Chicken, couture, culture//sans chopsticks

For his first meal in the country we found a cutesy burger joint and ordered two hefty chicken sandwiches. We’d woken up with stomachaches, courtesy of late night after-airport beer and bulgogi hot dogs, scarfed down in a back alley crowded with early a.m. barroom patrons.

Two doctor peppers and one September issue, a phone call to claim safe arrival. Teddy bears and culinary characters painted pastel on the walls welcomed him into a culture warm with cuteness.

Bread thick and fries crisp, avocado over melted cheese tasted tomato homesick. The chefs gave grins thick with approval of our pleasure. They kept nodding and smiling, eyes wide and watching lips smack.

Running through the rain back to the hostel we splashed past local lunch hour, fish swimming on display in blue bins and kimchi for the taking. Water dripping down my full belly, I promised we’d eat Korean, too. Later, on lighter stomachs.