AAARRRGGGHHH!

By the way, I went out on Saturday night for Deshy’s birthday drinks and you will not believe how many times people asked me whether I had visited the North or South. Yes I went on a holiday to Pyongyang to meet my cousin Kim Jong Il. We had a grand old time screwing Swedish hookers and playing nuclear weapon silly buggers with the US. Oh how we laughed at those capitalist pigs.

BOOKING CLUBS

I was up nice and early for the trip down to Pusan. Hyang Na and some of her mates were taking me down there for a day trip. It's the second largest city in Korea and supposedly much nicer than Daegu. That's pretty much all I know about it.

Haeundae was nice. It was a beach. Had a few coronas at TGIF (They have also embraced the US chain invasion) and headed to Kwangali. It was a bridge. It did look very nice at night. My uncle (Hyang Na's dad) took me to dinner at the top of Palgongsan. Hyang Na's mother is absolute hoot. She cracks me up cause she's so bolshie and opinionated. I really like her. Her Dad has also spent a lot of time overseas so he is pretty open-minded.

Booking clubs. What the hell are they are? It seems like a uniquely Korean phenomena to me. As I have never been apparently this is what happens. In the dimly lighted clubs of Korea, in packs of three or four, the male of the species will purchase tables to sit and drink alcoholic beverages. The type of beverage purchased will be a indication to the females of the ability for the male to care for future young. The females will stand on the other side of the club leaving an empty space called "a dance floor". The male will select a female that he is interested in and ask the facilitating species called "a waiter" to cajole and drag the female across to the male's table. The female will make a ritual show of reluctance as a indication of her purity and chasteness. Then the real excitement begins. The male will attempt to convince the female of his worthiness using wit and charm with the ultimate aim of getting "a phone number".

Funny thing is that the only people I know that have been are all my mates as clients take them out to show them a good time (get them laid).

Somehow my aunty had heard that I was keen to mix it up in Daegu. However she had gotten the impression that I wanted to go to a booking club. I quickly disabused her of that notion. By dumb luck it happened to be club night in Daegu. This meant that for 10,000 won you would get entry into four clubs. What I didn't understand is that they were all hip hop clubs and pretty much the same. I couldn't tell the difference. Have you noticed when chicks fight that they have no rules? They will pull hair, bite, scratch and use high heels (the pointy bit). Maybe that's why I enjoy watching them so much. Anyway, had a great time with my cousin though was exhausted by 3 AM. For a small girl she can really sink some piss and has endless energy.

Damn I think I’m getting old.

WHERE THE SPIRIT OF 2000 YEARS IS STILL ALIVE......

MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER MAKE ME A MATCH!

My aunty (Komo) spent most of the time asking me why I wasn’t married yet. I’m 29 by Korean reckoning and by this age I should have at least had a couple of kids by now. It’s almost criminally selfish of me to have not had kids by now. She had been the one who had introduced my mother to my father and so had a proven track record (um okay). By her thinking the perfect woman for me would be a nice Korean girl who preferably has been educated overseas and so can speak English as well as Korean. I hope she does speak English though if she didn’t it would probably eliminate the need for small talk. In order to entice this lucky lady my aunty asked me for some very important facts about myself. I steeled myself in preparation for a barrage of questions.

KOMO: How much money do you make?

And that was it. Matchmaking is very much a refined art these days.

So if you’re in Changwon, South Korea and my aunty tries to set you up with me. Run! Run away! But if you don’t like physical exercise I like long walks in the moonlight, romantic candlelight dinners and I also have this angry purple rash which I can’t seem to get rid of. I swear it’s not an STD.

5 REASONS I WILL NEVER BECOME A MONK

My cousin took me out or dinner in Insadong on Monday night. It's a place where you get to eat food as eaten by monks using monk foodstuffs obtained in the monky mountains. Kimchi without fish sauce. Dinner without meat. Food without flavour. You get the picture.

After the meal we were treated to traditional dance. Korean dance was explained to me as being shamanistic with many dances for good luck and good harvests. I learned one very important lesson. Do not piss off a Korean woman as they can dance really fast with very sharp implements. Most of the dances involved lots of spinning with machetes and big pitch forks.

1. They don’t eat meat.
2. I don't look good in a bath robe so I assume that would equally apply with robes.
3. I like having hair. Last time I shaved my head my scalp was peeling because I had left the bleach in my hair too long and my mum didn't like it.
4. I don’t like traditional Korean dance.
5. I can’t do kung fu. (If I was to become a Shaolin monk)

Though I am getting the hang of the abstinence thing.

12 YEAR CHIVAS IS THE CHEAP SHIT!

Yoomi had invited Bavan and myself to dinner at her place on Sunday night. It’s traditional to bring gifts when visiting somebody’s place so we went out shopping. Namdaemun markets are fairly famous. From what I could tell it was infamous for selling assorted crap but at least Bavan and I got to see the gate. There are four gates in town that is all that remains of the original fortress that once stood in Seoul.

