MEGA
Jjimjilbang, Little Yellow Boats and The City of Chilli
I was slowly passing out in the back of the car, electronic music was blasting from the stereo and the lights and sights of a busy Korean highway were passing by the window.
Me, Mash and Fash were heading to the beach for the weekend. Such is the bastard of time that I can’t remember whether the east or west coast was our destination, it wasn’t south and definitely wasn’t north. I’m pretty sure it was west, I think.
It was a long drive through the night to arrive at the accommodation, a jjimjilbang. I had no idea what one would actually be like. It sounded good, a massive complex of hot baths and big open spaces to lay down and sleep, with every beauty and hygiene service imaginable offered.
We entered the bowels of the jjimjilbang beast through a spiraling concrete tunnel, a trip to hell would have been quicker than the time it took to make it all the way down to the car park.
The entrance hall was large and spacious, with neutral tones and doors lining each wall off into the complex. It reminded me of a government bunker, the type of place a President or Prime Minister would be to oversee the end of the world.
I liked it.
We got our locker keys and changed into the issued clothing, a comfortable pair of grey pajamas and went to find a place to sleep in the main hall among a large crowd of other pajama wearing people doing the same thing. The men wearing grey pajamas and the woman orange.
The sleep was a special type of sleep, laying on a hard mat on a hard floor with a harmony of loud snoring and constant movement keeping me in a semi-conscious daze.
People would come and go around me, dragging the mats with them to set up a new position. The sounds of the wriggling and squirming of humans trying to get something close to sleep filled the large room.
The next morning I gave back my pajamas, changed into my own clothes and felt I was leaving a really strange but not so bad prison.
Out of prison we headed for the beach, which was full of Koreans in little yellow boats floating up and down.
I was excited about the little yellow boats so we bought one and took it out into the water.
The little yellow boats had no engine and were made of plastic but that didn’t deter the fun I had floating around on the waves in my little yellow boat among many other enthusiasts. Mash and Fash had a go too while I body surfed the Korean waves. They were just as infatuated with the thing as I was.
We floated about in the dirty looking water of the Yellow Sea well into the late afternoon, taking smoke, food and piss breaks every now and then.
When we finally did get out of the ocean and get back in Fash’s car, our faces were burnt red and the rest of our skin wrinkled beyond amusement.
We were in a state of stinging pain as we said goodbye to the beach and drove to a nearby city to visit Fash’s friend.
As we pulled off the highway and into the small city I didn’t know what to make of my new surroundings.
What the fuck was going on?
Chilis.
Chilis everywhere.
Where the fuck were we?
Chilis.
Chilis everywhere.
The fuck?
Chilis.
Chilis everywhere.
Lampposts adorned with them, every shop decorated with giant red ones, flashing light after flashing light of chilis and even a few chili statues.
I asked Fash what it was all about but he could only give me an obvious answer, “They grow a lot of chili’s here.” he said.
It didn’t satisfy me. An anomaly this fantastic deserved an equally fantastic explanation. I demanded one! Unfortunately none of the Koreans I asked or any information I found online – of which there was very little – ever satisfied me.
Every nation should have these deeply weird places, entire municipalities dedicated to specific foods, drinks, spices, condiments.
After the novelty of Chili City faded, I remembered I needed some sleep. The Jimjilbang was rough, a day under a hot Korean sun and exhausted from body surfing meant that I was going to take whatever was offered to me. It was a hard wooden floor and a pillow, which was nothing to complain about.
Fash’s friend’s house was of another time, no TV or WiFi and with minimal decor.
It was good to know that these places still existed somewhere in the world.
Fash’s friend sat down on the floor reading a book while the three of us got some long needed rest.
I woke to the
SssssZzzz
SssZzzz
SssssssssssZzzz sounds of mosquitos…
Before returning to Seoul we ate some fried chicken and then took a nighttime drive out to a nearby park, where we discovered another charm of this rich in odd marvels region of Korea.
The park was giant, home to ten trillion bugs and had a low suspension bridge that seemed to go on forever and ever across a large lake.
We bathed in the moonlight and ran around for hours like idiots.
I can’t remember if the park had any chilis.
‘’’
Chilli City, I loved Chili City and with my head full of chilli we got in the car and drove back home.
‘’’
This was my life now, for the first time in a long time I felt like I had friends and something approaching roots in the ground.
I shared an apartment with a cute and cool Korean girl and a weird but still quite lovable Frenchman, I had my local pub and club and I had friends I went on weekend beach trips with. It was all good, it was all great and it was all about to end.
Friends to Enemies
I had my tongue in Cho Ara’s mouth and my hand dancing beneath her bra. We were in an almost empty basement nightclub in Itaewon and the world was mine.
A mutual seduction was about to come to its logical conclusion.
She had fired the first shot at me several weeks earlier near the end of a drinking session on the rooftop.
_
She looked out of place on the cheap plastic chair. She wore tight fitting dark blue jeans with a black blouse. I can’t remember if she wore jewellery but in my mind’s eye I always see her covered in diamonds.
A jewel encrusted platinum bracelet, diamond necklace and matching earrings lightly swaying in the warm night breeze.
Elegance was the first word that came to mind when I saw her. It was the same word I’m sure every other guy who laid eyes on her had for her too, followed by many more complimentary and then sexual ones.
She was elegant, she was beautiful and she was so fucking hot.
A fun pastime of mine was watching Cho Ara electrify men. I would be having a casual conversation with a couple of new male guests, we’d be sitting at the old, moldy rooftop picnic table smoking and drinking, enjoying the view of Itaewon.
