Busan Aquarium: Swimming with Sharks

I've never been one for fireworks.  But, when my boyfriend decided he was deadset on going to Korea's largest fireworks display in Busan, I immediately decided it would be a perfect time to learn to scuba dive in a tank full of sharks.

After a quick check to see what would be required, (all the information is on the website: http://scubainkorea.com/), we had our reservation.  It was going to be a perfect fall weekend before winter set in with fireworks on the beach, good food, and a new experience.  Unfortunately, when we showed up for the fireworks on Saturday, the weather looked like this:

We were stopped by a reporter who asked us to speak slowly and clearly about how we felt about the fireworks being delayed until Sunday night.  It didn't interupt our train schedule, or our shark dive, and I think my boyfriend and I were just happy to be out of Seoul, so we told the camera things like oh, well we understand.  The weather is awful. Maybe it will work out.
The cameraman lowered the camera with a disappointed look on his face.
"Can you maybe sound angrier?" asked the reporter.

Thank goodness we were in such a good mood, because the next three hours were spent trudging in the rain looking for a hotel in a city booked to its bursting point.  Every hotel had no vacancy.  Finally, after numerous calls and some nasty looks on my part to a boy hogging the much-needed computer for a video game, we were helped by the concierge, who probably just wanted us homeless-looking folk out of his lobby.  For 50,000 won each we had a comfy bed with a view just in time for us to put our bags down and find something to eat, which (of course) was one of the most delicious seafood meals I've ever had.

The next morning we were up bright and early as the doors to the aquarium opened to the public.  Mike met us at the entrance, and simply motioned for us to follow him, where we paid the other half of our deposit to the aquarium (which also included full entry to the rest of the aquarium).  We entered a room filled with fish, but didn't have to time to take it in because Mike casually leaned on an unsuspecting door, leading right into a large room meant for staff only.  This was how the staff fed the creatures in the tanks, and where we would enter the shark tank from. We found out, to my absolute delight, that we would be his only customers that day.  A private scuba diving lesson for two.  To celebrate, Mike brought in a giant sea turtle to say hello, which was a special privilege I had never expected.

Much like rock climbing, white water rafting and skiing, scuba diving was not what I thought it would be.  In response to the fact that the wetsuit was actually torture to put on, Mike simply shrugged and said, "Well, you're not shaped like a Korean."  This is true.  I also somehow forgot that breathing, hearing, and seeing would be completely different while underwater.  The first time I tried to empty my goggles of water while underwater, I was hyper-ventilating so much I had to stand up in the practice pool.  When he explained how to put the mouth piece back in underwater, I actually didn't believe it would work, despite his decades of experience.  Turns out it did work, however. 

He was also right about the fact that once I got in the tank, I would forget about trying to breathe altogether. Immediately after reaching the bottom of the tank, I made friends with two beautiful porpoises, who followed my every move.  By the time both our instructor and my boyfriend were down at the bottom of the tank, I remembered to turn around.  There, right in front of me, was six feet of shark with some 100 teeth at the end.  Then there more. Then a sea turtle, some tropical fish and two giant groupers, which Mike said were more dangerous than the sharks. (Needless to say, I didn't believe him when he said that, either).  We spent the next fastest forty minutes of my life collecting shark teeth, waving like a celebrity to the children gazing in at our bravery, and making sure we didn't stick our arms out too far in case it looked too delicious.  At first I was hesitant getting into the tank.  By the end, I didn't want to leave.

We dried off, had a delicious lunch at Taco Senorita's, and explored the rest of the fish in the aquarium, proud to point and say we were in there.  We took a crowded subway to a crowded place to see the fireworks. We enjoyed the show from a motel roof with a perfect view away from the crowds with a couple good friends.

Tokyo: Tsukiji Fish Market

The Tsukiji Fish Market is the largest of its kind in the world.  There are around 60,000 people working there, and it grosses about 6 billion U.S. dollars a year.  It is a must in every guidebook, sight-seeing pamphlet, and travel blog...Which is why I was suprised when I showed up admist a chaotic sea of trucks, men carrying heavy loads, carts being rolled the wrong way down the street and endless forms of machines transporting precariously balanced crates of sea creatures.  The lot was madness--but not from tourists.  From people just working, trying to make their way around you.

To get to the main warehouse full of fish one must cross the actual lot. Nothing about crossing it to get to the warehouse was appealing.  First of all, I assume it's where all 60,000 employees park their car, because it is compact and crowded.  Obviously, the already questionable driving laws of Japan are null and void: there is no safe place to stand.  Still I looked around just in time to see two brave souls crossing it to get to this "tourist" hotspot and decided to try and join them.

I survived, getting to the warehouse all in one piece, but not before I was handed a pink piece of paper by a man in rubber overalls and high boots.  It read: "This is not a tourist spot.  This is a place of business.  Please do not take video or photos unless given permission.  Please do not interupt this workday."

Now aware that I wasn't welcome, I sort of awkwardly bowed my recognition and chose an aisle to go down.  It suprised me how much it didn't suprise me.  Compared to the Noryangjin Fish Market,  the fish were just everyday fish.  Some pieces were very large, but it looked like meat all cut up and skinned.  And it really was a workday: the vendors knew better than to assume I was there to purchase raw seafood, and shouted past me, or rubbed against me with their fish as they travelled through the endless aisles.  I got there around 11 a.m., when the market is just about to start shutting down, with most of their goods sold for the day.  Men smoked cigarettes over the fish, women hacked of heads and brushed them to the floor.  After an hour of wandering around I decided to head back into the fresh air. 

The best piece of sushi.  Ever.

Back across the lot, (where I stopped to try to record the chaos on my phone, and was handed another pink slip), is the wholesale kitchen supplies market.  Unable to cook even grilled cheese correctly, I was uninterested.  I was more concerned with trying to find a cheap sushi place.  



That obviously doesn't exist in Japan, but in the heart of the market was a decent, well-lit, fairly reasonable sushi bar.  I ordered three pieces.  I just want to try it, and I'll get a cheaper meal later I reasoned with myself.  I ordered a tuna sashimi, a crab and avacado roll, and a shrimp roll.  I looked around for some wasabi but saw none.  I saw ginger, but knew better than to put it on my sushi, and use it instead as a pallette cleanser.  So I just ate it with a little bit of soy sauce. I was immediately happy I hadn't added anything.  This is the most stereotypical thing I'll ever say (I promise):  It was amazing.  I ordered more and the chef simply smiled knowingly. It was no longer a cheap meal, but that was more than okay.