St Patrick’s Day is the perfect time for Irish ex-pats to set things straight about our homeland, says Andrew Farrell I was prepared for the general reaction when I turned up a month ago at the kindergarten where I taught for a year in South Korea, dressed in the same outfit I’d worn for Hallowe’en in 2009. As the head teacher went about introducing each of the 13 foreign teachers to the students, her job was made easier by the costumes they wore. A witch, a ghost, Harry Potter, and even some basketball players. Eventually she got to me.
“And… what are you supposed to be? Lord of the Rings?”
Nope. I was dressed up as a leprechaun. It was St Patrick’s Day, after all.
Travelling the world you soon begin to realise what a small and rather unknown island Ireland really is, unless you’re conferring with native English speakers. In truth, there is no reason why the local teachers at my school should know anything about St Patrick’s Day, given the limited connection between our two countries.
I once had to do a phone interview at 7am Irish time because the head teacher thought Ireland was a city in Australia. Another job interviewer queried with me if I was on Indian Standard Time. And when that volcano halted flights in and out of Europe for close to a month last year, I was asked if my family in Iceland had been affected.
So St Patrick’s Day, for ex-pats, becomes a time when you can set things straight with the non-English-speaking world. If that means dressing up as a leprechaun and pretending to know how to céilí, then so be it.
What transpired on Paddy’s Day this year was an afternoon of unbelievable chaos. The sight of the foreign teacher dressed head-to-toe in bright yellow, green and red clothes, with accompanying beard and huge hat, was enough to turn normally diligent pupils into monsters!
Two days later, the Seoul suburb of Insadong hosted Korea’s St. Patrick’s Day festival. Insadong is a very traditional Korean neighbourhood, a different planet from the crazed atmosphere of Itaewon. Cramped pedestrian streets with interesting markets and a famous teahouse are hidden among the attractions of the varied architecture. But on this day, Saturday 19 March, this quintessential Korean village would be the location for a few thousand revellers.
It was clear upon arrival in the area that this was going to be a very strange afternoon. People of all ethnic backgrounds, from Korea to Kilkenny via Kenya, were draped out in green, holding emerald balloons and enjoying the festivities on offer. There was no parade, just enormous banners connecting to a large stage filling the air with music.
No surprise there was a Riverdance performance by some Korean students. The U2 tribute band that came after was a man short – and as oriental as a Jackie Chan movie – but they were good, in all fairness.
Beneath the enormous Irish flag, which waved gently in the beautiful spring sunshine, large American men roamed the festival looking for actual Irish people to embrace and share stories of their childhood. But it became a bit too much when a drunken man from Boston, accompanied by two pitchers of beer, told a large gathering his name was St Patrick. Naturally, the response was a sceptical one until he flashed his registration card that grants permission to work in South Korea. His name, unbelievably, was St Patrick O’Neal.
At that point it was time to call it a night. Suddenly, Itaewon loomed like a star in the night sky as I headed home to await the results of Ireland’s rugby clash with England, running their grand slam party. A happy St Patrick’s Festival indeed!
Andrew Farrell worked as an English language teacher in Korea.
