Korea DAY 5: (Pt. 1) Carrot & Sesame Leaf Café + Sehwa Beach

The second morning in the pension was just as serene and breathtaking as the first.

From the upper floor, one could relish in the gradual illumination of the world beyond, without even lifting a single limb. Distinct rays of sunshine peaked through a thick layer of cloud cover, casting a hazy, sapphire veil on all surrounding elements.
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In the far distance, the turquoise waters of the ocean were also visible. 

​Breakfast comprised of Post-branded granola and a small carton of "Jeju Milk". Unlike back home, individually packaged granola cups did not break the bank. I was also pleased to find a 200 ml portion, as that my ideal ratio consisted of 60% crunch and 40% milk. It should be noted that Korean milk was perceived blander, devoid of the typical dairy-like odour, and featuring a thinner consistency.

​Geunalohu Pension enforced a stringent 10 AM check out time, thus we had awoken early to accommodate the residence's requirements. Re-assembling my belongings, digesting breakfast, readying myself for a long day out took much longer than envisioned.

While I scrambled, my browsing partner began emptying the trash bins, as the check-out instructions had stated, and loading suitcases into the rental car.

Finally, with one shoe on and the other half-laced, I raced into the car. With an audible sigh, I sank into the passenger seat and gazed down at my watch: 10:00 AM. Just made it.

​A combined Naver-Google Maps search led us to 당근과깻잎. Alas, there was absolutely no parking to be found on site. The boulevard of the café faced a minor arterial of sorts; operating with one lane in each direction without shoulders nixed the possibility of stopping curbside for a quick bite. Consequently, we routed onto the nearest side street, resolving to park the car in a cul-de-sac surrounding by agricultural lands (and a walkway fitted with mysterious signage).​

​Without a single municipal warning prohibiting parking - and an tractor attachment simply abandoned on the connecting side street, it could be assumed that all was fair game in the rural territory. In spite of these free-for-all parking "laws", it never ceased to amaze me that the asphalt roadways were maintained exceptionally well (with not a pothole in sight!) and the line paintings brilliant and bold.

​Following the checkered interlock sidewalk, we trekked to the front of Carrot and Perilla Leaf.

The lot housed a total of three single-storey structures, though only two were accessible to the public. One offered a cozy seating area, while the other served as the kitchen, order counter, and washroom facilities. Immediately behind the sliding door of the operations building was the order counter and cashier; to its left were doors to the bathrooms.

I entered the premises without much thought, arriving to find wooden stalls that - yet again! - prohibited toilet paper from being flushed. A small wastebin would be used for disposal instead. Shocking it was to me that the wastewater network of South Korea lagged so severely behind all other aspects of infrastructure development, when sewer capacity is a comparatively easier upgrade than the thousands of commercial developments that sprout around city centres.
This stall not only restricted the flushing of used toilet paper, but also its general usage. The entire space stocked just half a roll of toilet paper. Meanwhile, paper napkins were used for wiping hands.
Washing hands made for another grueling experience, as water from the sink trickled down after flushing the toilet, eventually diminishing to nothingness. Maintaining a solid stream was unthinkable given the island's treacherous water pressure. Combined with the uncomfortably breezy stall conditions, I vowed to take my needs for indoor plumbing elsewhere next time.

​Returning to the order counter, a few words in English were exchanged with the lady behind the counter before eventually transitioning to broken Korean. I apologized for slow delivery, though assured her that I understood the words being uttered. She responded with acknowledgement, for she, too, could comprehend English but struggled to form replies. Frankly, the ability of local residents to speak or understand any language beyond Korean was already a commendable feat in my eyes.

For the most part, I could accurately inquire about the texture and taste of certain items on the menu, using vocabulary learned from YouTube: 바삭한, 잴리(같은),고소한, and more. The cashier - and presumably shop owner (?) - also informed me that carrots were in season now and "incredibly sweet". Her pace of utterance was slower than the average native speaker, thus leading me to deduce that she had adjusted her speech to accommodate for uncertainty in my Korean listening/comprehension skills.
Following some deliberation, my browsing partner and I settled on a glass of organic Carrot Juice, Perilla Chiffon Cake slice, caffeine-free Carrot Latte, and an individually packaged carrot jelly snack called "당근 쫀득이".

In the adjacent building was a two-part seating area separated by a wooden partition. One side enclosed a four-person table, while the other one two-seater, four-seater, communal table, and bar-seating along the stone-lined perimeter. ​A wooden bookshelf was hoisted against the wall nearest to our chosen table. The topmost shelves featured carrot-themed drawings instead of novels - some conjuring undeniable laughter for their imagination and creative expression.

We had been advised to choose our own seats in the space, as our selection would be delivered to us once ready. For the most part, our surroundings were observed in pure silence; the neighbouring table appeared to be a storytelling session of sorts, with one middle-aged man telling tales of the past to a group of middle-school-aged boys - all of which who seemed strangely engrossed in the uncle talk.

The selection arrived atop a plastic tray and delicate kitchenware.

