Tag Archives: Seoul

In a Bore-Zone: My trip to the Korean DMZ

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I’ve been good mates with Kim Jong-un on Facebook for the last few years (I swear he’s the only person who still uses the ‘poke’ feature), so when I decided to come to South Korea I knew I had to pop across the border to say G’day. After consulting with locals, however, I decided that hopping the border would sharply decrease my chances of going home safely and greatly increase my chances of my intestines being blown out my eye sockets, so I instead signed up for a tour of the Demilitarised Zone and take things from there.

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You wouldn’t wanna sit on this

Unfortunately, the tour was a bit of a bust. Alright, that’s being kind – it was shit. The only way to visit the DMZ is with one of the dozens of tour companies who take half-day tours there, and they’re all kind of crap. The problems are twofold; firstly, there are so many people visiting the sites at any time threat they’re little more than a crush of humanity. Secondly, the fact is that nothing in the DMZ is particularly interesting. By design it’s an area with basically nothing in it, and the few buildings feel more like tourist traps than actual historical sites. Even our guide, Dean Kang, seemed bored by it.

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Kang does his thang

When Dean told us that we were going to visit the Third Tunnel, I asked him if that’s the arsehole, and he just rolled his eyes and kept going. As it turns out, it’s the third tunnel that the South Koreans discovered coming towards them from the north. They found it back in 1973, it’s about 1.6km along and 70 or so metres below the ground, and was intended to allow soldiers from the North to pour into the South and do them all sorts of nasties.

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Warning: Asians with blurry faces ahead

For some reason that I can’t work out, cameras and phones are banned in the tunnel, so you’ll be spared selfies of me in a stupid yellow hard hat. The tunnel itself is as interesting as masturbating to Rosie O’Donnell porn – it really is just a tunnel full of an endless line of wheezing tourists. The most interesting thing about being there is watching gawky Asian bump their heads on the low roof. The seemingly endless walk through the darness ends up at something very boring indeed – a rock wall with a locked door. I haven’t felt so let down since reading the final pages of any Stephen King book ever.

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This is pretty much what I looked like in my hat

The next stop on the DMZ Wonder Tour was a lookout that allowed us to have a peak at North Korea. It looks a bit like South Korea, really – no hordes of marching troops or giant nuclear missiles poking around menacingly. They have these big sets of binoculars, so I jumped behind a pair and did my best to spot Kimmy strutting around, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was crushed.

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It could be East Korea as far as I know

With all that excitement out of the way it was obvious that Dean was trying to kill time, so he took us along to some train station that never had anything to do with North-South relations, other than to serve as a transit point for tourists from Seoul on a slightly more expensive tour. It was at this point that I saw my tour guide’s penis. I’d had four beers and badly needed to urinate, so I raced into the nearest toilet, where Dean was slipping his Old Yeller back into his trousers. He looked at me, I looked at him, and then he raced outside without washing his hands. It made things very awkward for the rest of the day, and Dean refused to look at me during any of his further speeches.

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Bring beer to get you through the tour

The grand finale of this tour of the DMZ was a stop at some shitty ginseng factory, which had nothing to do with anything. I have no idea what the fuck ginseng is – some sort of root or something – and I don’t care, so I bought a few cans from a 7-Eleven around the corner and drank them in the parking lot while I waited for the others to finish up. I really needed a slash, so I pulled my dick out and wet the bus’s tyres just as Dean and the others came out of the factory.
“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine!” I told Dean, while manages to splash his shiny leather shoes.

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Alright, this is a bit gay

The DMZ Tour is pretty shit, but it’s something that probably has to be done while in Seoul. The rigid timelines make it feel like a school excursion, most of the places they take you are boring and unnecessary, and it all comes across as more of a dodgy tourist attraction than a warzone, but it’s there and it sort of has to be seen. Just try to find a guide who doesn’t flash his knob around.

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Kim Jong-un: Pokemon GO enthusiast

I caught the train back to Hapjeong Station, alone with my disappointment at not finding Kimmy. All those pokes were for nothing. I stepped out of the carriage, fumbled for my ticket, looked up, and then there he was. Kimmy, I discovered, had defected. He was waiting for me all that time and had given up his dream of being a genocidal dictator so that he could be with me. As I raced over his eyes lit up and his arms opened, ready to welcome me into the new life he had forged for himself. Then I noticed that his dick was hanging out of his pants, so I did a 180 and got the fuck out of there. I guess Kimmy headed back over the border and went back to his murderous ways. Shit, we could’ve had world peace if only that dickhead could’ve kept it in his fuckin’ pants.

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Carnival of Seouls

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After breaking into the Olympic Stadium, swaggering through Gangnam and stealing a hula hoop, I thought I’d seen and done everything Seoul has on offer – but I was as wrong as Bruce Jenner when he tells himself he looks like a real woman. Today I hit the road again to visit the Namdaemun Markets, see a frightening demonstration, and climb a giant tower. And I did it all with a hangover!

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Right, where do I go to buy slaves?

