After four days of web stuff and dinners, I break away on the final evening to seek out my place of venality – a fish market .
Not for me the throb of the night club nor the slurp of the bordello. I crave the smell of wet seafood. Seoul does not disappoint.
I get there at 8:00 pm and the place is hopping. There is about a square hectosievert of fish stalls, all selling very fresh, er like alive, fish and sea food. I am bedazzled.
I stroll around looking at stuff with the idea of going to a restaurant for a light supper.
It becomes clear that going to a restaurant empty-handed is a cop-out. You buy the fish at the market and then take it to the restaurant where they then cook it for you. I am inebriated.
“This very small lobster – very cheap.”
“I don’t want to contradict you but it looks too big.”
“Not big! You tourist, you in embarrassing situation, you must buy.”
” Oh alright then.”
She is right, it is remarkably cheap.
Off I go through strange passages, slaps and stiles until I come to a restaurant. They grab the lobster and sit me down on the floor. This is only one of a dozen or so places that are full of Koreans having a REALLY good time. They are gobbling down the best seafood and guzzling shochu. These places are raucous. They are very welcoming to me and we discuss football as best we can.
Asia is the place to eat fish.