cheapest bottle of wine available at the first bottle shop that we came across. So where to drink such a marvellous classic? Well, the park next to the ground, obviously. After nearly getting caught by the patrolling police officers, we finished the bottle made our way into the ground collecting a few beers in the concourse.

In our seats and amongst a large following of away fans, the stadium was very different to all those I’d attended in the past. It has only 3 stands, one of the ends is open which has a fantastic view of palm trees and Fagan’s Bay, I’m used to terrace houses and council flats. 

But anyway, the game kicked off, the chants were reverberating within the stand and the wine was having the desired effect. About 20 minutes in and the game was rather boring, no score, no drama, no quality. All of a sudden there was some commotion amongst the away support, it was getting rowdy. One fan stood up, took off his jacket to reveal a Central Coast Mariners shirt, he revelled in the boos and the hostility from the many travelling fans. In the heat of the moment the wine took over, I thought back to the week before and reached for a liquid missile. Despite being rather merry I still had the sense not to waste my own beer and reached for the beer that belonged to the guy sitting in front of me. I pulled it through the smallest of gaps and launched it down the stand in the direction of the rebellious home supporter; it covered him and everyone around him.  Bad idea. Everyone was livid; people were coming up to shouting in my face, asking why I’d do such a thing. I thought that was the norm. I was wrong. What I didn’t notice was that there were a patrol of policemen in the tier above us that were watching the away fans the way that Wayne Rooney would eye up a retirement home. Straight away the three policemen (yeah, three!) were down and kicking me out, a welcomed eviction considering the hassle I was getting from the hostile fans. In the concourse and I reluctantly asked if I could finish my beers before I left and surprisingly they said yes. Despite being a dickhead even the policemen don’t like to see wasted beer. I was out, and what’s worse was that Ed followed me. I’d ruined his day and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

I apologised repeatedly to Ed and suggested heading back to Sydney, Ed with little urgency said “the best thing we can do now is get another bottle of wine and think about what we’re going to do next”. That’s a fantastic idea; it wasn’t like alcohol had got us in that situation in the first place. So with the cheapest bottle of white we could get our drunk hands on we sat by the bay pondering our next move. 

Ed suggested trying to get back into the game stating to a steward that we were late arriving. This was not a good idea, the police had taken a copy of my I.D. and told me not to even try getting back in but having polished off the wine it seemed like a good idea. It was half time and we thought we’d try our luck. Acting sober we walked back to the ground, we approached a speccy steward, explained that we were late, flashed our tickets and we were in. We were back in the game! Keeping our heads down we thought we’d find a quiet spot in the family stand and just enjoy the rest of the game. 

That’s a lot more difficult that it sounds when you’re inebriated. Making a loud spectacle of ourselves we were rowdy, cursed, chanted, and did the opposite of keeping our heads down. I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise to all the respectable people sat around us who had to tolerate our dickhead behaviour for 45 minutes.

I filmed a lot of our foolish behaviour.

Ed tried to get a chant started and failed hilariously.

In this final video I interview Ed for 15 minutes. If you know Ed or I at all you may find it remotely funny, otherwise we’re just two pillocks that got drunk at a football match.

The game finished and Central Coast Mariners won the game 1-0. We left the stadium and joined in a children’s match outside the ground, we were playing with 5-10 year olds. What kind of parents let their children play football with two drunk, possible paedophiles? It went on for so long I started touching and filming the children just to get a reaction. Bad parenting. We headed back to the station and decided it was about time to get a third bottle of wine and a couple of kebabs, always a good sign. Wine in hand and waiting for the kebabs we started talking to the locals and asked when the last train back to Sydney was, they laughed and said “in about 4 minutes mate!” We hassled the staff to hurry up with the kebabs (obviously we couldn’t just leave without them), and sprinted to the station. Down the stairs, onto the platform, and within touching distance the doors closed and the train departed. The next train – a 7 hour wait. What else to do other than finish the wine, eat the kebabs, go back into town and find a place to party bogan style. We did just that, the rest of the night was a bit of a blur, one of the few memories was being kicked out of a terrible club because Ed was dancing on a table.

The night before never seems worth it when you’re still awake at 7am, hungover, and waiting for a train. My experiences of following Sydney FC were certainly unique and interesting and I doubt they’ll ever be replicated. Since then Ed and I have agreed never go to the football together again. 

