It's a lovely day. Wake up lying beside the girlfriend. It's your turn to cook breakfast. Slowly crawl out of bed, beautiful Sunday morning, nothing to do but kill a day. The puke green fridge greets you with an emptiness and a smell. Not really anything you really wish to order from the stickers on the cupboard doors above the sink. Walk back to the room and crawl in bed beside the warm body. Food and warm bodies, yummy dreams. You tell her nothing to eat. Sleep, dream, wake. Upon waking, she suggests sijang in Gupo, across from the Tokchon Rotary. Its the eight of the month, big market day. You've been there before but not on big market day.

 Shower, dress, undress, shower, dress. Push the elevator button. Hail a cab. Wait for the light to turn, then cross. Wander around. Look for foodstuffs.

 The population is a hundred times what it usually is, as are the stalls. People shouting and jeering. The smells assault you, as do the sights. It's a maze. Every street looks the same. I think it's at least five blocks by five blocks. The regular market has burst onto the street like a university house party.

  She grabs my hand. We enter a familiar corridor of the market. In the middle of the market, an artificially created urban valley. Covered with orange, blue, yellow, tarp. Surreal sunlight. Not so hungry. Buy her street food, eat too. Jostling here and there. Moshing, except without the popcorn bounce. I grab her hand. Let me explore. Delusions of Christoper Polo, or Marco Columbus. Everything is new and foreign. No such markets in Canader. Twist turn. Disorientation, but I know my way.

  Wander into what looks like another urban valley. This time the smell assaults with a swift kick to the nose. Familiar. Dog! Smells like mine, after she's been running with me in the rain. Maybe it's an outdoor pet store, like all those you see on the streets. Let's go pet some cute 
puppies. Forward march! See all sorts of dog, but mainly one variety. Yellow and sad. Ten in one cage. Claustrophobia. Not the proud eyes back home. This time, a flying kick to the nose. I feel a tug at my hand. Grab, and forward march. I am Curious! The Buddhist girl by my side cries, Gaja, Gae sijang=Let's bolt, dog market.

  Pull, and onward. A city block lined with cages, five feet by three feet, ten or more dogs in each. Beside the cages, on a huge wooden cutting board, skinned dogs, teeth showing, lying on their backs. Stiffs. (Have you ever seen a hairless dog, damned scary!) I wonder, are these dogs. Look like dogs, but not like any I know. Cower and hide. Finally, the one two combo to the nose. Can't take the stench, duck and dive into another alley. The smell permeates around the area like a uranium leak. See a man walk out of an establishment, loosen his belt, and pick his teeth with a toothpick. The restaurant sign reads: Boshintang=Dog soup! How to eat with such a smell? I couldn't.

  <My brain calculates. It's kind of like the raw fish places, where you buy and eat next door. Fresh, Fresh, Fresh.>

   Pace considerably quickens. Nothing to ralph, which is good. Cigarette. Feel better. Walk, explore. Illusions of exploration. My stomach tells me I'm alive. Leave the market. Cross street. Search. McDonald's. Yaaa hoo! A Big Mac. McChicken for the Buddhist. Fries fried in pig lard. Coke and Cider. A feast! Gorge. Yummy. Shite. Ketchup and mayo on my leather shoes. Feel full, unlossen my leather belt. Take out my leather wallet and pull out a one thousand note. Purchase two 300 won soft ice cream cones. Hmmm.

After word: Dog soup is not very nice. Too soft, almost buttery. Still a slight scent of canine, but drowned in cilantro (my favorite spice and the first dish in Korea I've tasted that uses it) Of course the soup is red from the chili powder. Even worse, caninie ribs. Without the cilantro, forget about it! But for all you tender meat lovers, it might be nice. Easily digestable. Am not too sure about the rejuvenative powers.
*Western perspective: You ate dog! Barbarian!
*Hindu perspective: You eat cow! Barbarian!

Cultural note: Poknal, three hottest days of the year in Korea.
Custom: people eat samgyetang=spring chicken ginseng soup with rice stuffed inside (Yummy! One of my personal favorites) for its purported rejuvenative powers.  Back in the day, only the nobles could afford it. What you gonna do? The commoner also wants to take part in cultural events. He needs strength during the scorching summer days. Canine!!!!! The cheap 
alternative.  (How times change. Now, canine soup is the more expensive of the two.)

Also highly recommend trying baeksu=fresh chicken killed on the spot for your culinary pleasure. Nice and gamey. Fresh, Fresh, Fresh! Go to the country. Hopo, last stop line 2. Across the street, slew of restaurants.Specialties: Baeksu & Boshintang

There are fourteen days left in the year, and all too soon, we shall be full of thin times.