Rollercoaster Ride, Extreme Version

It strikes me this morning that despite major heat and humidity and more power walking than I've done in years, I feel great! This is in stark contrast to just one year ago when I was just getting my legs again after being felled by illness the year before. I'm even jogging a bit! I'm not experiencing any asthma symptoms or other health problems, even though this is a huge, industrial city. I'm thinking this may have something to do with the fact that I don't have a care in the world. As Rob pointed out, whilst carrying all my bags at the airport, I seem to have abdicated all personal responsiblity. This de-stressing is clearly the ticket to well-being.

We head out in the rain for a walk through Hu Moon and Sang Dae, and are surprised when Scott, the head teacher, pops out of Starbucks to say hi. He, like the locals, is surprised that we are umbrellaless during jangma (monsoon) season (people have been staring at us like we're ravers) but Scott allows that, while it has cooled off, it's not as rainy as usual.

After picking up some essentials, like a knife sharpener, so Rob doesn't have to tear open our 17,000 won watermelon with his bare hands, we treat ourselves to some daejigogi, or pork barbeque. This is the best one yet. The pork is lean, and it's served with hot pepper soup and both red leaf lettuce and spearmint leaves in which to wrap the meat and condiments. Surprisingly, the bill comes to just 7,500 won. The owner even offers us a cold Korean softdrink, that's like an extra sweet 7 Up. The people at this restaurant are so kind that we take their picture, which amuses them greatly. The ladies tell me that they love my hair barrette, a sky blue plastic flower with a pink centre, but they gently point out that it's actually for children. I try to explain that's okay, because I'm a kid at heart.

Afterwards, we trundle across the street for a Tous Les Jours mini butter cake, and then alight at a Vero booth where, for 1,000 won, I have the best Americano I've had in Korea. I had been warned against going to places other than Starbucks for a good strong cuppa Joe, but this brew is far better than the burnt offerings at Tarbucks. I even learn how to order it with uyoo, or, milk. Now waddling, we thank heavens we're getting so much physical activitity,or we'd be leaving here with Buddha bellys.

We wisely enjoy a brief afternoon nap in preparation for a full night of activities as we prepare for the South Korea - Uruguay FIFA match. Activities include decorating T-shirts that have been provided for us along with World Cup scarves. We were advised not to wear high quality clothing tonight, or anything we didn't fear getting tarnished, and for good reason. As we create posters and paint our faces splotches of colour fly everywhere. Then we pile into a bus to head to Gwangju's World Cup Stadium,.

This massive facility, built when South Korea and Japan co-hosted the 2002 World Cup, is buzzing with tens of thousands of excited fans. A huge banner proclaiming love for the national team reads, "My heart, my life." A techno version of the 1960's hit song Chitty Chitty Bang Bang booms from the stadium speakers. Tarty little dancers shimmy and shake in scanty shorts and tank tops. Fans sport Pamplona bull sized red devil horns giving some of us horn envy.

We pass booths where vendors sell Korean treats like slugs in the shell and pupae, insects that are not quite in the transformation stage. Before you cast aspersions, consider that in North America, we eat hotdogs. This traditional Korean fare is alongside, perhaps more familiar, fun food such as the aforementioned hotdogs, or, corndogs and shoe string potatoes. The latter are dried and coated with sugar. The former are yummy, especially when french fries are cooked into the batter, an invention that would do Homer Simpson proud. (Mmmm. Heart-stopppingly delicious!)

In our midst, we have a young University of Winnipeg student who is here through an exchange program, and when I treat her to a 1,000 won softdrink, the vendor empatically and repeatedly tells me that I'm, "beautiful!" Rob and I even try "Hite," a popular Korean beer which, for 3,000 won per can costs about one-third of what one would pay for domestic beer at a Canadian game. The Chonnam organizers also generously hand out water, mini chocolate bars, and Pocari Sweat, which, despite its unfortunate name, evokes the taste of Gatorade. (Note: The name Pocari Sweat amuses us endlessly for it's clearly the inspiration for the Booty Sweat drink promoted by Alpa Chino, the rapper turned actor in the movie Tropic Thunder.)

The crowd is electrified as big screens on either end of the field glow with the action thousands of miles away. People hoist cases of beer through the crowd, but there are no incidents of rowdy or inappropriate behaviour. Well, at least not in the crowd viewing the game. During a bathroom break, I inadvertently end up in the very middle of a domestic dispute. Waiting in a huge, snaking line for the women's washroom (yes, women face the same fate the world over) I am jostled by a man in his early forties who shoves his wife past me and into a wall. She struggles to regain her footing, and he raises his fist. She begins to whimper and begs him to stop. That does it. Now my real horns come out, and I stand directly between them. I stare him down, while ushering her into the washroom behind me. He glares, and then storms off.

In retrospect, I realize this is the diametrical opposite of what one should do when witnessing a domestic dispute, and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone in the same situation. However, I was infuriated at the public degradation of this woman. It took everything in me not to punch him right in his bull mastiff mug. I have no idea how the matter resolved itself, nor whether I would do it the same way again, but it was a difficult moment in an otherwise pluperfect evening, and it rather threw me.

The thing is, I was already shaking off another jarring incident about half-an-hour earlier when I spotted a boy of about five shaking and crying as he cowered near a wall. Every so often he peered around frantically. Sensing he was lost, but having no way to communicate with him clearly, I hailed a man who could do something. He, very kindly, and soothingly, helped the little boy, and I felt secure in the knowledge that everything would turn out okay.

Husband says I have the innate ability to hone in on people in crisis. Whether I'm walking the halls of my school back home, or making my way through the crush at a World Cup football event in Gwangju, South Korea, I see, hear and feel souls in distress. And aside from the two aformentioned cases, there could have been many others a few hours later when South Korea lost 3-2 to Uruguay.

It wasn't for lack of trying. The guys played their hearts out, but unfortunately, they had some very unlucky breaks. The game was a real thriller, and the outcome in no way reflected the superb quality of the South Koreans play. Most impressively, the obviously disppointed fans showed true character, for even when the writing was on the wall, they continued to chant with gusto, "dae han ming kook" (another name for Korea).

We rode back to Chonnam University, physically exhausted and emotionally wrung out, but secure in the knowledge that we will hit our brain's replay button on this once-in-a-lifetime experience many many times in the years to come.