Work is the Curse of the Drinking Class

A while since the last; here’s another edition from The Tefl-on Don with two weekends to catch up on.

Another week gone by and more exciting activities ticked off that I’ve never done before. This travelling malarkey’s quite fun! Every Friday I have usually finished work by 10:50am and in an attempt to not waste (nearly) an entire day off I decided to go to the Seoul Olympic Park, or Olpark for short. It’s started to warm up here, and by that I mean it’s just about above 0°C, so time for a brisk stroll. I got there and there wasn’t much happening, many arenas and stadiums but on a clear day I didn’t want the crowds just somewhere nice to walk. As I wandered I looked at all the art dotted around the park in celebration of the opening of the 1988 Summer Olympic Games. I’m not really into art, for some people it’s used to express themselves in ways that words can’t, for others it’s used for seeking unnecessary attention such as this man. This particular art student decided to lose his anal virginity on stage, in front of his peers as part of a university project. He’s just a poor man’s Paris Hilton. There were kids at my school that got in trouble for fingering girls by the bike sheds, but if you take a ride down a man’s dirt track on stage you’re an artist, apparently. 

I don’t know what these are about; a giant thumb and two attempts at a Scrapheap Challenge. The sculpture (right) was unnamed by the artist, to be honest I wouldn’t know what to call it either. Maybe, “Fuck it, that’ll do”. The park was very nice and I felt a certain pride to see the flags of my nations blowing in the wind.

Anyway, onto the main event of that particular weekend and we went to Seoul Race Park. I’ve never done a day at the races, I’ve always wanted to but it never seems to be something that you do on a whim. I met Josh and James at the subway station and we headed in. There were lots of sculptures of past winners around the grounds of the park, to a Korean racing aficionado they may be well known, but to me they were just horses. Upon closer inspection the sculptures had cocks, I know the artist wanted them to be as genuine as possible but honestly you can add too much detail sometimes.

We paid the enormous entry fee of ₩2,000 (£1.20) and headed for the bar, only to find no such thing. We saw a convenience store within the ground so we went over in an attempt to subtly drink a few cheeky cans, true class just like the Royle Family. But again, only disappointment. What do you do in that situation? We did like all other alcoholics living in denial and headed out of the Park to search for soju and beer. We found some easily, enjoyed one beer and took plenty of soju for the day ahead.

Once back inside we enquired into the logistics of gambling. I am familiar with the process having done it a few times in the past betting on the National but what made the selection process difficult was that all the horse names and betting form was in Korean (unsurprisingly), so I opted for numbers sticking with 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 and 14 (Vieira, Adams, Pires, Ljungberg, Bergkamp, and Henry if you’re wondering).

I wasn’t betting an awful lot but even so it was pretty exciting. A few races in and my plan wasn’t working – I was losing money! How could this be happening? Gambling is a sure fire way to make money, everyone knows that. Race by race I’d repeat the gamblers code “I’ll win the next one for sure. I’ll quit when I’m ahead. By the end of the day I’ll be a millionaire!” Then the unexpected happened, I won a race. Patrick Vieira came in! I collected my ₩20,000 winnings and was as happy as if I’d just won ₩2,000,000.

We decided to skip the last race and headed for Hongdae. James went to meet Susie and we decided to meet up later in FFs (a club we often frequent). James, still feeling a little tender from the night before had held back from the soju during the day which left more for Josh and I to drink. We continued drinking in Shamrock and Roll, an Irish pub in Hongdae at this point we realised how drunk we were. Christ, this is what happens when you start drinking at 3pm.The drinking didn’t stop there though. By the time James and Susie had arrived in FFs we were both passed out. I was completely asleep taking no notice of the 100 decibel music pumping from the speakers, and Josh semi-conscious in a state that James described as “couldn’t stand unaided”. Somehow we made it home.