Then Cho Ara would appear.
Their eyes would light up, their bodies would straighten, their voices suddenly forced deeper and louder. The brotherly atmosphere replaced instantly with one of war.
Depending on the males reproductive strategy, one of several scenarios would then play out.
The weaker men would attempt to befriend her as soon as possible and bore her into annoyance with niceties and questions.
The stronger men would act disinterested and would put on a show of chest beating to the group, until her beauty and nonchalance cracked them, at which point they would become as gooey soft as the weaker men.
Me? However? Well, I’m clearly in the special, third category of awesome aren’t I, this is after all my book.
…and it just so happens to be the truth.
I’m a conqueror and I’m a strategist and I had my plan.
I was about to leave that night, about to walk the ten minutes it took to get back to my apartment and then sleep when I saw Cho Ara shooting nervous looks at me.
I grabbed another drink from the fridge and sat down on one of the cheap plastic chairs a few feet behind her.
Only a few guests were still on the rooftop, smoking up their last cigarettes of the night and washing them down with Asahi beer.
I scanned my eyes over the rooftop and landed on Cho Ara. She looked jittery, almost scared.
She took deep inhales on her cigarette and fidgeted and squeaked in the plastic seat.
Then, now completely composed, with all the confidence of an Olympic gymnast about to begin her routine. All in for the gold medal, she turned to me.
“You look like, oh what’s his name?” pulling out her phone to search for the face, “This guy!” pointing at a picture of Jude Law.
I wasn’t going to disagree with her even though I definitely did disagree.
“Yes, you look like him,” she said, “my type.”
An orchestra started playing in my head, the electricity in my blood could have lit the entire nation next door, the hottest and coolest girl around just confessed to me.
Since California and throughout my time in Mexico, Bright had remained my self declared Love of Life. But hey, the hearts not meant to stay still and my heart was about to be taken again.
The game with Cho Ara continued as the game always continues, all heading towards the night we would make it official and bang like animals.
_
This night was that night. This was the bang like animals night. This was the night we would both get what we wanted.
Except it wasn’t.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t yet learnt that some Korean men are highly skilled in the shit art of cockblocking.
As my tongue probed every area of Cho Ara’s mouth and hers mine I opened a door in the back of my head and started searching around.
I turned on the light, and started rummaging frantically through draws.
I finally found the document.
Get rid of Fash and get Cho Ara back to my bed without her feeling like a slut
I quickly sobered up, directed Cho Ara and fash back toward the hostel. On our way there I told Fash that Cho Ara was staying with me tonight and that we’d see him tomorrow.
We waved Fash off in his car and walked back up the hill to my apartment building where me and Cho Ara engaged in passionate animalistic se…
Except it didn’t happen that way. Instead I was drunk and far drunker than Fash.
There was no searching for that document, that part of the plan that if needed I had written weeks before.
No, I was drunk. Nowhere near the Napoleon or Alexander I would have been sober.
Instead, I just enjoyed the moment. We both did.
Tongue to tongue.
Hand to breasts.
What a wonderful fucking world.
As we made our way toward my apartment building, I heard Fash mumbling something to Cho Ara behind me.
When I looked back, her mood had suddenly turned, she looked deflated and upset.
‘Did that prick just shame her into not sleeping with me?’ I thought.
“I’m tired,” she said, “another time.”
I knew that would never have been the result if the two of us had walked back alone or even if I hadn’t decided to momentarily let Fash and Cho Ara have a little chat while I walked a few feet ahead of them.
Fash quickened his pace and continued on to the hostel where he had parked. Cho Ara now completely zoned out trudged along with him.
Fash was being such a gentleman and offering her a ride home, how nice of him. The intention of that trick was clear and the look on Cho Ara’s face said it all.
I was still drunk, but I quickly went through every possible thing I could do to change the night back in my favour. No move resulted in Cho Ara and me together though.
If I had argued or fought I would have looked childish and Fash could have used it against me in retellings and even convince Cho Ara that I was a crazy drunk.
“Next time,” she said as she got in the car, “I promise.” she added, sounding upset
The car sped off and I began the walk back to my apartment in a strange state of rage, and it was very strange. The anger was in me somewhere but the hangover had started and I couldn’t grasp hold of that anger and let it take over me, and I wanted badly to let it take over me.
It was one of the rare occasions when I wanted to let my feelings out in full force. I wanted to fly across the street and smash the windows of the Saudi embassy or throw a brick at the back of Fash’s car as he so politely gave Cho Ara a lift back home.
’Fucking, little cockblocking prick.’
I calmed myself and my drunken legs carried me back to the apartment where I fell face first onto my bed.
Feuickinh cocKblucking jeaLous BasTArD.
And this was only the beginning.
The beginning of a campaign of cockblocking from most of the South Korean male friends I had made.
It turned out there were a lot of fucking cockblocking jealous bastards around.
Now that word had gotten out that Cho Ara liked me and had acted on it, these male friends I thought I had made went after her mind to tear to pieces her opinion of me.
Jealous men holding a woman back from what she wanted through lies and shame.
Not understanding the complexities of the Korean language proved to be a big disadvantage in overcoming the bitter wolves in docile sheep’s clothing.
I had learnt some Korean. But not enough.
How could I respond to the low tones and rumours they were whispering into her ear in front of me? I knew what was happening but to confront them directly I needed to actually know what they were saying.
At least I gained knowledge for the future. The next time I dated a Korean girl I’d make sure to be armed with fluency in her native language.