Guest Post: How Travel Bloggers Talk About Sex

This one comes from Will over at Gap Daemon and My Spanish Adventure. Perhaps noticing a recent trend towards the ribald on the pages of Aussie on the Road, he’s put together a post about something near and dear to my heart.

I’ll be putting together a piece on teaching in South Korea for Gap Daemon real soon, so keep your eyes peeled for that one.

 

 

How Travel Bloggers Talk About Sex

Travel and sex go together like fish and chips. Both can be warm, salty and, at times, just that little bit crusty. Yet that still doesn’t stop us from indulging.

As travel bloggers roving around the world and dipping “in and out” of hostels, hotels and the like, the opportunity for a bit of slap and tickle is, unsurprisingly, rife.

But just how do we talk about travel sex on our blogs?

Judging from some of the top travel sites out there it’s a lot like the act itself. The writing? It all comes from a variety of positions!

 

The Downright Dirty

If you want your travel sex raw and dangerous look no further than Colin Post of Expat Chronicles. This American expat blogger living in Colombia delights in a no-holds-barred gonzo style of travel writing that is well worth spending a few hours reading. Especially for passages like this:

“They left. I fucked the girlfriend’s friend. She wouldn’t take her shirt off so I came on it. In the morning she woke me up for more. I did it again, cumming on her shirt again too.” Read in full.

And that’s just one instance. Crawl through Colin’s archives and you’ll unearth plenty of juicy tales about his debauched times in the brothels of Bogota and Cali cathouses.

This approach to talking about the two-backed beast? It’s certainly posed Colin a few problems. He’s twice been interrogated by the Colombian equivalent of the FBI according to Paula Delgado-Kling of Talking About Colombia.

Colin’s intention to: “only write to illustrate a normal night out in Bogota”? Not pleasing to everyone it would seem!

 

The Appreciative

Deviating away from that end of the spectrum are the more appreciative of travel bloggers out there. Those open to travel sex even when they aren’t the ones getting any.

Adventurous Kate’s writing is full of saucy examples like these. She’s one blogger that’s certainly not scared of playing out some good sex stories in her posts. Her experience at a Bangkok sex show just one good example.

Isn’t that what many a college girl has said upon diving headfirst into labia for a night?” Read in full.

Kate’s definitely hit on a niche here. The lack of labia talk on most travel blogs is criminal if you ask me.

 

The Honest

Taking an honest approach to sex is always going to land you in hot water. But it makes for refreshing reading on any travel blog nonetheless.

Take Jeff, from Vagabond Kids, as an example. Travelling with a full blown family isn’t going to stop him from getting the horn.

“I must confess from the moment the hotel room door closes I start thinking about sex every 2 seconds, add in a few cans of the cheap expired beer from the mini-bar and I feel like a king in my palace and start to lounge in just my underwear.  Yes, I admit, I am a true travelling pig.” Read in full.

Now there’s an image! Jeff and Kristy breaking each other in like bloodthirsty boars.

 

The Educational

For the most part however, it appears that the vast majority of travel blogs are reserved for a more delicate approach to travel sex talk. That of the educational.

Runaway Jane, on a more prudish note, spoils all our fun when she goes down the rather old route of lambasting rutting hostel couples.

 

“Find somewhere in the common rooms, bathrooms, washing rooms, garden, beach, pool, or anywhere really except from the dorm!” Read in full.

She makes up for it rather nicely however with her post on the girl who “shat in the hostel common room”. A bit of scataphobia always goes down a treat in with the travel blogging world now and again!

 

The Infographic

Stepping out from the tired old educational approach to travel sex is Michael in Korea, who with his ace cartoon blog Say Sex Louder delivers some pretty pertinent information on doing the dirty.

“Why do girls always get the wet spot? Thanks!
Why
wouldn’t girls get the wet spot? You discharge 700% more fluids than he does during sex, and it’s your duty to deal with the mess. It’s called assuming the proper gender role”. Read in full.

 

Check out his About page for a good laugh. Who’d of thought a drawing of an innocent banana could be so immoral!

 

The Accidental

Then there are the bloggers who stumble into travel sex writing largely by accident. Take Johnny from One Step 4Ward. He got more than he bargained for in Bangladesh having gone out on the pop late one night. The heavies even came around to threaten him while he slept in his hostel room.

