Korea DAY 6: (Pt. 3) Jusangjeollidae Cliffs, Innisfree Green Cafe + Samgyetang

Read Part 2 HERE !

In leaving the Forest of Healing, the next stop obviously be no other than the Innisfree Green Cafe. This was my last chance to visit after all.

But, of course, my browsing partner decided to tack on yet another stopover. The suggestion of Jusangjeollidae came as a proposal backed by feasible logistics, rather than a plea for forgiveness and consideration for previously unspoken desires.
"It's on the way." I was told plainly.
Looking at the map, it was true. The cliffs was indeed on the way. Whether it warranted a stopover was unclear though.
"It'll be fast - just to see it." I was promised.

Needless to say, I didn't believe it, but agreed anyway. My browsing partner recoiled in surprise at my response. The clock was nearing 4 PM, but it was likely we could include a detour if moving swiftly.

Jusangjeolli Cliffs was a supposed natural phenomenon showcasing basalt columns formed from lava flowing into the sea. It also constituted a tourist attraction, oddly enough, with admission and parking fees to support the stopovers for photo-taking. Parking would be paid at time of departure, based on the vehicle size, while admission fees were collected at the ticketing booth.

​Even upon exiting the vehicle, external conditions revealed dismal weather for outdoor ventures. Calm had been the wooded trails of the Forest of Healing. In the absence of lofty trees, however, we were directly subject to ruthless Jeju winds and single-digit temperatures. Navigating towards the ticketing booth was a treacherous mission in itself, and it was beyond me how nearby Chinese tourists sported short skirts and flashy jackets in spite of the frosty conditions.

​We wasted no time. I settled the admission costs, which was 2000 KRW per person, in cash. We then dashed down the asphalt pathway and towards the observation deck. I was practically sprinting, though my browsing partner merely embraced quickened footsteps.

Stronger gusts were felt with closer proximity to the waters. Along the elevated walkway and observation deck, our hair and faces were whipped left and right by the wind. Suffice to say, conditions were unpleasant. It prompted those nearby to be incredibly quick with their photos as a consequence, dawdling not for the sake of quickly returning to a warm place.
We spotted a red boat in the distance, named the Jeju Jet. Considering our surrounding environment, it was absolutely beyond me how boaters had managed to control their path on the water.

View the full album HERE !

Indeed, the geometric-shaped columns were a marvelous sight to behold. Irrefutable was the beauty of the cliffs even under overcast skies.

​Occasionally, the sun would peak through thick layers of cloud in the distance. With a subdued mountainous backdrop, palm trees blowing in the wind, and turquoise waters thrashing against the volcanic rock formations underneath us, it was no wonder that Jusangjeolli Cliffs had earned its title as a scenic tourist destination.

​For once, my browsing partner was mindful of Innisfree's 6 PM closing time. I paused a few more times to capture the connecting walkways and palm tree-lined rest area. Instead of battling Mother Nature and conducting a lap around the vicinity, we quickly headed through the turnstiles. By this point, flurries had joined the party. Our return back to the parking lot was now accompanied by high velocity snow squalls.
Once safe in the car, we had a better view of the ongoing mayhem: snow flying horizontally backlit by beams of sunshine. Jeju weather was as awfully unpredictable as it was intense.

​Heading towards the commercial district of Seogwipo once more, subzero precipitation was replaced with dry roads and brilliant UV rays that would be otherwise blinding without the thick layer of cloud cover.

​Finding ourselves in the familiar asphalt lot once more, we bypassed O-Sulloc and briskly strode towards Innisfree Jeju House and Innisfree Green Cafe.

​As expected, the interior of the Innisfree Jeju flagship store aligned with the image I had concluded the evening prior. There were a few ongoing promotions, but the discounts weren't deep enough to warrant further overweight baggage fees.

​Jeju exclusives comprised of sheet masks, perfumed hand cream, roll-on fragrances, room sprays, and a DIY soap kit. Intrigued by none of these, I barely completed my lap about the store before a decisive departure.

​The Innisfree Green Cafe was both a sit-down style eatery and retailer of packaged baked goods. The front of the store boasted gift sets of fruit preserves, Doldam Sandwiches (sable cookie sandwiches), Canelé, and Tigre pastries - all of which were exclusive to the café.

