South: We’re back, babydolls. Back from our Seoul adventure. We didn’t die, and we’re back at work! Yay…! Actually, we didn’t just get back now, cos that would mean we had a rather long holiday. We’ve just been a bit delayed.
So since North and I happened to hang out together in Seoul, we decided to do a joint post on our experience. Kind of like one of those story continuing games.
So we decided to hang up our Homosexuality Cloak in favour of celebrating the “hottie motherland” as North calls it. I’ve only been there once before, but Seoul was still as crazy, busy, and pungent as I remembered.
North: Yay! Finally North and South could meet in the hottie motherland! I had a flashback of being in Seoul and my eyes just jizzed… It was so strange to give up the cloak after being homosexual for a whole month. But that was the pact we made: be gay until Seoul and then decide what we will do next. Even though I was no longer gay, I found myself being very homosexual. Here was my chance to break all the rules. It just felt so wrong to do something so right. And who wouldn’t appreciate some fine Korean ass. On the first day together, South took me to a Korean chicken restaurant (warning: there’ll be a lot of eating mentioned in this piece), where we ate chicken and got very drunk while watching Korean asses from the terrace.
S: Ah yes! N was a chicken-soju virgin. That was rectified rather quickly. I couldn’t let Korea pass by without my chingu having the chickenofthegods.
Maybe I hyped it up too much. If you haven’t experienced Korean chicken (yangnyeom chicken) before, accompanied by some soju (rice alcohol), then you haven’t lived. I actually quite enjoyed watching N enjoying the chicken. I love taking people out for chicken. Is that creepy?
N: Definitely creepy. South was like, no, you eat. But that little perv probably liked watching me eat. Is it weird that I wasn’t creeped out at all? Maybe I like being watched. Does that make me a creepy pervert too? But that chicken was damn good. I always eat ze chicken. South was all like, “we need to pregame”. I didn’t know what the hell S was going on about. At that point, I was pretty much buzzed from the soju, and was drunkenly convinced by S to get my ears pierced. I’m not sure what came first: eating a waffle or the piercing.
S: The piercing came first, yes. Actually, N didn’t need that much convincing. I believe some people need that little push. She went past the piercing place faffing and going, “hoo hoo I want to get my ears pierced but…” and I just said, “Well, do it!” There you go. The piercing girl was pretty voes. In South African slang or whatever we speak, that means she was pretty ballsy and took no bullshit, despite her being half our size. She instructed me to sit next to North for support, and I did in fear of her accidently-on-purpose prodding me with the huge needle she was brandishing.
Is it bad I don’t remember what really happened after that and the waffle? Oh, maybe we went to Ho Bar(s)! Contrary to what you might think, the Ho Bar chain isn’t exactly where you go get dem ho’s or something. Although Korea’s got Ho’s in different area codes. No seriously, there are so many Ho Bars. And we might have gone to all of them in one area.
N: Yes, I remember the chick that pierced my ears. She was really bossy: “You! Sit there!” all forceful. If I were an actual homosexual, I think I would’ve liked that. I think I did like that, along with S watching me eat. I think I was really drunk and horny, and if I had a few tequila shots I would have been a real Ho Bar ho. S and I literally jumped from one Ho Bar to the next, and they all played the same kak electronic techno music. How the fuck do you dance to that kak? But we did eventually settle at a nice Ho Bar… wait…
S: Ooh. The first reason we settled at this Ho bar was because they were playing some hip hop. We felt like Goldilocks after testing the three bear’s beds. The second reason was we were quite happy drunk by this time and maybe we didn’t feel like aimlessly wandering around much. And the third, due to my drunkenness was that I fell in love with our waiter.
N: Is it just me or are Koreans really touchy-feely or have I been in Japan for too long? I’m also all about people keeping their distance. But that waiter was all over S – “Can I take your order?” one hand was on her shoulder, and the other was on her hand. I’m sorry, that’s a sign in the Western dating world. And that means that you want me. Kekeke! but I figure it’s all part of service in Korea, where these guys are part waiter, part host. And what a nice host he was. We didn’t order from anyone else except him all night. And S drooled as she watched him wash dishes.
Oh, lordy lord…
S: The drool on the table didn’t only belong to me, N. That sounds gross. Maybe Ho Bar is short for Host Bar. But yes, him washing dishes was way sexy. He was very thorough, as we could see from our prime vantage point. Host or not, I loved his touchiness, the fact that he had to come super close to talk because of the loud music, the way he touched my hand and said, “wait…” and how he’d stand casually with his hand resting on my chair. This all sounds incredibly cheesy, but let him be hosty…I didn’t care. I was drunk and in my head he was super into me and had happy pants thoughts every time we ordered from him. Let a girl dream. I remember drunkenly stumbling home saying to North, “tomorrow I’m going BACK and telling him I LOVE him!” North was encouraging, the way drunk friends are. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.
N: It’s true. I too drooled on the table. I never thought I’d say it but I wanted to take him home so I could watch him wash my dishes. And I’d ask him to wash them slowly. Being the good chingu that I am, I stopped looking at what belonged to S. And ate some chips instead.
