On the day I arrived Busan, I asked my super fab couch host about Gay Busan. Though not surprised by my question, I was the one who was surprised by his answer: “What gay life? Here?”
He smiled boyishly as if he doesn’t know. Well, he does know where the gay area is. He has been there once and when I asked to describe it, he said, “It’s dead.”
Dead or not, it doesn’t matter to me. I told that we should check it out. Not necessarily to go there and get laid. Haha!
Going to Busan’s gay village was cancelled because, as he said, it’s really dead. We had korean barbecue as our dinner. He explained to me the rituals of preparing and grilling the meat. This was my first ever Korean barbecue. And I loved it. He also made me drink soju, a Korean wine, milder than the Chinese baiju.
After our Korean barbecue dinner, we went back to the house and did our our respective duties in front of our computers.
Twenty minutes later, Zac fabulously proclaimed, “I can’t do this. I can’t take that on your last night in Busan, we are staying at home—and it’s a Saturday! Let’s go out and I’ll show the gay side of this city.”
Just like that, we both put on our gay accessories and we’re ready to go.
Minutes later, we were at the gay area which is actually in some place away from the city and in scary alleys where some bar doors have tiny rainbow stickers. We had a drink at the bar called ROCK. There’s nothing to rock in there but a cozy place to hang out with friends in a discreet way.
There were only few Koreans there and some of them came with their friends. It’s very cliquish.
One guy just sat there in the bar with his hands properly placed on his legs and occasionally reached for his glass. He was alone, waiting to be befriended. Few minutes later, he went out without knowing anyone. Only the bar’s owner spoke to him.
Zac and I, on the other hand, talked about organizing Gay Busan group. I encourage him to do it one step at a time.
Looking at the gay Koreans at the bar, I felt they are so repressed to be who they are. They seem not comfortable about being themselves—about being gay.
When we paid our bill, the bar’s owner showed us the door and was kind to have some chit chats with us in his broken English.
He fancied me. Really. Yes, really!
And to make matters worse, Zac directed me to have a picture with this guy. I posed next to him—his hands around my shoulder. He was very touchy. He stole a kiss on my cheeks and Zac clicked the shutter.
What’s worse is that, Zac put that photo as his mobile phone screensaver. Oh my gawd, I’m so hot with men in their 50’s! Haha!
We then proceeded to this area where Zac warned me to prepare myself to see a lot of young Koreans. We were there half after midnight and though there were not too many youngsters—because of Chuseuk, a Korean Thanksgiving Day, we still had a good time at this foreign-infested bar where a shitty DJ who plays and mixes his songs in a fuckin’ terrible way.
Anyway, they still made me left my chair and pumped up the dance floor. I really don’t remember how many bars we went to as I was already drunk when we were moving around the area.
I don’t remember how many people I’ve met and was introduced to, but one obvious thing is sure: I had a really good hell of a time!