Every July in Korea, there is an annual Mud festival held at
Boreyang beach in Daechun. Knowing that this is a huge event in South Korea, my
friends and I put in reservations almost two months ahead of time. Although it seemed like we were anticipating
this weekend for so long, it came and went faster than I could have
imagined. I think, from what I had heard
and read about it before actually attending, I could say that it lived up to its
name. After all, we did get muddy.
Friday, July 14. We all sat in our classrooms for the day,
anticipating the journey ahead of us; a two and a half hour bus ride that would
finally land us at a rough and rowdy little gathering of muddy drunken
waygooks. The day passed slowly, but soon enough, about 14 of us all piled into
a guide bus, destination: mud fest. Of course, drinking in Korea is pretty much
allowed everywhere, so it should not come as a shock that we all got on the bus
completely prepared for a circus bus ride consisting of soju mixers and giant
bottles of Cass. Our bus departed from Seoul around 9:45PM and we were expected
to arrive around 12/12:30AM. The bus
ride itself was an absolute wreck, although, perhaps a good precursor to the
actual festival. Some bus ride
characteristics: everyone standing for most of the trip, the boys drinking too
much and crying about not being able to hold their pee (needless to say, I do
believe some bottles got emptied and then filled back up), sharing music, sharing jokes, laughing until
we could not breathe.
Upon arriving in Daechun, everyone was nice and
toasted. We had reserved one room for
all of us prior to arriving, so about eleven of us bunked up in one room. The thing about Korea, however, is that most
hostels or pensions do not usually have beds. Instead, everyone just stretches
out and sleeps in very close quarters on the floor. We all walked in, set down our belongings,
spread blankets and pillows, and set up our room so that we would all be able
to leave, come back at who knows what hour and then pass out where we landed.
Everyone first made a journey across the street to stock up on more beverages
before making our way to the beach. We
had to wait until the following afternoon to actually participate in the mud
festivities, so we figured no bed time was important.
Luckily our pension was literally just across the street
from the beach. As we walked onto the
sand, Kimberly and I made our way straight for the water, because after all,
there is nothing better than dipping your feet in the ocean at night. In fact, however, there is something better…
dipping your feet in the ocean in Korea late at night. I could tell that Kim and I were feeling the
same way. The water was absolutely
heavenly: not too cold, clear, clean, silent.
At that moment, we both just stood, taking in our breath that seemed to
run away with the vast outspread of water before us and the crashing waves at
our feet. What an amazing feeling. We
both looked at each other and I could see that Kimberly was crying. When she hugged me and told me she loved me
and was glad she could share the experience with me, I knew that her tears were
happy and not at all sad. Something
about moments like that just seem to make you feel full. Not full like your
belly is about to burst, but full like your heart will. Moments like that, when you realize the
altitude and the greatness of what you are experiencing… it’s completely
irreplaceable. Just when I wondered if
it could get better, someone suggested charging into the ocean fully
clothed. In my head, of course, I knew
that I did not have my swim suits on and I was wearing my only pair of jean
shorts for the weekend, but you know, sometimes you just do things simply
because you’re alive and you can. Every
so often you just have to dive in the deep end, step outside the box, and do
something to rejuvenate the soul. For
me, these moments are what I live for, so on the count of three, 5 of us went
charging into the ocean with our clothes on and fell right into the crashing
waves. We all stood up screaming and playing together in the water and having
chicken fights. When I was through, I walked back to shore, stretched my hands
up to the sky, and just twirled about in the sand, running the tips of my feet
along the ripples and sand. I felt so
alive, so grateful, and so free. I had
my moment of freedom, spontaneity, and appreciation.
We made our way back to the pension around about 3 or 4 am,
soaking wet, covered in sand, and pretty much destroyed our sleeping quarters
for that night, and the next. Of course
things did not settle when we got back to the room, we had to have been up for
an extra hour laughing uncontrollably and behaving like a bunch or rambunctious
ten year olds. When we did fall asleep,
it was something of a giant sardine slumber party. Squished together, we all knocked out pretty
quickly. The next day, I woke up before everyone else around 7AM, so I decided
to take my headphones and go for a stroll on the beach. When I got back only a half hour later, Mehdi
had everyone awake, due to the fact that it was his birthday, and drinking had
already begun. OUT. OF. CONTROL. = the three words I often use to describe my
clownish male friends in Korea.
The day started out slow, but at 2PM when everyone had
eaten, drank a bit, and got all stoked for the mud, we made our way to the
pits. How can I describe this
experience? I’m not sure I can, to be honest.
It’s definitely a, “you have to be there” type of festival. As we
ventured into the mud pits, people just went HAM attacking one another with
mud. It did not matter if you knew the
person who you were attacking or not, if they looked clean in any way, or were
showing their skin in anyway, they instantly got smothered with mud. As soon as
we walked in, some guys I did not even know, just took a handful of mud to my
face, as they laughed and joked that I was too clean. The festival was complete with mud slides,
mud wrestling pits, army crawls, paint buckets, and LONG LONG lines. It was raining, so the festival was a muddy,
sloppy, goo infested trench. They say
not to bring valuables to the festival because most people lose or destroy
things, but I bought a waterproof case and took some good pictures. There was no way I was going to let this
weekend go by undocumented. The rest of
the day was spent playing in the mud, making new friends, eating moving
octopus, and playing on the beach. At night, everyone cleaned up, got some
food, and ended up drinking in the room.
The rain was good for the mud portion of the festival, but it put
somewhat of a damper on us leaving the room at night.
Saturday night, Grace went home, I did not drink, Kim drank
too much, and Holly was suffering from uncontrollable bug bites. Needless to say, we all called it a night a
bit earlier than the guys. Surely, that
was an ignorant idea, since we were woken by their drunken stooper at an
unreasonable hour. Of course James made
his way into the room and started rolling around on top of us, all wet and
disgusting, while Mehdi did his slurring wake up call. Oddly enough, it was too funny to be mad and
pretty hard not to laugh.
A fairly decent depiction of what the bus ride there was like.
Kimber & Gracie Louuuu<3 love this picture of them.
Everyone cuddled up close in our bedroom!
HAHAHA. I love this picture! James' face in the top corner, hahaha.
Me, Kim, & Grace
Muddy Me... this isn't even bad yet...
Alissa, Erin and I... muddy messes!
The craziness... the crowd of muddy people is never ending.
This guy was pretty funny, although, I do not know him.
Everyone! :))
