Three million fish, three people

K.S. and S.A. psyched to be surrounded by three million fish

Not many people hail a cab at three in the morning from one of Seoul's most popular partying districts and ask to be taken directly to the city's fish market. But that's exactly what yours truly did about two weeks ago.

It wasn't my idea, but I was happy to be along for the ride.

It started with drinks at a club in Hongdae (I can never remember the names of any of these places). We spent about two hours there watching a band that did covers of just about anything you can think of, including the Ghostbusters theme song. The plan was to wait until it got late enough to go to the Noryangjin Fish Market. Our guide books tell us it opens at about 1:30 a.m., but is most popular in the early morning hours. ("Four hundred and fifty tons of fish caught from inshore and the deep seas are traded here," my guidebook says.)

When we arrived at about four in the morning, the three of us were surrounded by countless fish...and few other people. In fact, we were the only ones there to buy.

After wandering around across the wet concrete floors for a few minutes, we found a sliced raw fish on a plate, picked it up and paid one of the few vendors around about $10 for it.

We then carried the plate to a restaurant to eat. The idea is you eat the fish you bought outside while the restaurant sells you beer and side dishes. We were the only ones there.

When we finished the first raw fish, I strolled back out into the aisles to find us another. An English speaking Korean found me wandering around aimlessly and asked me what I wanted to buy. I told him any fish, it doesn't matter.

Vegetarians will want to stop reading here. Though of course I know you won't.

He scooped a small one out of its tank onto the floor and while it flopped around asked me I wanted to pay ten thousand won for it (a little less than $10).

"For that little thing?" I asked.

He then scooped out a fatter one and dropped it on the floor.

"That one look okay?" he asked.

I nodded. He then speared it in the head until it was lifeless. (I warned you.)

The smaller one got tossed back in, probably wondering what the hell just happened.

He handed the dead fish to another fishmonger who sliced it up raw and put it on a plate. I carried it to the restaurant and we ate that one, too.

When we'd stuffed ourselves and drank enough, we went to look for a cab. But not before passing a woman whose full time job it seemed was to stuff crabs trying to escape back into a tank. I felt a pang of guilt. I really wanted the crab to escape. Accepting its fate, I continued on.

We ignored or forgot directions a fishmonger gave us and wandered out onto the highway. I figured we wouldn't catch a cab at that spot, but one came within a minute or two.

I think at one point we had a bet going to see if one of us could pick someone up at the bar and bring them to the fish market next. That didn't happen, but I bet someone in Seoul has done that. And whoever you are, I applaud you sir or ma'am.