A MEXICAN, A GUATEMALAN, A PUERTO RICAN, AND AN ECUADORIAN WALK INTO A BAR

Writing about Seoul's Latin hot spots requires a weekend of partying - it's only responsible!

In a nutshell, me, Dalia, Sergio, and Ivan went to Seoul to eat, party, and work on an article for Daegu Pockets.

Because there were four of us, we were able to book the family seating on the KTX (Korea's bullet train), something I had never done before. We saved about $15 bucks each, and had the luxury of a table. We used this table to eat, and study Korean out loud, much to the amusement of a Korean guy who sent us a sideways glance and tried to mask a smile.

We went to a Brasilian Churrasquería place called Ipanema. Tasty - but shitty for me, because I didn't eat any of the six types of meat served on long metal skewers and sliced onto rustic wooden tablets. Great salad bar, and I charmed my way into the kitchen where I met a Korean chef who lived in Argentina and Brasil, and where Ivan snapped some pictures of the roasting hot coals.

Next up, we went to drop our bags off at our love motel. In Seoul, I usually stay at the classy Seoul Motel, in the heart of Itaewon which is just as great for morning coffee as it is for ending your night out without having to worry about a cab.

We had a lot of eating to do, so we went to La Casera for our first dinner. (what? don't judge) Owned by a bi-ethnic (mi raza) Korean-Ecuadorian from Guayaquil, the menestra, arroz, tortillas, fritada, empanadas and PATACONES are to die for and taste like those $1.50 almuerzos you can by at the beach in Manabí. As far as I know this is Seoul's only Ecuadorian restaurant. And I have a big hispanic network that I trust would have told me if there was another. I found out about this place because a Peruvian friend gave me the business card and told the owners to expect a paisana to be visiting soon. I paid for an empanada de queso y plátanos, but I got a story for free. Our server was from Peru, so, being original, I decided to make a comment about how much I love Peruvian ceviche. She immediately leaned in and looked me in the eye.
"Ceviche is an aphrodisiac. Pero lo más afrodisiaco de todo es el ceviche de concha negra."
I failed to see how feeding your man an aphrodisiac is a bad thing, but she warned me that post-ceviche de concha negra, "Mejor le digas que no!"
~~~~~
After escaping from la cuenta de nunca acabar, we went to a Puerto Rican couple Tino y Glenid's home for a party with two purposes - one, a goodbye party for the man of the house. Two - a chef team was cooking up a storm in preparation for an international competition. Arroz, frijoles, crab, flan, torta de tres leches, torta de tres leches de chocolate, crema de coco, a postre with aguacate that was surprisingly good.... and let's just say if I lived in Seoul I would be really fat.

Their place was packed and I met a lot of good people and laughed hard - my ear is also getting used to the Puerto Rican accent. I have finally gotten over the whole R turns to L thing, mujel, but I couldn't resist the hilariously technical language of my friend the linguist who said, "his syllable-final nasals are velarized."

We went dancing at Caliente, a club with a Latin, as opposed to purely salsero, feel. Tightly packed, you couldn't have crammed more Latinos into a family sleepover after Navidad in a one-bedroom apartment. Spanish! Spanish! Kisses on the cheek! and ambiente! We danced until 3am and I didn't even wear my salsa shoes. But as latino as it was, there were still brown guys who showed up.

-Excuse me. Marrock?
-(me) WHAT?
-Marrock?
-Morroco? Marruecas?
-YES!
-Sorry. E-CUA-DOR-IAN.
-But ...
-NO.

Note: asking me if I am from your country is not a clever pick up strategy. Damn this being mixed and looking ethnically ambiguous! But wait! in a spanish club, how ambiguous is my ethnicity.. really? It's like a big flashing arrow wearing a sombrero is pointed at it for you.

Back in the Seoul Motel, I fell asleep with my head beside Dalia's feet, on an overly hot Korean sleeping pad with an overly hot Korean heat lamp. In the morning, being the early riser that I am, I studied Korean and wrote article notes before Dalia stirred, but she later told me, "I heard you mumbling to yourself while you were reading."

We went for lunch at a spanish restaurant called Mi Madre. (La Tuya!) Delicious tortilla espanola, crisp baby green salad, croquettas, saffron rice that rivals Iran .. and just wait to read my article for a longer description. Rico!

The last task of the day was the most sacred one. Buying plantains.

Option one: 2m by 4m Nigerian black hair care product store. They have one cardboard box of Ecuadorian plantains that has been moved inside for the winter from its usual perch outside the door.

Option two: Call Market, a Filipino run "foreign food mart" where you can get goods from costco and off the black market, i.e. purchased on the US military base and re sold with a mark up.

I cleaned out Call Market's plantain supply, and even sent the lady to get more. But guess what happened while I was paying with my debit card? All I heard was a scream. "Melinda! Apuuuuuuuuuuuurate!" (Thanks to Ivan for immediately writing this down:)

Dalia being the dog person that she is, noticed a dog walk out of a dark bar. It was mid afternoon and sunny. A lady followed, carrying a dog, and saying, "Ugh! Disgusting man! So stress!"

Apparently a man had bought one beer, overstayed his welcome, then asked her, "Can I fuck you?"

The lady was extremely offended, and appealed to Dalia's sympathy as a woman, as she talked to her as if she was the man.

"I’m not a hooker! Do I look like a hooker? I say you look like a hooker fucker!"

Dalia asked about the dog she was carrying, but the woman ignored her and continued her rant.

"I said to him that I don’t have a pussy. I told him I went to the laundromat last night and got it stitched. I said to him, if you want a hooker, draw your favorite ass on the wall, cut a hole and fuck the wall! Save yourself 20,000won and suck your own dick!" ...as she pushed Dalia's head up and down mimicking... the motion. Guess that's why Dalia told me to hurry up so we could leave.

Then we went back to Daegu. Great weekend in Seoul.

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