I Got Lost at Mudfest. A Bunch of Times.

I got up early today to get myself to Daecheon Beach for the famous Boryeong Mud Festival- a festival that involves wrestling in the mud pools, getting completely gross, getting painted with more mud before washing off in the ocean to get back in the mud pools and begin it all again. An excellent adventure, to be sure.

I managed to catch the bus with no problems, but discovered that I had run down the minutes on my phone. I was transported back to the days of arriving in a strange city with a plan to meet up with people and having no way to add detail to that plan. The days before my cellphone were full of pay phones, wandering, waiting and luck. Daecheon beach isn't exactly overflowing with the pay phones.

Teresa knew what to do. Minutes don't matter if someone calls you, so I was wandering around waiting for her next call. Success. We headed on into the mud pools.

The mud pools are chaotic. Just standing near one can be hazardous to your health. The first time, I went in willingly. It's crazy. People grab your wrists and waist with the sole intention of tackling you into the mud. Once you're down, you become a target. People will throw mud, nudge you and try and keep you down. I was covered in mud, with mud in my eyes trying to clean myself up with even muddier hands and loving every second of it. I fought my way back out. I was nearly dragged, thrown, and knocked into this pit several times. People were crafty. "Hello, it's nice to meet you!" You go in for the handshake and they grab you above the elbow and tug.

But you're slippery, so you can escape.

Then we headed over to get painted. They cover you in colored mud and you walk around as a messy rainbow of fun. We waited in line for two hours before getting to the front. We got there and they took the mud off the table and tried to tell the people in line to come back later.

You can't do that. You can't just shut the line down. These are dumb foreigners. They'll riot.

Luckily, we were the last people painted.

So we headed on over to the convenient store. Which was right next to a jewelry table and I got lost. I was separated from my party with no idea how to get to the meet up point (the hotel). The festival wasn't really that big. I thought it would be super easy to just stumble on them.

I was lost for 3 hours. Met a lot of new people, some more sketchy than others, but after a while I threw in the towel and made the attempt to find my way back. I thought I'd start by walking up the beach and seeing of anything sparked.

I found a tank full of what Jenn likes to call "sea [expletive deleted]." I remembered Chad (Teresa's former co-worker) making some inappropriate comment about the animals in the tank and I turned left. So far so good. I wandered around the back streets of this perfectly safe terribly muddy town for another half hour and ran into Chad. No Teresa, but at least Chad knew what to do. I made it back.

Went to dinner with Teresa and passed out back at the hotel. Missed the concert and fireworks, but I'm not that upset about it. I was really tired and being lost had taken a lot out of me. The bands weren't that stellar anyways.

Now if it had been 2PM or SS501 maybe I'd have made more effort to make it work...