You’re having sex with a prostitute, it’s illegal. Why you do this in my hotel?!”

“What are you talking about? We shared a coffee left” Read in full.

Ah the old “I shared a coffee” excuse eh? I’ll have to remember that one myself.

 

The Suggestive

Turning our attentions back to the female travel blogging crowd it seems they too like to get a little suggestive with their tales of sun, sea and, erm, that other thing.

Nellie Huang, of Wild Junket, gives a lot away as a sex-on-the-beach aficionado, regaling us with some suggestively sexy details:

“Sex on the beach is definitely a sensual experience for a couple, who can’t get enough of each other! There’s no place more romantic and saucy than out in the open, with the lapping sound of the waves and sea breeze blowing. For the less initiated bunch, it’s time to get out there and get your body grinding on the sand!” Read in full

As does Lindsay AKA The Hogga, who gives us a little tiny glimpse into her nymphomaniacal world over on The Traveller World Guide.

“Since we have nothing better to do with our time when travelling, we spend almost every moment with someone we like. We hump, share some spiritual or emotional moments, then eventually part ways”. Read in full.

And we thought butter wouldn’t melt!

 

The Married

And last but not least let’s also remember, as Erica from OverYonder Lust reminds us, “married people have sex too”. In fact they’re some of the kinkiest in town.

So no matter how you like your travel sex, whether it’s wet, slippy or sandy, the travel blog communities got you covered. Dread to think what some of the writers have got covered in though…

——————

Will Peach is one of the site editors over at Gap Daemon, the community website for backpackers and gap year travellers looking for help finding work abroad.

Whale Watching on Moreton Island

Whale Watching and Other Aussie Pastimes

 

The migration of the humpback whale is something of a tourist mecca here in Australia. As the beautiful creatures make their way south from the Great Barrier Reef towards the cool waters of the Antarctic, tourists and locals alike crowd beaches and board boats to catch a glimpse of the massive mammals and their newly born calves.

It is, up until very recently, an Australian pastime I’ve somehow managed to avoid. Like a weekend in Melbourne or the spectacle that is a game of Aussie Rules played in front of a packed house – there are still more than a few typically Aussie experiences that I need to check off.

Recently I was chilling out at beautiful Tangalooma Wild Dolphin Resort on Moreton Island and the opportunity presented itself to take part in one of the last whale watching tours of the season. With summer approaching and the majority of humpbacks already enjoying the cold waters in the south, only the stragglers remained off the coast.

Courtesy of my boy Ben’s employment on the island I got to take part in the tour for half price, but even the full price of $110 for a tour from the mainland and a day on the island isn’t a bad deal. If you’re staying on the resort for a longer amount of time, the tour runs a bit cheaper again.

Me? I was much happier to pay thirty something dollars and put the rest aside for a carton of Strongbow later in the week.

I’m a man with priorities.

 

All Aboard!

 

After being blessed with hot and sunny days for my first few days on the island, the day of my whale watching experience dawned overcast and windy.

It was still far from cold though, and I’ve been Aussie long enough to know that you still lather on the sunscreen on the overcast days. Living underneath the hole in the ozone layer breeds a certain level of caution whenever you’re outdoors.

Despite it being the second to last whale watch of the season, there were surprisingly few people on-board as we pulled away from Tangalooma’s dock and chugged our way out around the sandbar and into the increasingly choppy seas.

A cool wind whipped in at us and threatened to snatch up unsecured hats, but Ben wore his signature straw hat with sheer arrogance. As if he were daring the wind to take a run at him.

The hat stayed on his head for the entire trip.

The view along the coast of Moreton Island was almost worth the trip on its own. The towering dunes and windswept beaches provided more than a few photo opportunities as we patiently waited for our first glimpse of the main attraction.

Tourists prepared their cameras as we pulled away from the resort.
One of two lighthouses on Moreton Island rising above the dunes
An expanse of forest along the coast in dire need of exploring.

 

Stormy skies over the Tangalooma Wrecks
Yes, the dunes really are that big.

Our complimentary lunch included cheese & crackers and a remarkably good chicken salad wrap, and we happily munched on ours over a shared can of beer as we moved farther away from the island and into the deeper waters where we would hopefully spot some playful whales.

Tangalooma boasts an astounding 80% success rate when it comes to spotting whales out on the water.

