Bus Crazies

The "worldwide economic downturn" is the scapegoat for just about any societal change in Korea these days, and perhaps in the rest of the world as well.  Here, it's reportedly leading to increased condom sales and lower marriage and birth rates.  Instant noodle manufacturers are enjoying a heyday, but restaurants are supposedly crying in their soup (although restaurants throughout the capital city look just as packed on weekend nights as they did one year ago). 

One thing I wouldn't dispute is that sales of cheap alcohol are on the rise.  The only hard evidence I have of this fact is the overwhelming stench of soju breath on public transportation these days, coupled with a group of people I'm calling the "Bus Crazies."  Sure, public buses in any city are prime venues for a ragtag cross section of society, but I think the oddity is definitely on the upswing.  I suspect the global financial crunch has pushed those teetering on the boundary between everyday weirdo and all-out loon well over the edge, and one-dollar Korean rice booze (soju, makgeoli--pick your poison) is all the nudging it takes.  I'm used to having no clue what's going on around me here in Korea, but when I notice all the locals are just as perplexed, I figure something is amiss.  I encountered the expressive gentleman below during a recent bus ride home from work.  It was quite entertaining to watch his monologue progress into a two or three character conversation -- with each role played by Mr. Makgeoli.

Busan

In late March, I finally took the opportunity to explore South Korea's second largest city, Busan, which also happens to be the world's fifth largest seaport. Located on Korea's southern coast, Busan is a popular destination for beachcombers, foreign sailors, Japanese tourists, and perhaps in 2020, Olympians. Busan is vying to play host to the 2020 Summer Olympics.

Enjoying some hwae (sushi) on Haeundae Beach. Photo by Matt Kelley.

A chilly Haeundae Beach

Now that you have the same image of Busan I had before seeing it in person--seafood, sandy beaches, colorful vistas--I can't help but share my actual first impression of the city. My KTX train chugged into town after dark on a Saturday evening and, since my cronies were stuck in traffic an hour away, I spent my first two hours upon arrival perusing the vicinity of the station. I was quickly lured into "Chinatown," a neighborhood seemingly inoccuous from afar. Despite the oriental moniker, once I ventured past the red lanterns hanging around the perimeter I began to wonder if I had somehow detrained in Vladivostok. The area may be the closest thing Busan has to a Chinatown, but it's every bit as much Russian sailorville, Southeast Asian prostitiuteburg, and American GI City. I suppose it's just like me to unknowlingly head straight for the seediest part of town, and then start taking pictures.

Chinatown, a.k.a. "Texas Street"

Thankfully, there's plenty to enjoy beyond Busan's mixing bowl of international vice. The ports, beaches, narrow alleyways, and cool bridges are all fun to check out on foot, but my favorite part of the trip was viewing the city from the sky. A trip up Busan Tower reveals a colorful, hilly port city oddly reminiscent of Latin America and San Francisco all at once. It sure ain't Seoul!

Haeundae is one of the nation's most famous beaches, drawing hundreds of thousands of visitors every weekend during warm-weather months. Unfortuantely for ornithophobes like me, it's also a hot spot for pigeons, seagulls, and the crazies who like to feed them. If I ever decide to overcome my fear through shock therapy, Haeundae would be a prime location to undergo treatment.

My worst nightmare on Haeundae Beach. Photo by Matt Kelley

For more detailed information about Busan, check out Matt Kelley's Discovering Korea blog.

Noryangjin Fish Market, Seoul

Seoul's largest wholesale fish market, Noryangjin, is located on the southeastern outskirts of Yeouido amid the shadows of the imposing skyscrapers of the capital city's "Manhattan". Follow your nose to the fish market and you'll feel like you've crossed over to the proverbial other side of the tracks. Goodbye glitzy Trump building, hello dingy fish town!

Since I paid my visit in the evening, I missed out on the lively, fast-paced market atmosphere. For that, I'd have to hit Noryangjin in the wee hours of the morning when vendors from 700ish individual shops bid on the day's catch. Around 7pm, the market was quieter than I had expected, with retailers surly feeling the fatigue of a long day's work and suited businesspeople looking for some after-work grub. The vinyl-aproned staff of Noryangjin's shops are obviously accustomed to the wide eyes and camera flashes of tourists, and I was surprised by how amenable most vendors were to my particuarly intrusive photo-snapping style.

The wide array of sea life was a bit overwhelming for a novice, and coming from a country where consumers are largely removed from the process of how a creature becomes cuisine, it felt a little strange selecting a live fish to be killed, sliced, and served on the spot. Thankfully, my KBS cohorts were experienced shoppers and hagglers.

