Another adventure in the land of the morning calm. Honestly, every weekend has featured an incredible experience in one form or another. I definitely feel worthy of an "E" True Hollywood Story showcasing yours truly, only I am not an actor or associated with Hollywood at all besides having the last name Greenberg. Essential information: 1. Destination: Daychon Beach, about 2.5 hours south west of my beloved city of Pyongtaek, or the city of Hot Garbage as I affectionately refer to it. 2. Crew: Tamara (taking picture), Guaceezey, Johnny Blaze, Cheech nasty (Alicia), Keith & Hilary aka the vomit couple, and me, the #1 stunna (self proclaimed unfortunately). 3. The reason: an annual mudfest that attracts nearly every foreigner in the country along with droves of Koreans.
After a painful wakeup and boarding of a 630am train, eating some not too agreeable Korean soup and displaying some Yoga moves for patrons inside the restaurant (anything for entertainment), and then walking practically to China to find our overpriced hostel, fun having was finally upon us. Completely upon us; as in covering every inch of surface area on our sexy and toned bodies; the fun consisted of the myriad and magical Daychon MUD.
At the epicenter of this festival of mud and hedonism, there were various rings, slip and slides, jail houses, contraptions with ropes and harnesses, and obstacle courses all coming strait from the educational tv program "Gladiators." (Nitro, r.i.p.). The main and essential ingredient in all of these activities was of course the mud, and I am already tired of writing that word. It was right around the 12-1pm time slot where the state of things quickly developed into a complete free for all devoid of personal bubbles, respect, or logical thought.
Can someone accurately put into words what the appeal of getting absolutely filthy is? Perhaps appeal is the wrong word. Maybe yearning, or "fiending," like Bill Clinton to interns, or Rick James to Cocaine, or a starved monkey to a banana. But in a safe situation with the proper wardrobe or lack there of, why getting dirty is so fun. How or why a puddle of mud is so inviting; almost as inviting as smothering someone who is completely clean. It's complete vindication, shear pleasure in their momentary torture of mud. Getting the wondrous mixture of dirt and water into every pore, hair follicle, crevice or chasm of ones body is absolutely amazing. It's almost an infantile joy.
This festival absolutely fulfilled one of my childhood fantasies that I was never really able to make a reality. Not the one that included sasquatch, flame throwers and pirate ships, but just getting head to toe dirty. (I have a weird sense of humor, deal with it) In all of the insanity and frenzy, I was able to completely unwind, relax and forget all of my worries in the chaos. In an entirely unclean state, I felt completely cleansed of ill will.
Keeping in tune with this theme of liberation from infantile obsessions, I will switch gears to another example. Our twelve hour party of mud and mekju was coming to an end. I really enjoy big finishes, or potent climaxes if you will. Anyways, I took it upon myself to take the excruciatingly long walk home on the beach at 1am and turn it into a stimulating and freeing jog in the cool sand. The jog took me on a course through picnicking couples, a soccer game where I attempted a header, through a sizeable crowd of Korean men, running multiple circles around a terrified Korean woman on her cell phone, pausing for rest to talk about life with my friend John, and finally frolicking in the waves like a caged animal being set free. This jog of course was all executed without a stitch of clothing. Posting pictures of this jog (if they existed) would violate the terms and conditions of this website. Did I really need to inform the world of that story? Some would say no...but I say yes. I love to tell and hear stories, and have a horrible affinity for keeping secrets. Recently, a friend and I both came to the mutual conclusion that either I waved goodbye to discretion or discretion waved goodbye to me in the early stages of my life...perhaps around the time I stopped wearing diapers. It's both a gift and a curse. Korea, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me these friends and allowing us to share these epic experiences together. Over and out.
I come from a small town north of Seattle, WA, where I learned that rain is a magical thing because it turns things green. I have had the chance to go a few places and see a few things of which all I have are pictures, memories and stories. I am currently living and learning about Los Angeles, California, and what it means to be an Angelino.