who ... moi?

a social butterfly: scared of much, but not of many. never lets the truth get in the way of a good story. not a fan of acronyms, snakes and angelina jolie. a HUGE fan of Fathead.


this blog is black for ENERGY-SAVING reasons.

thanks for your understanding.
if it's too dark, put your glasses on old one.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

flying chicken twice born

after our saturday shift had chewed us up and (once again) spat us out - Fathead and i decided to act our age, despite the way we felt... so we pulled ourselves together and joined a few of the teachers for a night out in hongik university town (probably the closest thing to an asian-version of stellenbosch).



roslyn (south african) and her kiwi-boyfriend dave on the bus ride

the journey there was long and by the time we arrived we were so famished we were ready to nibble on anything that wagged its tail.

true to the general experience of going out in a large group, most of us were overly polite and accommodating (with the usual "i don't mind where we eat ... i'm easy" rubbish).  this resulted in a foot tour of the entire town prior to us settling on a thai restaurant called siam. dinner was tasty, although by this stage i was dizzy and seeing spots ... so a piece of paper would have been equally as enjoyable.

from dinner we walked through the streets which were teeming with young koreans.



on both sides restaurants, cafes, bars and clubs were stacked upon each other ... bright lights and a cacophony of every music genre imaginable filling the night air. it was so alive and energetic - and exactly the authentic city-scene we'd been looking for.




my namesake bar


and one for t-bear!


this karaoke club (below) is modeled in a doll's-house-concept where you can see straight into private "bedrooms" from the street.  inside, groups of young girls pile onto beds and mountains of pillows - whilst their friends sing to them off the tele-prompter. 




finally, we reached our destination - a tiny pub, hidden underground.  our reason for being there was a charity event to raise money for cambodia ... complete with a 60's smiley face logo and the corny title of a "fund raver".






live bands and a collection of other "talents" performed - including a folk music ensemble of ex-teachers from our school.  despite the fact that they all had faces reserved for radio - their sound was jovial, original, genuine and really rather festive.





and then a few other creatures emerged with their contribution to the event ...

gothic belly dancers
 
while just about everyone we met was filled with the friendly traveler spirit, i did have the misfortune of being verbally abused by (not one, but two) foreigners:  for being south african.  and not for the usual "oh - so you're a racist" accusation either:

instead,  the first - a soccer hooligan - was of the opinion that "cape town is the worst city in the world" and the second: "you south africans don't have a hope in hell" (because i couldn't immediately tell that the slander-flinger was from texas).

but you'd be proud of me.
against everything i thought and wanted to say, i walked away.  no point in stooping to their ignorant level.  plus, the guy was from texas so i figured he already had enough reasons to be miserably disappointed with life, as it was. 

after the fund raver we found ourselves in a really characterful bar (called the flying chicken twice born), filled with combat memorabilia of battles-gone-by.  the decor was fascinating, the patrons all-korean (a nice change from the charming bunch of ex-pats we'd previously had to share air with) and the atmosphere warm and inviting.



 a local artist's impression of the flying chicken twice born, captured in the cardboard base of a beer tray




 in and amongst the rounds of ammo, spent shells and tin mugs, was an array of really quirky paintings.  my favorite was this gem - blue mondaydoesn't it just absolutely capture that feeling?!



the night was on a roll, when someone smelt something burning ...

now i don't want to go into the heartbreaking detail of it all, but let's just say that at some stage in the evening an unidentified person unintentionally placed Fathead's (very expensive) ski jacket on top of a lit candle.

the result was not pretty.


the massacre claimed the base of his coat, a good chunk of the left sleeve and one thermo-insulated glove.

stop laughing.

around 3am - and in the wake of this coat-astrophe - we caught a taxi home and the journey that had taken us 3 hrs from departure (taxi / bus / subway / taxi) took us 15mins, return.  the driver did break the sound barrier, mind you - hitting 180km's in a 30km zone.  terrified for my life, i decided to sleep through the drive, only to be woken by Fathead and roslyn seatbelting me in from both sides.



giddy with beer, tiredness and death-defying speeds we stood outside our room door and roared with laughter.

in the safely of our room and with another eventful evening behind us, we burrowed beneath our duvets in search of warmth and slept and slept and slept.

1 comment:

  1. Nothing a little duct tape can't take care of guys..!

    ReplyDelete