The Carrot Latte which had assumed the cashier's recommendation adopted the presentation of a cappuccino. Atop a frothy surface was a single slice of dried tangerine. With time, the citrusy topping would be infused with the frothed milk, gradually contributing a subtle zestiness to the concoction.
Generally speaking, the latte was pulpy and sweet, growing progressively sweeter towards the bottom of the cup. The subdued orange-coral hue was an interesting attribute of the drink. Profile-wise, it was mainly milky but undeniably carrot-forward.

​Serviced with three generous squiggles of cream cheese frosting, the Perilla Chiffon Cake provided the stark contrast of an airy, voluminous consistency with seriously substantial filling. Perilla leaves are definitely an acquired taste. Apparently, perilla leaves had been dried and ground for incorporation into the batter, as per the spectacle-donning cashier with bob-length, teal tresses. Despite being most commonly used in savoury applications, the Chiffon Cake was well balanced in terms of intensity and earthiness, perhaps due to the juxtaposition by creamy, thick frosting. I enjoyed it tremendously, as it settled to fill the void between breakfast and our presumably late lunch.

​My browsing partner's pick of Carrot Juice was, amusingly, devoid of any pulp. Strictly offered cold, the beverage was refreshing in ways that one could never fathom carrot to be. The glass' contents boasted organically sweet properties without the typical carrot-y rawness, remarkably exceeding the expectations that 3 lb bags had set forth back home.
Suffice to say, the Carrot Juice was the winner of our two drink picks.

​Our café visit could be viewed as untimely, for the mid-morning stopover persisted until roughly 11:20 AM. Lunch would not be able to be stomached for at least another few hours.

Retracing our steps to the road, we passed by a quaint play area bordered by volcanic rock. Reviews on Google had directed our attention within the delineated area, in search of its supposed furry inhabitant. All was still at first, leading me to peer around the obvious obstructions. Then my browsing partner pointed out a beige coat - the dog was resting underneath the sun's warm embrace, stationary and head turned away from us.

​Returning to the cul-de-sac, we found that another vehicle had joined the unofficial parking area. The strange signage piqued my curiosity once more. Had I been travelling solo, I'd have likely undertaken the narrow gravel trail running behind the adjacent farm with speed. Alas, we couldn't linger in the face of other schedules.

Back to Sehwa we went. The route passed by the grocery store we had stumbled upon on our first night in Jeju, ultimately leading us to the municipal parking lot intended for visitors of the district.

​During daytime hours, the scenery proved drastically different - essentially recognizable from the grim, desolate state forming its first impression. The asphalt lot was illuminated with intense, retina-burning UV rays; just about every light-coloured surface reflected the beams into our eyes.

​As per my burning desire to catch a glimpse of the ocean waters, we neared the shoreline trail once more. This time, we were graced with unapologetically sunny skies and marvelous, glistening turquoise waters characteristic of the island.

​Notable were the ruthless gusts that continued to accompany our every stop. The scene was windy, and the ocean waves thrashing, but nevertheless stunning in its own right.

Frankly, it was Sehwa Five-Day Market that had beckoned our return to the area. An Edmontonian-turned-Seoulite acquaintance had recommended perusal of local markets for deals on fresh fruit and produce. I had acted upon this information, simultaneously planning for procurement of prepared food items to constitute a light lunch.

Unfortunately, all vendors were found shuttered. We consequently learned the implications of a "Five-Day Market": The vendors operated solely on the 5th, 10th, 15th, 20th, 25th, and 30th of each month - basically days ending in 5 or 0. This new information concluded our inability to visit during its days of operation, for our arrival on the 15th had been after hours and our departure was slated for the 19th.

And so, instead of browsing the market, I pivoted towards the nearby gift shops instead. Directly facing the Sehwa Beach viewpoint was a minimalist storefront with glass windows and a camelia besides its name.

​The boutique was larger than Sehwain, thus enabling a wider selection of products. That said, the items weren't particularly unique to Jeju. Moreover, many adorned labels reading "Made in China".

There were a few pieces from local artists, though prices were stepper and quality inferior to those featured at Sehwain. Tucked away next to a family-operated restaurant was the preferred alternative retailing handcrafted goods from local talents.

​We continued exploring a brief moment longer, with my main objective being a clean washroom facility. Catching sight of signage for a café, I briskly trekked up to the third floor without a moment's hesitation. The door revealed a joint space for retail and food and drink, similar to the Butter Baker Market.

​The shelves appeared to feature displays originating from a variety of independent artists. From beaded bracelets to skincare to postcards, there was absolutely no shortage of sui generis souvenirs.

I wasn't exactly eager to invest in another café purchase. Rather, I was inclined to purchase either a carrot-themed canvas tote or acrylic coaster for personal use.
A pocket mirror emerged as my final item of choice. Bringing the item to the only cashier on site, I was informed that the retail component functioned independently of the café. She noted that payment instructions were posted on the wall. In examining the business owner's details and QR code though, I learned that payment was accepted exclusively based on Korean bank transfer. Without a valid domestic account, the purchase could not be performed.

​We departed shortly afterwards, strolling through aisles of traditional Korean restaurants on our way back to the parking lot.

Read Part 2 HERE !