Seoul Series: The Collector's Hunt

"Who turned the air-conditioner all the way down?," you ask TC, your travel companion, as you step out of your train and into Incheon train station. TC looks at you with a blank face, probably wondering how this trip has been barrage of nonsense jokes only you yourself find funny.

How can you not joke about the AC when it seems like 5 degree Celsius now? When you left Namyeong, in Central Seoul, an hour earlier, the Korean news channel flashed a symbol of the sun shining, under the word Seoul - and it was supposed to be just about 8 degrees.

Only a handful of people were headed to this part of the metropolis. Incheon has always lived in the shadow of its more vibrant sister, Seoul. Being an hour away from  the capital's center, Incheon has its own swag and its own vibe. It is where the airport is. It is where the seaport is. And it is where Chinatown, your next stop, is.

Ahjummas and ahjussis (elder women and men) in their neutral colored fleece jackets and sweaters walk slowly beside you and TC towards the train station exit. A group of younger Seoulites laugh at the top of their lungs, as they point to where the exit seems to be. Passengers entering the station, on the other hand, start boarding the train, which is heading back to Seoul in a few minutes. This station, called simply Incheon, is the last stop in the west of Line 1. Seoul's complicated subway station is a web of about sixteen different lines, each with its own assigned number and color - from red to orange, to purple and blue. In fact there are about three shades of blue on the subway map. And for someone a bit color blind like you, a simple two to three-transfer trip could turn out to be an Amazing Race task.

You reach for your leather jacket's front pocket and marvel at your new T-Money card. The convenience store clerk who sold this to you last night said you can use it practically for anything. You remember him saying "Pay taxi, call phone, use GS 25, Family Mart, or 7-11." You get the message.

 And yes, you will need your T-Money card too to exit the station.

 Beep.

Wow! High tech! You and TC look at each other's cards swiping against the gate's machines,  to make sure you both could get out of the station hassle-free. You are officially in love with Seoul's subway network.

If it felt like 5 degrees earlier in the open-air train station, it now feels like the temperature has dropped a couple of notches again. Strong, cold wind blows on your face the moment you step out of the station's door. You reach for your jacket's hood and put it over your head.

Your right hand reaches for your Lonely Planet Seoul tucked under your left arm. With your forehead muscles wrinkled, you scan the bookmarked page of your travel guide. Highlighted neon green, the short entry says that The Chinatown arc should be visible once you exit Incheon Station.

You lift your head up, as if in a slow-mo scene of a movie, with the sound of Chinese Gong  in the background.

You see it. Incheon's Chinatown Arc.

You are in Chinatown!

"There it is!", you call out to TC, who is already taking photos of the park by the station.

"It's been there since we got out," he sarcastically chuckles. Oh, okay. You didn't notice. Your brain freezes in cold weather after all.

Your feet lead you to a tourism information board past the arc. You were checking out a map of the area, when you notice a big screen beside it, a touchscreen Idiot's Guide to Incheon's Chinatown. Okay, that may be an exaggeration. But you really are star struck with this plus-sized gadget.

TC asks you to scoot over so he can check it out, but you refuse, determined to find on the digital map what you came here for. You have to find it fast, as the sky is starting to gray.

"There!," you surprisingly exclaim, pressing the screen so hard, it goes back to the main menu.

With your eyes still on this giant iPad, you ask TC, "Do you want to eat now? Because if we go straight that way..."

Your peripheral vision tells you that TC has left you. He is taking photos (again) of hundreds of red Chinese lanterns, with his plastic Lomo film camera, a white Fisheye.

You holler at TC while walking towards the lanterns, "Shouldn't we eat now?" But TC looks like he could not hear you.

The sky is getting darker and darker, and with no umbrella, you to start walking faster as TC tries to catch up with you. You pass by a Chinese house, vending machines, shops and stores, and a giant bowl of Chinese noodles. Yes, a giant bowl of noodles! Which reminds you, it's 11AM, so you better grab a quick bite here.

The once faint smell you earlier noticed is becoming stronger and stronger now, as you tread up the hilly road of Chinatown. The aroma in the air reminds you of Binondo back home. It reminds you of Luk Yuen. And Super Bowl. It reminds you of Hong Kong.