Now Koreans are well known for being pretty big drinkers. Hell, apparently Chivas make an 80 year bottle just for the Korean market (I’m not sure if that’s true). Anyway, my cousin’s husband is no exception. I love this guy! An old Irishman once said to me “They say that Koreans are the Irish of the Orient!” I replied, “Is it because were all alcoholics?” When I told this to my cousin it went down like a fart in an elevator. “No it’s because we like to have fun and tell stories!”

We quickly polished off a bottle of Australian red that we had so graciously purchased. After dinner we moved onto the bottle of Johnny Gold (20 years) which we finished and then onto the Hennessy XO cognac while listening to my cousin’s daughter play piano (very civilised). He went on to explain that anything over 12 year scotch was acceptable but even the 12 year was considered to be cheap. I cringed considering that I had also bought him a bottle of 12 year Chivas which I thought was very generous of me. Suffice to say Bavan and I were pretty hammered when we left. They instructed our cabbie to take us back to the Ritz but I quickly redirected him to JJ Mahoney’s. Apparently this place is notorious for ladies who are only interested depending on your career prospects so Bavan and I were completely safe from their advances. A couple more Johnnys here and it was back to our favourite Korean restaurant for some kimchi jigae and more soju. Love the soju!

I slept like the dead!

I don’t know how Bavan got himself out of bed and into work.

BACK IN THE MOTHERLAND!

I snoozed all the way to Seoul which was a pity because the stewardesses on Asiana are HOT!

It’s a weird feeling meeting someone who you haven’t seen for ages. I was anxious for some reason. I recognised her straight away. It was kind of funny because she didn’t recognise me. Apparently I was in a suit the last time she saw a picture of me and looked like a kid in my casual clothes. I remembered her as a young woman and it was kind of freaky to see her older. It was bit awkward at first as I wasn’t sure how I was to greet her. Was I supposed to give her a hug which I would normally do at home? In the end we both settled for a pat on the shoulder. Koreans aren’t really an affectionate people unless they’ve been drinking then you have them surgically removed.

As I watched the city wizz by, I answered the usual questions. Seoul looked compact nestled between mountains, split in two by the mighty Han River and looked nothing like how I remembered it. It was as I watched the other drivers that I realised that everyone looked like me. Cool! Yoomi and her husband (Chai Hyung) took me out for the first of many Korean barbeque dinners and very kindly dropped me off at my hotel. The Ritz Carlton is f’ing expensive they charged me 60,000 won for three coffees! That’s 10 quid per coffee. Luckily, thanks to Bavan I have experienced fine accommodation in a number of cities for nix so I guess it all balances out in the end.

The best way to recover from a massive hangover is to get hammered again. Bavan and I decided to hit Hongdae. It’s full of universities and jam packed with bars, clubs and pubs. Koreans seem to love their hip hop. I hate hip hop and we spent many minutes looking for a place to drink. By accident we stumbled across the infamous Tin Pan Alley. Some teachers (does everyone teach English here?) we met there pointed us towards a club called M2.

M2 was going off. It was full of incredible looking birds with faces too perfect for nature to have moulded. Korean birds love plastic surgery. Even members of my family here have had work done. It’s an accepted joke that blokes here aren't shocked when their kids come out ugly.

I was totally brushed by two 21 year olds when they found out I was 28. Funnily enough Bavan ended up running into one of them in the office and quote “she was ashen faced”. I suppose you would be shocked seeing an Indian guy with a job (I’m kidding Bavan. I know you’re Sri Lankan). Small world isn’t it? Though at the same time she is probably saying to her friend “I ran into that sleazy Indian guy from M2 at work today”

M2 is 20,000 won to get in on Saturdays but they usually have guest DJs so it’s not too bad. Anyway I think it’s the only house place in Seoul so if anyone knows another place do tell.

We left that place early in the morning and had a bizarre run in with some local gangsters. They invited us over to share some soju and we stupidly agreed. It was comical trying to see them communicate with Bavan. "Me gangsta! You friend!" said the heavily tattoed gangster.

We got the fuck outta Dodge and went for one last drink at Limelight in Itaewon. Classy!

SHANGHAI SHENANIGANS!

It was grand prix weekend in Shanghai so there were plenty of foreign devils around. I had been tempted to maybe stay the weekend and go but really wanted to experience a Saturday night in the Land of the Morning Calm. Eug’s girlfriend had been informed that I was coming and was advised to stay away. I don’t think she likes me very much cause every time I’m in town Eugene needs days to recover and he also said “she doesn’t like you”. I love Shanghai. It’s a city in metamorphosis as it sheds the ties to the communist past like an old skin and embraces the gaudy new wings of capitalism (That was beautiful. I swear I just made that up then). I think it’s that wonderful disparity between the rich and the poor which makes Shanghai what it is. It’s ugly yet beautiful at the same time.

