Volume speaks louder than words

Forgive me, blog.  It has been 10 days since my last submission.

I shall do penance for this sin with a brief update of weirdness over the last 10 days.

6 Weird things:

1) I have taken part in dastardly plot to smuggle beer into a norabang  (a Korean version of a Karaoke room). I believe the beer only cost about £1 each inside and cost about £1.20 from the shop next door, so this has to be one of the least profitable crimes of the century. We got caught by the way. The owner charmingly hid our beers under a cushion (presumably from herself) and gave us a conspiratory wink. I think she must own the offy.

2) I found out that I can sing Neil Diamond songs quite well, but little else.

3) I walked into my apartment and panicked as the front door was open, it was spotlessly clean, devoid of yesterday's pants, and had fresh clean white sheets on a newly made bed. It was only after a few minutes spinning round that I realised  I had not been invaded by burglars with OCD, but had walked into the apartment directly below mine.  I snuck out unnoticed but desperately jealous of their linen.

4) I played darts on a Tuesday night until 3:00am, only to find out at the end of the session that my new found drinking and darts buddy neglected to tell me that his working day starts at 1pm!

5) I found out that specialist subjects deserve specialist museums.

6) I finally found out where I live. Not near where I live, but actually where I live. It's only been a month! I found this out after a very pleasant taxi ride home from work. I have been getting a taxi too and from work for a month, now. This may sound extravagant both financially and environmentally, but it costs merely £2 each way so is hard to resist, and I bought a rubber plant this week so mother Earth, "be cool!"  Anyway tonight I was picked up by a very happy man. He spoke about four words of English, which I matched with four words of Korean. With nothing but increasing volume  and much exaggerated gesticulation, I managed to have one of my most productive conversations with a Korean stranger to date. In the space of twenty minutes we both found out each other's names; that we both were not married; but luckily had girlfriends (he was very happy about this, almost hysterical so); and most importantly I found out that I didn't live at Gangnam station, or near Gangnam Station. I in fact live at Banpo Seocho near Gyodare. Brilliant!  It took a while and by the end of our conversation our ears were bleeding from each others excessive 'talking to foreigners'  ear splitting volume, but we were both laughing and that's all that mattered.  We finished with him dropping me off and shouting, "TOM, SEE SOON". Unfortunately, in a city of 20 million I doubted it, but part of me hopes so none the less.

What's on special tonight?

I know my posts are mostly about food, but I had to just let you know about another extraordinary dining experience.

Last night walking into a small back street restaurant (of which there are more than you can possibly imagine), I encountered a situation that had not yet presented itself to me.  As you are undoubtedly aware, up until now I have always opted for the point and hope method of menu decisions. To shorten the odds I've taken to looking through the windows in advance, so as to ascertain the nature of food and cooking style employed by the establishment. I have learnt that if it has some kind of cooking device with flames in the centre of the dining tables, then dishes will be for a minimum of two persons and require some degree of cultural cooking knowledge. These places usually proffer delicious delights, delights better relished with a friendly Korean dining partner; someone who can explain when to simmer, when to wrap, and when to bite.

Yes. To avoid embarrassing moments with waiters I think it is wise to choose restaurants carefully. I find that my best bet is to look for pictures of food and then see if it looks delicious or challenging.  

Last night I didn’t fancy challenging.

I spotted my quarry and glanced through the window. No tables with built in hobs – check; something to order that I can point at i.e. a picture of some delicious looking saucy meaty stuff - check.  

I enter, point and wait.

The waiter knew two English words. “Hot, OK?”. I nod. Delicious, hot, saucy meaty stuff sounds good to me. I wait. He brings out a portable hob.

Great.

Minutes later my gargantuan dish arrives. It is a pot of hot, saucy octopus. Not small neatly sliced octopus. No, big tentacles and whole heads!

The waiter turns on the hob and it instantly starts to sizzle. It already seems pretty steamy hot, so I figure that the hob is just there to keep it warm. I pick up a large spicy leg and stuff it my mouth and chew. The waiter runs over waiving his hands and alarmingly shouts, “No! No!”

“What have I done!!? What have I done!!?”  I think, mouth bulging with cephalopod.

I realize after a couple of chews that my Octopus leg is quite raw.  Looking around the place I decide that this is not the kind of place one would wish to eat sushi.  I swallow it down.

 Now what? I sit and watch the rest of my legs and heads simmer. Every time I reach with my chopsticks for a piece, the waiter warns me off. It becomes a battle of wills. Can I eat some with out him seeing? 

Now I know a bit about cooking octopus. Cook for a few minutes or for bloody hours, and it is lovely and tender.  Anywhere in between, and it is like indestructible rubber.

It’s only been cooking for a couple of minutes. I sneak piece whilst he isn’t looking. It is delicious. He turns and almost catches me. I surreptitiously wipe the red sauce from my chin and shirt. It is a dead give away. I think he suspects.

After a good ten minute stand off he gives me permission to continue. By now it is like being presented with an enormous plate of spicy rubber bands. I work my way through an acceptable amount, before paying the obligatory price for two - £6!

I leave.

On the way out I ponder on what went wrong with tonight’s gastronomic affair. I glance up at the picture of saucy food and then look at the one line written over and over again all around the restaurant. Though I can’t read it, I can tell it repeatedly spells out the same thing in hanguel. I suspect it translates, “Saucy spicy chewy octopus parts for two”. I realize that this is their specialty. This is the only dish they do. This is what they do best.

Sometimes in life, the odds are just stacked against us.