The markets are tops, with people rushing all over the place, dudes clapping to get everyone’s attention, women selling Dagwood Dogs, and all sorts of clothes and bags and other crap to buy. Heading into the confusing maze of alleyways and dead ends and stairs was the first time I’ve felt Seoul is an actual Asian city. The rest of it is a bit sterile, but the markets are buzzing with life and well worth checking out. The street food rocks and the handbags looked very nice indeed.

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She wants me

The Koreans are a bit weird – I guess having nuclear weapons pointed at you 24 hours a day isn’t great for the ol’ sanity – and it’s not unusual to see a group of people walking down the street dressed as robots, monkeys or superheroes. It’s just what they do, and I love them for it. So when I saw a couple who were obviously very much in love and dressed like space pilgrims, I just gave them a wave and went on my way.

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No one else could ever love them

As I turned a corner I could hear all sorts of shouting and assumed there’d been a terrorist attack or a footy player had pulled his wang out or something, but was astonished to find a martial arts display in progress. Half-a-dozen little blokes in snazzy costumes were swinging swords around and chopping bamboo poles into bits. It was really impressive and I started cheering along with the crowd, but what really got me going was the fact one of the ninjas was a woman. I found her ability to fuck shit up to be strangely attractive, and when she was finished chopping up bamboo, I wandered over to ask her out on a date. When she started yelling at me and thrusting a spear in my face I ran away and hid in a bush, but thinking back on it, she was probably being quite receptive to my advances. That’s probably just how psychotic Asian sword-wielding babes let you know they’d love a drink.

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She can chop me into bits any day

The N-Seoul Tower looms large over the city and is a symbol of pride and hope for the locals, so I made a point of getting to the top of it. I’ve been to some of the world’s great towers – the Oriental Pearl in Shanghai and whatever that one in Riga is, to name just two, so I rolled over to it and climbed in a cable car to take me to the top of the hill that it sits upon. If you’re ever in a position to head up the N-Seoul, don’t bother with the cable car unless you’re a massive fat cunt or something. It costs $8.50, the line-up is huge, the cart is packed with stinky Koreans, and you can’t see a thing out the windows anyway. Just walk up the stairs, which takes maybe 20 minutes, is free, and provides a nice look out over the city.

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It’s a TOWEEEEEER!

When I finally got up there I was met by a tower that’s identical in design to Canberra’s Telstra Tower. As I walked towards it, I felt as if I’d gone back in time to when I was in Year Six and went to Telstra Tower during an excursion to the national capital. I could only hope that, this time, upon reaching the top I wouldn’t be molested by Mr Peterson in the toilets and threatened with death if I told anyone. I looked around when I got up there, but could find no signs of the twisted tutor, so turned my sights instead to what I could see out the windows. Which was five-sevenths of fuck all, really, because there’s more air pollution in Seoul than in the toilet at the local Jenny Craig.

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“Hey, I can see… uh, nothing from here”

The night ended with the Raiders losing to the Storm and me drowning my sorrows in a steaming mixture of warm beer and dumplings. My team got knocked out and the woman of my dreams packed up her swords and fell into the arms of another man, but I can’t get too worked up about it. Life moves on, adventures roll into experience, gentle breezes cause change, and in Korea Colonel Sanders is a fucking Asian. Goodnight, my lovers.

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“It finger rickin’ good!”

Sweet Seoul Brother

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Ever since I first saw that dickhead in the Gangnam Style video, I’ve wanted to punch his head in, so when I discovered Gangnam is a real place in Seoul, I decided to head there and throw him into an open sewer. Tragically, I didn’t find the dancing dork, but I did find endless alleyways full of restaurants serving noodles, fish, crab, nachos, steaks, and anything else you can imagine. Neon signs, inflatable cats, little dudes on delivery motorbikes, smiling Asians, traffic jams, pop music and weird shit by the truckload, Korea is a hell of a place.

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‘Noodle Box’ hey… There’s a new name for a vagina

I strolled down meandering streets, dodging giggling schoolgirls and fat blokes in oversized sunglasses, checking out astonishingly high skyscrapers and scurrying past towering slums. I somehow found myself at the Olympic Stadium, where the Games were held back in 1988. That was the year Noodle Eating, Dancing to Crap Music and Who Has the Smallest Penis? were Olympic events, so it should come as no surprise that South Korea did really well that year.

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The Greatest

I took a few photos of the outside of the Olympic Stadium, but when I saw some bloke stroll straight in the front doors, I followed him. I was met with a labarynth of old-fashioned coridoors as I passed the headquarters of Korean soccer, Korean basketball, and Korean AFL (just kidding, but ask a Victorian and he’ll tell you Korea’s five years from going singlet soccer mad) before finally finding myself in the middle of the stadium where Debbie Flintoff-King won the 400m hurdles. It was weird and deserted, a world away from the photos and videos I’ve seen of it during the ’88 Olympics. Then a security dude started yelling at me and I hoofed it out of there in a time that Debbie would be proud of.