After bargaining for whatever fits your fancy, market employees quickly and deftly turn live swimmers into sashimi. Then they neatly arrange the fish on sturdy paper plates, complete with little oniony garnishes. The remaining carcass is bagged up and saved for a reappearance in tasty soup. Save room for the eyeballs!

One of Noryangjin's greatest features is its adjacent restaurants where you can round out your experience, and your belly, by digging right into your purchase. All the necessary accouterments (soy sauce, wasabi, lettuce, kimchi) are on hand, and restaurant staff begins cooking your fish remnant soup while you get started on the raw fish. It's not fancy, but it was fresh and very economical. My group of six paid about $20 each for as much sashimi, fish soup, seafood pancake (해물파전), and soju we could handle.

Media is the new U.S. beef

About ten years ago the government turned Yeouido asphalt slab into Yeouido Park. By the time I arrived in Seoul, it had become a lovely, verdant spot redolent of cherry blossoms in the springtime and the far less appealing beondegi (silk worm larvae) whenever food vendors set up to serve the passersby.  I've heard the impetus for cultivating the park was the government's hope to squelch mass demonstrations by civic groups that had become frequent occurrences on Yeouido asphalt slab.  

If that were truly the goal, however, perhaps they shouldn't have left a sizable amount of asphalt in the middle.  Most days just bikers, rollerbladers, and basketball players occupy the space, but anytime the country becomes ripe with government distaste (which seems to occur frequently), the park revisits its past.  The hot button issue of the month is a set of controversial media reform bills, which include the government and ruling party's plan to privatize the broadcasting sector (something I might even be convinced to fight against if protesting were my thing--instead, I just take pictures).  Home to the nation's three top broadcasters and the parliament building, Yeouido was the perfect spot for unionists and other activists to gather Saturday afternoon for a good old fashioned protest.  At least it's not about U.S. beef this time!

Happy Valentine's Day!

An orphan Valentine card collects rain drops Friday.  

The 14th day of the month is almost always some kind of occasion in Korea.  Yesterday was Valentine's Day, of course, a holiday which is gaining popularity by both lovers and businesses each year, but it's just one in a string of "Days" that call upon one subgroup or another to celebrate, bestow, mourn, eat, or get drunk whilst walking in the woods.  For instance, the month of October utilizes a homonym for its 14th.  Koreans give apples (sagwa) to apologize (also sagwa) for past infractions.   Here are some shots taken around Seoul on Friday and Saturday.

Saturday morning subway traffic was sparse, but I did notice a few passengers laden with gifts, cakes, and flowers.

Despite what I thought was charming coaxing on my part to get Ms. Flowers to remove her hand from her mouth, she didn't oblige.  Maybe she had chocolate on her teeth.  Nonetheless, she and her beau seemed to be having a delightful Valentine's Day.

Korea's commercial sector has fully embraced the Western holiday.

Convenience store employees braved Saturday evening's cold temperatures to peddle V-Day goodies near subways and bus stops.

Valentine’s Day in Korea favors dudes, since it’s widely accepted as an occasion for women to profess their affection for the men in their lives through chocolates, cakes that look too cute to cut, and any number of other well-marketed goodies that spoony lovers can’t resist. For more about Korea’s unique Valentine’s Day customs, see last year’s post.

Snow days

Here are some belated photos I took during and after a spattering of snow over the Lunar New Year holiday. As I mentioned last week, Seoul has seen warmer temperatures in the first couple weeks of the (lunar) new year, so these may be the last shots of the white stuff for awhile.

Braving the snow for a shopping trip through Seoul's Edae neighborhood, home of Ewha Womans University. I'm not sure if using umbrellas during a snowfall is unique to Korea (maybe my international readers can help me here), but I've never witnessed it in other countries. Makes sense, though!

A romantic, and icy cold, walk along the Cheonggye Stream that runs through downtown Seoul.

Interesting advertising strategy outside an Edae shop, but I didn't notice any takers during the five or ten minutes I spent observing the peculiar scene.

No takers for the "Fresh Fruit Candy", either, but you have to applaud the tenacity of the vendor.

Has spring sprung?!

Probably not, but the balmy temps and sunny skies over Seoul today have me daydreaming about shedding the winter coat and pulling on the short pants. At 12 degrees Celcius (about 54F), it's hard to believe the city was covered in snow just a few days ago (I'll post some snow pics this weekend). I joined some colleagues from the English news department for a lunchtime jaunt around Yeouido and noticed many people out enjoying the break in wintry weather. I've been told it's typical for Korea to experience a string of three cold days followed by four warm days throughout the winter. It's called sam han sa on (삼한 사온), literally, "three cold, four hot".