The only English sign outside the establishment reads TOURIST RESTAURANT. And even if you refuse to be classified as a tourist (though there's nothing really wrong with that), you doubt that you will find a place that says FLASHPACKER RESTAURANT, right?

So you and TC decide to go in. The two storey restaurant is a lot warmer, but  a bit busy, with servers running around, customers coming and going, checks being  delivered and settled.

The smell of Asian spices tells you you need to find a table fast, so you can eat right away. You call out to a twenty-something female server, "Ahjumma, table for two!"

She stares back at you, as if her eyes are two flying daggers that pierce through your chest. You wonder what's wrong. "You're dead," TC laughs, as he reminds you that the term ahjumma is actually meant for older females. Oh shoot, you forgot.

She quickly leads you and TC to a smaller room, and asks you to remove your shoes and leave them in the shoe cabinet. You are seated at a table only ten inches high; the table top so close to the floor that you had to sit on pillows with legs crossed.

Hungry and still with three items to cross off your day's itinerary, you quickly order for what looks like tofu and ground pork rice, relying just on the photo on the one-page menu. She quickly lays plates of side dishes, which is making you think if you can just order rice with all these veggies. Ha, Cheapskate!

You and TC finish your meal in minutes, as families and friends happily enjoy their early lunch around you. Your lunch tastes Chinese, but not quite, since there's a slight Korean flavor to it as well.

TC asks for the check, but the lady you called ahjumma points to the cashier. Oh, that's where we pay the bill. Okay. You get up, with legs numbed from sitting too long, put your shoes on, and head to the counter to pay.

35,000 won ($30) seems pretty steep, but you convince yourself that most of the time, you are not just paying for the food, but also for the experience (geez, how many times have you done this). Seoul's Chinatown is not always on a tourist's list after all. And so whatever the travel brochures say, you still feel that you are off the beaten track. No tourist would spend an hour on the train, just to go to Chinatown, which is close to 30 subway stations away from the center of South Korea's capital.

But this Korean-Chinese meal is not the only reason you traveled all the way here.

 "It should be somewhere in this area," you tell TC, as you leave the restaurant, cold wind brushing against your face again. You put your hood back on.

He points to a small shop, "Do you think that's it?"

From afar, the store seems to have a bright, neon glow around it, and with an imaginary PIT STOP NUMBER 1 sign posted on its walls, you go in.

As you haggle for Korean-Chinese trinkets for your mom, you see them hanging on the wall. Your heart jumps in your chest as you flash a big smile. You ask a real ahjumma how much they are. You try to bring down the price from 25,000 Won ($20) to 20,000 Won, for two. Ahjumma agrees, packs your purchase, and thanks you. You bow down to her and say Kamsamnida! And Annyeong Higyeseyo as you leave.

Your Chinatown trip is over.
You found what you wanted.
You just started your mask collection.  ●

Flashbacks From the Flashpacker's THE WHIZZY QUIZ

Flashbacks From the Flashpacker (F3), is giving away two custom-made, multi-purpose fridge magnets/bottle openers this Saturday! Just answer these questions. Clues on the photo at the bottom of the post!


1. In my first blog entry, THE LEGEND OF THE FLASHPACKER - PART ONE, F3's friends are in what city in Asia?
ANSWER: B _ _ _ _ _ K

2. In Part 2, who were checking out the holiday brochures before F3 did?
ANSWER: A newly wed couple going on their H _ _ _ _ M _ _ _

3. In Part 3, why did the tour group members feel sad during meal time?
ANSWER: The six-course meal turned out to be all V _ G _ T _ B _ _ dishes.

4. In Part 4, why did F3 almost lift his hands up to the sky?
ANSWER: F3 saw a cheap place to E _ _.


THREE EASY WAYS TO SEND YOUR ANSWERS:
1. Email your answers with your name and contact details to  theflashpacker@gmail.com.
2. PM your answers to the blog author. www.facebook.com/flashbacksfromtheflashpacker
3. Text message your answers to the blog author if you have his number.

Two lucky winners will be drawn among those who will get them all right! Open to all Philippine and International readers. Closes 11:59PM (Manila Time), Sat, April 28. If you have not LIKED this page, please do. Kamsamnida!

LIKE us on Facebook! www.facebook.com/flashbacksfromtheflashpacker

The Legend of the Flashpacker Part 4 (The Conclusion): A Traveler is Born

BASED ON A TRUE STORY

When you can't take it anymore, do you take a deep breath? Or do you walk out?

