My browsing partner either refuses to listen when it comes to navigation, or utterly tunes out my words and observations. While we hadn't missed any opportunities to explore, we had barely eaten on the trip. Even on our final evening, chaos had unfolded: we'd stay up packing until 2:30 AM. Not only that, but the comprehensive documentation/sorting of receipts had been postponed yet again - for the third and last possible time. Needless to say, there was impatience expressed around me, rather than remorse at seeing the unfolding of events.
At the time of check-in, we had been provided two complimentary beverage vouchers for the café located in the lobby of the hotel.
From ZAG Café, we would obtain two Americanos, one iced and one hot. Unfortunately, we were unable to source breakfast buns from the establishment, as stock was only replenished on weekdays.
The Americano was decent, though still leaned towards the lighter side of the spectrum. Being mostly ice, I can now comprehend why many Koreans drink Iced Americanos like water.
Based on Naver Maps, across the street was Chosim Bakery. A few minutes later, we learned that Naver had betrayed us - or rather, me, yet again - for the establishment did not exist. I hadn't anticipate a follow-up from the Samsonite incident, but here we were.
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Thankfully, the nearby Tous Les Jours made it easy to pivot.
I immediately gravitated towards the Salted Red Bean Butter Bun. This was a hybrid between Korea's favourite - and awfully prevalent - Salted Bread Roll (소금빵) and Japan's anpan (あんパン). A signature sprinkle of fleur de sel graced the exterior, which was crisp, but not crunchy. Within the bun, a slab of unsalted butter replace the melted cavity of a typical Salt Roll. Tsubu-an, otherwise known as textured red bean paste, was smothered on the inside of the bun, intended to be eaten on conjunction with the butter. Overall, it was found quite delicious, with the butter being smooth and creamy as opposed to satiating. Admittedly, the essence of red bean was rather muted in the combination, exhibiting neither the bean-y-ness nor coarseness characteristic of bean paste. The fleur de sel provided a dainty contrast of flavours.
Meanwhile, my browsing partner took to a Sausage Bun and Custard Cream Bun.
We headed back to the unit to consume the items, wrap up sorting of receipts, and scramble to finish packing. Just after 12 PM, all luggage was transported downstairs. In the lobby, we witnessed yet another wedding. This would be an important observation for later. The Link was a new hotel under the Marriott family, but doubled as a wedding venue. Business conferences weren't uncommon either.
With our luggage residing in the lobby until departure, we made our way to Sindorim station by foot.
Temperatures had steadily climbed overnight and my single fleece hoodie was truly overkill. In addition, I had donned a hot and mask to prevent sun damage on my healing wounds; I assure you - this was hardly fun. It was beyond me how locals sported two layers or more.
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It wasn't until descending down to the train platforms that we discovered trains in our desired direction of travel had halted. The public alert we had received earlier (and I hadn't translated) had actually warned us beforehand of a train derailing causing all service between Sindorim and Seoul National University grounds to be suspended. My browsing partner had, in fact, translated and announced the alert to me, but been extremely vague about the message. Suffice to say, the details were not investigated, thus leading to such a situation.
My intended destination of Sillim station/Sinwon Market would not be reachable unless transferring between 3 subway lines. Given that transfers were more hectic than necessary, I pointed to the Yeongdeungpo Market on the map instead.
My browsing partner questioned the impromptu plan switch, but followed accordingly with an annoyed sigh.
Our arrival at the station did not coincide with the coordinates of the market. Naver maps depicted a short walk.
I was simultaneously on the hunt for a pharmacy along the way to replenish my stash of face stickers. Being Sunday, most were closed. Of course, Naver hadn't provided hours either. At last, we found one across from a nearby hospital. Two sticker packs were procured by a skeptical middle-aged man. Then, we ensued our search.
My browsing partner led - or rather, instructed - the way to the market through trash-filled alleyways and more.
Alas, all stalls were shuttered. The area was deserted. It did not open on Sundays.
We took a quick gander at the nearby fruit stalls, then weaved our way around flying trash to a concourse-level retail corridor.
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This one was dramatically different than other underground markets. For starters, the ceiling was higher and corridors significantly wider. Secondly, the fashion stalls clearly catered to an older age group.
"Why is everyone here old?" My browsing partner remarked, then turned to me. "You noticed that too right?"
I did. But I had merely concluded that the district catered to a certain demographic and left it at that.
I did. But I had merely concluded that the district catered to a certain demographic and left it at that.
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Read Part 2 HERE !
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