Yellow Belts and Sandwiches

I thought I would precede this blog with some space set aside in a homage to Mike's sandwich making skills. I have to say, he makes a mean sandwich and as he would say, with a ponderous look on his otherwise expressionless face, 'Isn't it strange how eating one sandwich only makes you more hungry?' Fortunately, his sandwich didn't send me down the dangerous path of wanting more sandwiches (the nearest sandwich shop to here is about twenty minutes away on the subway).

A-ha! Myself, Fan, Irene, Angela and Muireann were crowned yellow belts on Saturday! It wasn't the humiliation fest that I had steeled myself for - sure there were lots of tiny little boys with red belts (who were, rather disconcertingly, kicking the crap out of each other) but we just about managed to hold our own, even for a marathon photo session at the end of the ceremony which made us feel like particularly shifty politicians. We have also been informed, through translators, that we must attend a feast of samgipsal (a barbequed meat which looks like bacon, but tastes nothing like it) with our beloved Grand Master - a man who nearly dislocated my shoulder blades with what was probably meant to be a hearty, humourous slap. He is something of a sadist - Koreans are notorious for their stretching skills, none of which I seem to have inherited - so our stretching is less than adequate for him. So, very often he will come and stretch you into the splits, stand on your legs until they give way to the pressure or force you to do several push ups...and I can't even do them the on-your-knees girly way. Consequently, our loud bursts of raucous, nervous laughter morph quickly into screams of terror.

Canada Day was stacks of fun - there were lots of attractive Canadian men (unfortunately, these were not the ones that chose to remove their shirts) and for the boys, a few bra-clad women who, as an added bonus, were also soaking wet. The band was ok, there were games, such as tug'o'war, in which I think that Manitoba were the victors ( a presumed first) and lots of other fun and frolics. Mike and I had a beer fight, not something I would ever advise, and everyone was dancing up a (dust) storm until, precisely at 6pm, the Korean rainy season started. And believe me when I say, I shall never complain about Ireland's hesitant drizzle ever again.