Yesterday at the contest, when everyone was busy practicing their lines or getting high on free energy drinks provided by cute girls in cute uniforms that matched the blue and silver cans, when 1JM was emceeing the contest and entertaining the whole block, an old man, European-looking with grey hair and beige and khaki clothes, sat down on one of the rocks near the center of the spot and watched us skate.
He must've been around seventy and his wife, who joined him after the second heat, around the same age. With their nature-coloured outfits and attention to details they would have been perfectly camouflaged in a city like Bonn. But in a place like Seoul, where old men dress like either gangsters or farmers, and old women turn into curly-haired lollipops, they stood out like a misplaced photo montage.
The longer I think about them, the more admiration I develop. I have no idea what brought the two to Korea, or why they spent their afternoon between Dongdaemun and Jongno, but I'm glad that they did. They were talking and smiling, pointing and explaining. They were having a good time, and I think that's something I'd like to aim for at that age. Good health, a lovely wife, time to travel, and a cool beige outfit.
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