Igestured to the server some distance away, holding up my index finger before pointing to the empty green bottle on my table.

I could have practised what little Korean I knew, just sufficient to string together my request, “Jeogiyo, soju hana juseyo.” (Excuse me, one soju please.) but failed to summon up enough liquid courage in the end.

The irony of escaping subzero temperatures – so cold it drained my phone’s battery in minutes – to seek refuge in a cozy tented street food stall only to order ice-cold soju didn’t escape me.

It’s a dream come true, perpetuated by K-drama where the orange-tented pojangmacha usually sets the scene for developing romance between the male and female lead or colleagues drowning out woes after work.

Located between exits 6 and 5 of Jongno 3-ga Stat

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