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Takin’ care of business

I was feeling absolutely famished, so I was stoked to find a shop selling Dagwood Dogs. Being Korea, I suspected that the name’s probably taken more literally than it is in Australia, but I was hungry and they looked good, so I ordered a couple. I had to stop the sheila behind the counter from dipping them in sugar, which is tantamount to marrying a supermodel and then making her wear a burqa, then sat down under a bridge to eat them. They were actually really nice, but a little bloke kept laughing at pointing at me while I ate. After a few minutes, he wandered off to the shop and bought one of his own, then came back and demonstrated the Korean way of eating a Daggy. He sucked the batter off it using a technique that Jesse Jane would be proud of, then licked the sausage and ate it in one bite. I was weirdly aroused and had to leave.

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I love getting some meat in my mouth

When I finally escaped, I could hear music blasting from a nearby stadium, so I strolled over to have a gander. What I found inside was unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and really pretty special. Some dickheads were playing basketball in there, but that’s not what made it so cool; the arena was full to the brim with thousands of cheering Koreans, some in red, some in blue, and every single one of them was going mental. I’d stepped into the annual Korea University vs Yonsei match, which is one of the biggest sporting events on the Korean calendar. Each team had their own four-piece rock band blasting fight songs out to the crowd, as well as two sets of fully decked out superheroes who bopped around on top of stages, while fireworks and jets of steam shot throughout the place. I’ve been to some big footy games in Australia, but nothing even comes close to the atmosphere I experienced in there.

Alright, I lie. Cowboys vs Eels on a wet July night probably eclipses it.

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Apparently there’s a basketball game going on

I ended the day with a walk along the Han River, which would be a lovely stroll if they hadn’t built a fucking six-lane road between the bank of the river and the water. A few thousand cars a minute wasn’t going to stop me having a good time, though, and when I found a bizarre outdoor gym populated by mask-wearing geriatrics. The equipment is really wacky, with the fogies doing oddball activities such as humping poles or spinning big wheels. It obviously works, because there aren’t many fat cunts in Korea, but it also looked like a scene from the world’s worst porno movie, so I got out of there before they could drop their trousers.

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The Mr Olympia contest has been on a downward spiral

As I was walking home, I found a hula hoop and, overcome with the pulsating athletic atmosphere of Seoul, I picked it up and started spinning it on my hips. I was a bit shit at it, though, and after being laughed at by a bow-legged Asian in a shirt that said ‘What Make Fuck!’ I threw it in the river and went home to have a beer. You can’t win ’em all.

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I’m going to Japan!

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The Drunk and Jobless World Tour™ has been on hiatus for the past few weeks, so that I could sit around in my undies getting drunk on cheap wine while laughing at all the trannies who compete in women’s athletics at the Olympics. But I can only do that for so long, so next week I’m heading off again on a most unusual adventure.

My first stop will be Bali,where last year I smashed a million bottles of Bintang, tried and failed to pick up every German chick on the island, and almost got hacked to death by machete-wielding maniacs. This time around things are going to be a bit different, because I’m going to have sex with even more ladyboys going to spent most of the time paragliding. The skies above Nusa Dua and Candi Dasa will be my playground for 14 epic days of flying with the Cloudbase crew.

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Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

From there, I’m going to head to South Korea (that’s the good one) and Japan for a month. Korea’s never really been on my radar, but why not explore it? There are brilliant national parks to frolic through, sprawling cities to get lost in, and delicious food to eat. I might even swagger over to the North Korean border and yell out to my little mate Kim Jong-un to let him know he’s a dickhead.

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“I can see my friend, Mr Row Show Arjay LeRock! He wear no pants! Prepare the nukes!”

Japan is somewhere I’ve wanted to visit for a long time. It’s a land of bright lights and breathtaking natural beauty, of stunning technology and kooky mythology. I’m going to hike around Mount Fuji, visit a park where thousands of people have committed suicide (hopefully I’m not in a bad mood that day), and hopefully wind up on one of those wacky Nipponese game shows.

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“Hey, Yuki, this brings back memories!”

I’m also hoping to go to a hardcore wrestling show, where the little Japanese blokes chase each other around with chainsaws and shove broken lightbulbs up their opponent’s blurter for no real reason. If I’m in the mood I might even get involved and win the championship. Why not?

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It’s just a flesh wound!

More than anything, I hope to fall in love with and marry one of those gorgeous sex robots they have over there. You know, the ones that look like real women but wouldn’t dare refuse a blowie out of fear that you’d just pull their batteries out and kick them out the window. I just have to make sure I get one of the nice robots, and not a nasty one like in the classic 80s horror movie Chopping Mall.

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Spoiler alert: their tits are fake

It’ll be seven weeks of awesomeness, and I really hope you’ll join me. I don’t actually want you to come along, of course – I’m sure you’re great company and it would be nice to have someone to split the accommodation bills with, but we’re not quite at that stage of our relationship yet – but it would be great if you could read about how much fun I’m having. Well, I’d better get back to smashing wine and watching replays of everyone’s favourite chick-with-a-dick – and Petero Civoniciva lookalike – Caster Semenya, outrunning a bunch of sheilas.

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Semen on her chest, semen in her ballsack