Sometimes when I'm daydreaming, I think about South Korea. There are moments when I can smell the air. I can smell the morning scent of hot water and bleach from the old ladies that cleaned the dorm I stayed in. I can smell the morning breakfast of fried SPAM and eggs. I can see myself walking to the restaurant, that’s what they called the cafeteria, getting my very own personal slice. Sometimes I can smell the lunch food. Like the smell of blackened squid and five-year old kimchi. The scent of kimchi alone is already horrid, but adding five years of stank doesn’t help at all.
The food isn’t the only thing that comes back to me.
It’s the end of April, almost May, the sun is out and the birds are chirping. Students are out on their bikes and hanging outside in the courtyards. The Spring Festival is approaching, which is a week-long celebration for the college kids who have just turned the legal drinking age, which in South Korea is 18 years old. (Thinking back on it I'm not quite sure if that what the actually celebration was about. But that sure is what they told me.) The school shuts down the north end of the campus and sets it up like a huge carnival. There are tents with food, games, yard sales, art sales, and a concert. I am walking down the long strip and I can smell the very delicious street cart food. Yummy treats on sticks, in bowls and even ones you can eat in one swallow. I can taste the cotton candy and the smoked Korean bar be que. The trees and street lights are filled with traditional colorful lanterns. Each tent has its own personal sign to display what they are selling. Not one inch of this half mile strip is naked, everything is covered.
One of my professors took the whole class to the festival, instead of staying in class. As we journeyed from the south to north end of the campus, they asked me inquisitive questions of my life back at home. We walked directly to the arts section of the festival, where the tables were filled with handmade journals and scrap books. Most of the things were for sale. One booth that we looked at was a huge cut out picture of different cartoon characters. The strange thing about the board was that there were large nails coming out the front of the board. So people would walk by and pay money to throw water balloons at anyone who chose to stand behind the nail infested board.
This spring festival was nothing like what the spring festival at my school in Mississippi was like, this is much more. This is not real, I thought to myself. I began to drift in and out of my journey, but to stay and relive this amazing place I close my eyes and begin to wonder again.
The next day...
As I’m walking out my dorm after a long day of classes, back to this excuse for excessive drinking. The sun is blazing and I am in the mood for some fun. When I see this sign that says, “FIGHT for 1 WON!!” I immediately run straight to that table and sign up. First, I get to pick my victim. It’s difficult for me to choose, because they all look like they can fight, I mean they are Korean and most Koreans take Tea Kwon Do. So I go for the one that tries to hide and choose him as my prey. I get suited up and pumped up ready for my fight. Keep in mind that I have never gotten into a fight in my life before, so I have no idea what I am about to do. As the bell rings and the crowd began to thicken, I prepare for what is mostly likely to be the most exciting thing at this festival. Bouncing around my target, I begin to go straight for the blow. Yes!, right in the ribs. This feels good, releasing all my stress and tension from class I swing again and hit him right in the shoulder. I really want to get to his face but it’s being protected by this big rubber face mask. At this point I am exhausted! I try to get him one more time and miss, so I call it quits. As my fight begins to dwindle down, I notice that my professors and the President of the school standing right behind me.
That day at the spring festival was one of my most favorite memories in Korea.I mean, how many people can say they kicked a Koreans butt.
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