Day One: Learning the Language

The flight was easy peasy piece o' cake, largely due to cramming common Korean phrases while watching an oddly entertaining Korean movie called Le Grand Chef (it's like Iron Chef but with a plot). Read: No sleep. And, after anxiously breezing through the terminal, I was greeted by Joe and his cousins Yunhee and Minhee, straight out of a movie scene except for the fact that I looked like a frazzled, sleep-deprived, nearly delirious giant Asian American wading through a sea of Korean little people. Redundancy at its best. And of course, after our meet and greets were done, my first question of the trip went to Joe: "Oy, where are we eating?" To the pleasure of my Hanguk-ready eardrums, he said, "Korean BBQ." Holla. A good start.

And it was definitely good. We gorged on rounds upon rounds of sizzling ribs, ssam, and two obligatory bottles of soju as we sat cross-legged on the floor, leaving our shoes in the lobby for this poor chap to put in a shoeshelf that can only be rivaled by Jason Wu's collection. Run on, you run-on sentence. It was 9pm when we got out of this happening establishment, prompting Yunhee to ask in cutely accented Kongrish, "You like club?" Yes I do, my dear, yes I do.

Round One: Itaewon. We met up with my high school friend Nicole, who's been in Korea for almost two years now, in a district heavily populated by prude Canadians, obnoxious Australians, and self-righteous Americans. After catching up on old times and the latest post-high school gossip, we then met up with one of Yunhee's friends, Nari, with whom I actually had an easier time conversing in bibim (mixed) Chinese and Japanese. Truly a pretty cool thing to do, but surprising that English has yet to be a functional language out here. Thank you anime and Korean movies.

The first bar we hit up was located on the second story of a relatively large building. A non-descript entrance took us upstairs to the bar, where initially Joe and I were embraced by cougar-esque glares from the 30-something old women. Fresh meat. But, when Yunhee followed, those cougar eyes quickly mutated into evil liger eyes. Competition. Fortunately, I deflected those obviously contemptuous stares with a charming wink of an eye, and before long, a cantankerous old American drunk stumbled up to us, slurring "Aayyy...yooouu sshhhould stay! (hic) It's...fun time herrre!" No thanks pal, but it's nice to know you have a purpose in life.

Next stop was another poppin district, where we met up with Joe's zero-English-speaking cousin, Keong. A mousy looking fellow, he had dark rim glasses (fob indicator #1), a briefcase (fob indicator #2), and a relatively fashionable haircut (fob indicator #3). He was really quiet at first, but within the hour, we were taking shots literally every other minute at a place that quickly created an odd couple brotherhood between Keong and me. You see, in Korea, showing respect based on age is Huge, to the point that you have to position your hands and arms in a certain way when obligatorily pouring drinks for your elders. And, as I gestured to do so for Keong, he asked when I was born.

Stephen: 1981.
Keong: ...what month? (translated by Yunhee)
Stephen: Um...(thinking this is going to go too far)...February.
Keong: ...what day? (everyone's chuckling at the table now)
Stephen: Er...(really? is that so?)...the 15th.
Keong: (pause) (smirk)

Keong proceeded to pull out his ID and show me the shared one day post-Valentine birthday...in addition to the fact that we both share the (!) same last name (!). Hsu, or in Korean, Suh. I cannot begin to tell you how many more shots we poured for each other throughout the rest of the night. And, when it got to 4am (keep in mind I haven't slept in 24 hours at this point), he fishily asks, "Want to go karaoke?" I see in his eye something suspicious, as he follows that question with a request that Yunhee go home. Danger, Will Rogers. Danger.

The taxi drops us off in a non-descript alleyway, but oddly enough, it is the cleanest alley I've ever seen in my entire life. We stand out in the 20-degree cold for a good 15 snot-dribbling minutes until a shady guy in a suit pops open a door and waves us inside a tiny entryway. Led into an elevator, through a basement corridor, and finally to a norebang-style lounge, Joe and I exchange looks of concern abbreviated by a "who cares, what the hay" shrug of the shoulders.

Within minutes, five cute girls are ushered into the room and the shady dude says, "hana, dul, set..." (1, 2, 3...), asking us to point to which one we want. Jaws drop at this moment, and after I've had a chance to pick mine up, I nervously and awkwardly assertively exclaim, "Set!" Number Three (I think her name was Chae-ji) comes over and starts pouring me mixed shots of 1) J&B and 2) full glasses of beer. Before I have a chance to protest, she says, "Dlink!" (drink) Well, shucks, she won me over in that very first minute.

Songs were sung, dances were danced, and when we walked out (read: stumbled) into the street, it was broad freakin' daylight. Weary, dazed, and pleasantly confused, we hailed a cab to take us the heck home. We felt good about our first foray into the Korean nightlife, but we really had no idea what we had in store for us in the next few days...

Education for the Masses:
Ippuna = Pretty girl
Meechehsoh yoja = Crazy girl
Cheencheh? = Really? i.e. Is that so?
Manasuh bahn gah weyo = Nice to meet you. (insert *wink*)