Day 9 Room #607 at the Castle Motel/Korean supermarket
Okay, the motels in Korea are stacked with amenities. I’m talking about a remote that controls a 42-inch Samsung LCD T.V. with free Japanese porn on channel 3. I’m talking about a remote that controls an air conditioner, an air circulator and a wall-mounted fan. I’m talking about a remote that controls overhead lighting and neon rope lighting for those more intimate moments. I’m talking about a desktop computer with an oversized monitor hooked up to free high speed internet. I’m talking about a water dispenser that provides boiling water or ice cold drinking water. I’m talking about an ultraviolet disinfecting glass box that will kill the germs off anything you want. I’m talking about a shower with 17 different water spray angles and a Jacuzzi. I’m talking about a sauna built into the bathroom and hardwood type floors in the main rooms. I’m talking about elevators with sexy voices that announce the floor but avoid the fourth because it is unlucky.
What I don’t want to talk about but will anyway is the dildo vending machine located right outside our door, or the love kit we received that contained such racy items as a tube of male desensitizing cream called Stallion, a medieval-torture-instrument look-a-like French tickler and of course some no-name brand condoms. What I don’t want to talk about is the bed mattress made of granite with slippery plastic sheets and the cushioned headboard or the steel box under the desk with a flashing red message proclaiming happy time. What I don’t want to talk about is the view of the next building ONE METER from our window that peered into a daily aerobics class (that started at 7:00 a.m. every morning). What I don’t want to talk about is the front desk check-in that did not allow you to see the clerk unless you peered under a small half-moon opening or castle themed paraphernalia such as plastic chandeliers in the hallways and paper torches in the elevators. What I don’t want to talk about is the method of drying the hotel towels where maids hung them up on the staircase railing or the white robes hanging in our room with black hair all over them. What I don’t want to talk about is the dimly lit hallways that glowed with a dark red hue leading to open windows where oppressive humidity and neon signs flashing relentlessly bombarded disorientated schmucks like us.
What I do want to point out is we had to check out every morning and return in the evening, always to the same room #607. The room was always spotless every time we returned except for a used condom placed on top of the medicine cabinet that a tiny little maid couldn’t possibly have discovered. The price was right, around $50.00 a night generously covered by our host. Apa would check us in every evening but walk into the room first to inspect it. On two occasions he chased us away rather quickly before we even caught a glimpse of the calamity he seemed to have discovered.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Korean love motels. We were never told about these by the English speaking sisters (perhaps they were not aware?) so we rather enjoyed the gradual discovery of this arrangement ourselves.
Since many families live in apartments with their extended families, privacy for intimacy is a serious issue. Therefore, the love motels and the spin-off industries (bars, restaurants, pharmacies, nightclubs) pop up beside them. No wonder we had to check out every morning. These rooms are rented by the hour during the day. I believe we were a rarity actually staying overnight. These motels are not for foreigners but horny locals. What we couldn’t understand was why these motels rooms had so many amenities when their occupants were only interested in one thing. However, when all said and done, these motels were very adequate accommodation for us giving our hosts more personal space and privacy in their own apartment. We could not have asked for anything more. What an experience!
So we started exploring Kwangju. Apa took us to the Ama’s make-up business. I couldn’t watch the semi-permanent eyeliner being carved right underneath customers’ eyeballs or eyebrow hairs being plucked and pruned in grotesque fashion.
Lunch came right after that spectacle with some yummy hot and cold soup. Afterwards, Hyun-Seung led us around the shopping district downtown. Even though Koreans never use carpet in their apartments, they decide to use it on unpaved outdoor areas. This was a rather strange feeling as we walked across squishy carpet that had been soaked from the night before.
Since it was still raining, we decided to watch the latest Korean flick entitled D-War. It involved a dragon attacking Los Angeles. The dragon’s roar nearly shattered my eardrums countless times. The volume was cranked so high that the popcorn in my self service cup actually vibrated every time the dragon vocalized its anger. The little brother loved the movie and posed for us in front of the movie poster with the predictable peace sign. It seems every young Korean that has their picture taken flashes the peace sign. This is in stark contrast to the North American middle finger.
After watching the little brother consume an entire pail of Baskin Robbins ice cream, Apa came to pick us up. He proudly pointed out that he was wearing shorts today because I always did. I felt an ever greater bond with this man at that moment. Our field trip today was to a Korean supermarket. Although all employed by the same store, young men with incredibly loud sound systems competed with each other for our attention. They shout too enthusiastically about the products they are required to advertise. It is quite overwhelming and extremely irritating. There are hardly any international foods (no cheese or pasta??) but plenty of the local fare such as an entire row of soy sauce and a rice section the size of a city block. In the produce section, recorded sounds of those noisy insects resonated everywhere in order to entice shoppers to buy. The shopping carts have magnetic four-way wheels that cling to an inclined movable walkway when you exit the store. All groceries are carried out in recyclable boxes.
Apa then took us to the vegetable and fish markets. The vegetable market was immense in variety but fairly tame compared to the fish market. We arrived while they were closing and only saw the tail end of the massacre. Tentacles littering the wet floors were being mopped away into gutters. A few remaining eels, monster snails and king crabs were visible in their tanks breathing a sigh of relief that they survived another day.
Supper was actually the only time on our entire vacation that we didn’t eat out. Mary decided to make the family (except the poor mother who works those nasty twelve-hour shifts) their first ever Mexican meal. The little boy discovered nachos (maybe not a good thing) while grimacing at the guacamole. I could not understand how a savage squid-eating boy would recoil at the sight of a common avocado. We did manage to find some pizza cheese that we used to cover the nachos as well as homemade salsa made from corn, canned tomatoes and green olives. Apa enthusiastically brought out the Kimchi as a side dish. There is nothing better than the combination of fermented cabbage and nachos!
So we returned to the Castle motel and watched some Japanese porn. A tiny section of the genitalia was blurred out which made absolutely no sense since everything was already 99.9% visible. Mary’s snarling remarks about the women sounding like squeaking puppies were much more entertaining than the onscreen theatrics. We flipped channels and settled on Korean narrated nature shows instead. Now there was some natural sex.
Next week you’ll hear about my consumption of exotic raw animal products. Until then, thanks for reading!