I felt quietly confident…

And sure enough, we caught our first tell-tale spray only half an hour into the trip.

Our first glimpse of a humpback whale

Like the smoke before the fire or the thunder before a storm, that first spray of water prologued what would be a solid hour of near constant whale activity around the boat. Whether they were lazily pushing to the surface to take in air, calves pausing to feed, or more athletic displays of whalish excellence – we were barely left alone for the remainder of the trip.

At one point a particularly inquisitive calf came so close to the boat that we could have jumped out and touched it. Its mother passed under the boat seconds later and set the captain off on an excited rant. Clearly not an everyday occurence.

We saw tail slaps, breaches, and spy hops and I loved it.

A spectacular breach. I captured this entirely by chance.
A second breach captured from slightly farther away. It's a baby!
A humpback slaps the water before disappearing into the depths
Surfacing to grab a little air
A humpback arches it back before diving deep

 

Worth It

 

I didn’t expect to be as impressed or as moved as I was by the display. Like so many things I’ve done in the past, there was initial reluctance on my part that gave way to appreciation. But being out there and seeing it all first hand made me grateful for the earlier than usual wake-up and made any short term tiredness feel entirely worth it.

How lucky we are to live in a world with such amazing natural beauty so readily available.

And how foolish we are for nearly robbing ourselves and our children of the opportunity to see them in the wild.

It may interest you to know that, prior to being a wild dolphin resort and whale watching location, Tangalooma was one of the most industrious whaling stations in the southern hemisphere.

Talk about your 180 degree turns, eh?

The entire experience was a refreshing change of pace from days spent alternately lying on the beach or perched at the bar. It was a nice dose of real travel experience amidst a sea of relaxation.

Whale watching is common across Australia between May and November, and if you’re in the area, Moreton Island’s tours are a good investment. The marine biologists onboard make sure you know exactly what is happening out in the water and the waters hold an abundance of whales that ensure you’ll get a few spectacular shots along the way.

 

 

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  • A Night at the NBL with the Sydney Kings

    Reforming Perceptions of Basketball

     

    Australia’s National Basketball League (NBL) does not get a great deal of play in Australia’s crowded sporting scene. With the rugby codes and AFL dominating the winter months and cricket and football (soccer) sharing centre stage through the summer, basketball is sometimes lost in the shuffle.

    It’s a sport that gets mentioned in the same breath as other ‘pseudo sports’ such as baseball and ice hockey. A sport that Australians play but, since they’re not necessarily world class at, don’t deem worthy of mainstream attention.

    While the league enjoyed its halcyon days during the nineties with record levels of popularity and participation, the league has experienced a sharp downturn over the past ten years that has seen it reduced from fielding teams all over the country in front of packed arenas to its current reduced state of nine teams doing battle in half full entertainment centers.

    In the past I’ve been guilty of taking the mainstream route and scoffing at basketball.

    “It’s an American sport. It’s crap”

    “It’s not a real sport. There’s no contact”

    But, truth be told, my reasons for dismissing basketball are entirely more personal. I’m a guy who loves his sport, and a big part of that has been a modest level of aptitude in any sport I turned my mind too. I’ll never be Cristiano Ronaldo, Ricky Ponting, or Darren Lockyer – but I can kick around a soccer ball, hit a respectable four, and throw a semi decent pass in a muck around game of any of those sports.

    But put the orange ball in my hand and I struggle to look human. I dribble like a nine year old girl, shoot with the accuracy of a sniper with Parkinson’s, and my defensive approach seems to be ‘foul the other guy until he’s in a coma’.

    To put it bluntly – I don’t got game.

    Rather than admit this personal defeat, it seemed easier to rubbish the game as irrelevant. Sure, I can’t play it, but who cares?

    No really, who cares?

    This is Australia! A country of manly men doing manly things. The land of rucks and mauls, spear tackles, melees, and… well… cricket isn’t very manly.

    They still stop for tea breaks, for God’s sake.

     

    An Invitation

     

    Sydney Kings
    The Kings posing at the office with my boss. Photo by Ross Lane.

    One of the perks of working for iiNet is that, as the league’s main sponsor, we get a little special treatment when it comes to the National Basketball League. My immediate superior is Sydney’s NBL ambassador and even had a few of the Sydney Kings‘ more notable players come through the centre a few weeks ago to meet some of the staff and sign a few autographs.

