the neighborhood.

We live in a small outpost of Seoul, a suburb, if you will. There’s a bus that shuttles people into the city every 15-30 minutes, so we aren’t entirely cut off from society. But, realistically, our town is small. Jared says it has a certain “charm” about it; I agree. Plus, it makes trips into the city special, rather than tiresome.

Admittedly, we have both been small town inhabitants before, so our living situation is not nearly as bothersome to us as it might be to someone else. So, we walk a lot, but the entire area   is fairly spread out and we tend to stick to our block for the most part. Still, within walking distance we have access to everything from a supermarket to a late night cafe.  While the amenities are both quaint and convenient — what I like most about living in Gwangju-si is that people wave to us, and we wave back. The people here are friendly, and we have ingratiated ourselves rather quickly into the neighborhood. We’ve met many people: Pizza Lady, Late-Night-Family-Mart-Worker, and Chicken Man.

Pizza Lady has taken to to waving animatedly and touching my tattoos, which is endearing and borderline creepy. Chicken Man though, Chicken Man is special. I mean, I have seen some odd things being sold out of the back of a truck before, but he is an entirely new kind of innovator. The back of his truck has been converted into a rotisserie. Yes — there are several spits slowly turning whole chickens, allowing the chicken skin to crisp in its own juices. Did I mention they are delicious? 3 small chickens costs less than $10. We always buy 3 at a time. It’s the best access we have to fairly healthy food, albeit once a week.

Without further ado, meet Chicken Man and his dog (an equally important streetside fixture):