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I am a horribly neglectful bastard, the kind of rapscallion who goes out and does things and then doesn't write about them. This kind of villainy often has dire repercussions, such as a gigantic backlog of unused content and blog hit counts tumbling into the deep trenches of the sea. But ahhh well, kenchanayo, such is life. I now return to the fray, refreshed and ready to once more throw myself into the bizarre nuances of Korean culture.

As none of you probably know, it was recently the venerable and mighty Buddha's birthday. Yes, he was born - he was not just an obese materialization, suddenly smiling benevolently from his many pedestals and shrines around the world. Some poor woman popped his divine mass out, once upon a time.

In celebration of this momentous event, the latter half of April was dedicated to His radiance. Much of this dedication revolved around the act of stringing lanterns across every single urban gully in the entire city of Seoul. The omnipresent glow of lanterns dominated streets, reigned over highways and guarded brothel doorways for weeks on end. Children held lanterns. Lanterns held children. In Buddha's birthday, I have finally found a holiday poised to overtake the esteemed Christmas shopping cart, and its helpful sidekick Jesus, in the ongoing race to attain 100% Holiday Symbol Oversaturation! 'Tis a glorious day.

The culmination of all this lanternization arrived a few weekends ago, at the Lotus Lantern Festival. A sizable cadre of us saddled up Dook's horsey-van and rode on up to Jongno-3 to observe the celebrations and perhaps impart a little of our Western notions of enlightenment. My personal contribution was that people are pretty stupid, so if spiritual success is hinged on the notion of downsizing sensationalism in life, the fine folk sitting in their Southern trailers watching Springer all day are probably two steps away from Nirvana and the ultimate nothingness. Luckily for Buddha, monks far less idiotic than I were in charge of his birthday so there were no teenaged baby mommas hitting each other with chairs in Siddhartha's honour.

There was, however, a fat Korean biker.

And a poor unsuspecting monk, whom we waylaid for photo-ops. There were many monks, in fact. In the background you can see just one of the myriad of shops that featured lantern memorabilia for sale.

In the midst of the throng, a troupe of miniature geishas frolicked with their mothers and, I assume, did some fairly traditional things.

We wandered around the streets, looking at booths featuring temple food (which had been specifically prepared to contain no pleasurable flavours) and Buddhist contingencies from Nepal and Thailand and Shangri-La and various other mystical places. At one point we were Shanghai-ed into chanting and rhythmically bashing some little wooden bowls with sticks. Under an open-air tent, we feigned concentration while random passer-bys snapped photos of us. If there's anything that gets in the way of transcendence, it's feeling like a zoo animal in the midst of a parade of humanity. We met some Western acolytes who were in the middle of a temple stay: they seemed very into Buddhism, as you might suspect from someone who has abandoned their lives to wake up at 4 am every day in a strange country for deep bowing.

There were also some emissaries from a radically different sector of society. Ronald was there to promote the wonders of obesity, as Buddha is perhaps the finest example of a wildly overweight role model. Enlighten yourself with a cheeseburger, hungry Koreans!

Throughout the festival, stages were erected and jerked-off with many different fingers of Korean pop. We watched in awe as a set of middle-schoolers in suits and ratpack hats brought Backstreet Back, saw some mentally disabled ballet and witnessed dudes in mime masks jitter and vibrate to electronica. A well-received (by me and Chad, at least) Army Girl drrrty pop act sent my imagination to jail for statutory rape. Club bump and grind has gotten pretty popular in Korea, and nobody does it better than five hot teenaged girls, I can assure you. The Ascended One was undoubtedly pleased with their offering. On the other side of the club coin, there were quite a few B-boy hippity-hop breakdancers. We actually witnessed one B-boy group in a circle, heads bowed, praying backstage before their set: asking Jesus for help so they could headspin for Buddha's birthday. Huh. Only in Korea.

Who're these guys??? It's strange who suddenly turns up in this country, although it seemed as though half of Seoul had pegged the Lotus Lantern Festival as a worthwhile endeavor that weekend. Still, this land is a depository, a dumping ground for Canadian graduates, especially from good ol' Wilfrid Laurier. Does the alumni association count ESL teaching as successful after-grad employment in its elephantitis-afflicted statistics?

The Man Himself, soliciting donations outside his own temple. That's a big palm to grease.

And those are puffy hats to wear. This ultimate drum corps prowled the streets, lending their clownish percussion to the celebratory atmosphere. Other silly hats included: Skullcaps with long dangerous swinging tassels, kingly crowns (with fake beards) and Abraham Lincoln-style top hats. Silly hats are a big part of Buddhism.

After hours of waiting around, watching kids (and Belinda) jump rope and checking out crafts tables where YOU TOO CAN CONSTRUCT YOUR VERY OWN LOTUS LANTERN IF YOU CAN ONLY DESTROY THE THRONGS OF TOURISTS TAKING ALL THE SPOTS, the parade finally started. Oh, that's right. I didn't tell you about the parade yet. Well there was one. You can't go to bed satisfied that Buddha's birthday has been properly celebrated unless you've witnessed a parade, y'know? It would be like Christmas without going to the mall.

So we followed the throngs down to a main road, elbowed ourselves into a spot in front of a large media van, and watched a river of light flow past. Lantern-wielding monks, temple goers and general populace poured down the street in unrelenting quantities. Interspersed between the foot soldiers of Buddhism were large floats of famous warriors, kings and emperors who had spent their lives in the noble service of religious fervor. Some of them were terribly fierce, and I was told that lots of them had taken on the post-humus service of guarding temples from demons and Jehovah's Witnesses, and thus had to be depicted as monstrous folk. One dude had three faces, and another one was stabbing himself in the ear with his dagger. For a peaceable religion, Buddhism sure features some heavy hitters in the hall of fame.

Keeping in line with the Asia Is Ridiculous In Every Aspect of Life part of my stay here, we witnessed a pig riding a motorcycle fire a flamethrower at a taxi. I am not joking. This was a float in the parade.

And there were dragons... huge, spicy dragons that breathed mechanical fire out of their nostrils. They were gorgeously painted and lit, and soared down the promenade as majestically as it is possible to soar when one is mounted on a rattling flatbed truck. If it was possible to have a giant lantern-dragon as a pet, I would borrow a ranch out in Alberta and let Spiky roam unfettered, flying free of the shuddering Hyundai that shackled him in his previous parade life. Ahhh dreams...

But all is for naught. Life is apparently no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body or mind; No form, sound, smell, taste, touch or mind object.

There is no ignorance and also no ending of ignorance.

There is no truth in suffering, of the cause of suffering, of the cessation of suffering.

There is no wisdom and there is no attainment whatsoever.

I can't help but wonder: what's left? A subway ride home, that's what. A subway ride home is something you can depend on, a universal constant in a sea of wave-washing ideologies. Thank you Buddha, for inventing subways. And thank you, Koreans, for letting me touch your Buddha.

Posted by Chris at 08:38 AM >> Commentations (7)