Live Octopus - Yum

My Dance with Live Octopus in Busan, South Korea
Gourmet Style

“How do you ask for a dish of live octopus in Korean?” I ask my friend Emmy as we both stare dubiously at the door to a tiny food establishment. The neon lights of the building match her bright pink shirt as she shrugs a shoulder in overt casualness. The thought of ingesting live octopus has turned her a light shade of green. The door swings open and we slink inside.
The sound of jovial Koreans hits me in the face. A smiling auntie waddles over and hands me a plastic menu. To my dismay, it is in Korean with no helpful pictures. She gestures to the chairs. Instead, I point to a corner table full of raucous men and mimic drinking. She nods and I ask, “live octopus?” Puzzled, she shakes her head. I look around the room for help and point to an image of an octopus on the wall. Sucking in my cheeks, I wave my arms like writhing snakes. Auntie giggles and toddles off to the kitchen. Emmy and I exchange nervous glances and sit.
An agonizing ten minutes later, soju is set in front of us along with a bowl of pickled snacks. My eyes settle on the other platter – crawling with wriggling milky-coloured slimy tentacles, headless. My eyes glued to the squirming creatures, I pour both of us healthy doses and we down the drinks. Expecting wine, the alcohol burns my throat like vodka. By the second round, I feel a little fuzzy. We’re ready to take on the octopus. Numbly, I pick up the chopsticks and stare at the worm-like creatures making my plate come to life. One little inch piece tries to crawl off the edge, and I snatch it up with the points of the chopsticks. It curls up around the stick protectively and my stomach turns over. I dip the piece in oil, open my mouth, and bite down. The suction cups stick to my cheek, and I poke my tongue around the moving shape so he slides down my throat. I imagine him trying to crawl back up, but this time, I won. Snatching up a few pieces, I am ready to dance again.