The Bathhouse, Some Breweries, and The Owner
We stood at land’s edge in the pitch blackness of pre-dawn. In the city of Haenam in Jeolla-do province, we were at the southernmost tip of mainland Korea. Another weekend, another series of makgeolli brewery tours mixed with adventure. With an appointment to go to in just 3 hours, we were unsure of what our next move should be, but we were sure of our exhaustion. A brief rest at the jimjibang (public bathhouse) seemed logical. These establishments are quite common around Korea, and aside from offering multiple hot tubs, saunas, and other spa services, they usually have large sleeping rooms where you can rent a mat and pillow for around $5.
We entered the grungy, run-down bathhouse at around 6:30 am. In my mind’s eye everything there has a beige tint to it. The man at the front counter was a grouch and spoke in harsh tones as we gave him our money.
I entered the women’s section and found my locker. I changed into the uniform that reminded me of high school gym class and began to look around for a place to curl up. All I could find was a small, dark room with hard floors and no sleeping mats. Everyone around me was over 75 years old, hunched over, and naked. Two old women came over to me and began stroking my arms. They seemed sweet, but they still freaked me out.
I went back to the front counter to attempt to mime out a request for a sleeping mat. The man yelled at me as he pointed upstairs, so up I went. People were sprawled out across exercise machines and snores were coming from all directions. I opened the nearest door, found an unoccupied mat, and decided to give sleep my best shot. At one point I woke up to find a man passed out, spread eagle, right behind me. We all groggily piled back into the car 2 hours later, and Brandon regaled us with stories from the men’s section. These included a man shaving his entire face- like, nose and forehead and everything; someone simultaneously gargling with a full pressure shower head and screaming; and, err, dyed hair down-there. Yeah, the roots were showing.
The twilight-zone theme song faded into the background as we set out to visit two small makgeolli breweries. They were both run by adorable older couples who have been in the business for decades. I loved seeing how these couples had melded their business and personal lives– their houses and breweries were one in the same.
We spent more time at the second one, Sanni makgeolli, and witnessed how they lovingly produced and consumed their product whist tending to household chores, gardening, cooking, and relaxing. Their faces were worn and kind, and the manner in which they hosted us spoke volumes about their laid-back attitude. Plates of fresh fruit and vegetables were set out in the sunlight on overturned plastic tubs. Mismatched ceramic glasses were filled and refilled with freshly made makgeolli that had a hint of Juicy Fruit gum in the aftertaste. As we were departing, the husband admitted to drinking 3 bottles a day. The wife, 3 cups. If those habits yield these results, sign me up!
An hour later we arrived at a large industrial hongju brewery. Hongju is 40% alcohol, and its taste and red color have led me to dub it “the devil’s drink”.
Brief and Relevant Anecdote: During my first month of being here I was invited to a neighbor's birthday party. Wanting to bring something for the birthday girl, I ventured out to a grocery store and perused the alcohol section. My eyes landed a vibrant, ruby red bottle and in my ignorance I thought 'perfect!' When I arrived at the gathering and presented my friend with the gift, she was appreciative. After it had been poured and swallowed, she was not. She actually GAVE IT BACK! The bottle is still in my cupboard, and considering my recent-post-grad-poor-English-teacher standards, that's saying something. It wasn't until I arrived at this brewery that I made the connection.
This place stood in direct contrast to our morning’s visits, and so did the owner. He was pot-bellied, solemn, and intimidating.
In an extremely generous gesture he took us out for a 5-course seafood meal that seemed like it was never going to end. Note Brandon's expression as he realizes that even more food is arriving at the table.
When it finally finished I thanked him for the meal, and he looked me up and down before turning his back to me. (apparently I forgot to use the ever important suffix “-yo” that one adds when speaking to elders) It was to our great surprise that when it came time to leave, The Owner jumped in the car with us, heading north. We got stuck in 3 hours of traffic. South Korea’s the size of Indiana but has 46 million people, 2 lane highways, and a prosperous automobile industry. Don’t drive, especially on the weekends. Just don’t.
We were excited to arrive in Jeonju, where we had planned to stay Saturday night. It was crowded due to a food festival that was going on there that weekend, so we made due with rooms at a love motel called “Motel Rich”. These places are usually reserved for sneaky spouses and young couples, but their price makes them a pretty good option for budget travelers.
Hyojin had told us the tales of Jeonju’s famed “Makgeolli Alley”, a street full of cozy and crowded makgeolli bars where every consecutive kettle you order brings a whole new and improved slew of side dishes with it. We pulled up to the energetic street where there were lines snaking out the doors of many establishments, but The Owner was not pleased. Apparently this spot wasn’t classy enough for him. Pulling the Confucian “I am the oldest man here and therefore you will all obey” card, he made all 9 of us pile into taxis in search of a better restaurant. We ended up having an awkward and quiet dinner of bland boiled beef soup at a run-of-the-mill place while this guy talked Hyojin’s ear off about the ways in which Hyojin could help him promote his hongju business.
It was to all of our disappointment when Hyojin transparently announced that he had to turn in early due to the long drive back tomorrow afternoon. He took one for the team though, since The Owner followed suit, and the rest of us were afforded a jolly night out in makgeolli alley.
The next day we walked around the folksy town where the food festival was taking place. We hung out at a house that was selling ceramics and watched as a team of dancers practiced their routines in the backyard.
Read her t-shirt: "Black Sunday: It could be tomorrow"
It was really upsetting to watch how The Owner treated Haena, (Hyojin's assistant and one of our best friends). He was generally condescending towards her the whole weekend, and during lunch he demanded that she switch seats from our table to his. She was noticeably pissed, but cultural norms dictated that she submit. The situation gave me a bigger glimpse into the chauvinistic reality that Korean culture can be for some women, but it also made me appreciate how awesome Hyojin and other men who I work with are for not playing into those ingrained social norms.
However, when I really think about the patriarchal social system, I have to admit that things aren't all that different in America. It's definitely not as extreme as in Korea, but I think the main difference is that it's just not out in the open. Haena explicitly knew and explained why she had to respect him, but I'd bet that if the same situation arose in our own country we might act in a similar manner. I've been in plenty of situations at home where an older male was disparaging and rude, and I accepted the behavior to be polite. Of course this has happened with women too, especially in the workplace. The fact is, there are self-important assholes everywhere, men and women, and most of them aren't worth getting all worked up over.
The Owner finally took a bus back to wherever he needed to be, and the rest of us enjoyed each other’s company during the long drive home.
