The first real surprise about Korea was the taxis. When I arrive at the airport of a country I have never been to before, I plan on getting thoroughly ripped-off by that first taxi ride. It is the same in every country, be it first world, third world, communist, democratic, autocratic, big, or small: taxi rates are inflated a few thousand percent for the new arrivals and their newly withdrawn money. The largest difference in cab fare was in the Philippines, where I paid $15 for a ride to my hostel, and a week later when I had mastered public transportation, I returned to the airport for about 15 cents. The first taxi ride in Korea cost $60.
		We inadvertently got into a black taxi, which for some unknown reason costs much more than the blue or yellow taxis. You would think that our guidebook would have said something. . . Split between myself, American Andy, English Andy, and Joe, who was also English, it didn't hurt all that much. We were all in our second year teaching English in Japan and plenty of Yen to spare.
		After a few wrong turns and heated discussions with our cabbie about leaving the meter running when he went to ask directions to our hotel, we arrived at our accommodations. We had reservations at a small, run down place with a pleasant open-air courtyard full of fellow travelers playing cards, writing post-cards, and talking in small groups. We approached the front desk, still a bit ruffled from our dealings with the black taxi, and promptly found that the hotel was booked solid. Welcome to Korea!
		One of the scruffy travelers playing cards noticed our dilemma and led us to another similar hotel nearby. This second hotel was smaller, much more run down, and popular with foreigners teaching English in Seoul. It was also completely full. Not to miss out on a night's pay for four tenants, the proprietor, an older Korean woman who spoke very little English and stood just slightly taller than the belt-strap of my backpack, allowed us to stay in her room. She began cleaning her personal belongings out of the 15 by 20 foot room before we had a chance to refuse. It was a cozy room made slightly bizarre with the owner's very personal family photographs and bric-a-brac on the dresser and walls. The entire floor was heated which felt very nice, as there was quite a nip in the air. After unloading our packs and cleaning up a bit in the communal bathroom, the four of us ventured out onto the streets of Seoul. Our first priority was food--we were all famished from the day's travel: train to the airport in Japan, flight, and frustrating taxi ride. We all wanted to avoid the Western fast food joints which were advertised in obtrusive neon throughout the city. Searching for authentic local cuisine, we wandered the streets keeping our eyes and noses on alert. After passing several street vendors and a few unidentifiable eateries, we arrived at a small place down a narrow alleyway. The front of the fluorescent-lit restaurant boasted two very large fish tanks, the bottom of which were covered with flounder the size of large dinner plates. Several small groups of locals were huddled about the twenty or so small tables eating pleasantly aromatic dishes. We all simultaneously agreed that this was the place.