Every weekend, my roommates and I try to do something “touristy.” And every weekend, we end up getting lost.
Not this time.
The moment we exited Noryangjin subway station, the smell of fish and saltwater guided us over a bridge and down two flights of stairs—into the largest seafood market in Seoul.
There, hundreds of fishmongers and women dressed in aprons and rubber boots greeted us in Korean and in English, trying to sell their fresh catches of the day.
Flounder, snapper, squid, sea cucumbers, giant prawns, sea squirts, monster crabs and every kind of shellfish imaginable were displayed in neat little rows and pristine fish tanks. Some were even shoved in our faces—a sales tactic that didn’t fare too well with my vegan sister.
She wasn’t fond of the man who bludgeoned the fish we chose for lunch, either.
Call me inhumane, but the sight of blood running down the flounder’s scales didn’t stop me from watching the monger slice it into sashimi. Nor did it stop me from dipping it into a homemade garlic chili sauce and picking its bones out of the soup they made with its carcass.
Barbaric? A tad. But boy, was it delicious.