How slightly awkward I felt, yet mysteriously content, as I left my apartment building and jumped into a taxi cab with a bunch of taxi drivers. OF whom their names were? I hadn't a clue. To where? That was a good question not even I had the answer to. The only memo I received was to bring a bathing suit. I precariously hopped in and let the driver drive. He obviously knew where he was going. He WAS a taxi driver, after all.
An hour drive and a grocery pit stop later I was at the Hantan River. Eight Koreans who knew not a single word of English and an American girl who knew not a single word of Korean. Awkward? Most definitely. But fun nonetheless.
The monsoon.
After growing up in Texas, and traveling to the tropics of countries during rainy season, I've grown accustomed to summer showers. The kind where you walk through knee high rain mixed with street filth. Yum! Luckily, Monsoon hasn't been that insane, although I did witness a healthy hurricane. Monsoon season has been long. A little too long. It's turned from the guest of honor to that guy who just doesn't leave your house after the party is over. You know, the one that doesn't get the hint that you want to go to bed?? Well, his name is Monsoon. And the guy just won't leave!
Anyways, when storm hit, I went from wearing sunglasses to running for shelter. My group's indecisiveness of where to park their picnic gear was quick on deciding. Rather than sitting at a tent, as most of the others did, we rented a "room" with a shiny floor and your typical South Korean sliding doors on all four sides. I wanted to run and dance about in the room screaming, "my room! my room!" like a kid. I felt a comfort in that small, bare room with the warm monsoon wind blowing through and food and drinks soon to be served. I felt a sort of comfort and relaxation that rarely surges through me.
As soon as we parked ourselves, we began the bbq preparation. It was as if we each knew our parts to play in the preparation without a single word of planning. Some cleaned the lettuce and chopped the garlic. Some started the fire, some cooked the pork (10 kilos of sam gyup sal, that is!), and I helped set up the floor (or as we'd say it back in the States, the "table"). So, I finally looked out and noticed, once again, Korean beauty. The deep green mountains were misty with hovering clouds, the pouring rain dropped heavily, the kids ran around, screaming, smiling, laughing...Even mothers took in on this fun action, bringing out the youth in their faces as they ran back and forth to their tents. What a vivacious world this is...
Another point to make about this weather is...as soon as it begins, it ends. By the time the sun came out again, we were full with pork and kimchi, and red faced with beer, soju, and makkoli. 
The shallow stream was filled with families. Clear and COLD water. But oh so refreshing. Being the only foreigner in the entire river, I wanted to blend in as much as I could. Meaning, I swam with my beach dress on, my poor bikini suffocating underneath. Because here in SK, aside from Seoul, bikinis are not in fashion. Not a single Korean had their shirt off or dared to wear a two piece bathing suit. It's a bit conservative, but at the same time comfortable. People didn't come to the river to show off their curves or sexy six packs. They came to swim! And tube. And splash at each other (even grown men took pleasure in this). And skip rocks. And just...have fun.
Taxi Driver
Although I never heard from the taxi drivers again, it was definitely a memorable experience. I'd love to go back, but I'd probably have to hire a car. Or a taxi driver.
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