    It was like a preview for Skyrim. Giants towering over us while we tried to resolve billing inquiries.

    I might not have known who the guys were at the time, but my autographed Sydney Kings poster still went up on my wall when I got home later that day.

    Last night rolled around with my boss directing me to his recent blog about the Sydney Kings and the invitation to tag along to a game sometime. ‘Sometime’ ended up being later that day as the Kings played host to the Cairns Taipans at the Sydney Entertainment Centre.

    I figured seeing some live sport with co-workers was a little more blog-worthy of slaying a few dragons in Skyrim

     

    Game Day

     

    My immediate thought upon arriving at the Sydney Entertainment Centre was one of surprise. There were more people lining up for Thursday night basketball than I’d have imagined.

    My preconceptions of the NBL had me picturing crowds of several dozen, but here were just under 5,000 people turning out on a drizzly Thursday evening to see their team turn out. I passed merchandise stands selling real merchandise, children excitedly chattering about players they liked, and the kind of smoking hot cheerleaders who put rugby league’s listless tarts to shame.

    The arena, decked out for Sydney’s legends inductions, slowly began to fill as people filed in with hot dogs and mini pizzas and sausage rolls mingling to make my poor empty stomach tighten in frustration.

    Only six more hours until pay day…

    The evening started with the inductions and, if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t recognize a single name until former San Antonio and Minnesota three point specialist, Shane Heal was called.

    He would later play in a half time exhibition game and hit three pointers from almost everywhere. I don’t think I was alone in wishing he could have kitted up at halftime to help out the home team.

    I might have lied to my co-workers and nodded knowingly at other names but truth be told, my knowledge of Australian basketball extends only as far as Heal, Bogut, and Gaze. Anybody else might as well just be a tall man in a singlet.

    That would change by night’s end.

     

    Game On

     

    Photo courtesy of Sydney Morning Herald.

    With the formalities done it was time for the tip off.
    Far from the forced enthusiasm I hear from ground announcers at various codes across Australia, the Kings’ announcer’s passion for the team (or maybe for remaining employed) was obvious from the start. The crowd ate out of the palm of his hand every time he lead the chant for De-fence or began a round of Let’s Go Sydney.

    The music, upbeat and blood charging, carried far better in the confines of the entertainment center than they do on the open air rugby league grounds.

    The Kings’ mascot, a lion, prowled the sideline interacting with fans much like his counterpart might have in other codes – but in this smaller environment, I didn’t feel so far removed from the affair.

    Time outs called prompted performances from the Royalty Crew break dancers or the aforementioned hotness of the Harlequins Superchargers, and breaks were greeted with everything from free throw competitions to bowling to the very popular Kiss Cam.

    In a lot of ways, basketball can be far more engaging for the crowd than any other sport. Without the logistics of engaging a 20,000+ crowd in a vast colliseum, the NBL is able to make the entire affair feel inclusive.

    You weren’t watching the spectacle, you were a part of it.

    The game itself? I’m not really qualified to judge.

    I can’t imagine that it even begins to approach the quality of America’s NBA. The game seemed to lack the personality and the ego that seems so prominent in its American counterpart. By night’s end I might have been shouting ‘Unleash the Beast’ to Aaron Bruce or cheering for ‘The Quickness’ Luke Cooper, but the big personalities and slam dunking that you see in the NBA weren’t really there.

    Did that bother me? Not at all.

    I don’t get to see LeBron James every week, so to compare would be pointless. There were some missed shots and some dire defending at times, but I still got a thrill out of seeing Ben Madgen sink a three pointer, Jerai Grant fly high for a dunk, or big Julian Khazzouh pluck up a rebound and move it quickly down the court to start another attacking movement.

    The thrill of live sport is a universal thing, I feel, and by night’s end I found myself hanging on the near misses and swearing in frustration whenever a chance was squandered.

     

    Sydney’s Newest Fan

     

    The Kings might not have won (hell, they were hammered by the second last placed Taipans), but that was only a mild annoyance at the end of a night that turned out to be far more fun than I’d have imagined.

    I doubt it will ever unseat the A-League or NRL as the sport for me, and I’m still God awful at it, but I think there’s room in my busy schedule of Skyrim, blogging, and work to fit in a few more Kings games before the season is out.

