A story of my first typhoon

After witnessing my first typhoon I think I can say with certainty that it is definitely something that seems much more significant in real life than through a screen of a TV or the page of a book. We see images of nature’s fury and the aftermath of her atmospheric induced rage but so often do we give it only a mere passing thought. Sometimes slightly more but nothing that ever affects us, makes us reconsider things or gain a new respect for nature’s tendency to flip the fuck out and rage until there’s nothing left. We experience none of these things until they happen to us, until the “that’s never going to happen to me” happens.

To be perfectly fair this is not the first typhoon I had experienced in Korea. Only a few weeks before had I bared witness to a passing typhoon in my small town of Gimcheon. The brunt of the storm was much further along the coast. My town only witnessed a few prolonged rain showers and the inconvenience of having to pull out an umbrella when stepping outdoors.

The second one to hit was a big one. While we were spared the harsh wind and ocean waves crashing down on us, we were hit with a flurry of rain and water for nearly two straight days. Heavy rain is nothing new in Korea but its after effects were where the major concern came in and almost were the cause of my home becoming much wetter than I would have preferred.

It was still raining hard once I made my way to school. It was still early and getting there and back was not an issue when you had the modern ease of public transportation. As the morning went on, the rain continued to fall harder. I offhandly asked one of the students if they would be going home early. He replied no, stating that the school rarely, if ever let the students go home.

About an hour until the afternoon bell, I noticed students screaming and running outside the teacher’s room. Curious as to why the students were making more noise than usual I peaked outside and like Ebenezer Scrooge asking a young boy what day it is, my students enthusiastically replied back to me that it was announced that the students could go home early.

It was then that I knew that something was amiss in the world of my school. Not only did my principal never allow students to leave early, but today was a testing day as well. It would have to be a pretty serious reason to let them leave so soon. To the students, they felt that they had just won a war against authority. I felt ever more suspicious that the typhoon was going to be a little bigger than a few raindrops.

Even if students are allowed to leave early or are excused from coming to school, teachers still have to come in and sit in the office. The reasons as to why are beyond me, but as the last students left I took my place at my desk and began to work on my computer, listening to music, draining out the world and the rain around me.

The day went on for another hour, my coffee drained itself from my cup and as I finally removed the noise blockers to the outside world I, I noticed that groups of teachers were running around and nervously talking to one another. A few were on their phone and others were glued to their computer screens, staring at the latest weather reports.

As the room became more chaotic, one of my co teachers came in from outside, looking as if the weather had not only rained on him but engaged in a fist fight as well. His dress shirt was soaked, with his tie glued to his chest from heavy rainfall. His pants legs were pulled up to his calves and the back of his feet were bloody and scratched.

“Kyle, we need to go home now. We cannot stay here anymore,” he told me in a rushed tone as he began to run around the room alerting the remaining teachers there.

Volunteer workers frantically working to block the incoming flood water. 

I looked outside my window and saw that the rain had picked up the pace significantly, Not only was the rain falling down at a furious rate, but the school was beginning to attract rainwater as the hallways and steps began to disappear from sight.

A group of teachers that lived near my area were preparing to walk home together. The bridge we usually crossed was too dangerous to drive over by car. I questioned the logic of a car being unsafe but walking being acceptable but quickly put it aside as the teachers packed their bags, rolled up their pants and took off their shoes. We were heading out into the typhoon and we were going to go home.

Walking out of the school was sense shocking experience as the rain pelted us from above, its wet drops feeling more like tiny pellets rather than the gentle rainfall that people liked to romanticize. The normally bare streets overflowed with water pouring out of the sewer drains and down from the hill. The simple act of walking was not more challenging due to the fast running water.

Teachers stayed in a group as we passed out tunnel entrance to the school. Where there once was a dip in the road now stood a pool of water that was rapidly becoming fuller. No car would ever have a chance of making it through. The school was now effectively cut off from the rest of the world. A wish that students often made about the school, but never intended they would actually see.

The sewers began overflowing, bringing in even more water. 

As we walked down the street, we saw people standing in doorways and cars pulling over to the side of road. As fast and as thick as the water fell, it was becoming too difficult to see a few feet in front of you, let alone ahead of the road. My teachers continued to walk on, the wind was picking up and the was now blowing directly on us, slowly trying to push us back to the school, trying with all of its will to prevent us from heading back to our dry homes. This had just become a man vs. nature situation. I was wet, tired and not wanting to turn back. It was too late and I was too far. I was going home.

After walking along the soaked streets I saw a line of cars slowly turning around in the middle of the road and people walking from both sides. We had reached the bridge over the river, one of the few ways to get back to the other parts of Gimcehon.

Police stood on the bridge directing traffic and guiding people across. As we came closer, he suddenly motioned to us and began frantically shouting at us to hurry. I began to run across the bridge with some teachers in front and behind. Like a horror movie, I didn’t have time to make sure everyone was across and only a few occasionally head peaks back confirmed that the other teachers were keeping pace and not lost to the raging river below.

The river below us was usually a river in name only. Barely a trickle of water was usually seen below and the entire expanse could easily be walked across with no effort.

Today was different as the waters raged below us and splashed up onto the bridge. Once we made it to the other side I was finally able to take a good look at the river below and see for myself its transformation from David-esque stream to a now Goliath sized monstrosity of flowing water.

The rapidly rising water. Notice the height of the sign. 

The water was rushing so fast overflowing so rabidly that the road below was overtaken by it and was shut down completely. The bridge we were on was usually a 4.5 M deep tunnel. The tunnel was now no longer visible, only the remnants of a streetsign and the occasional tree branch floated by.

I walked back to my apartment, dropped off my wet belongings and immediately headed back outside to witness the damage of the river. I only had to walk a few feet to see a disaster movie scene in front of me.

Sewers in the middle of the street shot forth water like a dirty water fountain. Stores alongside the road had their owners desperately try to ward off the invading water with makeshift sand bags and brooms. People wandered in the street some volunteering to stack sandbags and keep the flowing water away from more buildings for a few minutes longer. Men in ponchos barked orders as young men shoveled sand into bags. Off in the distance the sounds of sirens sounded in the air as people close to the bridge began to quickly move away. The water continued to rise and the mighty raging river was touching the bottom of the train tracks. It was becoming distressingly obvious that only a few more feet of rain would end up completely coming over the bridge and flooding the buildings below. My home and many others were only a few feet from water oblivion.

I stood watching for a few more minutes, morbidly curios at the impending doom that so many were desperately trying to hold back. The emotions running through me bordered on excitement, being so close to danger and damage and yet dreading what the river could bring in only a few more minutes of rainfall. While it was a far cry from true danger, the feeling itself was exhilarating. I felt like all my senses were at their maximum potential, that at any minute, I could jump into the river and swim my way to safety. These were crazy thoughts of someone intoxicated by the chaos happening around him and the frightening realization of their actions.

I left the riverside and went back to my home. As I went inside I noticed that the rain was beginning to die down and the distinctive splats on my windows were beginning to become quieter.

I spent the rest of my night inside, glued to a TV with a bowl of ramen in hand. Not knowing nor no longer caring about what was happening outside.

When I awoke the next morning I was greeted to the familiar sounds of birds and people talking. As I turned over, I noticed that the sun was shining through and the clouds were back to their cotton white look.

The storm had passed. A new day was here.