It was a few weekends ago. The weather was perfect. The city had not yet been held captive by a sticky cloud of humidity. I debated my options. Another Sunday night spent sketching my feelings Vasily Kandinsky style therapy. Or, joining friends for a battle of the Koreas.
For the past few weeks I have been dealing with life’s stresses by pen and paper. Poetry and erratic spontaneous sketching have proved to be overwhelmingly therapeutic. A dimly lit room, the twist of a wine glass and Sigur Ros, Gobbledigook on repeat. And then it occurred to me that I have plenty of time to sit around and be a melodramatic avant garde.
I hopped on the subway and tried to clear my mind as I arrived an hour later at the opposite end of the city. I spilled out of World Cup Stadium Station with thousands of football fans dressed in red. I was the only silent spectator as I snaked up a jam packed escalator. I found my friends amongst the chaos and we stood in line to purchase tickets in the nose bleed section.
Seoul World Cup Stadium is located on the west end of the city and is the second largest stadium in the world. It can seat just under 70,000 people! Sports fans clearly had shown up in droves as the plaza in front of the main stadium staircase was bustling with thousands of people. The oddest smells puffed through the air as traditional snacks such as boiled bugs, fire roasted squid and boiled quails eggs invaded my more delicate senses.
Football is a big deal in Korea and it took me by surprise when I was informed that we could bring food into the stadium. We pushed ourselves through the thick of it and arrived at the stadiums massive grocery store located underground. My jaw dropped as I descended the escalator and witnessed what can only be described as food hysteria. We pushed through thousands of families as hands grabbed food off the shelves. I found a few pieces of sesame fried chicken pieces and an order of shrimp tempura sushi amongst the craziness. Surviving the pre-game grocery tailgate party. We walked up several hundred steps and after a few minutes sloshed into our seats. I was awe struck by the shear size of the stadium. The crowd filed into its seats and the space felt as though it was a living, breathing organism pulsating on the sides of an open bowl.
We noticed several empty seats bellow our balcony and decided to quickly rush downstairs for a string of empties in the VIP section. A booming female Korean voice shot across the field announcing the start of the game. Families huddled around their grocery bags and two dollar beers as they intently watched the bright green field fill with a hundred person traditional royal marching band. The conductor of the band wore a black, yellow and red robe which made him look as though he were the King of a Castle. A large plume of feathers shot out of his hat as he led an army of yellow musicians across the field.
The band stopped and the mysterious woman on the loudspeaker announced the two teams who would be battling it out for us this evening. The room fell silent for a few moments and an odd sense of energy clung in the air, dormant. I had been reading about this football match in the news for weeks now. It was finally here, sitting in front of me.
One would expect a lot of publicity and excitement for a once and a lifetime football game. This much talked about FIFA South Africa World Cup Qualification game had sparked comments from sports fans and political activists across Asia. The drum roll, the screams, the announcement. “And now welcome to Seoul World Cup Stadium…The Republic of Korea and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. If this stadium had had a roof it would have been blown sky high.
The South does not often play the North as they are sort of at war. This game was actually supposed to take place in Pyongyang but Kim Jong Il refused to raise the South Korean flag or play the national anthem. I could feel something important was about to happen. At a time in history when the North is finally bowing down and submitting itself to the international community by revealing its Nuclear weapons program. Emotions were certainly in the air.
First the DPR of Korea had its flag raised and the entire stadium stood for the playing of its national anthem. I couldn’t help but realize a few things. This was the first time I had ever heard this particular anthem, and probably my last. I was inspired with an indescribable sense of hope when I saw every Korean in the audience respectfully standing for their enemy’s anthem which to many represents a chorus of oppression, evil and sour memories of war. There is hope for the world when a stadium of some 70 000 people can stand and politely welcome a dictatorship onto the playing field.
Emotions ran wild as the South Korean anthem exploded across the stadium and a massive flag of the Republic fell down the balcony. The entire stadium boomed. I felt as though the cheers and hysteria were the closest I would ever come to a war rally (knock on wood). I had never felt such energy in my life. I felt as though each cheer, scream and firecracker which popped into the air represented a show of peace and freedom to the members of the North Korean team. As the anthem came to a close the entire room erupted into applause.
Moments later two huge blue flags dropped down across the center of the stadium. Everyone seemed to take a deep breath simultaneously as they processed the simple political message that hung before them. A white outline of a unified Korean peninsula hung in the still air on a prominent indigo blue background. I looked at the people standing around me and noticed hundreds of people’s eyes glistening with fresh tears. It was at this moment that I found myself crying. I let out a gasp of breath and felt a sense of calm as I tried to relate my own pains in life to the turmoil these patriotic Koreans must have been encountering. I bit my lip to choke back tears and realized before the game even started that I had experienced a once in a lifetime surreal moment which no one could ever take away from me. It is amazing how an image of peace and freedom can move us.
