Keeneland Korea Cup, Part 3

[Wandering Eyes]

It’s Saturday, the eve of the Keeneland Korea Cup. Jack arrived this morning at 4 a.m.; his flight went smoothly, luckily dodging the typhoon that started blowing into Seoul just after lunchtime. Flights are being cancelled now, but the horse and jockey are here.

Harvey Wallbanger (Congrats) completed his training this morning. He has trained well, is acting well. He is eating everything I give him. But we won’t know, until the race, how he will get on with this track. I think that may be the biggest factor, for all the international horses, how they get on with the track. The track here is sand, just sand. The kickback is significant, it fans into the air when the horses kick into it. I don’t think Harvey would like having too much sand kicked into his face. He’s not that kind of horse.

It is getting exciting now, everyone is ready now. I checked into the Intercontinental hotel yesterday. It is nice, plush, big. The rooms are swanky, but I can’t make anything work. The lights are a mystery to me. I have been getting around using the torch on my iPhone.

The toilet has an array of controls and buttons next to it. I have no idea what they do. I was scared to sit on it. This thing looks like it might do something unexpected. I stared at it. Why does a toilet need a control panel? I have a history with toilets. I didn’t want a history with them, but I have one. I found the flusher, on the side, as normal. That reassured me, I sat down. The seat was warm, I stood up. I didn’t like that. Had room service just come in and used my room for their convenience? I don’t like to sit down on a warm pan. It was a heated seat. A heated pan seat! I suppose when you are staying in a hotel that charges you over 30 dollars for a sandwich, they really want to look after you.

Jack fixed the lights for me, then we headed down to the racetrack. A racetrack, at the end of the day, is a racetrack. They come in different shapes and sizes. Seoul racetrack is big, functional, not beautiful, but not ugly. It is a bit like a pretty decent airport.

Seoul itself is big, functional, not beautiful, but not ugly. What is a bit beautiful are the people. I’m not talking about their looks, although they are actually quite handsome. I mean they are composed, seem confident, they have treated us, everywhere, with almost chivalric politeness. Their bow is not subservient, it is an acknowledgement of another person. They are quietly efficient, and when you need something, or ask about something. They don’t stand there slack jawed scratching their recently heated behind. They are on it straight away.

I was stood in the rain one afternoon, waiting for the lights to change to cross the road. A man came and stood next to me, he put his umbrella over me, and he asked me where I was walking to. My hotel was only across the way, he walked with me right up to the entrance. He didn’t have to; my genes are Irish, I don’t really notice the rain. But I was touched by that. In a city of 10 million people, a local saw a foreign stranger, and offered to help him, quite unbidden. Think about that, us wall builders, us Brexiteers, us westerners.

I didn’t know what to expect when I came to the Republic of Korea. I think I found the future. The Koreans, are hardworking, polite, working together, helping even strangers. Many speak English. They are doing their thing. They drive Mercedes Benzes and Porches, and party till dawn at the weekend. They are confident. Koreans enjoy some of the best education and healthcare in the world. It is innovative, growing, progressive, and as far as I can tell, harmonious. It has the 11th largest economy in the world by nominal GDP. And is reckoned to have the seventh-largest betting turnover in the world. That turnover provided the purses for Sunday’s race. And, as usual, us westerners have come to plunder.

But at least we have been invited this time. We were invited by the Korea Racing Authority. They have flown us in style, put us up in the best hotels, and their team at the racetrack could not have been friendlier or more efficient, and fun. They are young, the people at the track who manage our quarantine barn, and they are friendly, and patient and courteous–even with Peter Walder, who, as a fellow contrarian, I can only look on and admire, as he carves his pretty unique path through life.

When I woke up in Seoul at three a.m. last Friday morning, I watched Jack riding the Thursday card at Kentucky Downs live. I was in the future.

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