JIFF, part the first

This is a long weekend in Korea, with Monday being Children's Day or Buddha's Birthday or some other bullshit holiday which I can't specifically recall. So, too, is next weekend. This fortuitous arrangement of the stars means those of us in the public employ have the whole week off.

Friday, for me, also happened to be a half day because my students are taking exams. So when I'd finished my "work"day at 12 I scrambled over to the Incheon bus terminal and hopped on the next bus for Jeonju. Why?

JIFF - the Jeonju International Film Festival. There are quite a few film festivals here in the Korea, and my attempts to attend them previously have all met with something less than success. I spent one frantic Sunday afternoon with Dave rushing back and forth to theaters learning about all the different ways Koreans can say "sold out" during the Bucheon festival. And tho I've wanted to attend the more renowned Busan Film Festival both of my years here in the Korea, there've been calendar conflicts both times. (<--That's Jeonju, btw, and yes, it looks like everywhere else in Korea, too.) So when I read about this on-line, and saw the lineup of films being shown, I wasted no time getting my azz down there. I'll go through the films I saw in a later post, let me instead herein relay why I'm home on Sunday evening, a full day or two earlier than I'd planned on returning.

The trip down was cake. No problems. And when I walked out of the Jeonju bus terminal there was an information booth that was 1)actually manned by someone and 2)manned by someone who could speak English pretty well and helped me with maps/directions. Friday night I had no trouble getting to a theater, seeing a movie I wanted to see, getting a room for the night at one of the dozens of motels surrounding the bus terminal(s), getting dinner, etc etc.

But then came Saturday. I was planning on seeing four films Saturday, and I didn't have any real trouble getting tickets or getting around during the day. I saw a film at 2, at 8, and then at midnight. The midnight show was a triple feature, and I'd planned on staying for the first two. But the first film was so horrible and I was so exhausted by the time it was over I decided to hop in a taxi and head back to the motel district.

So, I jump in. "Odi kasayo?" he says.
W:"Bus-uh terminal ka jusayo."
TD:"Mwo bus-uh terminal?"
W:"Han-bon."
TD:"Mwo yo?"
W:"Hangul mal ul chal molayo."
TD:"(Angry sigh)"
W: "Cham ship man yo. (Desperately searching pockets for map) Igo ka yo. Igo yo."
TD: "Igo mwo ae yo?"
W: "Han bon bus-uh terminal kinchinayo. Da kinchinayo."
TD: "(mumbling curses)"

Let me translate: "Where to?" he says.
Wayne: Bus terminal go to please.
Taxi Driver: What bus terminal?
Wayne: Number 1!
Taxi Driver: Uh, what?
Wayne: Korean well I don't know.
Taxi Driver: Egads, I hate dealing with ignorant foreigners.
Wayne: Little time give me. (pointing to map) This go to. This!
Taxi Driver: What is this?
Wayne: Number 1 bus terminal it's ok. Everything's ok!
Taxi Driver: Fucking jackass.

Well anyway eventually we got there. I was so relieved when I stepped out of the taxi. I was going to get my bag which I'd stored in the terminal lockers, get a motel room, get a bottle of soju and have some fun with channel 18 on Korean cable. I was less relieved when I noticed that the bus terminal, which I was sure had to be open 24 hours, was as dark as a cloudy night and as empty as a baby's head. That meant no bag. Well, so what, I'll just get it in the morning and use the motel's toiletries. I was even less relieved, however, when I started down motel alley behind the bus terminal and noticed, oddly enough, that everything was dark. The familiar hum of the neon lights upsayo.

Now, I've been around the block. I've been to more than my fair share of Korean cities. I've arrived late, much later than the time it was then (around 2AM). And I have never known motels to shut down so early. Let alone all of them. I was surrounded by a good two dozen motels, all of them as accessible to me at the moment as the moon.

Well, ok, no problem I thought. I'll just find a sauna and spend the night there. I've done that a few times, and tho it's less comfortable than sleeping in a bed, it also happens to be much cheaper. So I started walking. And walking. And walking. No saunas. No motels. More walking. More walking. Still no saunas. No motels.

Finally, in the distance I see neon lights that read, in Korean, "Mo-something." It must be another motel district, I thought. So even tho it was a good mile away I kept walking. And once I got closer, sure enough, I could make out this "district" was comprised of two motels sitting side by side. I approached.

I got close. 200 yards away, the first one flicked its lights off. Shit. I started running. I made it to the second one before they closed for the night, dashed in, and encountered two crooked backed helmonis. "Hana olmaeyo?" (One how much?) "Derka derka upsa." (We don't have a room.) Cackling laughter. "You fucking dried up cunts." Ok, I thought that, didn't say it.

I walked back onto the street. I was in the middle of nowhere, with no prospects for finding a place to lay my weary head. Ok, I thought, I'll go back to the party district, maybe there'll be something there, if not I'll find a PC room and hunker down until morning.

To try and cut this already way too long story short, I did make it back to the party area, I did find a PC room, wherein I was able to search for saunas online and discover where one was, which I was able to reach in a taxi and where I spent a more or less restless 4 hours until morning.

The film I'd wanted to see most was showing Sunday afternoon (Francis Ford Coppolla's latest, Youth Without Youth) but I was so exhausted I headed back to the bus terminal (after some trouble, again, communicating which terminal I wanted to go to) to retrieve my bag.

I get there. It's open. I go to the locker. I type in my number. It says I owe another buck. I try to put it in. It won't take my money. I try again. Still won't take it. I try all different variations in coin, it won't work. I try my key. It won't open. My shit is stuck in there. All of my clothes, my cell phone, everything is irretrievable. I approach someone for help. She tries. It still won't work. We approach an employee of the bus terminal. She doesn't know what to do. Someone else tries. It still won't work. Finally, this helpful college student comes over and figures out we need to push one more button.

Yes! I've got my stuff. I buy coffee for everyone who's helped me with the locker and then go buy a ticket for home. "Chigum derka derka yo," says the clerk. ("The bus is leaving now.") I look at my ticket. Sure enough, it says 7:40, and so does my watch. I race downstairs to where the buses are departing just in time to see the Incheon bus, my bus, pulling away. I start chasing it, duffel bag flopping on my back ridiculously. I bang on the bus's side. It stops, praise Jeebus. I get on to the half empty bus, filled with cackling adjumas, pointing and staring at me.

You fucking dried up cunts, I think.