Konglish...You gotta to love it!

Korean weman dont put out easily then!

Think bubbles....

The wet season is here. The South East Asian monsoon is upon us with a vengeance! Each year, this event gets reported on in the local newspapers and forecast when it will start and end. Not so this year, due to global warming, the event has become somewhat unpredictable. As a result, of “will it/wont it/not being so sure”, the papers had declined to comment. I can replace all those tabloids and radio news stations, for I can predict when it’s going to start and end!

It’s really easy! I get up in the morning, I have a shower. I dry myself with a towel. I put my clothes on ready for work. I make my way over to the taxi rank to meet up with Johnny-Cab. I get in said taxi. I am wet again! Ergo, the rainy season has started. At the end of rainy season, the process is similar but I find I am dry!

Another little give-away, is that the wallpaper in our apartment has developed pretty bubbles! I have poked at these bubbles, concerned that we may have developed a water feature without the aid of Gorund Force’s Charlie Dimmock and her ever pertinent nipples. Alas, no – these bubbles are the result of 100% humidity, and seem to be part of the alert indication system to show we are indeed in rainy season. Liken these bubbles to that of the humble pine cone – open when wet, closed when dry.

It’s a warm rain however, which adds to the “feels like….” type of thinking. It “feels” like your clothes are soaking wet, and all you need is a splash of Persil and the clothes will wash themselves. It feels like everything is clinging to you, and you need to peel them off. It feels like you need to carry around a can of deodorant every time you stop and rest up somewhere. It feels like crap.

The bubbles are however, for the benefit of OCD people out there, balanced! The balance comes from where the paper is joined every 800mm or so, right at the top of the wall, and looks like they are a design feature - meant to be there. We won’t win any awards for the design, nor will the problem get any worse, and I am assured that they disappear when the dry season kicks back in, and the paper contracts.

I wonder if the same can be said for my saggy skin?

I survived the raw fish restaurant....

....I think!

It was rather odd, that the night before I went there, we watched a programme on Youtube called "Travel Sick" with Grub Smith. The general plot of this programme is to visit different countries, and partake in the most vile and disgusting activities which are common practice in that particular country. In the case of South Korea, it was to eat a live octopus, eat dog, break a plank of wood with your bare hand and find the most disgusting public toilet. If he was to fail at any of the country challenges, then a forfeit had to be paid at the end of the show.

When he tried eating the octopus, it was whole, and still alive, trying as it might, to escape his clutches and make it back to the comfort of the briny water in the tank from whence it was plucked. Even we squirmed when he tried to force it into his mouth, and tentacles were stuck firmly to his face with the head being chewed upon. Several attempts at peeling the suckers off his face had little effect, and you could see it was going to be a wretched experience all round. He gave up after nearly honking up, and got rather annoyed at the producer who insisted that he finish his dinner! Challenge failed!

I was a tad nervous then, when I was invited out by my engineers for a dinner party last night in Ansan, to a raw sliced fish restaurant complete with said octopus on the menu! Don’t get these places confused with Japanese Sushi restaurants, which are a very much more sanitised experience compared with Korean raw fish dining. Firstly, in Japan, the fish has already been selected by the chef at the local fish market earlier in the day, killed, mostly prepared and sitting in the fridge – ready for slicing and plating up. Korea has a different slant on the same operation. Tanks of live fish and other such marine beasties bathing in buckets festoon the pavement outside, giving the punter the option of pointing to the one that smiles at him, and saying “I’ll have that one!” Said octopus is scooped out with a kiddies fishing net and taken to the kitchen. 5 minutes later, one octopus on a plate, fortunately chopped up into smaller pieces thus avoiding the tentacles on the face incident as described above, but none-the-less still very much alive and squirming on the plate. It should be noted that the generous use of salt and sesame seed oil over chopped remains probably hurts a bit, and makes for the understandable movements!

Removing a piece of animated octopus appendage with chopsticks from a plate it is clinging to for the remainder of its dear life is a job in it’s self! Suckers are firmly attached to the base of the plate, and liberal use of a spoon as a fulcrum point seems to do the trick. With the wriggling mass of tentacle beginning to wrap itself around the chopstick, the appropriate thing to do was stick it in my mouth. It was at this point, that I suddenly noticed that about 11 pairs of Korean eyes were staring in my direction. “Would he/wouldn’t he” was the question going through each of their minds at this point. There was only one thing to do – do a Grub Smith and hope the thing wouldn’t stick on the way in! I popped the little fellow in, and started to chew. A couple of times, suckers firmly attached themselves to my tongue, and after a bit of in-mouth fighting, these soon gave up and surrendered. I made sure I had chewed enough for the little blighter to be devoid of all life, and swallowed it back. The taste was ok I guess, but the texture was like trying to gulp down soggy inner tubes from a bicycle tyre! The sesame seed oil coating helps it slip down easily, so I am told.

I looked around the room, half expecting a round of applause, but as these guys eat this stuff every week, to them it was no biggie, but I did see some money changing hands!

My tummies rumbling now – what’s that all about? Is it tapping the walls of my stomach looking for an escape hatch?