Trading in fear

Last night I finally got around to watching Cabin in the Woods and it met my expectations of it pretty well. I had a vague idea what the first meta-level was to the story, so it was a pleasant surprise to find out there's another level beyond that. I'd like to say thanks to everyone for not spoilering it all this time and if you'd like to give me trackbacks to your brilliant thoughts and reactions, I'm ready for them now.

The other pleasant surprise was the company, a bear couple who've been hosting a nightly horror film fest in their apartment for a couple weeks now. They were undeterred by the fact that no one else showed up--one told me that they had no guests at all the night they screened Audition last year--and it meant that, not only did I get to watch the movie in almost total peace (I was fully prepared to make my excuses and book if there turned out to be too much chatter) but I got to hang out and chat with them afterwards.

One has a good friend who teaches English on Chin-do in South Korea, so we had a nice conversation about Korean food. They haven't yet experienced either Sansoogapsan or Super H Mart so I let them know they're in for a treat. We also talked about foreign travel and family history, and I got a glimpse at their atypical homes lives (one was raised by his grandparents, the other apparently had a succession of stepfathers). I'd love to take them out to dinner with me and monshu sometime.

Walking home in a state of elation, I considered the paradox that much of my pleasure stems from how the meeting held out such promise of pleasant exchanges to come but at the same time the fullest enjoyment of experiences like these comes from appreciating them solely for what they are. Once you make that enjoyment contingent on deciding whether you really hit it off, it becomes infected with anxiety and doubt. I've been through this sort of thing enough times to anticipate that the three of us may never talk that freely again. In fact, expecting that kind of reception every time is sometimes exactly the way make sure you'll never get it. But it's impossible to know one way or another, and knowing wouldn't change what did happen, which was that I spent a wonderful three hours with two great guys.

So I stopped the analysis and just gave myself over to the evening. Weblike clouds shrouded the waning gibbous moon as a cold north wind rattled the bare branches and stirred up dead leaves. The streets of the quiet residential neighbourhood between their apartment and ours were deserted except for a few lone shadowy figures skulking about. (Of course they mostly turned out to be people out walking their dogs, but you had to get up fairly close to be confident of that.) An hour after the film ended and I was still in a state of delightful agitation, imagining the streets as they would appear filled with trick-or-treaters the following night and wondering just how much trouble I'd get into if I returned then and lurked in alleyways for a chance to pop out and terrify them.

새로운 희망

Once again, new blood has taken over the local Korean restaurant. I'm not sure if they'll be more successful with it than Jay and Hera, but they're certainly more ambitious. When I first saw it "Closed for remodeling" I naturally wondered if this was another dodge to escape creditors. But it's reopened and this time it really has been redone, with new decor and new furnishings throughout. The staff is all very fresh-faced, too, looking barely older than the student population they're catering to.

At first glance, though, the menu looks pretty similar to what it was before; I wonder if my buddy El Chilango is still in the kitchen. I was in the mood for soup, but they've reduced the options to only sundubu jjigae (really more of a tofu stew) and ramen. Clearly with options like that I wasn't likely to get house-made stock and I didn't, but the noodles and whole egg were properly cooked and it was a tasty enough dish overall. Of the few completely new dishes, the most promising is dolsot ("stone pot") bibimbap.

I was also sad to see the departure of the honey-based herbal teas, which I looked forward to when nursing a cold, and the free boricha. Now the only grain-based tea they have is 옥수수 수염차 (lit. "corn beard tea"), which comes in a teabag. The boricha was always kept in a large beverage cooler behind the counter and you went and helped yourself. It's part of what gave the place a relaxed homey vibe. Now they've switched to full service, which both suits their rebranding and means they can charge more.