Left My Ears in South Korea

which saves them the trouble of falling off in Japan.

I am a two-month-old baby only I have full capacity of all my limbs; they do not flail around aimlessly. I can stand up-right, walk and maintain control of my bowels, yet my mental ability and comprehension have all of a sudden shifted down to nil. The Korean language mocks me from road signs, maps and even from the mouths of the rude, aggressive locals their breath still spicy from their morning kimchi as they have yet to pop in a stick of xylitol gum. I am a papoose walking the streets of Seoul.

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THE FUCK WE ARE.”

“Hello. Where are you trying to go?”

This man would be our savior. I have not yet been in Seoul for an hour and already the locals are approachable. This pleasant and rather self-effacing young Korean businessman in a crisp gray suit stopped to help the young bewildered tourists. I showed him the two lines of helpful, detailed instructions that were supposedly to get us from the fictional station Exit Number Ten to the hotel. Something along the lines of, “Leave Exit Number, uh, 10. Walk, say, 50 meters or so, turn down the alley with one of those, you know, Family Marts. Good luck, Sucker.” Superb. Telling someone to find the Family Mart in Korea is the equivalent of saying, “Turn at the Lawson’s in Japan” or “Take a left at the Starbucks in the East Village.” A piece of paper written in Sanskrit would have provided equally adequate instructions.

He was a complete stranger, but why not? We proceed to follow this man around as he wanders the crowded, bustling streets of South Korea’s capital trying to find this elusive building. He stops and asks other impatient looking Koreans if they know where this place is, only to be greeted with a curt “no” and stares. Curious glances follow both him and the small procession weighed down by baggage that trail him.

After the evasive hotel was discovered I would learn that his American name was “Jay,” (to prevent foreigners from butchering his actual name) he worked for HP and has lived in Seoul all his life. He gave me his business card and I owe him an email of gratitude and pleasantries, as those shit instructions would only have succeeded in getting me straight back to Japan.

The next few days I would be immersed in a spanking new culture in a familiar metropolis setting.

So, What’s Edible?

I can only draw the conclusions that Korean people are all masochists. According to my scientific calculations a good 96.57% of Korean food is ruined by these tiny little unavoidable red specks of hot pepper. This pepper is put on everything. It does not matter if it is 6AM in the morning or 10PM at night, anything edible must be overdosed in this abhorrent seasoning that causes only oral pain, tears and symptoms not unlike a cold – runny nose, watery eyes et cetera. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are composed of hot pepper with a side of maybe something else, like a radish, if you’re lucky.

Hot pot cook-it-yourself restaurants are quite common. A mass of veggies and meat is thrown into a pot and placed before you over a flame. The places that cater to lazier people, such as myself, have attendants who go around to help stir up the concoction until it is edible.

This, for me, is never. The pepper annihilates my mouth, causing my face to turn a violent shade of vermilion and tears that have only ever sprung up after watching “The Last of the Mohicans” flow copiously. Must go on. Must get sustenance. Must keep eating. Must figure out how they manage it. I shall conquer this, I shall.

In that 3.43% of Korean food that does not include hot pepper is frozen yogurt. Boy, oh boy do the Koreans love their frozen yogurt. Engrish writing decorating the walls assures me that it is healthy, good for me and will make me happy forever. Not wanting to miss out on eternal happiness I am coerced into trying this delicious treat multiple times. It beats snacking on the crispy bug larvae that can be found at multiple stalls outside. Yogurt chains such as “Red Mango,” “Green Mango,” “Orange Mango” line the streets. I look for mango on the menu. No, no mango. That would be silly.

After several days of enduring this painful cuisine a sign appears in a heavenly glow of light: “Korean Pizza.” PIZZA?! Must. Be. Edible. Out of haste and frustration we nod over to the college girls sitting next to us; they look happy with their choice, stretching the cheese as far as it will go till it breaks. “One of those. Give us what they’re having. Quick, man.” Looking at the menu is pointless.

The pizza comes back to us in the requested heart shape. How cute. Only, the cheese is not cheese. What could, from a distance, be interpreted as cheese is actually strips of baby octopus. Korean “pizza” – a deceptive term for what is actually seafood chigimi to lure in simpleton, starving tourists. Quick. More frozen yogurt. Eternal happiness will be mine.

A Suite Suitable For A Korean Business Suit

After trusting a booking I made online at a hotel in Rome a couple of years ago I have become wary of online recommendations. “Garden view” translates to “there’s a patch of grass outside which vaguely smells of dog urine. Watch your step.” and “Located in a safe area” is just a euphemism for “Don’t worry, the crack whores won’t rob you in broad daylight; they’ll wait till you’ve fallen asleep to jack your passport.”

Therefore, I was not expecting much of the hotel. You, Dear Reader, can imagine my euphoric surprise then when, upon walking into the hotel room, I was greeted with a large flat screen TV, free Internet, a wireless keyboard, heated floors, and a Jacuzzi in the bathtub. All for a very reasonable price. Ah, Asia.