While lunching at a South African restaurant, I found my Park Chop. I’m twirling my hair and biting my lip as I type this. He was beautiful, a vision, the main chef of the establishment. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he mashed those potatoes.
When he asked us how the food was, I almost asked if I could take him home with me. Sigh. I feel like Kristen Stewart doing that creepy loud breathing, but I just can’t stop. A young SK guy that spoke English with an SA accent but who was born and raised in Seoul. And he had the cutest smile. Gush. Have we reached that age? You know… the settling down phase. We genuinely found these domestic guys… sexy. Yes, we hate washing dishes and love lamb chops very much. So they would be an asset in our lives. But it’s too early…. I’m still in my party years.
S: Remember that post about chocolate cake? Lamb chops are the new chocolate cake. I want to make a t-shirt. Sorry vegetarians, but yes, we were the hungry girls drooling over delicious, juicy, perfectly braaied (barbequed, to non Saffas) flavourful lamb chops. We might be guilty of objectifying poor unassuming guys, but really, we mean no harm. N took extra long paying at the till because her Lamb Chop came over to chat. She was spazzing out. Leaving was hard…we do miss good Saffa chow. And that night we decided to…guess what? You got it. Eat. Drink. And go clubbing.
N: Yo, South, I’m really happy for you. I’m going to let you finish….but how the eff did we skip an entire day. Yes, I know that that chop making machine had an amazing smile that just reeled you in, but we didn’t talk about the best Korean BBQ we’ve ever had. That place was the bomb. We spent the night with our friends; one got so wasted on soju and posed for the best photobomb of all time. I still laugh at that pic whenever I scroll through my camera roll. After that we went to Ho Bar again. I know…but that place works for us. So after standing in the queue for twenty minutes one of the waiters walks up to our very white friend and says, “sorry, Koreans only”. My friend was livid. Being Saffas, South and I were like, whatever….but fuck. That just cock-blocked South. That was the “Just-wait” bar. There was a dishwasher that needed to be confessed to.
S: I didn’t mention this earlier cos it was a sore subject. There wasn’t just a mere wall separating me from my dishwasher…it was race. And a whole line of people ahead of us. Anyway, my heart will go on and on…you know? I crumpled up my love confessional speech I’d prepared (joking…) and we trudged off to some other bars, got more drunk…and ended up at some clubs. Our poor friends couldn’t make it beyond the first club and had an adventurous walk back to our hostel, but N and I chose to club hop.
Here are some facts about dancing/clubbing in Korea:
- Koreans have a set dance. They move with the times and everyone dances in a similar fashion. Right now it seems to be a combo of the Harlem Shake and shuffle and maybe some air-humping.
- You WILL hear Gangnam Style/Gentleman at least twice. Just go with it.
- Creepy people exist everywhere and you might find yourself recognizing the same weirdos standing near you as you move around the club. Usually people who look like you and feel you have a connection.
- Dancing with a group of strangers is perfectly ok, especially if you’re a foreigner. It’s like socializing with no speaking except yelling parts of the song’s chorus at each other.
- Club and bar bathrooms in Korea are absolutely gross. You have been warned.
N: All bathrooms in Korea are gross, but the bar/club bathrooms are the pits. And that smell remains in your nose for weeks. Never leave your friends to order drinks and head to the loo. because when you get back, there will be a bottle of Jagermeister on the table. I have no idea what South and our friends were thinking. I can’t believe that I didn’t barf after that bottle. As I said before, we’ve all leveled up to super saiyans.
I happen to like Korean dancing. They looked all crazed. It reminds me a bit of Fatboy Slim’s video of “Push the Tempo”. Their dancing is all jerky. Kkkkk. So there was a lot of dancing, and then we had to head back to the hotel because our feet were wrecked. I limped all the way back.
We probably looked like this.
Oooooooohhhh. And South showed me amazing don’t-get-a-hangover-the-next-day technique. It was this tiny bottle of unicorn elixir. The next day I felt like I hadn’t drank at all the previous night. Miracles do exist in tiny bottles.
S: And in tiny glasses too…shot glasses. Shot glasses you pour soju into. You see how all of this is good? The remainder of our trip was basically made up of more eating/drinking, and last minute shopping in too-bright sunlight the next day before heading our separate ways.
All in all, it was good to meet N again, share some jokes, get weird, stuff faces, and just let things go for a few days. Let’s just say when I came back, I had Holiday Brain for a while after that. I was still bopping along to bad house music in my head, still a bit hungover and could still smell those amazing lamb chops (although I still reckon Busan is better).
And that’s where I conclude my account of this delightful experience!
N: Seoul is really the wind beneath my wings. Not really, but I love perving on your men, Seoul. They are well-dressed, don’t look girly, and they’ve got…you know, swagger.
I really will miss the city life, the coffee shops, those corn dogs that were made of fries, the vendors selling toppoki. And I’ll especially miss being in the same city as B.A.P. Yes, they were in Japan just the other day but with my luck the tickets were sold out within seconds. It you are listening, B.A.P, we’d like to get tickets to see you live! It doesn’t have to be in Japan, anywhere in the world will work for me. Doraemon, can I borrow your dokodemo door, so I can go back to Seoul whenever I feel lonely?