We still did manual drawings in uni, no computer, all hand
drawn on humongous papers. I didn't have a drawing table, but fortunately, I
could use the communal ones on my campus, which also meant I spent days and
nights there preparing my final presentation each semester with a bunch of other
classmates who also didn't have drawing tables or those who preferred
companions during those sleepless nights. The schedule got crazier the closer
we were to graduation.
It was miserable yet memorable; we haunted the campus when
everyone was sleeping. A musical-talented classmate brought a drum set, and
every time he was on the brink of the lullaby, he would start playing it like a
zombie, hands moving, head shaking dramatically, eyes closed. Mumbling sounds
of cassette tapes in terrible conditions were heard from one corner, playing
the same songs over and over again. I remember trying to pry my eyes open to
the tune of I Will Survive by Cake. Some fell asleep on common tables (because
it would be a disaster to sleep on the drawing and ruin it!), some on
uncomfortable benches, and some on the floor. They covered it with drawing
paper; desperate times called for desperate measures. In the morning, freshly
arrived rich classmates with their fancy private tables at home, junior
students, and lecturers could catch us with pillow hairs and puffy faces in our
pajamas. Some 'residents' would drag their feet to the bathroom, holding a
small bucket filled with toiletries and towel draped over their shoulders. I
was lucky to stay in a nearby hostel, so I didn't have to rely on university's
facilities.
My hostel consisted of students from different faculties and
majors; I had no one from the same major except one good friend. It was quite
rare for others to have long study nights. Still, they were well aware of our
'hellish' time of the year since they would see us with panda eyes, carrying
rolls of papers or a bag full of stationery, dragging our feet and limping to
one side because we sat too long, and mumbling, "Brainnnnnsssss..."
There were two Korean students (rarity!) in my hostel at that time, Kim and
Lee, who were in the uni studying our language. We had developed friendships
with them since my friend and I usually hung around the common area to do
homework together (other subjects, yes, our major was hellish!). Sometimes,
they asked us to help with their assignments, but most times, they just wanted
to converse to familiarize themselves with the language.
Back to miserable nights on campus, while the sleepiest time
was usually around 2 am, the hours leading to midnight were the time when the
stomach started to rebel and demand sacrifice. Food from street vendors outside
was the best for the odd timing. However, we didn't always have time or the
budget to go out, especially for prolonged periods of late nights. Most times,
we had to settle with 'almost there' instant noodles cooked with 'almost hot'
water from our 'almost proper' budget kettles. Those kettles were very
questionable because I was electrocuted once, but that is a story for another
day.
One night, April 14, 1999 (if I remember correctly), Kim and
Lee showed up at our studio. I didn't even know how they navigated the area
since there were six other majors/main clusters in our faculty, but at least
they knew where our faculty was. And with them, luxurious Korean noodles with
some other delicious Korean snacks. Everything was a luxury compared to limp
noodles. They brought enough for them and us, so with the envy of other
zombies, we feasted, and they regaled us with a tale.
I don't know if this story is culturally accurate, but at
least this was what they told us. Also, a disclaimer: we communicated in broken
languages from both sides.
In Korea, females give chocolate to males on Valentine's
Day. However, it doesn't stop there; the males then return the favor with white
chocolate on March 14. I believe that is why it's called White Day. Then, on
April 14, which is regarded as Black Day, for anyone who doesn't get anything,
it is an 'obligation' to eat this specific Korean noodle, thick with generous
black gravy, and I won't attempt to spell the name. It was a mess, and only
after we had eaten the noodle, they told us the story. I was unsure if eating
the noodles was some kind of F you or punishment, but it was done in good
humor; at least, that was the impression I got from Kim and Lee. They happily
told us they didn't want to suffer alone since it was supposed to be fun
humiliation. All of us shared big laughs with our charming blackened teeth.
April 14 is an anti-Valentine Day, so if February 14 or
March 14 are not your days, this is the Black Day granted to you.
Enjoy the delicious Korean black noodles while drowning in
your tears or indulging in your freedom!
Note: In my university, there were many faculties with their
specific study, like economics, engineering, social politics, etc. Each faculty
had its own area, and some, like mine, had various majors under its umbrella,
and each major had its own cluster of buildings and public space. It was a huge
university and almost always deserted at night except for some occasional
stupid student meetings; it was pretty dark with many haunted tales and an
actual murder during my time, but those are stories for another day. Ha! There
was a small 'village' near my faculty that accommodated hostels and
small-budget diners for students who stayed away from home. Many of them
operated until midnight.
