Choo-Choo-Chuseok Pt. I

Alright scrotes!

I'm gonna split this entry into a couple of parts cos I've dramatised our journey to Busan to such a degree that the post is rather long. I don't know about yous but personally I like my internet reading to be nice short and snappy so I don't want to be providing you guys with posts that are a size I wouldn't read myself. So, on with the show.

Last time I introduced you to the wonders of Soju. So appetising was my description of this nectar of the gods (buddha's?) that one of our faithful followers actually splashed out 9 blips on a bottle back home. The Hop House saw you coming Crybn, its under a euro for a bottle here. So this time I'm going to enlighten you about a little Korean holiday we enjoyed called Chuseok. Pronounce it Chew-sock, but don't try to pronounce it while chewing a sock.

Anyway, bad jokes aside, Chuseok is kind of like a Korean thanksgiving. It's a harvest/pay respects to the dead type of holiday. This year it fell on September 12th. What this meant was that only 2 weeks into working over here we had a 3 day holiday which amounted to 5 days off in a row including the weekend. On Chuseok most Koreans go back to their family home. They eat, drink and be merry as do all on a national holiday. However, apparently its not a nice time for the majority of women as they have to do all the cooking etc., not too dissimilar from many Irish homes at Christmas I'd wager. Chuseok is also a time for remembering the dead. Ancestors tombs are visited, respects are paid, the area surrounding the tomb is given a nice once over. Now most Koreans do the whole visiting the tomb, having the big feast etc. BUT when I asked my sixth graders what they did for Chuseok there were those among them who simply replied 'I played computer games.' So ya never know, maybe the old traditions are giving way to the smothering embrace of technology- which they are absolutely nuts about actually-smartphones abound everywhere ya go and I see kids as young as 5 or 6 with Iphones. Craziness.

Back to Chuseok however and our experience of it here.

We went to a place called Busan.

We drank for 5 days.

That is all.

Ah no, only pulling ye by the short and curlies. That is what we did pretty much but I'll fill in some of the gory details.

So, myself and Mairead's journey began one fine Friday evening as we met up at approximately 5 p.m. after school. Quite foolishly we had booked a train for 5.50 p.m leaving Daegu and headed for Busan. We had never travelled to the station before and we may have been slightly optimistic with our hopes of how close it was.

We boarded the subway at approximately 5.15/5.20 or so and instantly began doubting our abilities of making the train on time. The journey was a tense one. Doubts were expressed. Blame was silently attributed to the other party by both parties, no accusations made but accusations felt in the piercing stares that we alternately exchanged with each other. Nerves began to get the better of me and when I realised my passport was in my luggage and that I needed it to prove my ticket reservation I began to despair. On a crowded, stuffy subway I made a rather fumbling, vain and embarrassing attempt to extract the passport from the inner regions of my mini suit case. But alas to no avail. Like a true strong Irish woman however, when I had lost all hope and was just about ready to leave the case behind and head for home, Mairead stepped in and calmly retrieved my passport. The old korean women beside us gave me a look that said 'he is not a man', rather astute of them if I do say so myself. Crisis averted for now.

We arrived at Dongdaegu subway station and began to run. It was only at this point that we observed that neither of us actually knew the location of Dongdaegu train station. We desperately hoped it would just appear in front of us whatever direction we galloped towards. An attempt to get the information out of some locals turned into a meeting with a couple of slack jawed gawkers, so we kept on truckin along. We began to follow a sign for the train station, it happened to point to the right where there was a road and an elevator. For some reason we believed the elevator to be the gateway to the station. It promptly landed us right back down in the subway station we had emerged from moments earlier. It began to feel like someone didn't want us in Busan. Nerves and relations were certainly frayed by this point. I know I considered packing it in and not bothering but Mairead was insistent that we do our darndest to make the 5.50 train we had already shelled out 15,000 won each for. We started to really leg it, and began to sweat like a couple of pigs on a roasting spit. As we entered the station I clocked us at 5.46.

Now, we had made it but there was still one minor concern. We had only a ticket reservation sheet with us but no tickets. As we stumbled into the main area of the station our hearts sank, our heads wildly turned this way and that in the hope of seeing a ticket booth. All we could see were electronic machines to get tickets from. My last ounce of hope of making the train evaporated so Mairead once again took the lead and tried to get tickets from the machine. To no avail. We decided on just jumping on the train with the reservation. We made it down to our platform feeling very uncomfortable and tired. It musta been 5.48 maybe even 5.49 now. I don't know what possessed me at this point but I had the sudden impulse to give printing the tickets from the machine one last try. I dumped the bags with a flabbergasted Mairead and set off into the distance up the escalator. I pelted towards the e-machine for tickets and entered my reservation number with a flourish; 'By George I've got it' I exclaimed (*editors note: some phrases/dialogue may have been exaggerated for dramatic purposes). But today of course was not a day when things went right. After successfully entering the reservation number, it asked for a password. A fucking password? What fucking password? The website never gave me a fucking password for fuck sake!!?!?!? That is how I felt right there. I gave the machine a light punch and ran back to the platform, the train had arrived and people were embarking. I couldn't see Mairead. I looked along the platform in a panic and eventually heard the light cry of 'Mark! Mark!' Ah, there she was. So I took my luggage from the poor struggling maiden and we entered an economy class carriage. Like any true Irish folk abroad we were using their public transport with no tickets to show.

We stood in between carriages sheepishly, dripping sweat, just hoping no one would ask for tickets.

10 minutes in a Korean woman in KTX uniform (KTX is the train we got- Korean speed train- makes journeys incredibly short around the country- its whopper!) asked us for tickets. I promptly produced my reservation, my passport and explained our harrowing tale as best I could to her. "That's ok" she said and off she went. Travelling back we were never asked to show tickets and my friend told me there are signs in the station that say 'we trust you', so there ya go. Halfway through the journey we got seats and it was finally plain sailing to Busan. We arrived within 45 minutes.

Well thats it for now, stay tuned for 'Chuseok pt. II: What Happened in Busan', also entitled 'What Ned did'.

Peace scrotes!