Korea DAY 10: (Pt. 2) Skincare at Ocean Clinic + Tim Hortons

Read Part 1 HERE !

Prior to visiting Seoul, I had evaluated a number of beauty-related activities. Although many have retold tales of conducting hair appointments, neither the price nor results appealed to me. Further confirming my speculations was a former coworker's personal experience, in which a stylist did not provide scalp protection before hastily bleaching black strands to the shade of pea soup.

Receiving skincare treatments appeared to be the better alternative, as even those hailing from other parts of East Asia admitted to making trips to Korea in the name "advanced technology". Personally, it was the advertised affordability and variety of options that piqued my curiosity. Many Reddit forums had mentioned terminology such as "foreigner-friendly" and "factory clinics", with the former referring to language capabilities of on-site staff and the latter to the cold, eerie presentation of the rooms and their format. Unfortunately, I wouldn't grasp the true meaning of "factory clinic" until my experience unfolded.

After days of research, I landed on Ocean Clinic in Gangnam. Due to hiccups from the previous day though, my appointment was rescheduled last minute for 4 PM on Saturday. This was the last possible spot that could be accommodated, for Ocean Clinic closed at 5 PM. As the staff member from the previous day had advised, I arrived slightly earlier than 4 PM to ensure a timely start and finish.​

​I checked into the front desk, where a white pencil was provided for me to circle the moles targeted for removal. Given that I had arrived with a full face of makeup, it seemed imprudent of me to mark the moles then wash off the markings when I removed my makeup. The front desk staff hesitated for a brief moment, then led me over to a series of lockers. She gestured to a lineup of sinks. Each station was equipped with makeup remover, cleanser, toner, moisturizer, and even headbands to keep bangs out of one's face. Cotton face towels was arranged in a central area for ease of access, with a bin placed in proximity for placing used towels afterwards. On the opposite side of this area was a post-treatment beautification area, complete with Q-tips, moisturizer, brushes, and a hairdryer. Having anticipated none of these elements, I had brought along my own supply of makeup remover and cotton pads, to which I adhered.​

​I was then gestured towards a U-shaped seating area labelled "Waiting Room". There were a handful of other patients in the space, all of which were young East Asian males. Despite their heads of black hair, none seemed to be Korean. I overhead some Mandarin, which led me to believe that they were Taiwanese or Singaporean. The close proximity of the seats in the mixed gender waiting area made the experience a bit awkward, but I was soon left alone as the others were called up by scrub-donning staff members one by one.

There was minimal direction as customers were shuffled into rooms and hastily provided instructions. A staff member clad in a foot cast led towards one of the rooms and provided a sleeveless jersey for me to change into. My belongings were to be left to the side of the room while I tucked myself under the sheets. Everything happened extremely quickly, and I was hardly changed when the doctor came knocking for my first treatment.

​Again, there was no introduction of the procedure. Clad in scrubs and a lab coat, a male doctor proceeded with the underarm hair removal. Goggles were provided for eye protection, but anti-inflammatory cream was not provided unless requested.

I was then whisked towards a second room, where the Pico toning (brightening) treatment was executed by a different male doctor. The process spanned no more than a few minutes, then back into the Waiting Room I'd go.

Mole removal was my third and last scheduled treatment of the visit. Back in the waiting room, One of the technicians applied numbing cream to the imperfections circled with white pencil. She then carefully adhered soft plastic strips to prevent smearing. Leading me up and down the hallway to locate the correct room, the strips flitted with each step, summoning laughter from both of us. Eventually, I was slotted into a room with a very warm blanket and ominous-looking device near my head.

​​A female doctor gently assisted with the procedure this time. She not only introduced herself, but also provided sufficient warning prior to commencing the high-frequency laser treatment. Each mole was subject to 1-2 bursts of light. As expected, these bursts were far more concentrated than those used for underarm hair removal, thus more painful.
All was tolerable until she moved towards the moles on my neck. At least 5-6 passes were conducted on one of the moles, followed by unexpected extraction. She later showed me that one was a flat skin tag, and not a mole at all. In spite of the comparatively labour-intensive process, she did not request the administrative staff to charge me the fee difference, but merely advised them to make a note.

Face and neck intensely splotchy, I was transferred to yet another area of the clinic, where different members of staff applied "duoderm" stickers on the mole-treated areas. These spaces operated akin to physiotherapy beds, as curtains provided separation instead of physical doors. Neither soothing toner nor lotion would be applied at this stage - the skin was to heal on its own, with the facial spot band-aids swapped out as directed.

Being shoved back into the corridor before I could change out of the sleeveless jersey, I inquired whether a changeroom was available for use. Indeed, there was a hidden changeroom with a chute for collecting used gowns. This area also housed additional lockers, likely intended for use by customers with invasive procedures.

Finally, I retrieved my belongings from the locker and washed my face gently. The pain was immeasurable, with the sensitive neck area experiencing a burning agony.

​The clinic was wrapping up operations for the day, with the last few customers gradually making their way back to the elevators. I stopped at their bathroom on my way out, appalled to find an overflowing wastebin and barely any toilet paper left in the stalls.

Signage was posted near the entryway to remind customers to obtain a Medical Tax Refund receipt before departing.

And so I retraced my steps to the front desk, where the staff member who had assisted with my consultation the previous day assisted with my paperwork. She also commented on the effects of the treatment, "The moles really are gone!" she marveled at my transformation before contemplating her own.
"Do you get a discount as staff?" I asked.
"Yes." She beamed, "30%!"
My eyes widened. "That's a such good deal!"
"Yeah, I'm still thinking about it."

She was the only one that made small talk with me during my visit, an aspect I appreciated greatly.