I will now fast forward to the next weekend and it was a big one. We had two new arrivals, and two peasants came to visit all the way from Masan. The Friday night was my first exposure to Gangnam, the wealthy, upper class region of Seoul and probably the only place in Korea where it’s unacceptable to do the Gangnam Style dance. Alejandro set us up with free entry to a very swanky club, certainly too good for us. The bouncers looked down on us as our tragedy of commoners strolled in. Gangnam is good, rubbing shoulders with the elite, going to the nicer drinking holes, but only for one night. The girls were incredible, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’d brag to them about my seven-figure income and they’d walk away unimpressed like I am a short, overweight Russell Brand wannabe. A far cry from the girls of Nottingham, the kind of girls that would be impressed if you told them you had a job. But anyway, one of the main problems with drinking in Gangnam is the cost, something that will bleed your wallet dry. We opted for a cheaper option of making dashes to the nearest 7-Eleven to polish off a few bottles of soju and then head back to the club, past the judging bouncers, and onto the dance floor to enjoy the always delightful house and techno music. While everyone else was trying to keep face by giving the illusion they belonged in Gangnam our group was like the Price Harry of the party. A bunch of Jack the Lads crashing a party they shouldn’t be at.

We nursed Saturday’s hangover with some sightseeing around Dongdaemun. Later that afternoon I got the call I’d been waiting a few weeks for, Karl Egan had arrived in Seoul and was ready to get his drink on. Karl’s a good friend of mine from university. He's not from Brum, not from Leicester, not from Leeds, not from Manchester. He's from Nottingham, AKA Shottingham, Hottingham. (Although, he actually lives in D*rbyshire, but I won't tell anyone, Karl). Petro, Leon (the two peasants from Masan) and I met him and immediately went to Hongdae to meet up with Josh, James, Susie, and the other new arrival, Ben. We had a few drinks in Shamrock and Roll (surprise, surprise) and then went to FFs (surprise, surprise). A rather uneventful night, the usual drinking, storytelling, joking, laughing, occurred and we eventually got a cab home.

In the drunkenness Karl got in the front seat of the cab, and before we knew it everyone was asleep. We arrived in Kundae and the taxi driver was demanding ₩40,000 for a journey that shouldn’t even cost ₩15,000. In my best Korean I was trying to say that we wouldn’t pay that and that he was ripping us off, Karl still asleep during the commotion awoke to an angry Korean man shouting in his face demanding money. Karl had no idea what was going on which was hilarious. I had the opportunity to inform Karl of the situation but what kind of friend would I have been if I did that? The Korean man got louder and angrier and Karl began to get louder and angrier. Karl gave the driver ₩20,000 but the driver still wanted ₩40,000. Karl would shout “I’ve given you the money; I don’t know what you’re saying!” Karl then started to throw ₩1,000 notes at the driver and eventually told him to politely “go away”. Karl got out of the cab, angry but in a typically British fashion ‘I don’t know what you’re saying but I’m still right’ kind of attitude. It was one of the funniest things I’ve seen in Korea. We woke up on Sunday to discover Karl had lost his wallet and it was most likely lost in the taxi. This story sums up why Karl is one of the best and worst human beings I know.

Sunday’s hangover was rather bad. Two nights of drinking was taking its toll. So what better way to get over a hangover than go to Noryangjin fish market and eat raw fish?! There’s only one man to blame for such a silly idea and that is James. It was really interesting as it happens. You buy your fish from the market traders then take the fish to a restaurant to be cooked. The fish are still alive in tiny tanks, once picked out the fish receive a heartless blow to the head with a wooden stick, not a sight I needed to see when I was already close to vomiting. James and Susie put a selection of fish together which included salmon, flatfish, oysters, mussels, prawns, and live octopus. Not your typical hangover food. For the most part it was good food, I was slightly out of my comfort zone eating raw fish but YOLO ‘n that. The one thing I refused to eat was the live octopus. It had gone from straight out of the tank to cut up on a plate in a matter of minutes. When it is sliced apart the muscles continue to twitch for an hour, I just couldn’t eat it morally. During the meal beers and soju were ordered, this was not on my agenda for today but it continued. I lost count of how many drinks we had during that meal.

We headed out and as we were all saying our goodbyes someone suggested going to a noraebang (a karaoke bar). Going to a noraebang was not only not on my agenda for that day but it was not on my agenda for the entire year. I know I can’t sing, so why do I have to demonstrate it to my friends like I’m some delusional X Factor contestant? Luckily my friends were there to record it. I can only blame this misjudgement on the copious amount of alcohol consumed that weekend. 

With the exception of one final error of the weekend it’s been a cracking couple of weeks in the Land of the Morning Calm.

Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying

The Lunar New Year was marked in calendars all over Korea last weekend; it’s probably the biggest celebration in Korea annually. I was as excited as all the Koreans as it meant I got a four day weekend. Revelling in the added social time James, Josh, Susie, and I decided to go skiing/snowboarding. To make the most of the weekend James, Josh, and I went out on the Thursday night in Hongdae (for a change). Having got home late Friday morning, an extended lie-in was needed; we did not get this luxury as we had a coach to catch. We set alarms that were put on snooze multiple times and before we knew it we were running out of time. If we missed the coach our weekend was over, but as we all know there is always time to stop for road beers and soju. We rushed around a GS25, picking up as much beer and soju as we could carry and headed out. We had no time to eat and got a taxi to Jamsil. (After many trips out with them I’m not sure why I rely on James and Josh’s time keeping). We made it in time and even managed to get the back row of the coach (just like all the cool kids used to do at school!)The only food I managed to pick up was a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits. Then the hangover kicked in, I felt horrendous. James announced that in the rush he didn’t have a poo, which then made Josh need a poo, which in turn meant that I needed a poo. We were the Shitty Pants Gang and we hadn’t even left Seoul yet. 

The organisers of the weekend had sold the trip with a promise of a party bus atmosphere on the journey to the slopes. The “party” started with the film Out Cold, one of the worst films I’ve ever watched. Seriously don’t bother. There’s not much worse than being hungover, needing a poo, and watching a terrible movie. People had more enjoyable experiences on long journeys in the 1940s. Josh was able to stomach a beer but I couldn’t compete with him at the time. The motto for the weekend was coined, no matter how bad it got the response was “we’ve got beers though”, which was usually followed by the second motto of the weekend “I’ll have one but I don’t want one”.

The film finished and then the party started, they put music on and the atmosphere lifted. I was still struggling with my beer but thought it would be a good idea to start on the soju instead. Bottles of wine were opened, beers were flowing, spirits were being passed around the coach, and it was majestic. It was like a portable Reading Festival campsite. They were playing some fantastic tunes, Outkast, Drake, KanYe West, coincidentally three acts that are playing at this year’s Wireless Festival. They’ve got together my favourite line-up for the year that I’m out of the country! Furious.

The only problem with 50 people drinking a copious amount of alcohol on a coach with no toilet is that breaks are needed every 45 minutes. And then people get mad with you when you pee in a bottle. Crazy, right? A benefit of stopping so often is that it gives you the opportunity to restock on booze, we were fortunate enough to find this beauty of a drink. It’s a penis drink. We bought two bottles. Back on the bus and we gave it a whirl, it was only 13% but tasted rank. It was like vinegar. I only had one shot.

We got to our hotel room and met the random people we would be sharing with. It’s like Russian roulette that could potentially make or break the weekend. As they filtered in they all were great, couldn’t have asked for a better group of people… and by that I meant they all enjoyed a drink! (I even found a Charlton fan, I told him that I have a Charlton shirt. I could tell that he was impressed). It could have been awkward if the people we would be sharing with wanted an early night and we were up till the late hours drinking, but luckily they were all likeminded. Before we knew it the rumours spread; “party in room 324!” Our room. All entrants to the party were forced to have a shot of the penis drink, finally there was a half-decent way to get rid of the stuff. Neighbouring rooms also became lively and a few of us went to investigate. In the next room they were playing card cards but we couldn’t see a drop of alcohol anywhere, what’s wrong with these people? Cards were only invented to make people drink excessively. We swiftly left. The night carried on and it was great. I got to the stage where I needed to sleep, but there was a party in my bedroom. I picked up a blanket and a pillow and knocked on a random nearby door. “Hi, you don’t know me. Can I sleep on your floor?” Surprisingly I was let in.

We even got a chance to do some stroke photos. A simple but great idea, invented in the summer of 2013 on a holiday in Zante. You pull a stroke face, dribble beer out of your mouth, and take a photo.

The morning came around and I felt surprisingly fresh considering the volume of consumed alcohol over the past two nights. It was time to try on our rented outfits, they were shocking. Luckily I was blessed with a very desirable double denim get-up. (If you’ve read this blog before then you’re aware that Korea is still living like it’s 1994. The double denim is more proof of this). Over the weekend if you saw a foreigner also wearing a hideous ski outfit then you knew they were with our group. Of our group I was the only one to opt for snowboarding having done it 9 years earlier. Luckily the skills were never lost and it was like riding a bike, I had it nailed after two or three runs down a beginner slope. It was awesome; I kept on wondering why I had left it 9 years to go snowboarding! All the other guys were beginners, pretty much the first time they had skied. Which made me probably the most experienced; I was king of the Shitty Pants Gang. It is a little embarrassing though when the most experienced guy falls pretty hard, not much coming back from that!

