By Mishi at 9:51 AM
Happy Thanksgiving from Korea!
Tonight, I had a buffet style dinner in Itaewon, the foreigner's playground in Seoul. As with most food related events, I was only able to snap one photo before I was completely engrossed with stuffing my face. Of course before the creamy mashed potatoes, whipped pumpkin soup, oysters, shrimp, caprese salad, white breast turkey, stuffing, roast veggies and cranberry sauce, we actually had to find the place.
Virginia booked a reservation at Gecko's Terrace for me, her, and Dutchie, a tall blond guy friend from Amsterdam. The three of us showed up at the restaurant half an hour before our reservation time. Outside on the steps, a doorman in a parka asked us if we had a reservation.
"Yes," Virginia stepped up, "It's for Mishi."
Giggling internally, I realized that Virginia had put the reservation in my name, because hers is too difficult for most Koreans to pronounce. Mine rolls of the tongue a little easier for them. And yet...
The doorman looked at his list, puzzled.
"Mishi?" he quizzed us, then started muttering furiously into his headset.
"Hold on." he disappeared up the stairs, we stood shivering the wind waiting.
"I'm sorry" he came back, "but you may sit on the terrace."
This is point where I felt my stomach drop.
Now, a messed up reservation is no big deal. No big deal, unless you have tranferred about $100.00 into the restaurant's bank account to hold your place. Even more worrying, Virginia is in the habit of riding roughshod over people who give her stupid answers when she cold and hungry. Dutchie, perversely, was looking forward to the show down.
My stomach nerves clentched, but Virginia didn't say anything and we were shuffled onto the terrace, still confused about what happened to our reservation, and buffet we signed up for. No buffet in sight on the terrace. Virginia questioned the terrace hostess who listened to our story and quickly sorted us out:
"You made a reservation at Gecko's Terrace. This is Gecko's Garden."
AAAAAahh. The light is shed.
Me, Virginia, and slightly disappointed Dutchie (who was really looking forward to a cat fight, silly man), shuffled across the street. We stepped inside a building filled with foreigners in relaxed-fit pants.
"This must be the place" I said.
And it was. With a free drink voucher and as much as I could eat, it was a very jolly Thanksgiving indeed. The absolute best bit?
An enormous chunk of apple pie for dessert. Mmm-mmm good!