CAVE BAR

I'm so behind in backlogged entries. My FOUR MONTHS LEFT resolution is to actually update this bitch and to get to the half-finished posts that I started like months ago. Here is one about the cave bar:



Back in the day, during the Korean War, there was a giant cave in Busan – Busan being one of the few cities not to be overtaken by North Korea - used to store weapons, ammo, artillery, etc. Where once it stood as war symbol, it now stands as a place to get your drink on. Yes: a bar in a fucking cave. It’s damp, it’s dreary, it’s wet – but man is it awesome. There are low-wattage lights strung along the sides of the narrow cave (which coats the cave in a soft, yellow glow), a couple of wooden statues (one of which is a dragon, who, legend has it, appeared in the current cave owner's dream, telling him to turn the bar into a cave), and a somewhat winding pathway (riddled with puddles) running alongside the tables. If you really wanted to, you could even cross the barrier where the lights stop and the darkness begins to really see how deep this cave goes – but that would be silly, as something like the Descent might happen to you.

Their alcohol of choice in this cave is dongdongju, a sort of rice wine. It comes in a brown ceramic bowl, with ice chips and bark floating on top. This wine was sort of an acquired taste, but when it’s … acquired … it’s really easy to get drunk, because the drunk slowly creeps up on you, and by the time you stand up you’re pretty much done for (many people have blacked out at this bar). The cave bar also has the best kimchi I’ve ever tasted (you can become quite the connoisseur of kimchi when you have it all the friggin’ time).

Dave, Cindy and I visited this bar one Sunday night, after a heavy party weekend. We were all staring into our drinks, lost in our own thoughts, and almost ready to call it a night. Eventually the best game of “would you rather” broke out, and some of the questions would turn into 30-minute discussions, all thanks to several helpings of dongdongju. One of my favourite questions was, ‘would you rather fuck animals and everyone knows, or fuck children and no one knows.’ A close second was, ‘for the rest of your life, every time you take a step you make the noise “wacka-wacka” (the pacman noise), or, for the rest of your life, every five to 10 minutes you fart or burp noticeably, and you’re not sure if it’s going to be one or the other.’ Another gross would you rather: would you rather snort two lines of dick cheese or eat two cups of poo. I’ll leave that up to you to decide.

It took Dave, Cindy and me awhile to find this cave bar (it’s pretty hidden in the depths of Busan’s alleys), and the entire time Dave was complaining about his need to take a “major dump.” We got sort of lost, and he started walking in a way where he had his ass clenched for dear life. Once we found the place, Dave runs to the bathroom and Cindy and I order a round of dongdongju. A little while later, Dave comes back with the most disappointed look on his face, crossed with a look of worry…remember how squatters are popular here? That’s what they had at this fine establishment. His bowels must have worked in reverse when he saw the squatter, and that somehow made him able to hold it for a few hours before leaving the bar. I’m sure the dingy-atmosphere of the cave didn’t traverse well into the bathroom.