​I had wished to indulge in the Island Tigre and Americano Set for 8800 KRW, but was told that Tigre singles were no longer available. My pastry options for the duo had narrowed to Doldam Sandwiches only, but Udo peanuts coated the perimeters of every variation. Canelés were also sold out. The only way for me to sample the Island Tigre was in the form of a chilled four-pack, and so I did just that.

​By 5 PM, soft serve sales had stopped as well. Tangerine Ice Cream could not be ordered.

Tired of excessively cloying ades and still chilly from the Cliffs detour, I opted for a hot Americano. Served piping hot in a tall ceramic cup, the beverage succeeded in soothing chills, but was hardly impressive in terms of taste. Albeit a larger portion than expected, its whopping 5800 KRW price tag was ridiculous for the meager flavour payoff. Initially concerned about caffeine at the late hour, my woes rapidly vanished upon sipping: the Americano was practically dark-coloured hot water.

​My browsing partner, seemingly unshaken by the climate, requested a Hallabong Smoothie.

​Between us, we shared a Hallasan Cake. From its display figure, I had figured the tart-based Island Cakes or Black Sesame Seed Chilsungdol Cake to be more unique. However, these alternatives were quickly ruled out; we selected the Hallasan Cake, only later learning that its cookie crumble hem contained peanuts. Having realized the possibility of allergens, I succeeded in halting the cake from coming into contact with the crumble topping. The milky drizzle was also served on the side.

​Even from its visuals, I had my reservations about the Hallasan Cake. Cutting into the namesake creation, my suspicions were confirmed. The cake was a drastic disappointment: a stiff green tea pound cake in the shape of the mountain, custardy vanilla glaze to mimic snow, and crunchy cookie crumble to mimic Jeju lava rock. These components existed within the same space, but failed to deliver a sense of cohesiveness. For starters, the glaze was runny and brimming with peculiar opaque flecks. Secondly, my own pound cake variations were far superior than the 16,000 KRW monstrosity. Mine were never dry and always flavourful, but the Innisfree edition was crumbly, bland, and unappetizing. Its saving grace was the small quantity of ganache lodged at its peak.

​My browsing partner shared similar thoughts, but had reacted more negatively to its price tag than gustatory profile.

​Just before 6 PM, staff members reminded us of their closing time. By this point, both of us were exhausted. We hurried to consume the remainder of our order. I had been reluctant to evaluate the Hallasan Cake without sampling its cookie crumble accompaniment. Much to the dismay of my browsing partner, I salvaged the morsels by transferring them into a packet formed by two layers of small paper cups intended for water refills.

With our surroundings shuttering in a matter of minutes, we were also required to make haste.

Bathrooms located outside the Innisfree Green Café were visited. We then headed back to the car to contemplate next steps.

​Although neither of us were remotely hungry, it was in our best interest to begin heading back. Our flight back to Seoul awaited us. I also reminded my browsing partner that I'd like to enjoy a proper dinner before departing - CU and GS25 would not be in the cards today.

I selected a Samgyetang restaurant near Hotel Nanta for convenience, and off we went. Some forty-five minutes later, Naver Maps led us around the restaurant and down a dim alleyway. Reversing back onto the street took some courage, but we succeeded in completing the U-turn without issues, in spite of the steps needed to bypass the concrete median.

​The gravel lot at the front of the restaurant doubled as a play area for two dogs, likely raised by the owners of the restaurant. On the lot was a shed, dog house, restaurant with patio area, and peculiar rectangular building with a sliding door. At our time of arrival, a man was spotted exiting the building in question. It then dawned on me: that was the bathroom.
Oh the horrors! The bathroom was located outside the eatery.

The man gestured us towards the restaurant, but I confessed that bathroom usage would take precedence. Within the small rectangular building was the most unbelievably compact space for indoor plumbing facilities. From left to right, it housed a urinal then individual stalls labelled as "Man" and "Woman". The sheer layout reminded me of Echo Karaoke in North York, where washrooms were merely two doors with a communal handwashing area. That said, this cool lilac-toned space was much cleaner.
Immediately before the stalls was an unexpected shower area and drain. Adjacent was a wastebin, sink, and plastic bin of shampoo and other toiletries. What a sight it was! Even under such circumstances, the patterned tiles of Jeju made an appearance.

The restaurant was empty at our time of visit. While I investigated the bathroom, my browsing partner had been comfortably seated at a four-person table. The man who had greeted us outside, likely the owner, was eager to introduce his restaurant's offerings to us. Overhearing our exchange, he professed that his English "was not very good". In response, I assured him that I could understand Korean and read the menu was well. He probably doubted my literacy skills though, for I was squinting at the menu on the wall for a good few minutes before he brought a closer chalkboard panel over to our table.