I’ve been there so many times this year it’s crazy, so many times that the maniacal grin on my taxi driver’s face as he expertly swerves through the traffic like a F1 driver no longer bothers me. Met Eug’s at his new job and immediately headed for a massage. You can get a foot massage, food and watch dvds for 150 kwai and after a 12 hour flight it was exactly what I needed.

Bar Rouge on the Bund (Waitan) is pretty new. It has a fantastic view over the Bund and seems really popular with the ex pat crowd. So I hated it but the view alone is worth the visit. I prefer The Babyface.

Babyface 2. It’s like Babyface 1 on Mao Ming Lu only bigger and better. It’s essentially two massive rooms which play hip hop and house and is full of locals and their KTV girlfriends. It’s always a hassle to get a table but once we did we got through a shit load of scotch. We finished off with karaoke with a few girls we met and finally headed home at dawn.

Eugs and Wei Shing

All a man needs is Chivas and his dice

The fellas

Personally, I had a great night. I didn’t have to put my hand in my pocket all night. The Dutch fellas (Chen’s bro and buddies) paid for the lot which was pretty awesome. Result! Normally I end up buying all the piss and crying poor for months when I get home. I’ve only just realised that China is the only country where I’ve seen the sun rise.

Another Shanghai mission had been accomplished. I had left Eugs an absolute blithering mess and it felt good. I was off to Korea.

Destroyed!

RETURN OF THE HOON!

I often wonder what family means (Not really but I have to set the scene somehow). I’ve just come back from a week or so in Korea where I met numerous uncles, aunties and cousins most of whom I had not seen or talked to for up to 15 years. In Korean culture family is supposed to be the most important thing in your life but what happens when your father and mother move away to some distant far away land where people are a different colour and can actually pronounce their r’s and f’s . Are these people still your family? I endeavoured to find out and set off on a magical journey of self discovery.

The last time I went to Korea, Rick Astley was cool, Boy George was thin and mullets were in style. That was a very long time ago. I hated Korea when I was thirteen. Nobody spoke English, it was cold and more importantly I was cold. From London, I contacted my cousin, Yoomi who had spent the majority of her late teens and early twenties with the Jang family while studying in Australia. Even Ivan Milat only got life for murdering those poor backpackers. She left for Korea ages ago and had carved out a successful career in Seoul and was happily married with two kids. Yoomi had told my father’s side of the family in Changwon (South South Korea) that I was coming. My mother had rung the Kim’s (No not related to Kim Jong Il. Morons!) in Daegu to tell them that I was also coming to visit.

Armed with my cousin’s phone number and safe in the knowledge that all my relatives knew that the boy from Sydney (not Peter Allen) was coming back to the motherland I set off from Heathrow for Shanghai. So not to confuse some of you I was heading to Seoul via Shanghai so I was also looking forward to some Shanghai shenanigans with Eugs. This was going to be a ripping trip.

THEY'RE JUST LIKE HORSES ONLY SMALLER

Anh had booked us a table at Wimbledon Stadium for a) some greyhound racing b) night at the dogs or c) to see the dishlickers. I was really looking forward to it as I had heard that they put little monkey jockeys on their backs. Sadly this did not turn out to be true. (If anyone's interested in starting a monkey jockey league please contact me. I think spider monkeys would be the best. They're really small and nimble and are really good with whips)

I'd never been to the dogs before as back home in Australia it's a sport that's normally associated with people who wear tracky dacks and have no teeth (like Plugger Lockett?) but Anh assured me that dog racing was more civilised in London.

I was pretty impressed with the set up. For £25 each you got a three course meal and a table with a tremendous view of the race track. Okay, the food wasn't all that crash hot. Ground beef with vegetables and frittes turned out to be a hamburger and chips but they took bets at your table and I had pretty good time (would of been better with monkeys!).

Everyone has their own method for picking a winner. Mine was to pick a number and stick with it all night. Lucky number 6. Anh and Pri's method involved finding a lucky part of their body to conceal their ticket. We concluded that Pri's left breast was extremely lucky, Anh had no lucky bits and my left nut was not lucky at all despite how many times I rubbed it for luck.

To top the night off there was also a wombles race for charity which invloved 10 people dressed up as wombles in a foot race to the finish. You can't beat a good wombles race can you? Well we were in Wimbledon. http://www.wombles.easyweb-solutions.co.uk/

All that remained of Anh's fifty quid

EEEEEEEEEEEWWWW!

Picked up an unwanted paper on the Tube today and read an article about Stephen Hawkings. That fella with with ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis) or Lou Gehrig's Disease. ALS causes nerve cells to degenerate. The voluntary muscles weaken and become immobile. ALS leaves the senses unimpaired and the intellect is often unaffected. This allowed him to write a book about blackholes that sold millions but no one understands. The article itself wasn't particularly attention grabbing but this quote made my day.

In the past he was asked how he managed to father three children and replied: "The disease only affects voluntary muscle."

Stephen Hawkings. I salute you!