There are many good reasons for visitors not to get into trouble in foreign lands. You can't speak the language, the government doesn't have any reason to listen to you, and you may or may not be given a fair hearing. These are basic things anyone travelling should be well aware of before trying to upset the locals. But what if the combatants are foreigners?
First of all, I was only there for the first part of the "incident." The rest was told to me by eye-witnesses; under cross-examination, their stories all checked with each other, so I am inclined to believe what happened, given my own experience earlier that evening.
One of my coworkers was having her birthday party in Apkujeong. Apkujeong, I must explain, is a district (sometimes called "Rodeo Drive") where the rich, famous, and trendy Seoulites (and others) like to shop, get plastic surgery, and drink. Overpriced botiques abound, overabundantly filled with the REAL Prada, Calvin Klein, Chanel, and Louis Vutton products that those-who-have love to purchase. I myself own some very nice fakes; my $10 "Prada" purse has more than once been taken for the real thing. Actually, I didn't even know it was a "Prada" until someone told me so; I just liked the interesting design (aligator leather, spikes, and a bow!). My rhinestone "diamond" Chanel watch also has passed muster.
You can also, for a reasonable price, get a "packagee" (Konglish), which I beleive includes a nose job, eye fold removal surgery (to look more Western - actually, it just makes Asians look permanently surprised) and Botox (ditto). The Deluxe Packagee includes a boob job. Hmmm....maybe I can get my extra "chin" (which I had even when ridiculously skinny) removed...
I have only been in Apkujeong a couple of times, but I have generally found the place a bit pretentious; I paid 10,000 won ($10) for an elaborately-presented fancy mug of...pre-powdered hot chocolate. Nevertheless, I decided to swallow my pride and go to the party at an Apkujeong club called "The Garden." I like this particular coworker quite a bit, and, even though still recovering from my bout with pnewmonia, I decided it was worth it to go.
I arrived there and my coworker's boyfriend, a very handsome and outgoing young man (especially for a Korean) graciously showed me the way. We went through what seemed to be a maze of stairs and hallways to a small club in the basement. It was nothing grand, but not a dive either. We went up another staircase, and into a room with chairs and tables behind a glass wall. You could look down at the dancers on the floor from behind the glass. These rooms completely encircled the dance floor, but the noise level was much more conducive for talking.
Ladies got in free, and after 11, drinks were two for one. I later discovered that this special did not include water...I asked for bottled water, but the bartender heard "Budweiser." I tried to argue with her, but she just looked puzzled, then feigned that she did not speak English (I heard her later doing just that). I HATE Budweiser, and I only really wanted water, but it was cold, and strangely refreshing. In for a penny, in for a pound, and I nursed two Long-Island Iced teas for three hours. My big meal helped with this. At the price, I figured they were charging me for two anyways.
With all the "let's go clubbing" talk going around earlier, no one actually danced. There were surprisingly many foreigners of many different nationalities mingling freely and speaking English. There were a few handsome Persian businessmen, a Spainiard, a random Indian or two, and a couple of Russians. There were decidedly more men than women; most of the women were in fact, in our group. Many of my coworkers are very attractive women in their own right, but they are not fashionably so. One girl is blond, strongly built, and well over 6 foot three. She has a vivacious personality which makes her beautiful in many conventional men's eyes. We had a red-head, a brunette with pale skin, and various Korean girls whom I didn't know. I felt like a dud, actually.
One of the Korean women (forgot her name) turned out to be the sister of my trainer at the gym, and she was a stunner. Tall, slim, and with long black hair, she OWNED the room. She was completely low-key and down to earth; I chatted with her for some time, and found that she was very likeable. She spoke English with an Australian accent, which made her all the more charming. What really stood out was that she was tanned, and looked more Italian than Korean. Her brother is also dark (Koreans are light-complected). She was definately getting some looks, but didn't appear to be too interested.
I wandered about aimlessly; no one was looking at me after all, so I felt free to look at the "pretty people" in relative silence. Suddenly, one of my coworkers came charging up the stairs and said, "You'll never guess who just walked in!"
"Who?"
"A group of women with legs up to HERE!" indicating her neck (she is shorter than I am).
With nothing better to do, I followed her down. Sure enough, a group of very tall, anorexically thin, and leggy Caucasian women stood in a group at the foot of the stairs. I observed them for awhile, and discovered they were speaking Russian. A well-groomed, well-muscled man ordered them about (in Russian), and they moved quickly and efficiently in their tight little group onto the dance floor. Eyes bulged and tongues panted out, but the ladies kept to themselves. I later learned that they were Russian models, presumably doing a shoot in Seoul.
I ran into them in the bathroom several times (side effect of the antibiotics). The
models obsessed over make-up, adjusting clothing lines, and looking snooty at the "commoners" using the stalls. I kept seeing one blonde in there - her barely present blouse kept riding up, exposing her prominent rib-cage and immaculately-waxed bikini line. She looked very hungry, and I felt a bit sorry for her. Until I ran into her alone.
On my last trip to the bathroom, I pulled out a lipstick. I discovered, to my horror, that it was REALLY the wrong shade, but, as I reasoned, the club was dark and no one would notice. Nevertheless, I went to one of the many mirrors in the trendy bathroom (think "Saturday Night Fever") and applied the pale shade as darkly as I could. I leaned over the sink, and suddenly realized that the girl was watching me. She was very tall, and towered over me in her spike heels. Not one word was exchanged, but she glared down at me with contempt. Her look confounded me, as I had not said a word to her, but it soon became apparent what the trouble was. The common little pansy was overshadowed by the brilliant and showy geranium, but dared to smile in the glow of her too-brilliant plummage. I calmly went about making my modest toilette; the queen would have to wait for her mirror (or use one of the other dozen in the room). I took my time, then left.
I left the club shortly after that; I do not belong in the world of pretty people. The girls in our group also elected to leave, and head for the college-town Hongdae club district. I made my excuses and taxied home.
Apparently, I missed the real fun. The group stayed out until 7 a.m., and a few of them spent some time in the police station. The beautiful Korean girl from Australia had apparently had one too many suitors, at least, until her burly trainer-brother showed up. The scuttlebutt is that he was VERY protective of his little sister, but also left before she did.
The lead up to the "main event" is a little hazy, as most people there were well in their cups, but at some point ANOTHER group of Russian women turned up. These ladies, it soon became apparent, were practitioners of the oldest trade in the world, and one of them did not take the unintentional competition from a pretty Korean girl well. The woman "accidentally" scratched the Korean girl on her face. Korean girl did not fight back, but calmly and collectedly asked for an apology. The woman absolutely refused, and Korean girl, after several more reasonable attempts to make peace rather than pick a fight, called the police. The "lady" called her "brother" from the police station, and when he came to pay the fine levied against her for public disturbance, absolutely berated and yelled at her. He forced the woman to apologize to the Korean girl, then carried his "sister" away, still spitting angry.
I am very glad, when it comes down to it, that I have a lawyer-friend who speaks the language; nevertheless, I hope I never find myself in that situation.
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