​Braving the ache of my new wounds, I pulled out a mask and continued exploration of the Gangnam area.

Starting at my friend's recommendation of Nyu Nyu, I was impressed to find wholesale prices gracing cute accessories and boutique quality jewellery. The designs were dainty and simplistic, yet exceptionally versatile. Deciding between the walls upon walls of necklaces and earrings proved rather difficult, but I eventually settled on a few timeless pieces.

Catering to the younger crowds were knock-off Jellycat keychains, slouchy fabric handbags, and various styles of headwear. Oddly enough, not a single scarf could be found on site.

​I did not request a bag for my purchase, which prompted the cashier to neatly wrap all items in a single plastic package. Instant tax refunds would not be processed at checkout, however a self-serve kiosk was made available within the store for shoppers to handle the task independently. The refund could be obtained in the form of cash (Korean won or Japanese yen) or applied towards a credit card. It is worth noting that the machine exclusively handled purchases made using Nyu Nyu's designated provider, for receipts retained from other destinations failed to register.

​Continuing on my hunt for a scarf to hide my neck redness, I proceeded along the Seoul district's not-so-pristine interlock and stone pathways towards a supposed Daiso location. Along the way were eatery sightings of Kimbap Heaven and The Halal Guys that beckoned GOT7 references.

Aimlessly advancing in the northbound direction, my footsteps coincidentally led me to Tim Hortons.

​Visiting Korea's first Timmies location at Sinnonhyeon wasn't in my plans, but the distinguishable maple leaf logo of our nation's commoner coffee shop across the street was impossible for me to ignore.

​Embracing an exposed concrete design with uniformly-spaced, circular cutouts, the entrance was far grander than any standalone rendition back home.

The interior seating area was brimming with visitors. As I navigated past the countless booths towards the self-serve kiosk, I couldn't help but chuckle at the merch stand near the door. Fitted with pins, stickers, stamps, logo-bearing glasses, and mini posters bearing "Montréal" in bold, sans-Serif font, the station would assumed an eyebrow-raising, foreign addition in the likes of Canadian suburbs.

Consistent with many Korean eateries, the cashier appeared to be unmanned and replaced with touchscreen ordering kiosks instead. On-site staff merely prepared orders without taking on any form of customer interaction. A part of me wasn't surprised, as the kiosks help bridge the language gap between locals and international visitors, though I was admittedly dismayed to have the in-person interaction eliminated from the experience.

Majority of the offerings were consistent with options back home, save the stepper price tag (and inability to collect points with each order). For a quick comparison, two Timbits in Korea rang in at 1,400 KRW - the presumed equivalent of $1.40 CAD. When ordering on the Canadian mobile app, Timbits are thirty-nine cents each, subject to applicable taxes. In other words, two Timbits would set you back eight-eight cents in Ontario after HST.

Of course, it would be foolish of me to venture across the globe to procure items I could easily obtain back home for cheaper. In my review of the menu, there were a few Korea exclusives:

• Maple Cruller; 3,200 KRW
• Maple Croissant; 3,900 KRW
• Maple Salt Roll; 3,600 KRW
• Passion Fruits Lemon Quencher; 5,400 KRW - 6,400 KRW
• Shine Muscat Quencher; 5,400 KRW - 6,400 KRW
• Moro Orange Quencher; 5,600 KRW for a medium size
• Montréal Coffee; 5,700 KRW for a small, hot size
• Strawberry Dip Donut + Americano Combo; 6,700 - 7,700 KRW

I took to a Maple Salt Roll and Passion Fruits Lemon Quencher duo as a late afternoon snack. The bill's total came to 9,000 KRW - a remarkably high number for Tim Hortons. Considering the market price of baked goods and coffee/ades in Korea though, the price was on par with local supply and demand.

​After completing the transaction on the kiosk, I headed over to the pick-up area, which functioned nearly identically to the newer Timmies locations in the GTA. Situated between the ordering kiosks and pick-up area was a refrigerated display of pastries and beverages. The presentation bore a stark difference from the cramped, fly-infested displays to which I had grown accustomed. Shallow wire trays lined with crisp wax paper replaced deep, narrow baskets crowded with more cookies and donuts than could lay flat. There was a sense of orderliness to the arrangement, which differed drastically from Canada's bountiful assortment of muffins, cookies, Timbits, and more. It may even be worth noting that muffins were nowhere to be seen, and cookies were individually packaged and sealed with a heart-shaped sticker.

While my friend reminded me that Gangnam was known to be a hub for plastic surgery and women walking around with taped noses wasn't an uncommon sight, I couldn't help but feel decently self-conscious with my splotchy, no makeup complexion. None of the locals stared at you, nor took note of the tourist-esque photo-taking. However, I was more comfortable taking my items to the outdoor seating area for peaceful sampling.

​The paper bags weren't too different from ours: brown, red, and relatively flimsy. Alas, the requested pastry being sealed in an additional wrapper was unheard of. A wax-lined interior prevented the dreaded grease stains from emerging on the exterior of the brown paper bag.

A bite of the warm specimen confirmed it to be superior than any other salt bread sampled over the course of the trip. The underlying notes of maple were mild, yet distinguishable. I resolved to reserve half for sharing with my browsing partner later.

​As its name had implied, the Passion Fruits Lemon Quencher was, indeed, refreshing. Zesty, sweet, and featuring the fancy garnish of a dried citrus slice, I was pleasantly surprised with the concoction overall. That said, the disposable cup was extremely frail, being crafted of a much thinner plastic than back home. At its given price of 5,400 KRW, it also did not leave any strong impressions: It served to quench, but nothing more.

(Fast forward to present-day Tims, Mocktail Quenchers featuring the dried citrus slices have also been seen at select stores.)

Read Part 3 HERE !