Pubway

Former South Korean President Roo Moo-hyun is dead, having committed suicide by jumping into a ravine behind his house. Roo, who was known for being a clean politician and fighting corruption during his term of office, has recently been interrogated for accepting nearly 6 million in bribes. The news of Roo’s death is a historic landmark, having flooded the Korean media, and it is the tone with which I began an unforgettable weekend.

The plan was to tour the DMZ between the North and South Korean borders with a friend I have in Seoul. Between the Third Tunnel (a passageway supposedly dug by North Korea in preparation for an invasion to the south) and various observatories for looking into the communist nation, the weekend was intended to be a relaxing, educational tour of a historically significant geographical location. This was not how it turned out. I can pinpoint the exact moment when the anticipated timeline of the weekend deviated from its foreseen course. I was walking into the post office because I needed to mail in some forms for student loan consolidation when I brushed past another foreigner, the first I’d seen in my neighborhood. We exchanged a polite nod as I walked by and I was prepared to continue about my business, when the notion that an opportunity might have been presented occurred to me. I did an about face and ducked out the post office door in time to catch the foreigner mounting a red scooter. “Hey,” I began to inquire, “is that bike 125cc’s?”

My last-minute greeting paid out in dividends as over the next few days I was introduced to a number of Canadian, American, and British foreigners living in my neighborhood. Finally, the beginnings of a social network in this far off land were beginning to take shape. In addition to a handful of English speakers with which to pass the time, my new acquaintances informed me that an annual event known simply as Pubway would be taking place over the weekend and that nearly fifty other foreigners would be in attendance. Well, I rationalized, the DMZ isn’t going anywhere and I sure could use an opportunity to increase my social circle.

Before any of that however, it had become strikingly obvious that any attempt to integrate with this ramshackle collection of adventurers would prove futile or compounded by difficulties without having a Korean cell phone. Acknowledging this fact, I made my way to Suwon Station where I’d encountered a plethora of cell phone retailers. The operation of these outlets continues to perplex because of their abundance and close proximity towards one another. In the basement of the train station alone there is easily twenty mobile phone stores, their glass cases packed to the gills with first and second hand devices while employees stand jaded and unoccupied. It seems obvious that there is too much competition, but they soldier on day after day. I picked a shabby looking store across the street from the station because I liked that it was an independent shop and the owner spoke some English. For 100,000 Won I managed to get a tight little Samsung slider and two months of service. Plus, it’s only 5,000 a month after that. Can’t get that kind of deal in the states.

So Saturday finally rolled around and a group of six of us got on a bus to Seoul to begin the Pubway tour. The premise is to start in Seolleung, the beginning of the Yellow Line, and at every stop grab a beer at the nearest convenience store before moving on. It was actually an endurance run of sorts and while somewhat juvenile and dangerous it proved to be a fantastic way to make friends. Foreigners from all over the place were in attendance; Americans, Canadians, South-Africans, Swedes, Australians, Brits. It was enlightening to mingle with such a diverse group of people and I can't think of a single moment that was unexciting. The day was sunny, warm, and the first few stops proved relaxing, arriving in scenic urban centers or parks. There was Frisbee, racing up the wrong way of the longest escalators ever installed in a subway, and climbing large examples of corporate artwork.

We were halfway down the yellow line at nine-o-clock when a gargantuan foreigner draped in a multi-colored woolen poncho, cowboy hat, and known only as Bone, suggested having Gaegogi for dinner. For those of you who have never heard of Gaegogi it is in fact dog meat. Though technically illegal, there are certain areas where those daring enough can go to experience the grittier aspects of Korean culture. Gaegogi is rare and expensive and if you plan on visiting Korea you need not worry about accidentally being served dog at an ordinary restaurant. Bone led us through a labyrinth of poor houses and shacks, every step taking us further from the familiar comforts of downtown and into a nefarious underground. We emerged from the alleyways into a large open market, dead quiet and abandoned for the evening. Our saunter past empty carts, empty tents, and empty tables was eerie and illuminated only by the light of the moon. As we progressed we saw the cages, half covered by canvas tarpaulins and hidden in the dark recesses of shoddy enclosures. The captives, brown medium-sized canines packed nose to tail, watched us in silence. The expressions of the condemned were those of complacency and acceptance.

Coming to the far end of the vacant bazaar there was a single restaurant offering light and asylum from the barren expanse. It was built in the traditional Korean style and as I removed my shoes I couldn’t help but notice the huge cauldrons of ribs and rendered fat. The four of us who were brave enough to come this far sat and sipped a fruity wine while Bone ordered in well-rehearsed Korean. We were the only patrons in the establishment and as we joked, waiting for our order to arrive, I searched my conscience for a moral conflict and could find none. Instead I was tingling with the excitement of trying something new, exotic, and taboo. There are those disgusted with the thought of eating a dog, associating the animal with a loving pet. Having accepted the act of consuming another being as a natural means of survival and in no way malicious, I harbor no such sentiments. Weather it’s cow, pig, or dog…food is food.

The three courses that arrived were steaming spicy and fragrant. There was soup, a gigantic plate of dark carved meat the size of a Thanksgiving turkey, and thick cuts of prime rump with chives. My first bite was electric and stimulating, the texture being sinewy and very fat with a mild hint of saltiness. It was juicy, tender, and slid right off the bone. The general attitude amongst my compatriots and I was that of flippancy and humor. There was still a good deal of meat on the table after our bellies were full and as the conversation began to drift towards rejoining the group at the next station I couldn’t help myself, “Miss,” I called, motioning towards the table, “could we get a doggy bag please?”

We caught up with the group around eleven-o-clock. By now the weaker members had surrendered to fatigue and we’re en route to their respective homes on the metro. Those who remained were gathered in the parking lot of a GS25 mini-mart, rambunctiously floundering about in perpetual merriment and animation. Whatever sensations of languor I might have felt earlier were abolished in wake of a hearty, nurturing meal. They say that Korean men dine on Gaegogi for its properties of strength and vitality. Perhaps it was a mental placebo, but I felt charged and rife with energy. Some were content to dilly-dally in the same location, but I was restless. I found three others who shared by passion to move forward and together we took on the night. With four stops left the metro shut down so we continued onward using cabs. Korean nights are filled with life and energy, the trek continued in an unorganized, rapid stride. The last stop on the yellow line was dark and empty, located on a cold stretch of vacuous highway. Of fifty people who started this mad quest four of us actually completed it. From noon until four a.m., it took sixteen crazy hours to finish. With a vigorous lassitude we crawled from our final taxi, finished our last beer, and took a picture for evidence to combat any naysayers. After a round of handshakes and a hasty goodbye I rode a cab back to Suwon, alone, exhausted, and with an awesome sense of accomplishment. Another Korean weekend successfully seized!

Update 5/27/09: It has come to my attention that there were several more members of the original group who finished Pubway at 6a.m. following a Norebang detour and extracting a team mate from the police station. Awesome job guys. Your endurance in commendable.
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