..that's the last time I follow Joe Strummer's directions.
As George Washington once said and Pete Rose unsuccessfully repeated, "I cannot tell a lie." It is in the spirit of these two great Americans, one of whom I met last summer in Vegas and was told where to go for a "grade-A titty bar," that I make the following statement: I was really looking forward to my first experience in a Korean grocery store. Back in the states I heard many stories from friends who had traveled abroad in college about the mystifying and hilarious expeditions into foreign convenience stores, most of which ended with them meeting a forty year-old photographer at the checkout line and later getting to third base on the dance floor of a crowded discotekka.
But upon approaching the lobby of Lotte Mart, a local supermarket in Jeonju, I was determined to have a successful and informative experience that didn't end in a next-day visit to the free clinic and a heated argument in broken English over whether student insurance plans cover chlamydia tests.
Lotte Group, for those of you unfamiliar with Korean mega-corporations, is a colossus of a brand this side of the Pacific. Since coming here I've seen Lotte's logo stamped on everything from chocolate bars to magazines to toilet paper, thus supporting one's accretions and excretions as well as reading material for the time in between.
Lotte Mart, a subsidiary of Lotte Group, is not nearly as quaint as its name implies. It is not a mart. It is a herculean indoor marketplace, the progeny of man and corporate god that makes Costco look like it just got out of the ocean on a cold day. To try and truly appreciate its scale, imagine that K-Mart and Kraft Foods got drunk one night and rented a hotel room. Also, they're rabbits. They spend the whole night making passionate and tequila-scented love, and a few weeks later a whole army of mini Kraft-Marts are born. But it doesn't stop there. These little tykes start going at it with each other, and in one giant incestuous dog pile of free market capitalism, Lotte Mart is born, rising from its asphalt womb still dripping in after-birth and $2 gallons of generic brand mayonnaise.
I should mention that the picture above is not the sign for Lotte Mart. The Lotte powers that be would not tolerate such buffoonery. This was just some small grocery store near the university I was staying at, but they're enthusiastic yet flagrant misuse of an ellipses granted public recognition in my book. The following photos, however, are all courtesy of Mother Lotte, in her infinite and compassionate wisdom.
Now, as a red-blooded American who for the first twenty-two years of his life hadn't been west of New Jersey, I had certain preconceived notions about what to expect from a Korean grocery store. In fact, I made a checklist on my 15-hour flight over here, and it went something like this:
1. Korean pop music blasting from every nook and cranny: CHECK
It's true, Korean pop music is like oxygen in this country. Truth be told, it might in fact be Japanese pop music that they're listening to, but that's beyond my field of comprehension. To me both languages still sound like someone sneezing at the dentist.
2. Cartoon characters on every product: CHECK
Now in America we get our morning nutritional advice from a giant talking tiger with a penchant for extreme sporting. But in Korea, they're weird. They don't have Tony the Tiger; they have Flion, the Corn Flight Lion.
That's right, corn flight.
I'm not sure if someone goofed over at the Post manufacturing plant in Seoul, or if the word "flake" is a four-letter word or racial slur in Korean, but for whatever reason corn flakes, as well as their frosted cousin, are nonexistent in this country. This struck me as somewhat odd. You'd think the "Asian Tiger" would want to embrace its venerable mascot in all of its forms, especially one with such a keen marketing sense. (Let's be honest, if Tony was completely straightforward with his clientele he would proudly proclaim, "They'rrre...pretty sugary, but you know, not bad."
Now don't dwell too long upon the discourtesy done to this beloved cultural icon. If you should ever stumble into Korea and find yourself truly missing the gentle smile and chic yet masculine bandanna of your favorite breakfast time companion, (and don't mind paying $8 for a box of cereal), then Tony can still be a part of your well-balanced morning sugar rush.
Translation from Korean: "They're Glllllllleat!"
3. Strange unrecognizable produce in hastily-manufactured packaging: CHECK
To this day I'm still not sure what this stuff was, but the grocery lady was insistent that I not buy it. I thought it was figs, but apparently she had some confidential Illuminati produce knowledge that I was not aware of. I wish there was some more situational humor in there, but really she just plain yelled at me in Korean.
4. Misspelled English words in product names: CHECK
Perfect for an after-school snack or pregaming before a night at the clubs.
5. Inexplicable directions on basic utilities: CHECK
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And what trip to the Korean grocery store would be complete without a little taste of home. On this particular day I had developed a big American hunger from all of my adventuring, so I decided to spring for a nice hefty Lotte Pizza. Being from New York, the dirty goomba capital of the Western Hemisphere, I was unsure if the quality of Korean pizza would live up to standards that I'm used to...with the dirty goomba cooking and all. But as is characteristic of this great land, as I've come to learn, the packaging alone was well-worth the 10,000 won:
Elegant, yet sexual. Like Dame Judi Dench.
If our big American companies are to compete with Asia in the global pizza market, then we've got to dedicate the same amount of time and awkward phrasing into our product as they do. Compare the beautiful poesy above, for example, to Domino's new motto: "Sorry our pizza used to be so shitty--but now it's less shitty, promise!"
And it's easy to see why Little Caesar's has become all but obsolete in the 21st Century. Yes Caesar, we know it's pizza. I believed you the first time, you didn't have to repeat yourself. Here's an idea, cut that catchphrase in half. "Pizza!" gets the job done, and you'll save a fortune on ad time.
You'll need that money too, to make the eventual sign changes to read: "A Subsidiary of Lotte Group." If history repeats itself, then your Roman Empire of Italian-style cooking will soon lay in ruin at the feet of invaders from the East.