It is a hotel geared for businessmen, who, no doubt have tendencies to stay out late on work nights doing ‘business’ and can’t be arsed to go home. The room comes complete with hair gel for the slick, suave Korean businessman, hair spray to keep the slick, suave, dippity-doo hair in place, instant coffee, juice packs and a dual pack of Eros condoms size extra small. Just down the street was a building with no windows which, while it could have been a community center for the local blind, I suspect was something slightly different as two of the neon Chinese characters on the roof read “love” and “people.”

The bathroom was interesting in that while it had a door, it was made of glass. Granted part of it was frosted in a few strips here and there, but essentially it left little to the imagination. A glass door for a bathroom seems to me to be lacking the essence of what a door truly is. Surely if Plato were to have a dialogue concerning What Is A Door? he would define it as being at least opaque in quality.

The shower made up the entire bathroom so that after use the whole room was a watery mess. While it looked stylish and cool, whoever designed it might have considered sloping the floor a bit. You know, to make a thing called a drain actually serve a purpose. A complex system of dials was found under the main showerhead with options for a “head shower,” “hand shower” and “body shower.” Appropriate nozzles could be found where one would assume a normal person’s head, hands and body would be found. A dwarf or disproportionate midget however might have a bone to pick with the engineer as well. It still puzzles me that anyone would get into the shower solely to wash their hands when there is a perfectly adequate sink not two feet away.

The Locals

Outside a shopping plaza area in Dongdaemun Market a girl smacks her boyfriend again and again and reprimands him for something. Inside the COEX aquarium a different girl ignores the gleaming neon orange jellyfish and instead berates her boyfriend in a high-pitched angry stream of Korean before pounding him incessantly on the arm with her flailing, yet perfectly manicured hands. In Apgujeong, Seoul’s version of Rodeo Drive, another girl beats the hell out of her boyfriend for whatever reason.

Were the boys not holding their girlfriends’ purses correctly? Did they leave the toilet seat up? Did he tell her she looks fat in those heels? I will never know. Despite the fact that Korea is very much a male-dominated society, the women seem to hold a hell of a lot of power. I am sure that every second that goes by in time a Korean girl somewhere in the world is punching her boyfriend as he grips onto her purse which he has been holding like a dutiful boyfriend all the while looking ever so masculine.

As a frantic tourist I make my way to the counter and patiently wait in line to buy the appropriate ticket. I am invisible. Glass. Much like the door to my bathroom. People ignore my existence entirely as they jostle their way forward, pushing their way to the front and shoving their money roughly under the glass window demanding a ticket. The dormant New Yorker in me emergences once more and I sally forth determined not to be outdone by the locals.

No one waits in an orderly line to board the train. Much like New York, it’s every man or woman for him/herself. If one does not push his/her way on or off, one will end up circling the same line over and over until they are eighty. Having grown accustomed to the orderly Japanese way of patiently waiting on line and not infringing upon another creature’s personal space lest I actually have human bodily contact, I am momentarily thrown by this rudeness. But as I don’t know the words for “excuse me” or “sorry” I am able to easily adapt this ill-mannered trend.

Cell phones dominate the subway cars. Businessmen pull them out to watch the latest news with the volume blasting, students send texts to their friends, a woman chats to her husband, the pop star emails his agent. They all work underground and talking is not prohibited. As opposed to Japanese trains that have multiple signs all over which politely request, nay, demand mana modo (manner mode) the Korean trains embrace the technology that allows wireless communication all the time.

On a completely frivolous note: Everyone in Korea has the most awesome glasses. I can’t emphasize this enough. Even the old, frumpy men who attempt to sell canes or laser pointers on the subway are decked out in impeccable, neat specs making them all the more attractive and boosting their IQ a few points. If I ever want a cool pair of glasses I know where to go.

Korea is seriously cold this time of year. I had to buy a jacket whilst over there else things besides my ears might have frozen and called it quits. Thankfully Japan is a bit warmer, however I’m thinking it’s almost time to buy a chain to carry my portable heater around my neck. It’s going to be a dark, long, cold winter without central heating. This has the potential of being the longest entry ever so I will save the rest of my commentary for later.

N.B. – As I am a completely ethnocentric American I automatically assumed without even thinking that South Korea would have the same electrical outlets as the United States. After all, Japan follows this obvious logical trend, why not Korea? Barbarians. Therefore my camera battery conked out after day two and I was left with my extra gig memory card but no means of obtaining the electricity with which to fill it. Nice going, idiot.

Expect a video and some photos from the first two days anyway. That will have to satiate curiosity for now. Next time I’ll try to be a bit less stupid, but no promises.

And just to end with a quote:

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness”
- Mark Twain

I should just like to add – of course, that’s what makes it so much fun.

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Published:
11.8.06 / 6pm
Category:
travel