Club Psycho

Last Friday night Matt and I ventured out to our Local Foreigner Bar. Dan had told us about Club Psycho, and it was casually mentioned about ten times while we were at Mudfest, so we headed out, knowing it was going to be juuuust fine. On our way to the bar, Matt and I doned sunglasses and a huge umbrella, hoping to stave off the attention we've been getting throughout the days. Honestly, if you blatently stand out, they don't look at you at all. If you are just walking for a coffee, they can't get enough. Confusing. I particularily love the man BEHIND us, getting his five seconds of fame.

The outside of the bar reminds me a lot of home...the ceiling was low heading downstairs (most bars are in the basement here. I'll have to find out why), but once we got inside the dingy little place, I could see why people came here. Friday is Open Mike Night and the bands were all getting ready to go on. It had a great vibe, foreigners dominated the place, and the Koreans who ran it were all very proficient in English and welcomed us wholeheartedly.

Couches dot one wall, vinyl chairs are scattered throughout, and this is a picture of my first beer. Only beer, as it turns out, since we were turned onto soju cocktail. Okay, I should backtrack a little bit...and tell you that I don't particularily LIKE soju (that would be like saying you like the taste of Tylenol or your Ventolin inhaler), but it does do the trick for a teeny tiny price. So I have indulged on a few occasions, and though drinking it straight is not an option (and most people agree with me on that), it does make a delightful little cocktail. This particular blend was instant powered lemonade, Pepsi, and soju. Fine...I'll try it. It was delicious (as it turns out, a little too delicious).

The interior is painted black and people have taken the liberty to write greetings, poetry, and other random comments all over the place. As the lights dim and the strobe lights start up (seriously), it becomes even more apparent that the writing is on the wall. I tried so hard to get a good pic of "Do you like MUSTARD?" for my dad, but the lighting was poor and it wouldn't expose properly. I'm sure you get the picture though. One particular poem was a little strange though...on the way to the loo, someone has recounted a little diddy about a sailor who perils on his way home from sea. It was rather sad, but almost fitting. The restroom provides no rest at all. It is a co-ed room, one stall (too small to actually be called a stall) and one urinal. The smell is intoxicating in all the wrong ways. This is one bathroom where you actually don't flush the toilet paper, just throw it in the bin located alongside the loo. There are actually TONGS hanging on the side of the bin. Whoever does THAT job deserves a raise. Immediately. So by about 11 pm, the smell in there is so bad, I considered doing one of two things: going home or stopping drinking. Of course, I stayed, and the soju cocktail kept magically appearing in my cup, so the visits to the now charming toilet, became more frequent. This is NOT the place you want to be sick. I'm gagging at the thought.

This is the gent who owns the place. His shirt is a riot: it says, "I'll not live like you" and the kid on the shirt is giving the Jack-Berger-double-middle-finger-up move. Priceless.

So Open Mike turned out to be hysterical. People who had no business singing up there (think: me, singing) were up there, just givin' er. Strange. But hey, if you know how to play a chord, you probably can sing too, non? Eye roll. One Koran man sat with his guitar and sang, "Stand by Me". It was so nice. His voice was apparently pretty bad, but I'm tone deaf, and thought it was beautiful.

The night ended right: we headed to the Turkish Kebab place and then to norebang. Norebang is kareoke in your own little room. It is among the scariest, freakiest things I have done here. It reminded me of a Clockwork Orange...the hall ways, the freaky rose patterned wallpaper, the men in shiny suits showing you "to your room". I sang, "Hotel California" from memory and then got the hell out of dodge. I might feel better if I was surrounded by those I love, but these were relative strangers and Matt had slipped out without my noticing. Texan wandering the Anyang city streets...oh dear. It was time to hit the hay.