     

    The Sydney Kings play out of the Sydney Entertainment Centre on Darling Harbour. It’s a short walk from the CBD.

    Tickets for adults range from $22-$30, but discounted rates are offered for families and for groups of ten or more. Food and alcohol are available on site.

    Escaping to Tangalooma

    Coming to Tangalooma

    I’ve been to Tangalooma once before, it seems.

    I didn’t know it at the time the boat tied up to the dock and I got my first look at the white sand and the water that Wikipedia informs me falls somewhere between Paris Green and Harlequin. I originally typed azure, but that’s much too blue. A picture paints a thousand words. So maybe I should just let one do the talking…

    This is the color! This!

     But I was saying I’d been here before…

    Upon my return from my week on Tangalooma, my mother informed me that my father and her had paid the resort a visit when she was pregnant with me. I might not have swam in the island’s warm waters or hiked up its gum lined dunes before, but I had heard the purr of the waves and the gentle rustle of coconut palms hopelessly out of their element.

    But my first thoughts upon arrival on Moreton Island were of Dead Island

    Maybe I’d just been playing too much of the zombie shooter, but there were so many similarities. Palm trees, crystal clear water, white sandy beaches, ATVs humming in the distance, bikini clad tourists roaming the dunes, and the hot sun beating down from overhead.

    All that was missing were the ravenous dead and a nail-studded baseball bat.

    I shrugged on my pack and stepped out into warm Queensland air. Amidst a sea of photo snapping Korean tourists and mid fifties couples looking to kindle some fire in their marriages with cocktails on the beach, I managed to walk right past my old friend Ben.

    But how was I expected to recognize him?

    Ben when I lived with him in 2007
    And Ben on the island

    After collecting luggage and hauling it up to Ben’s mountain-top condo, it was time to become more acquainted with the island.

    Our lunch of fried calamari, Polish sausage, sweet chili sauce, and cheese on English muffins would become a fixture of our diet over the next few days. Healthy? Not at all. But bloody delicious.

     

    Snorkeling the Wrecks

     

    With full bellies we trekked down the treacherously steep stairs from Ben’s house to the resort proper. The week’s festivities almost ended tragically early when I slipped on a step and nearly went ass over tit down the hill.

    But I emerged unscathed and we made our way down the pristine beach and towards the ominous skeletons of the wrecks that act as both shelter for the island and artificial reef for scuba and snorkeling enthusiasts.

    Curlews nesting on one of the wrecks

    Lathered up with sunscreen and wearing free snorkeling gear borrowed from Ben’s very cool friends at Tangalooma Water Sports, we waded into the deliciously warm water and began to swim out towards the wrecks. At first I could see little more than silty water and the occasional flash of silver as a fish darted away, but soon I emerged into a thriving miniature ecosystem.

    Colorful fish swam in and out of jagged holes in the sides of sunken ferries. It was a most serene experience. The way in which nature has reclaimed these man-made monstrosities and transformed them into something that is almost beautiful. Where most of our actions seem only to harm the world around us, it’s nice to see that some of our actions can have a positive influence on the natural world.

    Free diving with the fish by the Tangalooma Wrecks. Photo by Stacey Emma Lambert
    Photo by Stacey Emma Lambert.
    Fun with the fish! Photo with Stacey Emma Lambert

     

    I don’t know why, but snorkelling always seems to awaken some primeval fear inside of me. Put a respirator in my mouth and a tank on my bank and I’m perfectly at home in the water.

    But put me on my stomach with only a cheap plastic tube between myself and drowning, and I go to pieces. From time to time I’d find some serenity and simply drift with the current, but then I’d get the taste of saltwater in my mouth and I’d flounder about like a horse trying to ford a river.

    Suffice to say, Ben’s time on the island had made him infinitely more comfortable in the choppy seas than I am. While I splashed about haplessly and rushed through the whole affair, Ben effortlessly glided over bits of wreck I was too cautious to explore.

    I paddled into the shore and emerged like a wet dog, invigorated but a little disappointed in myself for letting a brief spate of panic stop me from really enjoying the swim. I promised myself I’d be back to scuba dive the wrecks later in the week.

    But that didn’t happen.

