I have the number 325.
I sigh discouraged, as I let myself slide to the floor, leaning against a wall of the huge KBS studios where the selections will take place.I took a 14-hour flight to get to Incheron airport, took a taxi here and waited two hours in line to get this number.
Behind me the line is still endless, not to mention the sea of people sitting on the floor waiting their turn to be called.
And they only let six in.I think it's going to be all night and it's only 10:00 in the morning!
I know I did something crazy, but it was too good an opportunity not to take advantage of it.
I take the signed announcement I sent from my backpack pocket and reread the details once again.
The Project international idol was issued this year, for the first time, with the possibility of access also for non-Korean artists. The conditions are very strict, but fortunately, I have all the titles they require.
The artist, even if of a different nationality, can access the selection.
The following knowledge is required: good knowledge of written and spoken Korean, fluent English, having studied singing for at least five years, classical and modern dance for at least ten years. Notions of choreography, scenography, writing of lyrics and arrangements. Knowledge of at least two musical instruments, sheet music and score, composition. Autonomy in personal work, cohesion in group work and cooperation are required.
A series of instructions still follow, but only for those who pass the three elimination stages.
It will be a bloodbath, I know, and I fear that I will return home in a flash, but the temptation was so intense that I decided to try, even against the advice of my father. He opposed me for many months, but I engaged in a verbal and psychological battle that in the end he gave in. I threatened to run away from home and never come back and he agreed to sign on the condition that, if they kick me out, I take the first plane to Los Angeles.
I sigh again. I know that they won't even give me the chance to express myself, that giving a chance to us foreigners was just a ploy to subsidize the show, but I deluded myself, for just a minute - or maybe even less - that I could assert myself.
The truth is that I won't even get to the stage, because the selection jury won't give me the chance. And if you're thinking that I'm accusing Koreans of being racist... well, know that you're right.
I know well what they are capable of towards non-Asians - and many times they wage 'war' on them too - but towards Americans, they have a love/hate relationship that is not difficult to understand. They adore everything that comes from the States, but they are just objects. If they have to say that a person is rude, they say that he 'acts like an American', as a sort of contempt.
And then, I had the misfortune of seeing first-hand the aversion they have, considering that I was driven away from my own family.
And that's not a euphemism.But that's another story.
Finally I see the group in front of me stand up and I stand up to stretch my legs. I do a few squats, a couple of rotations of the torso and a man with a yellow paddle signals me to come closer, asking me for the presentation card.He casts a furtive glance, then directs me towards a stand where a girl and a boy are checking the data on the computer. Finally they give me a yellow token, telling me to get in line, following the line of the same color.
I walk down a long, brightly lit corridor before finding myself in a yellow-decorated section, with seats, each adorned with different colors, with a stage set up in the center.
It's a sort of small arena, with a bare, illuminated platform as the floor, around which are several doors where, presumably, the participants are summoned.Four huge screens are positioned above, over the different sections, which flash continuously, extracting the participant number / room number, where the audition takes place.I sit down next to a group of girls dressed in pink, all the same, decorated like Barbies, who give me a venomous look.
"But who cares about you?"
I mutter to myself, adjusting my sunglasses on my nose.I glance at the rest of the audience and realize that they've divided us by gender, separating boys and girls.I have a terrible doubt: I am participating as a soloist and the announcement specifies that only those with undisputed artistic talent will be considered for an individual proposal.
Do they want to pin some of these on me to make me a group?I get the shivers just thinking about it!I push everything back, shrugging my shoulders and finally see my number flashing on the dial: sector A5.
Perfect.
Dear Jade, let's go on stage!