This event had been on my radar since the first week or so of me getting to South Korea. The little bit of research I had done billed it as one of the biggest events for foreigners in Korea and I decided early on that I didn't want to miss out on it. I'd mentioned it to several friends, but only two decided to join up in the end. One was really the first person I'd met when arriving in Korea. We met at the ferry from Japan to Korea after I finished my visa run and had stayed in touch through FB since then. The other that joined up was his roommate, an Irishman with a pension for drunken debauchery... we were immediate friends, obviously. (We actually lost him for 7 or 8 hours on Saturday, but more on that later.) The bus itself left at midnight from Pusan and took about 4 hours or so to get to Daecheon Beach in Boryeong. We went to the hotel and got some much needed sleep in preparation for the next day. No sleep would really be enough to offset the sheer hedonism that would follow on Saturday.
When we had arrived the night before, we really didn't know how close we were to the beach. It was 4am and the festival didn't officially start until Saturday, anyway. Now, I've been going to the beaches in Pusan since I first arrived in Korea. For the most part they are pretty, but they are very, very small. They are surrounded by development and the beaches feel a bit claustrophobic because of the tall buildings and cove-style of the more popular ones. As you can see in the picture, that's not the case in Boryeong. Daecheon Beach is much more massive than anything that I've seen in Pusan. It feels like more of a beach community, too. The sand was incredible, the water was warm, most of the people on the beach were actually wearing swim suits, as opposed to the regular clothing that Pusan residents mostly wear when they swim. (You have to see this to believe it, thousands of people swimming in jeans and long sleeve shirts in Pusan.... ridiculous.) In short, it was what I was expecting an actual beach to be. We bought some beer and soju and walked along the beach until we finally came to the main area for the festival. Supposedly, there were almost 400,000 people on the beach for this first day... a quarter of them were foreigners. This was by far the biggest number of non-Asian faces that I'd seen since landing in Korea. There was a pretty large military contingent on the beach, but the overwhelming majority of foreigners seemed to be ESL teachers and expats. It was great to have a 'we're all in this together' sort of vibe going on... at least from my perspective.
For those of you who don't know, I am the only native speaker in my small hagwon (i.e. academy). Most of the people that I've met over here work with at least one other native speaker. It'd be nice to have at least one other person that's going through my situation, one other person to talk to about life at this school. Instead, I've been typing away in our teacher's office and haven't heard a word of English in the last 2 hours. I get told to come to meetings that are entirely in Korean with no explanation before or after as to what was being said. It can be a bit unnerving at times. I've started to grown used to being the invisible token in the back of the room, but it still weighs heavy at times. Being on a bus with 25 other native English speakers was refreshing... being on a beach with almost 100k native English speakers was a fucking godsend.
This is where I found myself around 10am on Saturday morning; surrounded by (mostly) friendly faces and heading to the epicenter of the Boryeong Mud Festival 2011. When we finally arrived, we of course immediately headed to Club FM (Family Mart) and reloaded our recently depleted supply. It was about this time that we first noticed an overwhelming lack of mud at the Boryeong Mud Festival. We had been promised large pools and pits of the skin-rejuvenating mud, massive areas of mud wrestling and body painting. We instead got a few bins loaded with 4 inch brushes and a limited supply of said mud. Luckily.... we didn't give a shit. We meticulously covered ourselves from head to toe with the brush: "When in Rome" and all that. It was about that time that the skies opened up and buckets of rain erased any evidence of this attempt. It was an obvious sign that this party didn't have anything to do with the Mud... the mud was just the vessel. (Anyone that has been to the "Sweet Corn and Watermelon Festival" or the "Murphysboro Apple Festival" or "Cajun Fest" should know exactly what I mean.)
The short downpour did nothing to shake our resolve. In fact, that's about the time the gloves came off. (That's also about the time that whiskey became the preferred catalyst for the day, but I'm not pointing any fingers.) The hours that followed embodied a level of depravity that should probably never be put to paper. (Of course, taking my own advice has never been one of my strong suits.) Large amounts of life were consumed; dignity was trampled on and then ignored entirely; the living was good, but for future reference, when you remove the waves that were previously helping to keep you aloft, gravity becomes the unfaithful ex that you had always known her to be. That's when your face becomes a makeshift airbag and your arms cease to help in the endeavor. 
At some point about this time, we lost our drunken Irishman in a wave of saltwater and whiskey. We found him 8 hours later walking aimlessly in front of that same Family Mart, hoping that we would venture back to the scene of the crime. Coincidentally, our third amigo and my constant compatriot for the day had been convinced that we'd find him in that exact spot. Sure enough, there he was stumbling around in a shade of pink that should never exist on a human body. We had his wallet, his phone, and all of his money, but he'd still managed to get the most out of the party.... except sunscreen of course. Sunscreen was not very high on the list of goals, obviously. Shortly after finding the wayward son, an impressive display of fireworks started over the beach. I took a few pics, but my camera did not do the display any justice. Then it was back to the beach to lounge around under the full moon and people watch. When the sun went down, inhibitions seemed to come down, too. The drink Sex on the Beach started to become the beverage of choice. That and a strange cocktail called Forty Naked Korean Men Screaming and Running into the Crashing Waves. Don't know what inspired the second concoction, but it was met with many cheers and shouts of encouragement. This country had previously been in great need of random public acts of nudity.... it's good to go for awhile. I won't go into too many of the other sordid details... mostly out of embarrassment, somewhat out of confusion and general haziness. I will say this, though: this was one of the funnest times I've had since stepping on this shore. I didn't even really mention the friends I made on the bus, or the people I met in the sea. The whole weekend was exactly what I was looking to find. If I decide to turn this one year into two, Boryeong won't necessarily be a factor, but it will be on the shortlist of can't-miss-weekends. Fresh faces, good times, and a few new friends made up for any lack of mud. I hope to see many of those faces again. And to the random girl in the middle of the ocean... my name is Chris. I'm not sure if I mentioned that.
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