​Specializing in samgyetang, otherwise known as Ginseng Chicken Soup, the man gave brief descriptions of the menu options, then proceeded to recommend the first two varieties, both mushroom-based. I discussed the information with my browsing partner, who expressed preference for 능이버섯, a type of mushroom with a thin, wavy cap and short stem. I voted in favour of 송이버섯 at first, for Matsutake mushrooms appeared to offer better texture. The proposal was refused, though, and I ultimately decided on the 흑 마늘/Black Garlic edition. Thankful was I to have been able to decode most, if not all, of the food vocabulary encountered throughout the trip.

​Once the man had taken our orders, they were relayed to a lady in the back. A cart of banchan arrived with tremendous speed. Frankly, the array alone would have quenched my appetite adequately.

Two bubbling hot stone pots of samgyetang arrived shortly afterwards. Black Garlic was placed in front of my browsing partner, inciting me to speak up about the error. Alas, the man hushed my correction. "Black garlic is good for men." He emphasized with a smile. There was little I could say to retaliate as the less desirable mushroom samgyetang was slid towards me.

​In North America, servers would often take their leave as quickly as possible, but Jeju hospitality beckoned to differ. The short-haired lady had emerged from the kitchen and introduced the "proper" method of eating samgyetang. I observed patiently as she took hold of my spoon and chopsticks, demonstrating that the chicken should be retrieved off the bone and eaten first. Glutinous rice and broth would follow. The ideal spoonful was to consist of meat, rice, a small amount of broth, and salt to taste.

She then transitioned to perform the same ritual with my browsing partner, who relied on me to translate the satoori in real time.
"You first open the chicken." The lady started her demonstration, then paused. "Hold the spoon in your right hand."
My browsing partner, who was holding the spoon in the left hand and chopsticks in the right, glanced at me in confusion. I translated readily, including humorous notes of the lady likening the experience to "talking to her son".

​We proceeded to delve into the meals shortly afterwards. I was incredibly pleased with the substantial portion of tender chicken and hearty ingredients. The presence of ginseng was noticeable, yet neither overpowering nor astringent. Between the simmered dates, thinly-sliced scallions, and fall-off-the-bone chicken, the dish was positively hearty - a well-deserved reward for attempting Hallasan, undertaking the Forest of Healing, and, most importantly, braving the treacherous outdoor conditions. My sole grievance was the lack of appetite with which I had entered the premises.

​I could barely stomach half the portion when quartered orange slices were delivered to the table. We had quickly learned that Koreans are capable of eating a lot of food in a short duration of time. My stomach capacity was not compatible with this custom, but we hadn't been permitted to share a single portion either.

Seeing the vat of leftovers in my stone pot, the lady's eyes widened. "Oh you left so much! Is it not tasty?" she looked at me with worry and disappointment.
"Oh no, not at all!" I denied the claim. "I am just a small/intermittent eater (소식좌)"
"Ah I see, a small eater." She understood my Korean, thankfully. "At least eat the meat. You cannot keep this for the next day."
She then approached the man and not-so-quietly confided in him. I felt incredibly sorry at the situation, yet could not stomach more even if I wanted to. My browsing partner attempted to devour the meals in my stead, eventually succeeding at 1.5 portions after a steady 77 minutes. Restless and ready to go back to Nanta, I made it known that I'd like one more beer before flying out. Lingering in my mouth was the acidity of the extremely sour orange slices.

While my browsing partner was none too fond of being rushed out of the restaurant, it was deemed necessary to progress with packing preparations and beer acquisition.

In a thoroughly exhausted state, we entered into the hotel's GS25 once more. Looking utterly depleted this time, the cashier did not make conversation with me. It was also possible that she had forgotten the exchange entirely, based on my browsing partner's solo purchasing experience.

A tall can of Jeju Wheat Beer ultimately proved to be a poor decision. Bitter and just plain peculiar, I could not bring myself to consume more than half. The same applied to my browsing partner's non-alcoholic beer, which was decidedly hoppy for a 0% brew.

​Instead of finishing the fluids, we devoured the remaining Hallabong oranges and called it a night with O-Sulloc's Jeju Green Tea Sheet Masks. A two-pack had been bestowed as a gift with our substantial transaction.

​Alas, it had been an exhaustive day.