Another teacher planned and paid for this trip for a couple of friends when one of them bailed, leaving an opening for me. Surfing? Of course I wanted to go. It involved a few sights of the area as well and two nights unfabulous accomodation.
Our preparation plans kept changing until we realized the only possible way was to spend the night in Itaewon, possibly my least favorite part of Seoul, where the Adventure Korea tour bus left at 6 AM.
Edgar had a twist of genius the night before. Why get a hotel when we could stay awake all night at the clubs and bars? Uh-uh. I wanted to surf and I was going to have whatever sleep I could manage.
It was 9 when I made it to Itaewon. The Lonely Planet Guide to Seoul recommended the Hilltop Hotel. I followed the crap map to a street by the quaint name of Hooker Hill but I wasn't too sure I had the right place. It was a hill. But was it Hooker Hill? Oh yes. Prostitutes started jumping out of doors in bras and panties saying "Yes. Come inside." This was the place. It was like a gauntlet. Some of them were pretty. I suspect they were window dressing and clients had to pick from plainer women inside while the sirens kept station at the door. I'll never know. I kept trudging up that hill, feeling a bit creeped out and smiling politely.
"No thank you."
"No thank you. Yes, you're pretty."
"No thanks. Just sleep. Good night."
They kept coming. All those eyes must have been watching from dark windows the entire trip. Every door sprang open just as I reached it.
The last one was the most aggressive, a dolled up transvestite with a sad attempt at a feminine voice who took me by the shoulder and tried to drag me (guilty pun) through the door. "It's okay. One minute. Special massage. Just one minute."
Well, my left shoulder was still aching after the bicycle accident but she wasn't a masseuse. And she had a penis! I think the assumption was that, since I'd passed up all the warm offers of real women en route, s/he must be what I was looking for. Sometimes good manners won't work, not with the persistent and desparate and business must have been slow that night. I pushed away with a much firmer "No thank you." than I'd given the others.
I stopped under the outdoor yellow light of a tavern to check the guide again. Some young soldiers hanging outside asked me what I was looking for and pointed me to the Hilltop Hotel, right at the hilltop. Only regulars could have known that. I couldn't see the sign on that dark street until I'd walked right up to it. Closed. I can't imagine business being poor for a hotel near all those clubs and bars. Probably health violations. Thank you so much, Lonely Planet Guide. An older haggard prostitute had been eavesdropping and stepped up to point me to another hotel down an alley with a single yellow bulb. It looked exactly the sort of dead end place an old crone with a million sad stories might endorse. I figured I'd lose something or catch something there so I said "No thank you. Good night." and faced the gauntlet on my way back. They wouldn't give up.
The guide book listed another place right above McDonald's at the far end of the Main Street. It was quieter down there, away from the bars. The hotel was there and open for business. I found the entrance at the back of a driveway, an isolated stairwell with no security cameras, leading to the desk on the third floor. Nobody to be seen. My "Anasayo" was answered by strained grunting noises behind a curtain like someone having a very difficult dump. Not wanting to intrude on such an important personal moment, I waited before making anymore noise. Eventually an exhausted man dragged himself out to give me a room key before collapsing on his cot again. No security cameras, dark halls and a night clerk in a coma. I suppose the arrangement was designed so guests wouldn't feel self-conscious about bringing home friends or stabbing someone in the hall but at least the clerk could hear you if you screamed loud enough.
That taken care of, time for a late dinner. Edgar and I were supposed to meet for dinner. I marched back to the subway station, past a huge and ugly bag lady who offered a special massage. Edgar kept calling to say he was almost there. Half an hour stretched to an hour. I gave up on him after he said he just got off at the Itaewon station, five minutes from the street. Never mind that those stairs take two minutes, he still hadn't emerged after 12. I timed him. The offer was still open from the bag lady.
I forgot my alarm clock. Luckily for me, Edgar was sticking to his all-night party animal plan and promised me a wake-up call. He had to be a better bet than the night clerk but he ended up ringing me at 5:45 instead of 5:00 and he was just about insensible.
"Edward! Meet me in front of the Hamilton Hotel. We'll go to McDonald's for breakfast."
"Edgar, I'm already at McDonald's."
"You're at McDonald's?"
"Yes, my hotel is right above McDonald's.
"Oh. OK. So meet me in front of the Hamilton and we'll walk down to McDonald's and have some breakfast."
Not a word I said was getting through. This went back and forth. He pretended to understand before telling me to meet him in front of the Hamilton. I had had some sleep but not quite enough and I lost patience.
"Edgar. I--am--at---McDonald's." A slow angry voice seemed to do the trick but I wasn't convinced until I saw him swaggering down the street.
The place was jammed with all night party people, mostly athletic looking army guys. I smelled potential trouble when Edgar started bragging about the fight he'd almost been in and doing sloppy make believe kung fu moves. Edgar is soft and overweight, a big fan of escalators. Definitely not a fighter. Anyone in the room could easily have hurt him. All the big guys just shrugged and rolled their eyes. But a short guy who I pegged as strong, fast and mean had this grin and gleam in his eye that I didn't like. "I'd love to see this guy get in a fight." It's wise to be wary of men who might have something to prove, especially at McDonald's first thing in the morning when women have given them the cold shoulder all night long and they're still stuck with just their buddies. This guy was strong but came up a little short of my shoulder and seemed ready to make a point about how tough short guys can be at a moment's notice.
I distracted Edgar immediately. "Get in line, man. Are you hungry?" That did the trick.
Edgar helped me order and I somehow ended up with two of everything. A pile of trays and garbage kept a prime sidewalk table available. Since no one else wanted to sit there, I set my bag on a chair and cleaned up the mess.
"No man, that's their job. Get them to clean it up."
There were easily twenty customers at that counter; not all of them were nice. We were running late. I had more greasy food than I wanted. Thirty seconds cut everybody concerned some slack.
Ariel, our third person, showed up. He'd been awake all night too but he was amiable and perfectly coherent. Never met him before. I liked him instantly. Yay. I had an ally to hustle Edgar along.
The bus was still there, full of very tired looking people.
I wasn't the crankiest person on board. That's always nice.
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