"Marble and Mud."

"There is an eagle in me that wants to soar, and there is a hippopotamus in me that wants to wallow in mudl" - Carl Sandburg I do so rarely write, and unsure I'll have much to say this night. I have written so little about my time here in Korea. I'll find the motivation to write more of my time here later. I suppose I am not yet sure who I am writing to, or for. It is for my own benefit I know, some second journal to assist my first, but I know what life is like here for me, so I find I rarely need to write it down to tell myself. I know few people read this. I know few ever will. Perhaps it is only that which gives me any sense of honesty or courage. I have always hidden my secrets in the most obvious of places, for it is there they are often hardest to find. I will tell you one thing of my life here, the annual Boryeong Mudfest. It is perhaps the biggest and most well known festival of the year in Korea, and certainly known as the most fun. It is a weekend of good, not-so-clean, fun. Twelve years ago a city called Boryeong decided to try and boost up its tourism. A good way to do this, they thought, was to capitalize on the cities well-known mud. The mud of Boryeong is known throughout the country, and other parts of Asia for its cosmetic value. It is known as some of the best, and finest mud around. Many companies bottle it up in body lotions, facial scrubs, soaps, or set up spas to soak in. With all that in mind, the city decided to throw a festival dedicated to this brown nectar of the earth and created Mudfest. While mudfest started off much smaller, it quickly took off and gained popularity, particularly with the foreign crowd here in Korea. The festival takes place over two weekends in July. This past weekend was the opening weekend, and between the two weekends, during those four days, between one and two million people participate in the festivities. There is a parade, fireworks show, live bands and theatrical performances, booths, food, camping, games, mud pits to wrestle in, a mud prison where spectators throw buckets of mud on those who wish to lock themselves inside. There are giant inflatable walls covered in mud to try and climb, rings, and a huge slide dowsed in mud to slide down. The city is on the coast and has the feel of a real beach town with long sand beaches and a board walk. All the festivities take place between the beach and board walk. It would be similar to Huntingon Beach's fourth of July celebration in California turning in to a giant mud fight. It was a total sensation. I went up with my friend Ruth. We woke early and took two seperate busses to get there, and had a spot reserved in a min bak, a traditional Korean stlye of motel infused with hostel where a bunch of people sleep on blankets on the floor. We painted each other muddy with paint brushes sloshed and slid, went swimming in a mud swimming pool with muddy water spraying down on us from sprinkler systems placed obove. We slid down the giant mud slide, splatted and splashed everywhere we went. We painted ourselves with red mud, blue mud, green mud, yellow mud, brown mud and ran through town revelling with hundreds of thousands of other people doing the same thing. Everything was chaotic, and yet simple and calming. I have always loved to play in the rain and splash in the puddles, or lay myself in the gutters and feel the rain water rush over and around me. Do not we all still have a child like that in us, who wants to splash in the puddles and come home dirty and wet? Mudfest answers that call, and if you are unaware that child still breathes inside you, Mudfest will bring it out, smiling and howling for a long waited dance in muddy puddles. You can throw it at your friends, cake it across your body, or fling and kick it to the sky, and never worry of it hitting someone else. The numbers of people who come, are proof of who we never really forget to be inside. Nearly half the people who attend are foreigners, and it's almost like being back home at a festival, English language and western faces everywhere. The city even tried to realize the festival has turned in to a foreigner festival and had some of the bands sing English songs, and hotels set up "buffets for foreigners." They were poor buffets, but nonetheless, it was a nice change from rice, kim chi, and fish with bones still left inside. It was surprising with the number of foreigners attending that the clubs refused to let foreingers in. They are Korean only clubs. That is not uncommon here in Korea. Some restaurants and bars here in my city are the same, either refusing to serve foreigners, or making it unpleasant for foreigners to be there, and people, old and young alike point and stare without trying to hide what they are doing. While Korean people are very friendly, they are neither open-minded, nor open. They embrace neither change, nor individualism, but instead conformity and sameness. They do not like that which is different, particularly in people, and I know no matter how long I were to stay here, I would never be fully accepted. I will always be an outsider here, and will always be looked at as someone a little less equal. Many families disown their children if they find out they have been dating a foreigner, and if that foreigner is a westerner, it is even worse. It is not this way in the big cities, but where I am at it is still considered rural and country with traditional and conservative Korean values. I love this country and her people, though I would never want to stay here for this reason alone. They are an un-accepting people, over-generalized I know. Anyway, back to Mudfest. It was a blast, and even the rain at night while we watched the fireworks shows and walking around in panchos to protect us from the stormy winds and slanting rain that hit late seemed to add to the splendour and authenticity of the weekend. Can mud ever be mud without a little bit of rain? All the rain could do was add mor puddles to splash in, and give a greater sense of something unique and something grand. We should play in mud more often, stop and feel it between our toes or brushed against us, then slide our flesh across another, slippery snake of skin. I should never wish to take away the rain, nor wash away the mud, and so in memory to the many days I played in puddles, with feet bare, or that I rushed like slip and slide through the mud, I alone or on the motorcycle I drove when I was young, to those memories, to many memories, I wish to write the words, but instead, leave you only with what I have said. "The world is mud-luscious and puddle wonderful." -E. E. Cummings.