Jeju is a relatively small place. You could drive completely around it, following the coast, in about 5 hours, maybe less. The center of island is clearly indicated by the large volcano and the area in between is given mostly over to the farming of nectarines and… I’m gonna say… garlic. The coast is a mix of rocky, lava stone outcrops dotted with the occasional deserted white sand beach. I say deserted, like a ghost town. Creepy. Like the Chinese, the Koreans are scared of the sun. They fear the evil “tanning” effects it might have on their skin. So deep is this fear that they often cover themselves, head to toe, before going outdoors. We passed plenty of hikers wearing long pants, long sleeves, gloves, wide brim hats and… of course… umbrellas. Really. We were wearing shorts and sandals, enjoying the sweet kiss of the Sun and these people were doing everything they could to hide from it. As with China (and maybe more parts of Asia?) they find whiter skin more beautiful. Perhaps this is a hold over from the time that rich women were indoors and poor women were in the fields, leading to class differences being clearly reflected in the color of the skin. Whatever the reason, these people steer clear of the beautiful, white beaches… so more for us!
We’ve eaten a lot of new things on this trip. Dishes we’ve never heard of. Spices we’d never known existed. But today we really topped it off with several courses of raw… and even living… seafood. Lots of raw fish, sure, like sushi. What’s new? And then a platter of shell fish… things… a snail… thing… some octopus… clam-ish stuff… Okay, yummy. A bite of this, a bite of that… and then something moved… Wait a minute! … Half of the platter is moving… uh oh! How did I not notice this? Is this normal? Is it supposed to move? To be alive? I look around at other tables, they grab a squirming shell creature, pop his shell off, dunk him in hot sauce and… down the hatch (don’t forget to chew well!). Okay, here we go. Lavinia, this was your idea, so you go first. I put the first victim on her plate. A drop of sauce fell from her chopsticks on to the poor creature. He cringes as if shot. You poor thing. She pours some water from her glass to wash off the sauce.
“I think the sauce is hurting him!” she whimpers.
It’s food. Eating him is going to hurt him. But anyway, she waves the waitress over and tries to indicate this poor creature is in pain. She can’t eat it. Please cook it. “Prepare,” she says. The waitress doesn’t speak English, but somehow interprets that Lavinia needs help preparing the dish. So she enthusiastically rips the little guy from his shell and drowns him in hot sauce. Boy, he’s really squirming now. She offers it up to Lavinia with a smile. Here you go, madame. Caught between disgust and a possible insult… she grabs it with her sticks… breathes… and bites. Don’t forget to chew!
Never one to be one-upped by a woman… I grabbed the next one, shucked it, dunked it and attacked. Don’t forget to chew, indeed.
Amazingly enough, my stomach survived. After my last experience in China, I was sure I’d be praying to the porcelain thrown again, but strangely enough… I feel fine. I suppose enough hot sauce and alcohol can sterilize just about anything.
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