The commute between my apartment and KBS takes me through an area that epitomizes the term "gritty", a common adjective used to describe areas throughout Seoul. It looks like a contractor's mecca, with long rows of merchants selling all the pieces that make up Seoul's infrastructure. It's dirty. It's underwhelming. The only thing that's impressive is the sheer number of businesses that look to be peddling the exact same things. But during one post-sunset trip through the district, I noticed something different about Yeongdeungpo. With the rusted steel garage doors pulled down like sleep shades over the facades of all these blue collar businesses, a different kind of industry was starting its work day.
Standing in front of every third or fourth garage door was a nicely (in that trampy kind of nice way) dressed woman, casually watching traffic go by and in no particular hurry to get anywhere. Some women sat on short, plastic stools tucked in doorways or alleys. Now, if this area were the kind of place where you might enjoy a nice evening outdoors, loitering with a beverage and checking out the scenery, I wouldn't have been suspect. But it was immediately clear that these women were somehow involved in South Korea's illegal, yet highly lucrative (to the tune of $20+ billion/year), prostitution industry. Some civic organizations say the number of women working in the sex industry in South Korea outnumbers the amount of school teachers. The government recognizes the prevalence, but its estimates of the number involved are much less startling.
After a Saturday evening shift at KBS a few weeks ago I finally made good on a promise I made to myself to get over to Yeongdeungpo to play paparazzi among the prostitutes. With no other plans at 11:00 on a Saturday night, it was like a stroke of luck that I happened to be traversing through the area on a pleasant, late summer evening. I got off the bus at a busy public transportation hub about a block north of the "working class district" and began working my way toward my subjects. The music faded and the lights dimmed as the surroundings became less gentrified and more, well, gritty. Saturday night traffic continued to roar by and I tried to disguise my actual mission by taking pictures of cars zooming by, strategically snagging street girls in the corner of the frame.
I worked my way to a group of establishments whose purpose is unmistakable to locals or anyone who has spent any significant amount of time in Korea. They usually come one after another along an entire city block or two and have glass fronts lined in pink neon lights. Typically, a scantily clad, uncharacteristically busty Asian woman will be sitting on a tall stool behind the glass brushing her hair or otherwise primping. Sometimes the women will hang out in the doorways, leaning forward and glancing up and down the street, or chatting with the next door tenant. The largest group of these houses of ill repute I've seen is near the American military base in Seoul, and I was a little surprised to find them in Yeongdeungpo. Surprised, yet very intrigued!
Emboldened by my luck on the main drag, I rounded a corner in pursuit of the pink light district and turned off my camera's flash. I quickly scanned the area and noticed just a few people around--an old woman selling beverages from a drink cart on the corner, a few middle-aged men and women lounging nearby. It didn't seem like anyone was really paying attention to me, which was actually quite surprising, so I casually approached the pink lights and snapped a photo. Still no reaction. Great! But just as my lens opened for the second shot, a man let out a ferocious yell and the women tending two side-by-side businesses quickly killed the pink lights and drew curtains across the glass.
What had moments earlier seemed like a lazy, quiet group of bystanders up on the corner, probably uninvolved in the pink light industry, now clearly revealed itself as protectors of the trade. The middle-aged crowd came to its feet and started approaching me with menacing expressions and quick, angry Korean grumbles. Even the old woman running the drink cart started a high-pitched tirade and shooed me away with sweeping motions. I quickly shoved my camera in my purse and played dumb. With two or three angry men quickly approaching, I turned and headed back toward the main street. A motor scooter roared up behind me and followed me all the way to the nearest bus stop. My heart was racing, and all I could think was, "I'm about to die. I'm about to end up dead, shoved in the trunk of a car." Yet I couldn't wait to check out my shots. Did any of them turn out? Will I have evidence of my thrilling adventure?
I've resigned to the fact that curiosity will likely kill the Abby someday. The next Saturday evening found me right back in gritty Yeongdeungpo, determined to get a lengthier and more revealing observation of the pink light district. This time I wanted to get a closer look at the women. Did they look Korean, or were they possibly victims of human trafficking? South Korea has made substantial efforts in the last several years to combat the illegal sex industry, particularly human trafficking, but its obvious it remains a problem. Many women are brought from Southeast Asia, Russia, or former Soviet states to work in the industry. (Incidentally, I've been asked about four times in the last month if I'm Russian.) I discovered Yeongdeungpo's prostitution enclave is much larger than I had realized, but unfortunately, my second self-assigned mission was just as lacking in factual content (and compelling photography) as the first. It seemed like prostitute photography was becoming my favorite Saturday evening pastime, but my curiosities are fickle. This week I started researching travel opportunities in North Korea. More on that later.
It's amazing how much I crave kimbap when I can't have it! Most Kimbap Cheonguks were closed for three days straight.
