Seoul, and Soup.

So on Monday, we woke up early. Mac had PT, and I had a train to Seoul to catch.

We caught a lift with a friend to the Motor Pool where he had to report after PT, and I took my bag and walked down to the pass and ID office to get put in the DBIDS system so it would be easier to get on and off base when I came back.

After I got things sorted with Pass and ID, they called me a taxi and I scuttled in it across base to the post office, where I mailed off a bunch of books (comic and regular) that I'd picked up in Hong Kong, or finished since the start of my trip.

Then I caught the train to Seoul. It was beautiful, but fundamentally uneventful, as far as train rides go. Still, 2/3rds of the way across the country for less than 15 bucks is tough to beat, even when the country is slightly larger than South Carolina.

When I arrived in Seoul, I bought a T-money card (the Korean equal to an Octopus card) and figured out the metro system enough to make it to my hostel. Seoul has one of the most thorough, powerful, and cheap metro systems in the world, with something like 8 million rides per day processed through almost a dozen different lines. Making matters more awesome, the Seoul metro ticket counters were recently all destaffed and shut down, to make way for new automated ticket selling machines in each station, meaning that everyone not using a Tmoney card was confused, and there were Metro employees standing around operating the machines for people, meaning that it wasn't all that much more efficient than I'm sure it was in the days before.

Anyway, I wandered into a scheduld pro-Army, pro-South Korea rally at the train depot unknowingly, but nothing came of it. The croowd was mainly politely enthusiastic and patriotic Asian men in their 40s to 70s, most of them decked out in their old uniforms, some with enough medals hanging from their chests to sink the Titanic again.

When I'd made my way through the pandemonium of rally and new-ticket machines, I found the tiny, tiny hostel where I was staying.
No really, that's it there.

To take that shot, I stood in the entry door. Upstairs is a tiny open loft where two additional people (a French couple that came in each night around midnight, whispered hello and went straight to bed) have a modicum of privacy. I'd read in the reviews that the place was tiny, so I wasn't overly surprised. My host, a Korean kid in his 20s with the characteristic halting pronunciation of a person with great English skills that they don't really have confidence in, welcomed me when I arrived and let me pick from any of the four open beds.

He asked me my plans, and I told him I was about to head back out for lunch, it being around 1400 and my having missed lunch by virtue of the four hour train ride. I asked him what he recommended I try.

He looked at me quizzically and blew out his cheeks before asking how adventurous I was, as an eater.

I said I liked Korean food, and I ate a lot of Bibimbap, but I was up for trying anything. Before I could say anything further he arched his eyebrows? "Anything?" He said. "How about Dog Meat then?"

I did not hesitate. I've told people for some time that, given the opportunity to try dog and cat (of the non-pet variety) I will take it. "Ok." I said.

He looked at my, surprised. Expecting, I think, some backpedaling on my part. "Really?"

"yeah." I said. I wasn't going to back down now, and now I had a lead on a person who would actually recommend to me a place where I wouldn't get to experience the joy and wonder of food poisoning.

He shrugged and started to get his shoes. It turned out that even though he'd already eaten, he wasn't just going to give me directions. Instead, Stephen walked with me all the way to the little restaurant (about a block and a half) and told them what I wanted so everything would go smoothly. This was good since my host (who was busy shucking bamboo shoots on one of the two western style tables in the whole restaurant when we arrived) didn't speak any English at all.

Still, he gave her instructions and then went back to the hostel to finish cleaning up, while I ate. From the outside, the restaurant looks humble, and it's no more pretentious inside than out. The translated writing on the right side of the entrance reads "Soup for All Seasons" and is one of the many euphemisms for Dog Meat that is used here, since it's sortof a legal gray area. From what I can tell from the research I've done since I got back, legally, dog meat isn't food, so a restaurant can loose its license for serving the stuff, but there are still thousands of restaurants throughout Korea that do so. It's considered good for your health, and somehow helps your body adjust to the changes in temperature in the summer, thus it's name, and the other name by which it's well known, 보신탕 (Bosintang)--"Invigorating soup."

The meat itself is very tender, almost unnervingly so, and is served in a hot stone pot, like Bibimbap. It's slightly grainy, and some of it is very high in fat. The soup also contains a green bitter plant, somewhat like Bokchoi, and noodles. I ate the noodles and the bokchoi, and as much of the meat as was not fatty. It was served with a spread including the odd purple rice that is common with traditional Korean meals, fresh onions, garlic, and carrots, and a small bowl of seasonings and sauces into which you dip the vegetables and meats as you pluck them from the soup.

When I'd finished my meal, I rode the subway up to the World Cup stadium and attended the tiny World Cup museum (entry was approximately 80 cents), and took a few pictures. The Koreans have played very well in Asia, while suffering some remarkable setbacks on the world stage. It was interesting to learn about the development of the sport in their country. They are certainly more passionate than we are about the sport. The Korean Professional League has the same number of Soccer teams in it as the MLS, back home, despite the fact that they have 1/6th of the population and 1/90th the area.
After my little tour, I went back to the hostel. Stephen asked me how it was, and I told him the truth--it was very tasty, and tender. I probably won't ever eat it again. However, having the chance to experience something so new to me, and yet so steeped in tradition for the local culture, was exactly the sort of reason for which I traveled here in the first place.

A couple of hours later, the only other guest staying downstairs in the hostel showed up, Amber. We spoke a little and, as she'd just arrived on a very long pair of flights, she turned in early. I stayed up for an hour or so, then crashed myself, having risen around 6AM.

Tomorrow: Palaces, Hills, and Jump!