At the blow of the whistle the game commenced. For the next two hours my eyes anxiously shot across the field as each team desperately attempted to score on the other. Whenever the North Korean’s would inch towards the home teams goal a man behind me would scream what must have been Korean insults. The whole room sort of heaved and held its breath. A sigh passed at each botched North Korean shooter. It was clear this game was more than just a competitive football match. A modern day cold war was unraveling on the filed in front of me. We were chanting and cheering for democracy, freedom and peace.
The game proved to be an edge of your seat tie. I was rather thankful at a truce as I could not imagine what would have happened if the Communists scored on the Capitalists and won. As the moon glowed through the roof of the stadium I closed my eyed and tried to immortalize the moment in my memory as I registered the repetitive chanting which echoed through the air, the sound of the approaching Wave and the snap of firecrackers and flags which exploded across the sky.
The game ended ironically. There would be no winner. It seemed like we had reached a symbolic DMZ on the field. It seemed as though a cease fire had been declared after the Korean War as well as in this stadium tonight. We rushed down the stairs as 70 000 people gravitated towards the subway station. We pushed through the crowd and made it onto the first train. I stood crammed like a sardine in a can for the next thirty minutes as I mulled over the Love of the Game.
This past weekend I had no plans and ended up nonchalantly joining a group of poker happy friends who were heading to The Walker Hill Hotel and Casino. We hopped in a cab and two dollars later found ourselves standing outside the cities ritziest hotel. We walked past a man made stream and lily pond before turning down a red carpet which led to the entrance of the Casino.
I’ve never been a gambler, I’m far too sensible, rational and money conscious to lend my hard earned cash to Lady Luck. I have said time and time again that Korea’s nauseating conservatism and hypocrisy make me flinch. I find it horrifically irritating that it is illegal for Korean’s to gamble in their country but at the same time the government thinks it is fine to collect millions of dollars from gambling foreigners. Talk about double standards. I love when governments make moral judgment calls for their country while at the same time allowing foreigners to break these codes of conduct. It’s ok for you, but not for us…
I was a tad irritable as we walked across the main hall where the sound of ping and pang shook from the adjacent room lined with slot machines. The six of us looked a bit out of place. Most of the gamblers here were wealthy businessmen from Japan, Hong Kong, Singapore, Dubai and India. A few white kids who clearly had chump change in their pockets clearly prompted a few heads to turn. Dale and Ted (the only gambler aficionados) found their favorite games while I joined Pam and Ross at the One-Armed-Bandits. I dropped two ten-cent coins and decided that losing any more of my money would be foolish.
A few moments later we joined Dale and Ted as they gathered around the Roulette table. I sat beside two rich Japanese 26 year olds from Tokyo and chatted with a Chinese businessman from Vancouver and a newlywed couple from Hong Kong as chips splattered across the table. The game softened my heart. I soon fell in love with the concept of the Casino. I noticed beautiful Asian models dressed in shiny blue cocktail dresses scooting past, offering us any drink our heart could desire. I spent the night sipping on several glasses of Vodka Cran with a big smile on my face. The two boys from Tokyo asked for a menu and my heart stopped when I stared over their shoulder and realized we could also order free food here. This had to be heaven! I manically threw my hands in the air and grabbed Pam for a dinner date. We rifted through the menu offerings and waved down one of our table attendants.
Twenty minutes later a gorgeous lady in a black mini skirt tapped us on the shoulder and brought us to the Casino dining room. We were seated at a plush leather sofa where a reserved sign was quickly removed. I clapped my hands together with excitement as our meals were piping hot and steaming in front of us. Our drinks were topped up and we ravenously devoured two bowls of udon soup, a wicker stand with two twirls of cold soba and a plate of beef fried rice. Just as we were finishing our entrees the rest of our group sat down at the table. Dale had won two hundred dollars! I think he was a bit peeved that I was less impressed with his winnings and more enamored with my free meal.
We left Walker Hill at 3am but I was far to happy to fall asleep. I lay awake in my bed staring at the ceiling. The casino wasn’t quite heaven. I’m pretty certain heaven is a strictly no smoking zone, the free food must include a dessert cart and a ban on Korean nationals would be considered absurd. More importantly, Bailey’s would be on tap.