A good 8 hours on the slopes and we headed back. There was also a promise of a huge night out for all the foreigners which included £4,000 worth of free beer! What could go wrong?! It started off like prom, all the boys on the left and all the girls on the right, then people started drinking, and soon after, carnage. There were a group of Americans not far from us who were drinking a lot of beer. Our room, not to be outdone, the Brits and the South Africans thought “we’ll show you how to drink!” Everyone was hammered as you’d imagine. Even though there was free beer, people still found it necessary to buy spirits. At one point I was in a convenience store drinking soju with James and some random girls. It seemed to be acceptable at the time… or maybe I was just that drunk. By the third night of drinking your decision making seems to become a little uncertain. The pictures of that night were a delight.

We even did a Wagbo audition. I won't go on to explain that one, it just won't be funny. But the pictures are good.

I was rudely awoken at 10am, to be notified that check-out was in 30 minutes. No time to shower, just pack up and get out. Whose idea was it to drink the night before?! Back on the slopes and I was still drunk. Literally one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had. Slide down a mountain at 40mph, on a slippery board, with no balance, on ice. Like I said, three nights of intoxication leads to unwise decision making. Time for breakfast. I realised that I had had nothing nutritional in four days. My diet had consisted of KFC, Dominoes, Dunkin’ Donuts, a terrible microwavable spaghetti, chocolate digestives, and alcohol. I eventually sobered up and took it easy for the rest of the day to make sure I could go back to work on Monday with no broken bones.

All-in-all it was a cracking weekend, made some great new friends, had a blast snowboarding, had some great nights, although I’m sure my liver would not agree. James took some footage of us on the slopes and edited it nicely together, see it below. If you wait till the end there is a short clip which pretty much defines me; I'm wearing a football shirt, and drunkly rapping to KanYe West. It's pretty embarrassing but if you know me at all then you've probably seen this before.

Video filmed and edited by James Johnson (James vs. World)

We got home late on Sunday night, and the alarm was set for 6am Monday morning, it comes around too quickly.

Those Who Have More Birthdays Tend to Live Longer

Finally got round to writing this one.

This was the first year that I had spent Christmas, New Year, and my birthday out of the country and away from my friends and family, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Christmas day fell on Wednesday, as I’m sure you’re fully aware, right in the middle of my orientation so it would have been inappropriate to have gone all out and celebrate Christmas as I would back home. Luckily, Susie and James were kind enough to host a Christmas meal and drinks the weekend before and a night out followed that evening in Itaewon.

James and Susie worked very hard preparing the meal, and all I did was turn up with beers. I offered to help with the cooking, but too many cooks and all that. I wasn’t expecting meat and gravy so early into my tenure in Korea so it was a delicious surprise.

After the meal we enjoyed many drinks, the drinking games provided the entertainment and then we headed out. I’ve never had such an adventure leaving a building before. Upon leaving Susie’s apartment, some bright sparks thought it would be a good idea to start jumping in the elevator. The elevator inevitably stopped which left us in a difficult situation, we were trapped. A perfect video opportunity if you ask me.

We were eventually rescued and we took the stairs.

The night out was great, and it was my first experience of the Itaewon region of Seoul which is famous for the number of westerners living in and around the area. One of the guys that was out with us, Alejandro, used his contacts to get us into every bar and club for free! I’ve never met a Korean named Alejandro before and I think it’s unlikely that I ever will again but he was pretty ballerific. The nights out in Korea never seem to end, they continue until the late hours of the morning which is good as the first subway train isn’t usually until about 5:30. Inevitably we all stumbled out of this particular club and as James, Josh, and Susie all headed back to Incheon I was going in the opposite direction to Hoegi. So I got the subway train alone, which seemed like a good idea but as I sat on the warm train I started feeling drowsy and I fell asleep. Predictably, I missed my stop and awoke somewhere unknown in northern Seoul at 7:00. I was freezing. I checked the map and had to wait for the returning train, about 15 minutes. It was the coldest I had known Seoul since my arrival in the country, too cold to just stand still. So I proceeded to run up and down the platform to keep warm, the Koreans on the opposite platform must’ve been confused watching the strange westerner run lengths as he waited for the train. It eventually arrived, and I finally got home somewhere around 7:30 and 8:00. I had planned not to waste the Sunday, and was going to go on an outing arranged by the school to a royal palace with the other teachers. Unfortunately, they were leaving at 10:00 and having just got in only 2 hours before I thought it would be best to stay in bed.

