I had warned my pink-hating friend that Hi Seoul described May 2 as "A wave of pink taking over the city." She was hesitant about the Hot Pink Parade, but she was going to tough it out. So were, apparently, the paraders. Upon walking up to Cheongye Palace we were faced with a double line of young boys dressed in riot gear. Further up the way the lawn was scattered with more young men, all smoking nervously, sitting on their shields. In the background was the "La-la-la-la" song that seems to come up at all Korean festivals and in the foreground: battle cries. Along the parade route you could hear the pounding of drums and see the waving of protest flags. Everyone was chanting their slogan and pumping their fists in the air, while a wave of cars decorated in pink balloons navigated through the crowd.
We ended up standing with a crowd in the middle of the road as the protesters swarmed up past us on the left and the parade came up on the right. For a minute it was chaos. I wasn't sure where the noise was coming from or what it meant. A man frantically pressed a flyer for Hi Seoul into my palm and told me to "dance" and "party." "Fun fun!" he assured. Maybe not. The first drumming group of the parade got through. A group of people in fancy dress made it. Then the protesters hit the end of the parade route and turned around. The cars with balloons were stuck and my friends and I dashed through them to the relatively uncrowded side street.
That was the end of the Hot Pink Parade. After that we watched Korean storm troupers line up on either side of the street and stand with their shields up. The protesters went up and down and the parade ended along way away, with no where to go.
As an American, my first reaction to seeing protesters outnumbered 2-to-1 by police is fear. In America a recipe like that, no matter what the protest is about, is going to end up with someone's baton in someone's face. In Korea, not so much. Though the "ones in power" have been cracking down on illegal protests, Korean police are not likely to throw the first punch. Or the second apparently, or the third. From what I've been told they'll take as much as they can before acting. In all, the scariest part of the protests was the percussion of the drummers pushing through protest, smoke, cries, signs and all, and dancing their way to the end of the line. Korean drums pack a punch that makes your heart beat a little faster.
The night ended with a long walk along the stream, the dead parade sitting forlornly on a median and a bunch of children dressed in their best hanbok wandering around with nothing else to do now.