Is this takin' liberties

My colleague Angela and I have been sitting in Tom N Toms for four and a half hours. Tom N Toms is one of Seoul's numerous coffee shop chains. StarBucks really are up against it in Korea.  Not only is there a coffee shop on every corner but on every floor, most of which aren’t Starbucks. They really haven’t grabbed the land fast enough.

 

Anyway our office was just too hot today, the aircon couldn't quite cope so we decamped at lunch time, and went to Tom N Toms. I am not sure what, but there was something about the name that just appealed. We have now been sitting in Tom N Toms all afternoon. Our laptops are plugged in and we are taking advantage of super fast wifi. So far we have spent 14,300 Won on a passion fruit Italian slush, a grapefruit juice and two Hot dog pretzels. That's a grand total of £6, for half a day in an air-conditioned office space. I do feel like we are taking the piss a bit, but then I notice a guy in front of me who has been tapping away for just as long and another two who have been in a meeting for the best part of three hours. I guess the coffee shops are also considered unofficial serviced offices.

I think they get a rum deal, so in the spirit of goodwill I have mentioned Tom N Toms seven times in this blog and added a picture of their logo to boot.  So if you are in Seoul make sure you go to Tom N Toms. Their Passion fruit Italian Slush’s rock, as do their hot dog pretzels.

Hopefully my vast readership and this free advertising will go some way to redress the balance. 

Tom N Toms

Over confidence

Just as you think you are getting the hang of things, you realise that you are still totally at sea.

I've now have got to the stage where I can catch a taxi with reasonable confidence, between one of two locations.   I can do this without holding up the address written in ‘hanguel’. I know this doesn’t seem that impressive, but to me it is. You see navigating around this city is difficult, mainly because there are no real street names. In Seoul all addresses are referred to by districts – ‘gu’, or neighborhoods – ‘dong’. That’s as descriptive as it gets, apart from the name of the building. Imagine trying to find my house in London by the address Brixton in Southwark, now imagine trying to do this with someone driving who thinks that you are speaking in tongues, and you’ll start to get the picture. My solution has been to study a map and then get taxis to tube stations nearby. You may think that perhaps just getting the tube would be simpler and you may be right, but I am determined to crack taxis before progressing on to public transport.

Anyway, back to my thinking I’ve got the hang of things. This week I have learnt some new words. I can say ‘hello’, ‘good-bye’, ‘please’, ‘thank you’, ‘excuse me’, ‘can I get the bill, and of course, ‘beer’. All a British gentleman needs to survive in this world. Tonight, with my new found language skills I entered one of Seoul’ plentiful eating establishments. I ordered what it I believed to be two starters and a glass of beer. The waiter turned up sometime later with a platter of starters for four and what can only be called a mammoth mountain of the spiciest chicken imaginable …oh and a 3 litre pitcher of beer. We both avoided each other’s uncomfortable looks as he laid down the Tuduoresque feast for one, opting instead to just stare at the ominous mound in embarrassed silence. After a moment’s contemplation I wished him ‘kamsahamnida’ he bowed and we left it at that.

The Most Convenient Convenience store in the world.

Not just hundreds of Noodle delights. Check out the useful vending machine outside. If you are ever caught short late at night needing an animated plastic toy or a zippo lighter, this is the machine for you. 

Mystery Noodle

I haven't had a pot noodle in years. I have nothing against them I just can remember what they taste like and so have no craving for them. Beef and Tomato, chicken and mushroom, curry, they are a sensation better left back in my student memory bank, only to be retrieved one sunny after noon in my autumn years when my short term memory is shot and I think the young nurse changing my nappy is my first girlfriend. 

Tonight though,  I have had an epiphony. I have seen the noodle light, and it is good.  Korea has hundreds of brightly coloured pots to choose from.  My local convenience store (if you are in need of noodles, is the most convenient shop imaginable) has an acre of freeze dried surprises. Here are just three that I picked. Tonight I ate the only one with any English on. It said 'HOT TASTE'.  I finished it 20 minutes ago and my eyeballs are still sweating. 

Food Tombola

Today I have eaten 5 foods stuffs that I could not recognise. One was definitely made from an animal but had the consistency of a heavy jelly. It was delicious. 

I also had noodles with ice cubes for lunch. The point and order technique is a tasty lottery of unexpected delights.

Traveling by accident

I am a firm believer that over planning life takes the fun out of it. A bit of chaos and the odd unexpected turn of events keeps things interesting.

08 August 09 – Heathrow terminal 3 

I get as far as check in before things start to veer of course. Firstly they won't let me on the plane. Having not thought about visa requirements as thoroughly as one should, I had negated to purchase the very important ticket out of their country. This was an issue for them as understandably they were not that keen on the thought of me meandering around their country ad infinitum. 

Reaching a bit of an impasse, a solution suddenly presented itself. Book a ticket it to Tokyo from Seoul sometime within the three-month meandering time allowed to tourists. I chose 23 September on the spot, as I am partial to a prime number.  Ten minutes later I am the proud owner of a return ticket from a country I've never been to, to the Land of the Rising Sun. A few more minutes later and a very nice man proceeds to print out a boarding ticket to the plane I so very much want to get on.

He stops and looks at it. His brow furrows.  He tells me with a note of incredulousness that I will be sitting upstairs. We are both confused.  His confusion was likely due to my wild homeless man look and face of pleading desperation.  My confusion stemmed from my having prebooked 42C and my lack of knowledge on the lay out of a 747.  Slowly it dawns on both of us. By some inexplicable miracle I have been upgraded. 

NB. Travel itinerary-philes and lovers of order, beware - he who makes it up as he goes along sometimes basks in unexpected glory.