Eating by the Riverside

I wish monsters existed. It would make life a lot more exciting. Yes, we have mosquitoes and dishonest bus drivers, but I mean beasts with many legs, long tails that can flick you in the face, sharp teeth, angry faces, a taste for flesh, ambitions of self-propogation, and a general disregard to road traffic laws. OK, there'll be a lot of blood, tears, familial distress, and the customary increase of body parts, but if all humans exert their efforts into a war on the monsters, then there will probably be a general reduction of death, as we would not be fighting each other. Maybe scientists should focus on creating a breed of monsters, or many breeds.

The Han, a massive river snaking its way though the middle of Seoul, traversed by many bridges. The banks lining this river are fascinating locations of public parks, 7-11s, toilets, exercise machines, greenery and foot and cycle paths. They are raised a little higher than river level, but if you so wish you can wander to the riverside and picnic by the polluted filth that you so choose as your setting, something that I have been doing of late with friends. The huge bridges that you frequently encounter along the riverside parks can provide shelter in the rain, large white pillars thrusting high into the air, cradling the weight of concrete, directing the course of the city's vehicles. Its a novel industrial setting for a picnic.

Teenagers "shoot the hoops", is that right, shoot the hoops? And if so, did I convincingly pull it off? Anyway, there they are playing basketball (thats better), friends and families lounge on blankets, drinking Soju and having fun. People mill around the 7-11s, eating noodles. You can do that, for here each 7-11 has a little counter with a microwave and hot water dispenser, where you can choose to eat your noodles, should your laziness and desire to be stared at, allow you to. The separate cycle, foot and motorcycle paths are not adhered to as I cycle with laid back ease, overtaken by cyclists, hardcore and fast. They have all in one body suits, goggles and masks over their nose and mouth. They try to focus on the burn, but need to negotiate with the mirth-makers, zigzagging with bold dominance across the cycle path. Speeding black phantoms that paint dark lines across a landscape dotted with people content to remain where they are. I am somewhere in between, as I make my way to a 7-11 to stock up on more beer and crisps.

There's a screaming in the distance, and everyone turns to its direction. Bounding along the path right next to the water is a river dwelling monster, usually well fed by the authorites to warrant infrequent land visits, but today the Han river monster is rapacious in its quest for human flesh. It's quite large, the size of a bus, with shiny amphibious skin, glistening from the moisture of a river sparkling with gentle irridescene in a setting sun. It is also fast, and many people unfortunately cannot outrun it, and the sorry individuals in its direct path are ruthlessy snapped up. Terror stricken faces, as their lives cut horrificly short, scar the souls of their loved ones whose hands they were holding but moments ago. The crunch can still be heard over the screams, and now blood adds new dimensions to a previously idyllic scene. Some people are caught by the fast flailing tail, one person sent arcing poetically into the river, soundtracked by a piercing scream that seems to be calling from an afterlife that has not yet been reached.

The beast has a large mouth, pouches in the side, large enough to store many human bodies, for later feasting. Its not yet full, so theres more food to get. People instinctivley run for cover in buildings, some clamber up stairways leading up to the bridge, but there's too much pushing and shoving, as the weak fall meekly to their crumpled death. Many find refuge in the outdoor toilets, large RV-like outbuildings, but they are only serving themselves as a convenient dish. The beast shrewdly sees this easy collection of people. He swerves catching a schoolgirl under foot, extinguishing a life worth chronicling; all she wanted was an ice-cream after her English classes. The beasts broad battering ram forehead slams into the side of the toilet, caving the flimsy wall in. Luckily I have found cover behind a large bridge pillar, hugging the white edifice with a fervour of hope that I will not be seen, the large spiders crawling over my hands with curiosity over this newly added landscape. I peek out and see the beasts head buried in the toilet building, body writhing in violent ecstasy as he chooses to take time and eat there. The wailing and high pitched screams seem like cries from hell's minions as the scene descends into a Dante-esque portrait of misery.

Soon military vehicles arrive with bullets that slam into the monsters back. Immediately it bounds away, and with a second glance all you see in the final splash of water as it makes its escape, leaving only a messy scene of broken lives. A scene that the army personnel begins to bring back to order.

In the next installment:
As the country mourns the dead of that fateful day, it is discovered that the little girl was the daughter of the Agricultural Minister. An unlikely love blossoms in the unlikeliest of places. And scientists work around the clock to create a chemical that poured into the river can kill the beast.

Anyway, if you like that you should watch a great monster film called The Host, a quintessentially Korean film, taking the monster film template and adding it own unique twist on things, where mobile phone companies and Soju saves the day.