The big day came around, the 25^th of December, Santa’s birthday! Christmas, the time to be merry, rejoice with family and friends and get in the festive spirit! But I didn’t really feel that festive. South Korea doesn’t really do Christmas like the west. No decorations, only a select few Christmas songs (I lost count of how many times I heard Last Christmas by Wham!). They almost treat the holiday like a second Valentine’s Day. Couples will get together and do all the typical date stuff, going to the cinema, shopping, getting coffee etc. So I thought ‘why waste this opportunity?’ I had signed up on Plenty of Fish a few months back and had already organised a little get-together. My tagline is “Looking for my Seoul mate”, not bad, eh? So we had our first date on Christmas day. Her English was good, probably a Level 6, which was good for me because I know nothing. I’m an ignorant Brit that expects everyone else to know my language but had made little, actually no effort to learn any language skills. She was nice and we enjoyed pizza. Yes, while everyone else back home was eating turkey with all the trimmings I was having very average pepperoni pizza. ‘Tis the season.

New Year’s came round quick enough. We had no concrete plans for New Year’s, again, the Koreans don’t really celebrate this one too much either. I was told that they eat tteokguk (a rice cake soup which is eaten on New Year’s Day), they bang a gong at midnight, and children will bow to their elders and receive cash in exchange. Not the New Year’s I am used to. Tteokguk would only be drunk on New Year’s Eve in England if it had vodka in it and if you attempted a bow too late in the night you’d probably fall face first into the concrete. With this in mind my loose plan was to meet Josh, James, and Susie and see where the night took us.

As with most nights out in Seoul with this gang it took us to Hongdae, a part of the city with many pubs, bars, and clubs. The night started in an Irish joint called Shamrock and Roll. We did a bit of a pub crawl and the night was tainted with, what turned out to be, a terrible call from James. “There’s a place along here that does all you can drink sake”. After a few pints that sounded like a great idea. All you can drink sake for ₩12,000 (£7). Susie and James ordered, and the sake arrived… hot. Steaming in fact. I’d never done a hot shot before and I will, hopefully, never do one again. You’d never down a cup of tea, so why bring me hot sake?!

Susie made the wise decision to not get involved with the sake. James made another call “we need to drink at least 4 bottles of sake in order to get our money’s worth”. That’s an entire bottle each plus one more for good measure. Josh and I protested but it was to little avail, we had the 4 bottles and left.

We moved on to a few more places then things became a blur. I’ve had occasional flash backs but it’s like trying to piece together a 1000 piece jigsaw when you’ve only got 40 pieces. I remember Susie being worse for wear and James taking her home as Josh and I continued to “dance” the night away into the mid-morning hours. It finally came time to call it a night and we left for the station; it was only on the walk from the nightclub that I realised I didn’t have a coat. It was -5°C but it took me about 10 minutes to figure out that I wasn’t wearing the coat that I started the night in. Only one person knows what happened to my coat that night and it’s the person who now owns it. It was a good thing I was wearing my beer blanket.

As like most nights in Seoul, at the end of the night I part ways with Josh at the station as he heads west to Incheon and I travel east. I’ve started to notice a pattern, I’m not too good at travelling alone on the subway at night, as I unsurprisingly fall asleep. I boarded the train and was out like a light. When I woke up I had realised that I was travelling in the wrong direction, but I had travelled so far before realising this that it would have been quicker to stay on the train and continue on the loop than get off and backtrack. So once again I fell asleep. When I awoke I had missed my stop completely and had almost done an entire loop of the green line! Off I got, changed platforms and finally reached my destination at Konkuk University Station. I made my way home and crawled into bed between 9:30 and 10:00. A journey that should have taken 45 minutes ended up taking over 3 hours. Terrible by Korean standards but not too shabby by British rail measures.

I was unable to mong-out the next afternoon as I was to report to my new school at 14:30 to meet my colleagues. 3 and a half hours sleep isn’t enough after a New Year’s bender. I was wired on Red Bull and coffee, but I was honestly not in the mood to discuss term plans. I don’t think they noticed the hangover but if you can’t go out on combined New Year’s eve and birthday bash then when can you go out?!