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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
