Welcome, i cheon ship!

My first indication that something was going on was the burning smell as soon as I climbed up from the subway. Some cracks down an alley revealed the source....Roman candles, a Korean New Year's Eve staple. They were on offer from many of the street vendors, alongside the more standard fish pastries, pancakes, and dumplings. I headed toward Jonggak, home of the huge bell that is rung 33 times at the New Year. Plenty of people jostled alongside me, but just as many were going the opposite way. I took some drummers in traditional costume to be a good sign. I'd heard rumors of a parade, read the historical plaque about the bell, but the lack of any online listings or word of mouth had me wondering if this would all be a big bust. My friends, excited last week at the prospect of a parade, had lost faith and limited their evening plans to pay-at-the-door parties in the clubbing district. With better things to do with $50, and craving an authentically Seoul experience, I decided to take my chances downtown.

After a couple blocks, I saw the temple-style shelter that houses the famous bell, complete with temporary stage in front and a gathering crowd across the street. I chose a spot by a patch of shrubbery, on the theory that I'd have a few feet of unobstructed view. Time and temperature were both 10. Thinking of the hours of preparatory revelry at Times Square, I figured the show was bound to start any time.

In 3 layers head & legs, and 4 layers torso, I stayed warm for the first hour. I noticed the full moon directly overhead, the line of cameramen on the roof over yonder; read all the Korean on the various buildings; watched hundreds of policemen march in in riot gear and surgical masks--a couple dozen held hands and formed a line facing the crowd, while the rest massed in front of the stage like eager spectators. Occasionally someone would leapfrog through the shrubbery, making the gaps just a little wider each time. I marveled at how many Koreans had nothing at all on their heads, and started bouncing a little myself as the cold asserted itself.

Around 10:45, the screens above the stage came to life, and I was briefly hopeful for something to distract me from the shoving & shivering. Discerning number words amidst the stream of Korean was briefly diverting, but after seeing the same ads for a tv station on endless repeat for half an hour, it wasn't doing much to diminish my awareness of my frozen toes. The crowd circulated, everyone perpetually finding someplace they'd rather be and elbowing their way to it. People started planting themselves in holes in the shrubs, looking like poorly-disguised Munchkins. At one point, the wad of police up front suddenly moved away, and the void filled as a vacuum, leaving me on the uninsulated back end of the crowd.

At 11:15, the entertainment started. I believe it was the women's drum troupe I saw at the Seoul Drum Festival, but by now, my foliage buffer had been completely trampled, and I had to crane over shoulders to see anything. People continually forced their way through non-existent holes, tipping me this way and that. There was another drum act, some black-clad guys that made everyone scream, and a woman in nothing but a dress and silk shawl who did a heavily-accented rendition of "Memories". Through it all, a drum/pan band practiced/performed in the alley behind, creating a boisterous cacophany. By now, I was miserably cold and heartily sick of being pushed. Finally, I heard murmurs of "i bun"--"two minutes". At 11:59, the countdown began on the big screens.

No ball, no Auld Lang Syne, but at midnight, the crowd cheered while roman candles crackled from all around. I could see men striking the bell, but the other noise drowned its dull hum. Eventually it became audible as the shouting tapered off. I think it was parade time, but I was tired and frozen through, so turned for home. I thought I'd be clever and walk to the next subway stop where, I reasoned, it would be less crowded. However, where to go was not my choice to make.

The flow of people moving down the sidewalk was thick. "Wow, someone who gets nervous in crowds really wouldn't like this," I thought. It wasn't long before I was thoroughly not liking it. The scrum got so thick it stopped moving. People in the back pushed, with all the efficacy of horns in a traffic jam. The mob compressed, and my movements became involuntary. I stumbled, lurched, and twisted in whichever way I was buffered, helpless to do anything else. I could feel a forearm in my back, pushing as if there was somewhere to go. A man nearby held a cake over his head. I crossed my arms over my chest, to protect both. I looked for someplace to step aside & wait, but we were between buildings and barriers, and I had no idea where everyone was trying to go. Big shock waves kept coming from the back, making everyone list and scream. If anyone went down, there would be no mercy. We inched along, individuals powerless against the collective. A girl to my right lost her scarf; they made a couple attempts to reach down and grab it, but it was hopeless.

At last, I got within shoving distance of the steps to the underground shopping arcade, and finally had room to walk normally. Ever the clever one, I followed the signs for the station down the block, but all side passages were gated. So into the next wave I went, aiming with thousands of others for the 3 working gates into the Metro. The merciless pressure began again, and you got one chance to swipe your transit card and make the turnstiles move, or the crowd would slice you in half across them. People vaulted over or forced the bars; when I got up there, a girl was standing & swiping her card again and again, so I didn't even have to use mine. I went down to the platform and mentally urged the train to come quickly--I was only 5th in line, but it would take some blocking skills to get on regardless. Once the train arrived, I moved to the middle of the car, where I stood with room to do calisthenics, while most everyone else huddled around the door, leaving dozens of people stuck outside. I wondered how it would be at the next stop, but remarkably, most of the passengers got off there and it was an uneventful ride home.

Happy New Year!