Costco

There is a Costco near our place that we frequent on occasions when we can no longer suppress the urge to indulge in the comforts of the US. There are multiple floors inside and when we go we walk right past the clothes and electronics section (really, what money do we have and how would we take it back with us?) and head down an electric ramp to the food floor. The magnetic ramp sticks to the metal wheels of the cart so that it doesn't roll down and injure someone.

Down there we see a lot of the familiar: peanut butter, animal crackers, cheese, beer and wine; and some of the unfamiliar like dried seaweed and octopus. Some items are exorbitantly priced, such as a 64oz jug of imported honey for the wan equivalent of about 30 bucks which isn't nearly as bad as the 44 dollar, 16oz bottle of real Canadian maple syrup.  Still, some staples are more reasonable and worth picking up. We usually always leave with some sort of meat for about half the price as sold at the superstore up the street. Other items we tend to seek out are bagels, cream cheese, cereal and butter. They have Tillamook cheese there too, but one time we splurged on a block and ended up consuming it all in less than two weeks. Feeling disgusted, we agreed to do without for the foreseeable future.

Stocking up on goodies, roaming the aisles and jokingly tossing a tire-sized plastic tub of neon orange cheese puff balls into the cart just to mess with Sami is all good and fun- but lets not kid ourselves, the best part about going to Costco is snarfing down a pizza slice, hot dog and ice cream- or as I like to call it: "hitting for the cycle."

As you can imagine, Costco is a madhouse and it takes expert skill to weave your oversized cart  through a sea of black coats (everyone wears black in the winter, and I mean everyone). However, the last time we went I was kind of hopped up on too much instant coffee so I barrelled my way through the dining area to find a cart parking spot against the wall all the while smashing into others and running over innocent and unsuspecting feet. Fortunately for me Koreans hate confrontation and wouldn't dream of showing any sign of annoyance even if I didn't say sorry, which I did.

I half jogged up to the ordering line and after my wait asked for a slice of pizza for me (supreme) and Sami (cheese). I love the pizza at Costco. Korean pizza at one of the ten thousand chains is good too, in it's own way, but it never has enough tomato sauce, which is my favorite part. They consider tomatoes vegetables here, but treat them the same as fruit. If I am mistaken, we foreigners believe the opposite to be true in both classification and popular usage. Here you will find cherry tomatoes in fruit salad or served as an end of meal refreshment. Too much sauce on pizza grosses them out and most of the pizza sold in Costco is the bulgogi style with a sweet sauce (probably delish but I can't bring myself to pass on supreme). Next I placed an order for a big cup of that soft serve ice cream that I love, but they were out. I felt about ready to scream in frustration, but before I could get out a sound I saw a woman wearing a bright green sweater. She caught my eye not only because she wasn't wearing black, but also because I have trained myself to detect any semblance of University of Oregon apparel. Sure enough, the front of her sweater featured a bright yellow O-R-E-G-O-N.

This now marks the third time in Asia I have seen someone sporting my alma mater's insignia. The first was one of my actual students' Prefontaine Classic/University of Oregon pullover that he wears when he knows I have to grade one of his tests, and the other occurred in Shanghai. A guy was trying to sell me a fake watch and I saw his shirt and took a picture of him, but did not buy a watch.

If I would have had my camera on me I would have taken my picture with the woman and my two slices of pizza, but as it turned out, I had to settle for waving frantically to get her attention and then pointing crazily at her chest and saying "Oregon! "Oregon!" Like I said, Koreans avoid confrontation at all costs. Any other country and I could have been easily taken for a pervert yelling, pointing and drooling over a stranger's bosom.

Anyway, I decided to show some restraint during our last visit and passed on the hot dog. They don't have sauerkraut as an accompaniment so I was a little turned off. My theory is that they think of sauerkraut as some sort of mutant kimchi. They do, however, have mustard, sweet relish, ketchup, and that magic metal box with a crank that churns out chopped onions like hail in a blizzard. They will get an extra plate and crank out a whole mess of just onions and mix it with ketchup and mustard. We are talking two to three cups of onions forming a mountain and spilling off the sides. They eat it with a spoon just like you and me with cornflakes. Kind of brilliant actually. I love chopped onions.

The worst part of going to Costco, even though it comes with the territory of being a whitey, is the stares. Here, everyone wants to examine, not only your foreign face, but also the contents of your cart. Yes, I have prunes, eight boxes of Kashi Go Lean Crunch, double ply toilet paper and diaper cream in my cart. Go ahead. Draw your own conclusion.

Actually, we visited Costco on the Friday before Halloween a month ago. Halloween is nothing here, but a friend who came with us and also happens to be an American English teacher here decided to go the extra mile and dress up in a tiger costume for her students in full makeup. Apparently she didn't have time to rinse off before she met us outside the subway stop. She is Chinese American, so she usually doesn't get the stares Sami and I are accustomed to. Walking around in tiger make-up, however, changed all that. Parents stared at her wide eyed and some kids shrieked in horror. Of course, no one said anything- that old confrontation thing again.