An Uneventful Day at the Beach

Haeundae Beach, Busan 07.17.07

I roamed the beach looking for a place to change into my swim trunks. I had nearly given up hope, when I at last found a public restroom ten minutes down. Inside a dozen barefooted men stood around, some hovering butt naked over urinals, trying to keep their slacks dry while changing into swimming attire. I looked down at my barefeet and then at the murky floor within. I hesitated for a moment and then entered. A little unsanitation wasn’t going to keep me out of the water. I went to the corner and dropped my drawers.

A remarkable number of kids in the water were fully clothed. Like they just got out of school and jumped straight in. A remarkable number of remarkably trim men wore speedos. And a remarkable number of bikini clad women were beautiful. A remarkable number of huge body builders danced around the beach like teenage girls, rubbing each other with sun lotion, splashing each other with sea water, tiptoeing through the waves, and generally existing in a world totally removed from the thousand other beach goers.

We had a day off of work. A Tuesday. They like to give days off in the middle of the week, to foster hope in the working masses, without actually providing an opportunity to escape. But seeing as staying in Daegu has begun to feel like a slow suicide, David and I decided to take our chances. We defied the rainy forecast and hopped a train for the notoriously crowded beaches of Busan. You would never have guessed our destination from our baggage though. Among the things we did not bring to the beach were: sunglasses, towels, sandals, sun lotion, or swim trunks (David). We arrived with pretty much nothing but the clothes on our backs. But man it could not have been better. The weather was nice, the beach was nice. We rented some tubes and rode the waves. Sleeping to the gently rise and fall of the tide, lulled by the ambient ocean soundscape. And pummeled, when the waves rose high enough to capsize the tube, to the ocean floor, body pressed down and tossed about. Helpless in the powerful tow. The ocean makes you feel so small and weak. It’s all I could do to hold my shorts on.

We returned by train that night. Burned, exhausted, and perfectly satisfied. Regretting only that we could not remain another day, but had to return immediately to the endless screams and claws of the mob of hagwon children.