Cast Off and thus Blast Off

Guitar players get callouses on their fingers, golfers along the tops of their palms, adult film stars on their knees (or so I would assume) and, regrettable, those who use crutches for nine weeks develop hardened skin in their armpits. Seven weeks ago I went to the doctor’s thinking I would be removing my cast and running marathons, when much to my chagrin, I discovered that my ankle was actually fractured.


I recently had my cast off and have begun physiotherapy; as a corollary, I have been doing my best to find things to do that are practical for a one-footed gimp and close to home. Many of the weeks have consisted of watching baseball games, playing one-foot screen golf and perhaps enough drinking to make Ulyssess S Grant look sober (according to wikipedia he was quite the alcoholic). But recently, I have been doing my best to break away from these somewhat perfunctory endeavours.


One of the noteworthy highlights during the last two months included witnessing the Olympic Torch as it made its trek across Seoul. At the time (5 weeks ago), following and tracking the torch was so in vogue, so I didn’t want to miss out on the kitschy spectacle. At this point I was still on crutches and although there was a voice inside my head saying, “crippled people would probably have a hard time escaping a riot,” there was also a voice inside my head thinking, “if anything happens to me – the innocent, lame and trampled foreigner – it would definitely make the 6:00 news and maybe even a line on the BBC website,” and as someone who’s always secretly yearning for their 15 minutes of fame that was enough of a reason to venture over to Olympic Park.


Before actually arriving at the site / sight, I was unaware of just how political this oversized candle was going to be, so I thought it would be an appropriate gesture to sport a t-shirt with a Korean flag on it. Once I arrived and saw the sea of Chinese flags and people I realized that my sign of international solidarity probably connoted that I was pro-Korean, ergo I was against China. This was not exactly the image I wanted to project among the 20,000 proud Chinese youth who call Korea home. (Many are here attending university in the city). Luckily, as a solo, vapid onlooker, I didn’t appear to be a threat as I observed from the periphery. It was a pretty peaceful day, mainly because the pro-China crowd was so vast that the Chinese would have quelled and overpowered any political groups that might have thought to protest or become bellicose. There was one, dreadlock, poncho wearing, youth there to make his case for freedom, but his flaccid, “Free Tibet” poster wasn’t much of a political statement. On this particular day, it was China and the Chinese who came out to show their love and support.



Some strangers appreciated my t-shirt.

There was one brief moment when I thought I was close to having a BM in my pants. I had decided to avoid the epicentre of activity, on account of being temporarily maimed, and had thus picked out a peaceful spot where I thought I might have been able to catch a glimpse of the torch as it began its journey away from Olympic Park. At first this seemed to be a wise move, but as the torch started moving from its starting location and down the street, a hoard of Chinese began to chase after the coveted beacon. There I was staring and standing as 20,000 Chinese people ran directly towards me. At that moment I was thinking that a soiled set of pants would really spoil those 15 minutes. “And in another news today, a young Canadian, suffered minor injuries physically and major injuries emotionally after shitting himself, as the Olympic Torch passed through the capital of South Korea.”


All in all, it was quite memorable to be there and see a vastness of red. It was exciting to hear the roars and chants of the crowd, see helicopters overhead and be a small part of something global.


At the end of the day, a peaceful calm falls upon Olympic Park.

To all those loyal readers, out there I apologize for the long delay. It was a combination of a lackadaisical couple of months and the fact that many weekends passed where I couldn’t recall much of what happened come Sunday evening. And if you’re really curious as what happened during the hiatus, it would be fair to say that a good 75 per cent of that time was spent learning about the condition and state of Chuck’s colon. Trust me, much like the past two months, you have to have been here to really enjoy it.

Smittenly,

Moose