Wednesday 17 February 2010

What's yours is mine, and what's mine is Korea's.

Recent games of football here in Chuncheon have left me frustrated, not for my lack of prowess on the pitch, or indeed the Korean’s reluctance to allow me to play in one position for more than two minutes before moving me on to another role. It’s been on the sidelines that my rage has been growing.

We play quarters here, which means a longer game. However, it also means more drink stops, and so each game I arrive, ready to play, with my Gatorade in tow; all two litres of its luminous green majesty sitting on the touchline. The sugar content is addictively corrosive (I’m sure I saw Lindsay bleaching the toilet with it last week) and even the bottle is designed to fit into your hand, should you struggle to pick up those pesky regular cylindrical bottles. In comparison Lucozade simply doesn’t measure up.

With each passing quarter I enjoy the walk to the side, knowing I’ll have a sip of the nectar and experience a sugar rush enough to paralyse a small panda.
Sadly this experience has been tempered in recent weeks.

I’m a private person by in large. I like to share, but when I choose to share. My house is open, but when I want it to be open, so imagine my horror when I walked over after a particularly taxing 30 minutes of chasing people aimlessly, to see a Korean drinking Gatorade, my Gatorade, my beautiful, luminous Gatorade. My giver of life, my taker of teeth, being consumed, not by me, not even by a teammate, by an opposition member. My jaw dropped, birds stopped singing and in the distance Wagner was playing. I walked up in a rage; expectant of apologies, of a face belonging to a man caught with his penis somewhere it shouldn’t be.



Instead he just passed me the remaining fluid, smiled and walked off. I had made the mistake of leaving my bottle uncovered, and, such is the Korean way, he helped himself. It could have been my drink, chocolate, my last supper; if it’s in the open, it’s for sharing in Korea.

It takes a little getting used to. Students dip into my pencil case to use my eraser, fellow teachers offer tangerines to me when they’ve quite clearly been brought to work for their snack, Korean friends come to my apartment when I’m not in and buy books on my credit card. It really is share and share alike in this glorious nation.

I’m trying to adapt my ways to fit in, so should you ever hear of an Englishman caught stealing money from a Supermarket till, then rest assured, I’m just doing my best to share the wealth.