Seomun Market

Last weekend we went to Seomun Market, which is one of the largest and best known outdoor markets in Daegu. We saw and smelled and experienced so much that it's hard to even begin describing it. We eased our way into the experience, wandering first through narrow alleyways of old men's pants and cheap women's dresses. Of course, this section wasn't exclusively clothing, because that would violate the first rule of Korean market organization: "Items in the market are randomly distributed throughout the market." For example, you could buy one item in four consecutive shops and come away with a pair of pants, some kimchi, a frying pan, and an umbrella. Makes perfect sense, right? Anyway, we wandered through a lot of average stuff, with the most interesting things being a pair of Nike shorts that Caroline bought (the label said "Made in the U.S.A." - we knew they had to be fake!). After wandering through the clothing "section", things quickly became more interesting.

After walking past dozens of colorful vegetable stands, we came to a pork butcher shop. There was no mistaking what kind of shop this was, as the pigs' pale, waxy severed heads were sitting on a table in front of the shop (two were "snout forward", one was "snout up"). I have known for a long time where bacon comes from, but this was just a bit grotesque. The pigs were like the ghosts of bacon past, present, and future, reminding me where my savory breakfast meat had/would come from. Curiosity kept us there long enough for a couple of pictures, but queasiness soon overpowered curiosity, and we moved on. We passed a truckload of apples (Daegu is famous for its apples), two grandmas serving bondegi (roasted silkworm larvae), and a variety of other vegetables. Then we arrived at the heart of the market.

We encountered the overpowering smell and sound long before we saw any of the offending creatures. The odor was like the inside of a small, filthy barn, and the noise was a cacophony of farm animal sounds, as though all the animals had sung "Old MacDonald" together, and were belting out their respective animal noises in unison. Large hens in cramped, dirty pens clucked in discomfort, ducks quacked ignorantly, small dirty kittens cried as they crawled over one another, and a box full of a dozen or more puppies whined as they shifted positions, looking for a more comfortable position that they would not find. In between the chickens and the ducks sat a short box of huge, fattened rabbits, with their ears limp and floppy, as though they were trying not to hear the noise around them. As I surveyed the scene, I kept telling myself that all those animals weren't for eating (were they?). Nearby, thick eels slithered in small circular tubs, and turtles clawed over each other awkwardly, like robots in a wrestling match. In the next stall, a woman carefully arranged her neat piles of chicken feet and chicken innards. Oddly, just a few feet away were rows of makeshift restaurants crowded with eager patrons and sending off the most inviting blend of sweet and savory smells. Like Toucan Sam, we followed our nose, away from the barnyard smells and towards the food (I mean the "already prepared" food). I'm so happy, because now if I ever get a hankering for something unusual, like chicken feet, or eel, I know just the place to go.