     

    Fun in the Sun

    Ben dives desperately to salvage a point

    What I came to love most about Tangalooma were the people I met through Ben. While guests of the resort would probably have a different experience than I did, I came to meet a lot of the staff as a result of Ben’s two plus years of employment on the resort. By the time I left the island, half of the staff assumed I was an employee.

    One of the most memorable experiences I had on the island was on my second day there. Ben and I were fresh from my first brush with stand up paddle boarding and he spotted a crowd of staff members sunning themselves on the beach.

    A half eaten pizza sat in the midst of the group and one of them lazily strummed at a guitar. Why does everybody know the first few chords of Stairway to Heaven?

    While the guys discussed the logistics of a bit of beach cricket, gorgeous girls in bikinis sunned themselves and happily chatted away about the birthday party set to take place later in the evening.

    Beach cricket ensued. We managed to lasso a few Japanese students in to act as fielders. They looked almost as confused as the Canadian barman who attempted to join in. He couldn’t quite grasp why we had to bowl overarm.

    Against all logic, I somehow managed to out bat the much fitter guys on hand only to be run out when the aforementioned Canadian left me stranded by running on a half chance single.

    While the men (and one of the women) played the Australian game in spite of the blistering heat beating down on us, the girls liberated an oversized beach ball from a few of the Japanese tourists and took it out into the water. It all ended in tears when the wind plucked the ball out of their hands and whipped it out into the ocean.

    It was last seen heading towards Indonesia.

    Soon enough the heat got to us and we sprinted down to the ocean to cool off.

    I came to envy the lifestyle of the staff. Sure, they work hard, but when they’re done they’re not stuck in a dingy apartment. They’re not crammed onto a bus with a few dozen smelly commuters or forced to contend with drunken lads on the train.

    They knock off and they walk right down onto a gorgeous beach. Over the course of my five days on the island I saw impromptu games of beach volleyball start-up every afternoon. People on their breaks would stroll down to the beach and eat lunch in the sun. Staff would spend their weekends snorkeling or scuba diving or simply sunning themselves on the beach in an attempt to cook out their hangovers.

    They’re pretty much living the dream.

    At the end of a long day of drinking, swimming, and beach volleyball...ing

    Opportunity

     

    Over the course of my week on Moreton Island I got to know a lot of the staff.

    I chatted about world travel with Robyn from the massage cabana. I stumbled drunkenly along the beach with J from watersports and Quinn from the bar. Attempted to crash tackle Ben with the aid of Daniel and Clancy from the porters and had a chat over beers with Nichelle from Tanga Tours.

    On my second to last day on the island, Ben took me to have a chat with the resort’s HR staff about the possibility of me someday coming to live and work on the island for a while. The lure of living in something of a tropical paradise,working in what I came to recognize as somewhere between a group of friends and a family, and gaining some experience in an industry that interests me greatly is a pretty appealing prospect.

    But we’ll see.

     

    Not a review…

     

    I went to Tangalooma with grand plans to try all of their activities and post a series of reviews, but that didn’t pan out. Ben gave me more of an insider’s perspective and the staff welcomed me into the fold with such warmth that it was ridiculously hard to leave when my time came to return to the mainland.

    It was the same kind of camaraderie and community that I came to love about my time living and working in South Korea. How being a part of a microcosm can bring people of all different walks of life together and blend them into a close family. I obviously only got a glimpse of their lives while I was there, but it looks like a pretty sweet life to me.

    Muyrray, myself, and Ben saying our goodbyes after a fantastic week.

    That’s not to say I didn’t do anything with my time on the island. I soaked in as much as I could.

    • I had two-hour long (and ridiculously good) massages from the lovely Robyn.
    • I went on a whale watch tour (entry to come) and was amazed by the majesty of humpback whales.
    • I engaged in the age-old combination of alcohol and night swimming in order to save a drunken damsel.
    • Failed in an attempt to crash a Hen’s Night.
    • Caught up with an old friend when he came to the island for (far too many) beers.
    • Made some great new friends who just so happen to be from here in Sydney.

    I came back from the island with a tan, a renewed urge to get out and on the road again, a potential job lead, and having met a lot of fantastic people.

    I can’t wait to go back.

    Hot Sexy Sex in South Korea

    Sex in Korea

    Unlike neighboring Japan, sex in Korea is a slightly more reserved affair – but that’s not to say South Korea is a nation of uptight puritans by any stretch of the imagination. Outwardly the country seems torn between traditional ideology and the raw sex that floods into the country from the western world.