You choose to leave your tour group.

Surrounded by green HK trams, red taxicabs, and a gazillion apartment buildings, you walk around aimlessly, wondering how this could happen to you.

Cantonese-speaking locals in fleece jackets walk past you. The smell of freshly steamed dimsum lingers in the air. Your tummy tells you you need to stop and grab a bite somewhere. You place your hand on your stomach. Yeah, you feel it grumbling. You can even hear it growling, despite all the Cantonese pop songs blasting from the giant speakers of clothing and cosmetics stores you pass by.

You are hungry, but your head tells you to pull out your itinerary sheet again to check the address of the hotel. TST, Kowloon.

You have to head back to Tsim Sha Tsui. And you have no idea where that is.

You follow the swarms of people all hurrying to get home. You pull out your blue scarf, as the temperature keeps on dropping every second. You look up the sky.

The sun is about to set.  All you want to do now is go back to the hotel, find your way out of here, and get some rest.

You follow a group of young Hong Kong-ese in tasseled boots, hoping they'd walk straight to the subway station. Minutes pass. They pause at a bus stop and get on a yellow bus with a big Admiralty sign.

You pull out your tourist map this time. You learn that Admiralty is where you can transfer to a subway station en route to Kowloon where Tsim Sha Tsui is.

Too shy to ask for directions, you start scanning all the bus numbers and their destinations on the bus timetable. What the heck? You tell yourself to just take the next bus and it'd probably bring you somewhere where there is a subway station.

A yellow double-decker bus stops before you. You get a little disoriented, since driving in Hong Kong is on the left side of the road. The digital sign says North Point. You get on, hoping it'd get you somewhere closer to your hotel.

Good thing a friend back home lent you an Octopus Card, so you swipe it against the machine beside the driver, following the locals' lead.

You settle in the third row. You look around. Everybody seems to be minding their own business, all excited to go home, have dinner with their families, and probably watch Cantonese soap before calling it a day.

A high school girl in pigtails seated beside you is reading her English textbook. Amused, you hesitantly ask her, "Excuse me. Do you know where the next subway station is?"

Probably surprised, she looks at you and only murmurs "Oh!". She then removes one hand from her book and presses a button beside her. Did you just scare her? You are about to say sorry, until she opens her mouth again, "Subway, next stop."

You smile and say "Xie xie", even if your thank you is in Mandarin. Locals use Cantonese in this part of China but everyone seems to understand Mandarin anyway. Besides, thanks in Cantonese is too difficult to pronounce.

"Your stop," she says pointing to your right. People start standing up and getting off, so you follow, after thanking the kid.

You take the escalators going down the station and walk behind the locals again. Getting lost isn't that bad after all.

Quarry Bay. This is what the subway map says. You are supposed to take the blue line heading west and transfer to the red line in Admiralty going back to Tsim Sha Tsui. Piece of cake, you tell yourself.

You can do this.

The next train arrives. You get on. No seats. So you settle beside the door and check the map posted on top of the train’s windows.

The train moves and suddenly you feel something is wrong.

Today REALLY is your lucky day. Instead of taking the blue line, you accidentally boarded the purple line!!! You are hungry, you are lost, and you are on the wrong train.

You hear the next stop announcement in Cantonese. Then Mandarin. Then English: Next Stop, Yau Tong.

Yau what?

The train grinds to a halt. And you don't hesitate to get off. Then, you hear it again: your stomach grumbling. You feel your throat is dry.

You. Gotta. Eat.

Okay. Don't panic. Deep breath. 

You decide that a few minutes outside the station to find a restaurant won't probably cause you to miss the last train. It's HK. It's a first world country. You can find your way around. Hopefully.

So, you try to find your way out of the yellow train station. Passing by a map of the neighborhood, you try to search for the nearest restaurant. No luck. You think, "Why don't I just ask a local?"

And so you do. You approach a young guy, as you exit the station. He’s probably heading out to the city from what looks like a rural part of Hong Kong, a place you never read about online; one missed by your travel guide.

"Excuse me, do you know if there is a restaurant somewhere here?" He points to the left and tells you, "Take minibus", and before you can ask why, he has taken off.

