As usual, my stomach and my nose led me to a stroll about the Cheonju—town where Ann lives—marketplace. There is something about food that fascinates me: the way everyone must consume it to live, the manner in which people gather together to eat food, the nutrition lurking in the molecules of all food, good and bad, and the nature of food cultures, which are distinguishable by people groups and regions in the world. These facets and much more draw me to the local markets in all new places, whether those are primitive outdoor markets, farmer’s markets, grocery stores, or convenience stores. Looking at the colors and organization of food always enthralls me.
With this excitement, I bundled up against the cold that has pervaded Korea for several months now, and I set out on an hour and a half walk to downtown. (It’s a good thing my love of food couples quite radiantly with my love for movement and exercise.) The walk was monotonous, but the prospect of a great market experience was enough to propel me forward and stopping along the way at a couple vendors delighted my palate with sweet bean paste rolls in the shape of a fish and sweet rice, which broke up this tedious promenade. There is nothing better than eating street food when you are on a solitary walk. Somehow I feel like I am partaking of the local culture without wasting my time sitting in a humdrum fashion at some café.
Ann had given me fantastic directions before jetting out of the house for work, but with my usual knack for getting lost, I managed to get completely turned around when I entered the downtown and took a 20 minute detour to find the pedestrian street she had indicated on her flawless notes. (I am self-aware enough that I recognize that it is not the faulty directions but my malfunctioning sense of direction.)
Upon finding the pedestrian walkway, I followed the hoards of people to the covered marketplace, chock full of Korean medicinal herbs, fresh vegetables, fresh and dried fruit, frozen and live fish, live chickens and even some rabbits! Of course, I had to stop for my favorite Korean pancakes that are made from yeasty dough and filled with a scrumptious cinnamon and sugar filling that melts from the heat of the griddle.
Two other customers were looking at my with interest, so I turned to them and smiled and was surprised when the woman asked me in broken English where I was from and how old I was. They wanted to ask more but we unable, so I smiled some more and congenially turned my attention back to the woman who was making the pancakes so deftly and purposefully. The women translated what they had discovered about me to the vendor and she gave me a free pancake. The women complimented me on my beauty, which made me laugh. (I smiled self-deprecatingly with their fallacious comment considering I was ruddy with the cold and positively certain I did not look beautiful, but if it gets me a free pancake, I’ll take the compliment!)
The observation with which I will leave you in the juxtaposition of the modern and the traditional that is so apparent when visiting a Korean market. You will see every manner of possession one could possibly think of purchasing, which are organized right next to live animals, which are caged next to a display of medicinal herbs.
People are as likely to be buying the latest cookware as they are to receiving a burn treatment from a local peddler ensuring the benefits of the heat for warding off joint pains (at least I am sure that is what I saw). Quite riveting I assure you when one simultaneously ponders the rate of development in Korea and the remaining influence of such potions as ginseng, bark, roots and the consumption of fish and meat that has been sitting in a market place all day long. Another reason why I love Korea.
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