    But Korea is also a land of startling contradictions when it comes to the horizontal mattress mambo.

    It’s a country where it is considered wildly inappropriate to show off your cleavage or your bare shoulders, but where it’s perfectly acceptable for a woman to wear a mini-skirt that barely covers her underpants.

    It’s a place where prostitution is technically illegal but where Seoul boasts a ‘hooker hill’ and Busan’s infamous Texas Street is a stretch of sin soaked street to rival any of Amsterdam’s red light district.

    ‘Love Motels’ offer hourly rates for businessmen and their lovers or cheap accommodation to foreigners not wishing to shell out for a real hotel room. I’ve seen everything from lube to vibrators to dirty hair brushes to stripper poles in these rooms.

    I even saw a video camera in one.

    Collectible cards showing bare breasts and phone numbers to call for a good time litter suburban streets like some deviant has hosted a ticker tape parade.

    Twin barber poles indicate hair-cuts with a little ‘something extra’ and $45 home delivered coffee is more of an added benefit than the main attraction.

    It’s a land where pretty Korean girls hanging out in smoky foreigner bars who come home with you to ‘sleep together’ may mean that in the most literal sense of the phrase.

    Blue balls abound.

    It’s a nation where they don’t believe in homosexuality, yet grown heterosexual men will hug and hold hands with their male friends.

    And that’s saying nothing of the existence of the aptly named Homo Hill in Seoul…

    The world of Korean sex is a world at odds with itself. For all of its adherence to traditional ideals and typically Asian ideology, Korea finds itself gradually slipping in the direction of the more wanton west.

    Sex with Koreans

     

    Kissing a Korean girl
    I did not sleep with this girl. It's the lovely Sang Young!

    I’ll preface this particular section by saying I didn’t indulge in much of the ‘local flavor’ when I was on my Korean tour of duty. It seems my bout of the so-called ‘yellow fever’ decided to hold off until I returned to Australian shores.

    It’s just a little frustrating…

    So the comments that follow will be based on second hand sources. Guys who have put in the hard yards to woo themselves one of the notoriously hard to impress Korean beauties or girls who have been attracted to the sensitivity or slightly more feminine (read: less hairy and smelly) appearance of the Korean man.

    As is typical of many Asian countries, there is a big focus on the woman’s subservience to the man in a relationship, but it’s not always that way.

    During courtship it’s not uncommon to see a Korean man dutifully following his girlfriend while she picks through shoes in a crowded Lotte Department Store. But unlike Australia – where similar practices are used to keep girlfriends happy – the process extends as far as actually carrying the girlfriend’s handbag for her.

    It’s not at all uncommon to see an otherwise perfectly normal Korean man walking down the street with a fabulous Louis Vutton bag slung over his shoulder. He almost looks comfortable with it.

    Almost.

    But where this doting behavior seems typical of the pre-marriage period, an almost 180 degree turn is made once the ring is slipped on and the I do’s are said.

    Or whatever the Korean equivalent is.

    While there does tend to be a changing of the guard on this front as Korean youths adopt more western practises, there is still a focus on the man as provider and leader and the woman as dutiful follower in the Korean marriage.

    It wasn’t uncommon for me to be out drinking with one of my Korean bosses and see them flirting with or even fondling a giggling younger woman. Occasionally a co-worker.

    Wives ferry their husbands around like chauffeurs and seem resigned to losing their partners to regular fishing trips or drinking on the weekend – leaving them alone to take care of the kids. And if they’re unhappy with this arrangement, they do a good job of bearing their burden in silence. But that may just be the famous Korean pride.

     

    What does all of this have to do with sex?

     

    Being all seductive and such

    Subservient in the home often translates into subservient in the bedroom. I’ve heard precious few tales of wild sexual abandon being displayed in the bedroom from my friends who have dipped their toes into the local talent pool.

    Obviously pornography is not an accurate portrayal of how the average person is making their love, but I think you can learn a bit about the overarching cultural perception of sex by watching a little of their X-Rated film.

    Korean pornography, by and large, follows the Japanese tradition of male dominance and female submission or embarrassment. Lying in a love motel bed with a girl I was sleeping with and watching a little hardcore porn (as you do) treated us to scene after scene of women being taken against their will and eventually ‘enjoying it’.