There is no minibus in sight. You could not even find the minibus stop (maybe because it's a mini bus stop?).

You check your HK MTR map again. You are in Yau Tong station. Good thing you are back in Kowloon. Well, that's a relief. But to get back to your hotel in Tsim Sha Tsui, you either take the green line that goes north, then transfer to the red line. Or head back to HK Island on the purple, then blue, then red line. You are counting which route would take fewer stations, when Minibus 24 miraculously stops before you, as if it was sent by heaven.

The driver smiles, and sensing you are a tourist (How could he??? Oh yeah, the map). You hear Lei Yue Mun. 

You ask the driver again, "Where does..."

You haven't even finished when he tries an English sentence, but all you understand is sea-foot.

Sea what? Seafood? 

You drool at the thought of grilled fish, buttered shrimp, and calamari. You get on the minibus.

The drive was just a short one and before you can say I am lost in Hong Kong but I don't care, the driver drops you off. He points to a small fishing village and says "Lei Yue Mun".

You marvel at the junk boats lining the channel. You never saw this side of Hong Kong during your pre-trip research. Not even on the Internet. You take a photo, proceed to walk past the Chinese arc, and wonder if this is Chinatown.

You snicker at the thought. Hong Kong is one big Chinatown itself.

You follow some teenage locals hoping they are headed too to the seafood restaurant the driver was trying to tell you about earlier. You just wish you understood the rest of his Chinese-accented English so you could find your way more easily. 

You were checking the last few photos you took on your phone, trying to convince yourself that you could be a travel photographer, when you start hearing shopkeepers shouting in Cantonese. Could it be a brawl?

You expected woks flying. 


But no one is fighting.

You check the sign boards around you: This Seafood, That Seafood.

Welcome to Lei Yue Mun Seafood Bazaar.

A small, dark alley leads you to aquariums full of sea creatures, still alive. From shrimps, to prawns, to fish, to shellfish. And all species and families in between.

There are stores selling raw seafood exclusively, restaurants that can cook the seafood you just purchased, and other shops which you think that can do both.

For some reason, you feel sorry for these little creatures. You could not take the thought of picking a still swimming fish and have him cooked minutes later. Besides, when you asked the old grandma how much it'd cost, you knew that you should have brought someone along and split the bill --- somewhere around $US 20-30. 

You check how much HK dollars you have left. Right pocket: HKD25. Left pocket: HKD15 and some change. Wallet: HKD50.

You couldn't afford to eat here, you tell yourself.

Disappointed, you try to find your way out of the Seafood Bazaar. It was an interesting walk though. Out of your four friends who have been to HK, you conclude that nobody among them has been here, based on their advice (which mainly revolved around Disneyland) and their Hong Kong Facebook albums, which you checked the night before your flight. 

You were already looking for your minibus stop, when you notice two locals make a quick turn in front of you. You quickly inspect what could be in the small alley. 

You almost raised your hands to heaven when you see a Chinese eatery.

Since it looks like a small, family owned restaurant, you instantly feel more comfortable. No pressure to buy, no old ladies shouting, unlike at the Seafood Bazaar earlier. You ask the friendly grandpa, who probably owns the restaurant, "Pai fan? Mei you?". Do you have rice? 

He smiles, "Putonghua!". Mandarin in Mandarin. Uh-oh, he thinks you are Chinese. He places a Chinese menu on the plastic table.

You check your phrasebook again. Some of the words are too long, so you just pick the easiest, "Eeng-woon!". English.

Grandpa says "OK, OK", walks back to his table and gets another menu, but this time with English translations. You order a Coke, while picking which pai-fan meal you'd have. You settle for the HKD25 Shrimp and Egg Rice. Maybe US $3. Not bad.

Grandpa comes to collect the menu and tries to strike a conversation. With his limited English and your yi-tiyen-tiyen Mandarin, you swap stories and learn that he has been running this restaurant for over twenty years. You don't remember how many times you mentioned WOW, but the smell of Chinese food is keeping you in the mood for an interesting conversation with a local. He was trying to tell you about the village’s Seafood Festival, and drums, and dancing when your food arrives. Grandpa excuses himself to let you eat and proceeds to entertain other customers.

As you pour Chinese soy sauce into your plate full of rice, shrimps, and egg soup, you start reminiscing about the past few hours. 

Walking out on your tour group.

