This is harubang. It's Korean translation means "grandpa"
Korea is a proud country. Show a picture of a topless double amputee midget swimming in a kiddie pool of green jello in front of Times Square to a Korean, young or old, and they will excitedly say "LG! (or any other Korean based companies logo that is visible in the picture)" It's becoming clear to me that when your country is a peninsula the size of Indiana, you have North Korea as your only land based neighbor, and you're generally regarded as a minor blemish on history's ass, you tend to take pride in what you do have. With that said. it comes to me as no surprise that Korea's island of Jeju, situated about 120 miles to the south of the mainland, is highly touted as "Korea's Hawaii". I had to exercise punctuated deference in calling "bullshit" immediately when I heard this the first time.
When I think of gorgeous places, and when I try to determine if they are indeed gorgeous, I think about this simple saying; "_______ makes me wanna squirt." Are you having difficulty following my pattern of thought? I don't blame you. Here is an example; Hawaii is gorgeous. It makes me wanna squirt. Innsbruck, Austria is gorgeous. If I saw Innsbruck right now, I'd probably squirt. On a good day, I could probably muster out a three-roper squirt for Portland, Oregon. If I could have multiple orgasms and didn't have the refractory period of an 80 year old man, Northwest Montana would make me squirt several times. Are we on the same page?
You're probably wondering how a guy who knows roughly twelve Korean words could a) jump on a plane b) navigate the island c) go horseback riding d) be someone's "lapdog". It will all make sense in a bit.
During my last day of "Winter Camp" at So Jun (city school) and a mere hour after talking to him about "A simple misunderstanding", Mr. Kim asked me if I wanted to accompany him, as well as other staff and students, to the beautiful island of Jeju-do. He said that all I would have to pay for is my plane ticket (W120,000) and my transportation, soju, lodging, food and soju would be picked up for by the school district. Yuna said afterward that Mr.Kim must really like me to invite me on this special trip. I, of course, agreed.
It was as cold as it looks.A chartered bus picked us up at So Jun middle school at 8:30 a.m Monday morning. We arrived at Gimhae airport and boarded the plane. The plane ride was an uneventful 35 minute journey but I had the idea of reopening the "I want to nail a flight attendant .. there I said it!" blog and making a small amendment such as "I want to nail an Asian flight attendant .. !", but I've since thought better of the idea. Truly the women that adorn these plains are quite beautiful. The thought of taking a picture of the stewardesses raced through my feeble mind but that, even for me, felt a little sleazy. According to lore, Korean flight attendants must complete 3 years of schooling and apparently it is pretty rigorous considering some of the job's duties are passing out peanuts and demonstrating how a seat belt works. The women, sorry boys - no stiff wristers on these 747's, all have to meet strict physical qualifications regarding height and weight and must have a certain "look" to them. I reckon it's like the free wheeling '60's before the dreaded feminism movement, or for what I like to call it, the "end of fun". Just kidding. That last bit was for giggles, albeit slightly off topic.
Ju Yeon cutting up some sort of seafood feast.
When we landed and walked out of the front doors of the airport, all I could think was "that John Denver's full of shit." Korea's Hawaii had snow on the ground! This of course angered me to no end but I was thankful I left the speedo at home and opted for the goose down jacket instead. After slight grumblings under my breathe, I jumped on the bus with the other troops.
The bus driver drove us around the island and then up the mountain. We stopped at varying sights to snap pictures and do some general sightseeing. The further up the mountain we traversed, the colder and more snow filled the air became. Like I said, full of shit.
One of the activities we engaged on Tuesday was, all of things, horseback riding. At first, the horses walked us around the track for us to become comfortable with them. After that, they ran us around the track bouncing all along the way. I don't know if it was the stiffness of the saddle, the bouncing of the horse, or the fact that it was so cold that Pancho and Lefty we riding high and tight but at the end of the day, my balls were wicked sore. Fellas, if you are having difficult imagining this sensation think of a fun Saturday night with the mistress ... without release.
The safety orientation was incomprehensible to me seeing as I don't speak Korean. As as result of this, when the thousand pound beast situated under my ass started to get agitated, I kind of panicked. First, the bastard steed dropped to one knee twice resulting in elevated blood pressure for me. While the other horses walked lazily down the well defined and groomed trail, Eeyore made it his goal to brush me up against every tree and thorn bush this side of Busan. I think he picked up on me vexing him because the jackass had one last trick in store for me ... leaving the beaten trail. As the horse and I left the trail (his doing not mine), the other Korean teachers began yelling "Left-a, Left-a!" I wanted to turn left to get back on the trail obviously, but not being privy to the information dispensed at the safety rundown, I didn't know which gesture was the kill switch and which was the rocket booster. All of the Korean's yelling at my horse must have lit a real fire under his ass because he then began to run. At this point I was left with two options; bail off and hope not to pull a Christopher Reeve or hunker down and ride it out. I opted for the latter and after a brief full on run through the thick wooded terrain, the horse came to his senses and slowed his pace.
The three day mini vacation consisted of a lot of driving and a lot of horse back riding. Basically, the perfect storm for a sore ass. After we flew back to Gimhae and during the bus ride to Masan, Mr. Kim invited me to visit him in Seoul during our Spring break. "Garren, I'd like to show you Seoul. While it might not be proper, you can stay at my spare apartment in Seoul," he said to me. And that's when I officially became a lap dog.