Mud. Even the word sounds dirty. I hear the word and another sound instantly pops into my head - the squelch that it makes when my feet sink into it. It makes me cringe to think about it. So why in God's name was I sitting on a bus on Saturday morning preparing to go and play in it?
We arrived at the mud beach around 11am on Saturday and I made my way down the steps, carefully avoiding the pools of mud that lined them. The irony of this was not lost on me. I made my way to the bottom and carefully took my first few steps on the mud. The goo engulfed my feet and spread between my toes no matter how softly I stepped. I made my way to my group of friends to be greeted with muddy hugs and flinging piles of the stuff. By the time the five kilometer marathon started, I was fairly dirty; by the end of it, I was filthy; and by the time we left the beach, I was unrecognisable - I was covered from head to toe, my hair was at least three times its normal size filled with mud. If I had thought about it for long enough, this might have bothered me. It didn't.
From the mud beach, we made our way to the actual event - Mud festival 2010 at Boryeong beach. We arrived at the apartment that six of us would be sharing (five girls and Mahir) and dumped our stuff before heading out to find some food and hit the beach. A few kebabs, two bottles of soju and a good number of beers later, we found our recently cleaned selves getting covered in mud once more. This mud was not the same - it was not the brown oozey gooey kind of mud, but a grey watery equivalent that wasn't nearly as fun. There were mud slides, mud obstacle courses, mud wrestling and a mud prison, coloured mud, mud massages and gifts made from mud. Mud was all around. I took part in the obstacle course, coming last and gaining a few plastic burns in the process, and the mud prison where I got completely covered in the icky grey stuff (the man throwing it took offense to my look down and so made sure to get a whole lot in my face, which meant that I was spitting up mud for a good long while.) When we were tired of being filthy, we made our way down to the beach and cleaned ourselves up in the sea, entertaining ourselves with volleyball games and launching people into the air. I made a new Korean friend, Shin Ji I believe her name was, who decided that I was the bee's knees and clung to me, hugging me around the waste and leading me by the hand on occasion and shouting "LALA" when she found me when she thought I had been lost forever to the crowds of people covering the sand. And no, she was not a child, but a fully-grown, rather beautiful, Korean woman who was prancing around in her underwear. I feel that she was very drunk. The night was spent eating Sangyeopsal, drinking, listening to a rather terrible DJ, watching Eric entertain the Koreans with his neon-glowing poi-stick-things, drinking some more and relaxing on the beach.
The next day, I was determined not to get sunburned, and the sun was determined to thwart my plan. It was boiling hot and the mud was not enough to save me this time around. I covered myself in sunscreen, but alas, that did not work either. Though I did indulge in the activities and muddy myself up, I quickly decided that I would far rather be clean and washed myself off in the sea before heading to the shade where Geri was patiently waiting for all of us, watching from a distance to avoid the sun. This is where I stayed for the rest of the afternoon, excluding a trip to the bus to pick up my book so that I would have something to do.
For all my worrying about getting dirty, the weekend ended up being more fun than I had anticipated. I got muddy, I partied, I relaxed. A fairly balanced weekend in my opinion, and one that I would definitely want to do again if I were to stay for another year.
We arrived at the mud beach around 11am on Saturday and I made my way down the steps, carefully avoiding the pools of mud that lined them. The irony of this was not lost on me. I made my way to the bottom and carefully took my first few steps on the mud. The goo engulfed my feet and spread between my toes no matter how softly I stepped. I made my way to my group of friends to be greeted with muddy hugs and flinging piles of the stuff. By the time the five kilometer marathon started, I was fairly dirty; by the end of it, I was filthy; and by the time we left the beach, I was unrecognisable - I was covered from head to toe, my hair was at least three times its normal size filled with mud. If I had thought about it for long enough, this might have bothered me. It didn't.
From the mud beach, we made our way to the actual event - Mud festival 2010 at Boryeong beach. We arrived at the apartment that six of us would be sharing (five girls and Mahir) and dumped our stuff before heading out to find some food and hit the beach. A few kebabs, two bottles of soju and a good number of beers later, we found our recently cleaned selves getting covered in mud once more. This mud was not the same - it was not the brown oozey gooey kind of mud, but a grey watery equivalent that wasn't nearly as fun. There were mud slides, mud obstacle courses, mud wrestling and a mud prison, coloured mud, mud massages and gifts made from mud. Mud was all around. I took part in the obstacle course, coming last and gaining a few plastic burns in the process, and the mud prison where I got completely covered in the icky grey stuff (the man throwing it took offense to my look down and so made sure to get a whole lot in my face, which meant that I was spitting up mud for a good long while.) When we were tired of being filthy, we made our way down to the beach and cleaned ourselves up in the sea, entertaining ourselves with volleyball games and launching people into the air. I made a new Korean friend, Shin Ji I believe her name was, who decided that I was the bee's knees and clung to me, hugging me around the waste and leading me by the hand on occasion and shouting "LALA" when she found me when she thought I had been lost forever to the crowds of people covering the sand. And no, she was not a child, but a fully-grown, rather beautiful, Korean woman who was prancing around in her underwear. I feel that she was very drunk. The night was spent eating Sangyeopsal, drinking, listening to a rather terrible DJ, watching Eric entertain the Koreans with his neon-glowing poi-stick-things, drinking some more and relaxing on the beach.
The next day, I was determined not to get sunburned, and the sun was determined to thwart my plan. It was boiling hot and the mud was not enough to save me this time around. I covered myself in sunscreen, but alas, that did not work either. Though I did indulge in the activities and muddy myself up, I quickly decided that I would far rather be clean and washed myself off in the sea before heading to the shade where Geri was patiently waiting for all of us, watching from a distance to avoid the sun. This is where I stayed for the rest of the afternoon, excluding a trip to the bus to pick up my book so that I would have something to do.
For all my worrying about getting dirty, the weekend ended up being more fun than I had anticipated. I got muddy, I partied, I relaxed. A fairly balanced weekend in my opinion, and one that I would definitely want to do again if I were to stay for another year.
Post a Comment