Walking aimlessly behind locals.

Hopping on a random bus.

Boarding the wrong train.

Getting lost in rural Hong Kong.

Finding a seafood market by accident.

Exchanging stories with a local restaurant owner.

You are officially off the beaten path. 

You are no longer the tourist you were when you woke up this morning. As you munch on the best Chinese meal you have had since arriving in this interesting territory, you pull out your phone and logon to Facebook. 


New status message: A traveler is born. ●  

The Legend of the Flashpacker: Part 3 (You Call Yourself a Backpacker?)

BASED ON A TRUE STORY


Have you ever felt scammed after paying a humongous part of your savings for something you have always wanted to buy?

This is how you exactly feel now.

"You like to buy necklace or bracelet?," the 40-something female shop attendant asks you, while you grumpily wait and sit at the corner of the jewelry store your tour guide earlier described as an "antique jewelry museum".

You nod your head sideways and try to say NO but she has walked away towards a husband-and-wife team who happily agrees to check out some of the bling blings, the price of which is about twice or three times more than what you paid for this travel package.

You glance at your Mao Tse Tung watch, which you got for about $6 last night on Temple Street's night market. Your jaw drops. Your first HK purchase has stopped working. You need not check where the watch is manufactured. You know you are just about a 45-minute train ride away from Mainland China.

At last, you hear your tour guides, whose English names are Fiona and Apple, shouting "Ten more minutes!", with a thick Cantonese accent.

You close your eyes and wish that you'd be out of here by the time you open them. You take a deep breath. Disappointed, you grab your red backpack slouched on the floor.

Fiona comes up to you, "Everything okay?"

You only reply with a smile. Hastily, you walk towards the red exit door which looked like the gateway to heaven at this time.

Outside, the pack of cigarettes you just bought at 7-11 this morning falls to the pavement, as you reach into the backpack pocket looking for the Chinese lighter you bought too at Temple.

Apple from afar, with a folder in one hand and a HAPPY TOURIST TRAVEL banner in the other, waves at you. "Hurry hurry smoking!"

 Yeah, whatever.

You roll your eyes and turn around, only to see your tour bus almost three-quarters full. Retired teachers, honeymooners, recent college graduates. All busy with comparing their latest finds. Which are all way overpriced. And which are all available back home anyway.

A crowd with a big banner that spells  BITTERNESS walks past you.

You shake your head. You couldn't afford to hallucinate and faint in the middle of the tour.

Behind the glass window, a young lady who is already inside your HAPPY TOURIST TRAVEL tour bus signals you to hurry and points to Fiona and Apple, who are both impatiently waiting for you, with both hands on their waist.

You take a deep breath, for the nth time during this tour. You had to force yourself to even walk towards the bus.

You hear side comments in Cantonese from Fiona. Or it could be Apple. You ignore the gibberish, walk past your pretentious tour guides, and settle in the seat beside the lady who earlier called your attention.

She extends her hand to you, "Hi, I'm Phoebe!"

One, two, three seconds.

Okay, although you are already getting totally pissed at this tour, you try, "Hey."

The engine starts. The air-conditioner blasts again. Fiona and Apple are again talking to the rest of the tour group on their wireless microphones, trying to win everyone's hearts with their obviously scripted antics, to probably get a hefty tip by the time today's tour finishes, after which they'd go back to their own private lives somewhere in the twenty-story apartments in Sheung Wan.

Flipping through the pages of her Lonely Planet Hong Kong, your new friend Phoebe asks you, "First time in Hong Kong?"

Your friendly neighborhood tour guide Apple asks the group if we are hungry.

"Yeah. Bummer, right?"

She chuckles while highlighting something in her travel guide with a pink Stabilo marker, "So why did you even join the tour? I mean, this tour?"

Trying to sound smart, you immediately blurt out, "I'm just starting to backpack. You know, I'm a backpacker."

She laughs hysterically.

Everyone looks at the two of you. Embarrassed, both you and Phoebe look at Fiona and Apple, while trying to say sorry.

"What the... What's so funny about backpacking?", you ask Phoebe, while trying to suppress the sarcasm.

"So you claim to be a backpacker?". Phoebe closes her book.

"Uh, why are you asking?", you respond while scanning your printed tour itinerary, with the logo HAPPY TOURIST TRAVEL on top of the page.

