Korea DAY 3: (Pt. 3) Pyeongdaeri After Dark, Sehwa Beach + CU Dinner

Read Part 2 HERE !

​"Pick a place to eat." I had said. In retrospect, it would have been easier to decide upon a place then lead the way to the car.
My browsing partner was sluggish to budge and took no initiative to settle the issue of supper, only lamenting that the proposed options had been deemed unacceptable by me. And they were: grilled meat spots and homestyle Korean fare that we could eat in Seoul shouldn't be chosen over local finds of Abalone or shrimp sashimi. Of course, my suggestions of these delicacies had been turned down without remorse as well.

But as indecisiveness prevailed, restaurants began to close. Majority of the nearby eateries were either closing soon or posted last calls within thirty minutes of the current time. My proposal to "Let's just go and eat wherever is open." was also dismissed, and being unable to drive, I couldn't even argue.

Eventually, my suggestion was accepted and realized. Naver Maps did not include hours for all restaurants, thus we would need to venture out and confirm personally. The sun had set completely by this point, cloaking our surroundings in an ominous dark veil. The rural roads were devoid of streetlights; the rental car's headlights were our sole source of illumination in navigating to the main road. Intensely tinted windows did not help our case.

In the nearby Sehwa business area, we found a Public Parking Lot. The lengthy paragraph underneath could not be quickly deciphered while driving by, thus we relied on tools such as Papago and Google Lens to explain the restrictions. Truthfully, the chances of being ticketed were low. Not only was the lot was deserted, we did not encounter a single soul during our short-lived stay. Temperatures had plummeted to the high single digits, while strong winds made walking unenjoyable.

​Practically every eatery on the premises had shuttered for the evening. Our eyes brightened at the sight of an illuminated restaurant. We pulled open the sliding door excitedly, only to lay eyes on an empty seating area. An elderly man called out to us, "끝났어!" They had ceased operations already.

Instead of departing immediately, the adjacent gift shop piqued my curiosity. In I went without a moment's hesitation.

The unexpected stopover revealed a plethora of unique, handmade trinkets, eventually assuming my favourite souvenir stop of the trip. From tile magnets to Stone Grandfather and Hallabong plushes, I ecstatically plucked various items from the shelves for purchase.

​When it came to confirming price or stock availability, I was able to communicate with the lady behind the cashier without issues. All the items were reasonably priced, with wallets at 10,000 KRW, cartoon coasters at 8,000 KRW, and tile magnets at 6,000 KRW. I also acquired the last Hallabong decorative 수새미. Originally positioned for display purposes only, the staff member had no qualms whatsoever packaging the handmade item for sale.

​My final bill totalled 59,500 KRW - about half the price I would have paid for a handful of souvenirs in North American cities. As a token of gratitude, I received a complimentary carrot pen. Pyeongdae ri was known for carrots, after all.

​Pitch black were our surroundings. By navigating towards the main road, we chanced across the Sehwa Beach and a nicely delineated pedestrian walkway along its south perimeter.

​The waters were barely visible at this time, save the sound of waves and shimmer of endless ripples.

We made stops at GS25 and CU before retreating back to the car. Three sizable bottles of water were also procured for the upcoming few days and imminent Hallasan hike.

On our way back to the pension, my browsing partner noticed a supermarket. The interior remained lit, so we decided on yet another detour. By this point, it was 8:39 PM.
We found street parking just before the supermarket entrance with ease, and, given the quiet state of the neighbourhood, bolted within without worries of ticketing or towing.

Our first and only encounter with Southeast Asians took place within this very supermarket. For a brief moment in time, I was transported back home. Two Southeast Asian men were communicating in Korean with the ahjumma cashier at checkout, to a degree more fluent than I could attain while living abroad. The sight was equally bewildering and impressive.

The primary goal of the visit was to scour the produce section for Jeju Hallabong and any add-on meal items. In the produce section were Shine Muscat, unfortunately retailed exclusively by the box. We also found platters of Korean strawberries, priced half as much as Lotte Mart's puny portion. Quality was undetermined, though.

Our selection would ultimately comprise of a bag of Hallabong containing approximately six oranges, one Korean melon (참외), and a box of salad. For unbundled fruit purchases, a member of staff was readily available to weigh the chosen fruit and seal the pouch with a sticker - just like at the butcher. This service was nothing short of revolutionary to me. The same lady would also wait patiently for me to finish my sentence (in broken Korean) to inquire of whereabouts of packaged salad.

​At the late hour of 9:05 PM, we finally arrived back at the pension.

​My ever-so-delayed dinner consisted of leftover Kalbi Kimbap from lunch, a can of Kelly beer, salad, and fruit. Across the table, my browsing partner silently prepared instant udon noodles and a standalone sausage.

Kelly was tasty, though not particularly memorable.

By the time I had moved onto cutting fruit at the late hour of 10 PM, my browsing partner had finally transitioned to opening the box of salad.
"Is this pre-washed?" came the inquiry.
"I don't know. I assume so? It's fairly clean."
Translating the packaging label apparently specified washing before consumption. My browsing partner angrily slid the box away, though I merely responded with a shrug. "You can wash it if you want."'
But no action was taken, as expected.

​In spite of the compact counter space, I managed to arrange a cutting board and plate alongside the fruit haul.

Hallabong evoked characteristics of oranges and tangerines. The skin was sturdy yet tender, yielding easily to reveal supple, juicy flesh within. I depleted about 1.5 oranges alone, then cut an one more to fill the plate.

​As my browsing partner mindlessly began stabbing the oranges, I hovered nearby awaiting a "thank you". In receiving none, I could no longer suppress my frustrations. I spoke loud and clear: the attitude was unacceptable.

Once frustrations were expelled, I continued with expense documentation and souvenir review. In the meantime, my browsing partner beat me to the shower, using the excuse of fatigue. But, all factors considered, we were both exhausted for different reasons.

No further exchanges took place for the remainder of the night.
​
Admittedly, the lack of interaction did not instill a sense of emptiness, but rather peace. For the first time since entering, I could observe the details of the establishment without interference and without feeling rushed.

​Expressing frustrations emerged as a vital part of the trip. From that evening onwards, changes in attitude were noticed.