The Washing Cycle

The heat was stifling, sticky and persistant in its clamour to make discomfort out of everything. No amount of layers removed could alleviate this. And it was still the time when I had not ventured to use the air conditioning, hoping I could hold out as long as possible, see if I could manage things the old fashioned way. Plus I thought if I use it, a new standard would be set, one of easy luxury where even if it was just a little bit warm, I would whack on the air conditioning and still leave the window open, a kind of "fuck you" to the earth, "look at me, I'm still cool even with the window open. Do your worst!" Such a negligent attitude towards conservationism is still far off for me. However, feel free to judge, things are done a bit differently here with regard to waste disposal. Recycling is still done here and making sure to separate the rubbish, I feel like I'm doing my part, however due to the mass of waste produced here there is more rubbish to put out than is actually accomodated for in the rubbish areas. So inevitably rubbish is frequently put on the floor around the bins, or sometimes on the corner of a road. It feels refreshingly naughty, putting your rubbish out like that, like smoking indoors, things accepted here as the norm, but at home is viewed on a naughty scale just below murder but still higher than beating up old people. However I would like to maintain, to assuage the concsiences of fellow ex-pats, that gently placing your filthy rubbish on the road is infinitely better than throwing it aside. Substitute cavalier nonchalence with meticulous concern and your mind can conquer any doubts of wrong-doing that may assail it, and you can continue counting the pizza boxes piled on high in the street with a safe smile and a clean conscience. One may say that it doesn't matter how you do it, the result is still the same, and I would reply "leave me alone, I want to be on my own. I dont want to fight you." Then after a bit of a lie down I would highlight that the waste disposal business here is very good. With the more waste created and left out, it stands to reason the better the refuse collection service is. Very regular and expansive, seeking out all the side-streets and alleyways in the city, dirty men shoving dirtier bags into the shitty back-sides of rubbish trucks.

The heat is stifling, sticky and persistant in the way it never makes you feel completely clean. My aggressor would claim that it's just my karma catching up with me for littering the planet. At this point I would feel slightly nervous that the person clearly can't see that I just cannot be bothered to argue after my lie down following the person's first exclamation of displeasure. "Its too hot to fight, lets just be friends" I would suggest. Then I would have another shower. I'm having a lot of them lately, another point for my aggressor to find contention with. However to my credit they are cold showers, so with a triumphant grin I can boast conservationism on my side, and hopefully if the twat that just wont leave me alone is still around, I'd spray the fool with cold water. Maybe that would dampen their antagonism. As is expected with regular self-cleansing, my clothes thus must follow suit, and since I've been here in the intense Korean summer, my washing machine has seen as much action as Don Giovanni on one of those sleazy sex holidays. My shirts rarely see it past a day, so I have to regularly rotate my clothing system. Maybe this is something that's not so interesting, I'll admit, but it does lead me on to an odd curiosity here. The washing machines, the air conditioners, the school water dispenser, hell, pretty much any electronic device has a peculiar habit of beeping the shit out of you. Now there is a certain amount of beeps a human can withstand on a daily basis, and here in Korea the threshold is pretty fucking high. No electronic device turns on or off without declaring to you and your immediate surroundings that "hey you have turned me on! Now I am working!" or "you have just turned me off! You no longer require my services, but just to let you know this I'll beep like a crazy man!" Its mental! And its not just a single monotone beep, no dear friends, what foolish assumptions though hast made if you believe such folly. The on/off beeps are usually a five note minimum medley that attempts to span as much of the musical scale as possibly, and in the certain case of my washing machine its......yeah, its got to be at least thirty seconds long, a song I'll claim, I've heard shorter songs, so yes, this is song length material that is blasting out of my Hauzen (Korean brand) washing machine. It's enough for me to give it up and just wear dirty clothes.

The heat will be stifling, sticky and persistant in a way that'll be new to me. I've never drank as much water as I have now, and it certainly doesn't feel like it's helping. I'll go to bed now and sweat loads, soak my sheets, wash them, listen to more washing machine beeps, go to work and drink more water, cold and treated. I'll sweat more whilst increasing the air conditioning to soften the swell of relentless heat that will only make me consume more fluids and solids, and all I'll do is create more waste, washing more and throwing out the rubbish. The cycle will continue, as it always does, regardless of the accumulation of waste, this is a side product that will be dealt with in time, and when it does the end will come with necessary conclusion. We will want those beeps then, but they will have no consequence. We will be too long gone to care.