You sense that this girl knows something about traveling. Why is she being nosy, just because you proudly claim to be a backpacker.

Phoebe looks out the window, "Buildings, buildings, and more buildings."

You ask Phoebe again, "Why are you interested in my being a backpacker ANYWAY?"

"Oh come on, are you kidding me?", she laughs again, "You are so not a backpacker. One, you had a big yellow suitcase yesterday."

"So... What's wrong with yellow?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with yellow.  It's just that, uhm, let's just say, backpackers carry backpacks, yeah?"

It feels like someone just poured a pail of cold water over your head, with big blocks of ice. Why didn't you even think of that?

And she continues, "And two, no backpacker joins a tour like this!"

The bus stops at your next destination. This time, Fiona and Apple lead you to a restaurant where your next free meal will be served.

The travel agency advertised that this dinner will be a six-course meal.

All the tour group's members are seated in their assigned tables.

Everyone is disappointed.

Lying on the rotating table top are seven plates - one with rice and six others with all-vegetarian dishes.

So yesterday was a bad dream, with all the unnecessary trips to unnecessary shops which included one that tried to sell you kilograms of tea, after what was advertised as an authentic Chinese experience - a tea tasting ceremony. On top of that, your tiny windowless hotel room which almost resembles a prison cell has a one square meter shower-over-toilet bathroom. Yes, yeterday was a bad dream.

And today is becoming a nightmare.

You stand up, with your appetite all lost; you pick up your bag, walk up to your tour guides Fiona and Apple, and ask, "Can I NOT join the rest of the tour?"

You are so out of here. •

The Legend of the Flashpacker: Part 2

BASED ON A TRUE STORY


Have you ever wondered why your friends never ask you to join them on a trip BEFORE the actual trip?

You have no time to pack and be in Bangkok ASAP even if it's just about two hours away. Or is it three? You close one eye while the other looks at the red and blue calendar on your wall.

Alarmed, you get up right away and take a closer look.

You got a long weekend coming right up!

No plans at all. Yes, you have nothing planned. At all.

You imagine your friends in Thailand may be heading to Phuket. You take a deep breath, wishing they invited you earlier so you could have at least planned for it.

You convince yourself that envy is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. You want to create your own adventure! You don't want to be stuck again at your apartment building, waiting for your frozen soda to melt.

You MUST do something productive this long weekend. And you are willing to spend what is left of your performance bonus just to experience the sheer pleasure of being away from home.

The late afternoon showbiz talk show is about to end. Even without looking at your wall clock, which needs a battery replacement badly, you know it is almost 6PM.

You rush to your makeshift coat hanger and grab your two-week old yellow towel. You jump into the shower, change into your usual white shirt and denim shorts weekend getup, and take the train going to the nearest air-conditioned sanctuary you know  - (insert drum roll here) - the mall.

The announcement on the train says it is your stop. You check your watch. It's almost 7PM. If the mall closes at 8, you got about an hour to shop for your next long weekend adventure.

"Miss, what time do you close?"

The information desk clerk is giggling and busy tinkering with her cellphone and asks you again, "What was that sir?"

You repeat the question and she tells you you have about two more hours.

Good.

"Do you have a travel agency in here?"

"We have two. But the other one closed about half an hour earlier", she responds. She directs you to proceed to the basement, walk past the food court, to check if the other travel agency is still open.

Lo and behold. It still is.

As you wait for your turn, you spot a young couple (probably planning to spend their honeymoon somewhere) grabbing what seemed to be free travel flyers. You wait for them to finish and once they settle at the corner of the waiting room to compare Bali and Boracay, you stand up and examine the flyer rack.

Bangkok 3 Days 2 Nights - $299
No. You don't want to bump into your friends and be suspected of being a stalker.

Tokyo 5D, 4N - $649
No. Too long. And too expensive.

Guam 3D, 2N - $499
No. Still too expensive. You almost spent all your bonus, remember?

Hong Kong 3D, 2N - $168
One hundred sixty eight dollars? You pull out your phone and tap your currency converter app. Not bad.

"Number 3", you hear the staff calling. That's you.

The lady at the counter is tired but tries to fake a smile and asks you how she can help. 

Smiling from ear to ear, you show her your Hong Kong flyer and blurt out, "I'm taking this." •