Koreans don't typically celebrate Hallowe'en. At least, they didn't in 1998. If a Korean did celebrate this very western holiday, they did it with foreigners like me.
When DW and I celebrated Hallowe'en in 1997, with our hagwon (teaching institute) students, we made masks with the kids that we taught. We didn't extend our celebrations to our adult classes: in fact, it was my adult students who admitted that this holiday was purely western.
Because October 31, 1997, fell on a Friday, the ex-pats celebrated by dressing up when we met at our regular hangout, Urban Bar. While I wrote about this establishment for "social intercourse," as the owner called it, in Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary, I didn't write about Hallowe'en in my novel. I don't even remember if DW or I dressed up at all.
I have a photo that I shot of our ex-pat friends: one was dressed as the devil; another, an angel. One was a vampire; another, a zombie. Our good friend, Brad, dressed as Groucho Marx: he was very convincing with his big eyebrows, mustache, glasses, and cigar.
Yes, Hallowe'en 1997 was a non-event for me and DW: 1998 was very different.
Our dear friend, Tamara, who lived in Seoul, came down to visit DW and me, and was really into celebrating the hallowed evening with our friends. DW and I were living in the new apartment that my university had provided, where our floor was occupied by other teachers.
DW and my Korean friend, Kyung-hee, was back from Australia and decided to join us as well, though she decided against dressing up.
DW was dressed as a lumberjack, with a checked shirt, blue jeans, and a toque. She used an eye liner to draw stubble on her face and curly hairs on her chest. She even fashioned an axe out of paper and tin foil. Tamara was a bumble bee (I think—it was a long time ago and my friend doesn't even remember anymore).
I had lost a lot of weight while living in Korea, and could actually fit into one of DW's tiny dresses. She had bought one in Thailand: it was sleeveless and was cut well above the knees. I wasn't as curvy as she was, but I could wear it and still breathe.
Kyung-hee did my makeup. Quite heavily. A lot of foundation, bright eye shadow, deep-red lipstick. My hair was slicked back, flowery barrettes clipped in. I squeezed into a pair of tights that made my hairy legs look hairier. A bra, stuffed with rolled-up socks, gave me boobs to rival DW's, which were, tonight, flattened down to look more butch.
I looked hideous. Deliciously hideous.
I wore a necklace and carried an empty sparkling wine bottle. I didn't strain my voice to sound like a woman. In fact, I dropped my voice a little and adopted an Austrian accent, almost like Arnold Schwarzenegger. I told everyone that I was on the Austrian women's swim team.
The hardest part for us was to hail a taxi to get us down to the national university district. No one wanted to pick up a bunch of freaks. Our first stop was to our current haunt, TwoBeOne, a basement ex-pat bar with a stage for live music. Lots of ex-pats performed here, including yours truly, but tonight we were there to celebrate Hallowe'en and support our friend, Russ, who was performing with a Korean woman and another westerner.
Everyone was dressed up and there were, to our surprise, lots of Koreans in attendance.
As soon as I sat at a table with my friends, a young Korean man approached our table and started talking to me. I stuck with my role and explained I was an athlete who had just celebrated a victory at a Seoul swim meet. He asked if he could join our table, and no one objected.
He ordered a pitcher of beer and filled my glass. And refilled it. And refilled it some more. We didn't chat about anything memorable, but I do remember with clarity that he spoke to me, not as a man dressed as a woman but as a woman. It was surreal.
He invited me to join him on the dance floor, in front of the band, and I accepted. I poured some of the beer into my sparkling wine bottle, and brought it onto the dance floor.
The floor was packed, but that didn't stop one of my fellow teachers, Steve, from taking my camera, which DW had been safeguarding, diving onto the dance floor, sliding under me, and shooting straight up.
I should have worn black underwear.
After Russ' set, a few of us decided to wander the streets, in costume, in search of another venue. I thanked the man who bought my drinks and left him behind. By this time, I was feeling no pain (that would come, tomorrow). We found a bar that had big windows at street level. There seemed to be no foreigners in it but that didn't stop us.
No sooner had we found a couple of tables, next to each other, when two young Korean men came to us, wondering what was going on. One of these men invited me to join him and his friends at their table.
I looked to the table and saw that two women were at the table. I nodded to DW, who told me to have fun, and I joined my new friends.
More drinks were ordered. More talk about who I was (my Austrian counterpart). I hoped to make the Austrian Olympic team in 2000, in Sydney. Though these people knew nothing about me, they assured me that I'd make the team.
A song came over the sound system and the Koreans invited me onto the floor. Who was I to say no to my benefactors of spirits? All five of us joined the dance floor, and I noticed that DW, Tamara, Kyung-hee, and our other friends were closeby.
DW asked me if I was all right. "So long as one of the guys doesn't make a pass at me, I'm good."
When a slow song followed, one of the Korean women asked me to dance and I accepted. She was petite, even compared with me, and I had to stoop so that she could get her arms around me.
Her English was minimal, but she explained, speaking closely to my ear, that she was on a blind date and that she wasn't enjoying herself, that she didn't care for her date. She asked me if I could help her get out of it.
I said I could. I explained to her that when the slow song was over, she and I would go over to the table where DW and our gang sat. I would put her in one of the chairs. My friends would look out for her.
When the song ended, I made to stand up straight, but the woman still clung onto me, her arms firmly wrapped around my neck. I continued to stand and lifted her off her feet. I put my arms around her, so as to not support her with my neck and shoulders, and carried her to the table. I placed her in a vacant chair, told DW to keep her safe, and I rejoined the other three Koreans at their table.
Her date didn't seem to care that I had replaced the woman, and he continued to fill my glass. With him distracted, DW and my friends escorted the young woman out of the bar and safely into a taxi.
The rest of us stayed until the bar closed. Compared to the woman, I was not a cheap date. I held a lot more alcohol.
So, what do you think? Should I elaborate on this Hallowe'en tale in my sequel? It was certainly a night worth remembering.
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