    I’m not sure how much they enjoyed it. There’s no dirty talk or urging on. Just pitifully quiet grunting to match each of the man’s fevered thrusts. The female’s enjoyment of the act doesn’t seem to be much of a factor in Korean porn.

    I’d imagine that may well bleed into the everyday lives of the average Korean as well. Obviously not to the extent that Korean men are out in forests trolling for hapless women in search of spare tires, but the stories of my female friends don’t paint a picture of attentive lovers.

    And we’ll leave the stereotyping of the Asian male organ right out of it. Although where there’s smoke…

    And where male dominance in the bedroom can lead to selfish lovers, it can also lead to submissive female partners. The enthusiasm for sex just doesn’t seem to be there. But can you blame them? In a country where man is supreme and where sex is still a dirty word – the image of a liberated woman who just enjoys sex seems completely out-of-place.

    Now obviously this isn’t true of all Koreans. Maybe not even most. I’m basing this off my own experiences in the country and the experiences of friends who have shared just a little too much over beers.

    I know of at least one female friend who happens to be very satisfied with the performance of her Korean mate. Way to go handsome!

     

    But Chris, what about your sex in Korea?

     

    No Korean sex makes me a sad panda...

    Alas, Korean girls’ tastes tend to run towards the tall and thin for the most part. Being neither tall (5’11”) or particularly thin, I didn’t have much luck with the local girls.

    There was one classy lass in a night club bathroom, but that finished short of sex. A toothy bathroom blow-job isn’t exactly the height of romance, but it is perhaps an indication of how the younger Koreans are shaking off the conservative habits of their parents.

    Or maybe I just met a bad seed…

    Love Land, Jejudo

     

    If there’s one monument to the changing view of sex in South Korea, it’s Love Land Park on Jejudo. While it might be more accurately described as ‘Lust Land’, the park’s many sculptures and displays representing a growing love of sex in South Korea. It’s still a heterocentric view of sex, but it’s a step towards a breaking down of the old view of sex to allow room for a healthier appreciation of the carnal.

    On a very rainy summer day in 2009 myself, my ex Fallon, and our friends Cody & Desiree paid a visit to Love Land and giggled like children finding their first porno as we perused the collection of erotic displays. And while that may be the reaction that the park draws from the majority of its visitors, at least its getting people to think about and talk about sex. It’s putting it out there and breaking down the taboo that dictates it belongs behind closed doors.

    Cody violates some artwork. Typical American...
    An Aussie caught with his hand in the cookie jar
    Cody and Dez in a less typical Superman/Wonderwoman panel...
    That's.... athletic?
    A man and his dog. True friends.

    Entering Love Land immediately takes you into a garden area in which the sculptures are scattered all over the place. Paths wind their way in and out of the displays with the same rhythmic precision of German love-making. The majority of displays tend towards eroticism and humor, but there are a few that are genuinely artistic as well.

    One of the more artistic pieces on display
    Thirsty?
    Apparently it is true...

     

    Once you’re done exploring the grounds there’s a bit of a sex museum, an internal art gallery, and the obligatory gift shop selling a bunch of sex related souvenirs. No porn or dildos for purchase, but lots of quirky little gadgets that you’d expect to find in one of those odds and ends shops.

    Super sexy strap on
    This wasn't in the gift shop

    Once the museum and the gift shop are out of the way, the last port of call is a very cool set of mini exhibits depicting various sexual scenes. I haven’t included them all here, but a few of my favorites are below.

    A couple watch on as another couple round second and head for third base.

     

    Some students perving on their teacher. This happens a lot to my female friends, but usually not with mirrors.
    To the tune of Unchained Melody
    A mermaid and a reverse merman. Star-crossed lovers.
    An old Korean couple getting it done in a minbak (sleeping room). See the next picture for their unfortunate child's reaction...
    Poor kid 🙁
    Tiny, tiny penises

    A visit to Love Land is more amusing than enlightening, but it’s good to see Koreans depicting sex in a fun way rather than as something inappropriate. While Korea hasn’t yet made the leap of representing other sexual preferences or genders just yet, the existence of Love Land is a sign that at least progress is being made.

    Who knows? Maybe someday the assumption that all westerners are sexually depraved child molesters riddled with HIV will pass too…