Vomiting raw shrimp at 60mph

This past weekend I had the opportunity to participate in a documentary about foreigners experiencing traditional Korean culture. Six others and myself were hauled down to a small farming village in the middle of nowhere, and filmed doing a bunch of stuff most Koreans don't bother with anymore.

This including wearing big, baggy pants, labouring out in the fields, as well as mixing, kneading, and pounding the most Korean of all treats, the rice cake. Goofing around with the show's hosts and the army of old ladies who occupy the village is a blog posting in of itself, but I'm going to focus on the evening's activities.

At the end of a long day, we threw our stuff into hotel rooms and headed down to the lobby in anticipation of some serious drinking. Alarmingly, not even one member of the female contingent had decided to join in. Those of us from Western civilization tried our best to explain the importance of returning upstairs and convincing the girls they needed to come. The Koreans, however, insisted that a men's night would be better.

So we set off, a pack of close to 15 men in a state of advanced prowl, descending on the quiet streets of the provincial city. We started off in a soju room, where the first thing brought to our table was a basket full of shrimp that were neither cooked nor dead. Pandering shamelessly to the Koreans, I plucked one of the squirming mass from the basket, ripped of it's head as instructed, and sucked back my first ever live meal. I spent the next several hours doing the same, all the while consuming irresponsible amounts of soju, the boisterous yells of encouragement from the Koreans doing little to moderate the situation.

At some point - we were later told it was the point that the place ran out of booze - we moved to an adjacent business club. One of the cameramen informed me that the girls should be here any minute. I was a touch confused until six local girls, who were heavy on makeup and skimpy on clothing, paraded into the room.

It explains why the Koreans were so indifferent earlier about the other girls coming along. There's not much point in bothering to try and charm real women, when you can just get on the phone and order half a dozen who are more than up for it. The fact they were being paid to be there probably did have something to do with that. I hesitate to use the word innocent, but in the end, nothing untowards happened.

The next morning my stomach was a raging tempest. My head felt as if we'd been pounding it, instead of the rice cake, all afternoon. At breakfast the Koreans insisted that I eat the bean soup we had in front of us. I tried to warn them about my then present condition.

"You must eat, after drinking, good for body. I know the health," insisted the same cameraman who had been pouring cup and after cup of soju in front of me all night.

Since I had to be in Seoul to work that night, I was given a ride to the nearest major town in one of the company vans. We lurched back and forth on a road that was doing far too much winding for my liking. I really did feel like I was going to make it, when my stomach suddenly flipped once too many. In one of my proudest moments yet as a 26-year old, I pressure-sprayed the entire contents of my breakfast across the backseat.

The old man at the wheel started bellowing loudly in Korean for me to open the window. Which of course made much more sense than actually pulling to a stop on the side of the road. I felt a blast of cold air as I stuck my head outside, and moved on to last night's shrimp, which were certainly dead this time around, as they streamed through the air behind the van at 60mph. After finishing, I slumped back in the seat and wiped my eyes with my coat. I felt defeated but better. The old man up front glared at me through the mirror. And though I can't quite put my finger on why, a strange tension descended over the rest of the trip to the bus station.

I made it back to Seoul without further incident, at work on time, and with a few funny stories to boot. Binge-drinking, hostess girls and lack of work visas all taken into consideration, I decided against identifying the broadcaster or individual members of our expedition. But just to be safe, if, within the next two weeks, you see on Korean TV a short documentary about white people acting silly out in the country, it's definitely not me.