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There are two routes up to the base of the tower, which is perched atop a mountain peak: the cable car and the walking. We decided to hike up and armed ourselves with gross-tasting cookies for energy. When the bus dropped us off, however, we were about fifty feet from the summit. The trek was gruelling and we lost many good men to the deadly machinations of nature, but somehow (SOMEHOW) we arrived atop the mountain along with ten trillion other visitors. A hullabalo of crazy music and free food greeted us: some kind of festival was underway but we only had eyes for the pinnacle.

Let me just mention right here that Seoul Tower is a dirty lying trinket. It claims to be the fourth largest tower in the world, but it is clearly cheating the rankings by sitting atop a sizeable mountain and counting the mountain as part of the tower. We wondered: could you build a foot tall tower on top of Everest and then claim that you had constructed the world's tallest pinnacle? Korea's desire for achievement sometimes gets a little out of hand. Their tower is not very tall and they should just accept it.

At the top we located our respective homelands: I had Toronto, Mike had London and, since Sunni was already from Seoul, we made her point to Saudi Arabia in the interests of diversity. Mr. Len had already claimed his spot on the map, as I later found out. Nationalistic minds think alike: we can't resist pointing at glory.

Mike had resourcefully brought along a board marker from school and labeled the men's restroom: "WOMEN ONLY!!" We killed ourselves at 800 feet (rounding up), watching English-speaking visitors double-take and look around awkwardly while unperceiving Koreans breezed on by. There is little more finery in this world than depriving someone of their bathroom privileges through trickery. Yes, we're idiots, but have you ever noticed that idiots get to laugh a lot?

We also re-evaluated North/South relations: a propaganda mill at work.

So that was the tower. It was pretty tall... and stuff. There was a restaurant.

But the weirdest was yet to come. At the base of the tower the staged ceremony was in full swing. Don't ask me what's going on in this picture... a man is examining a pile of dead pigs stacked in a compromising position with a little too much interest. But actually being present at this illustrious affair was far more bizarre.

A fine assortment of musicians in hanbok attire belted out such screechy traditional Korean classics as, "Screeeeeeee BOOM BOOM SCREEEE-SCRAWWW!" and "Your Ears Be Meltin, Weigook (feat. Nelly)." The crowd seemed to take their punishment in good spirits, but for me it was far from an auditory adventure. It was an auditory abomination.

Luckily, it was hard to concentrate on the music. A veiled priestess-woman was chanting and raving, and four men lifted each expired pig and impaled them each on a big pitchfork in turn. Then they stacked them up on a table, legs akimbo. The pigs, being dead, predictably had no objections. I shot What-The-Fuck expressions at onlooking Koreans, but for the most part they just shoved past me to get a good view of the sacraments. Then a giant severed cow's head was held aloft as the pigs were butchered and quartered, presumably for ritual consumption, and What-The-Fuck turned into It's-Time-To-Go-Right-Now-GOGOGOGOGO KAJA!! Authenticity is cool, but can't we please think of the poor beasts' families?? Bacon is OK; public skewerings are cruel.

We took the cable car down the other side of the mountain. I was morbidly pleased to see that the lineup at the bottom wound down the stairs, through the lobby and well out the front doors of the station. It would take at least an hour and a half for those at the end of the line to finally ascend to Seoul Tower. If they had simply walked past the cable car and up the steps chopped into the hillside, it would've taken twenty minutes, tops. This is often the nature of modern mankind: to voluntarily creep forward forever just to enjoy the privilege of not moving one's feet more than absolutely necessary.

It's a costly luxury; wasting the day, standing still, while the slaughter of pigs rages above the treeline.

Posted by Chris at 07:02 AM >> Commentations (2)