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.
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