Secret life of Hongdae's makgeolli man

The makgeolli man hawks his wares in Hongdae Playground in this file photo taken May 12, 2012. / Photo by Jon Dunbar

By Jon Dunbar

I still remember my first taste of makgeolli, that white alcoholic drink made of fermented rice, late one night in winter 2004 as I descended the stairs of the punk club Skunk Hell near Hongik University (Hongdae) in western Seoul. "Drink this, it's whale sperm," said Won Jong-hee, club owner, handing me a paper cup full of the chalky swill.

Big white bottles of the stuff appeared all over the club, but where had they all come from? Turns out they were delivered by the makgeolli man, a local character who sells bottles of cheap makgeolli out of his pushcart at suspiciously low prices.

He was a legendary figure in Hongdae, though reports have also placed him all around the city, usually around Sinchon, Yeonnam and Mangwon, as well as downtown and as far as Gangnam.

You'd hear him coming by the ringing of his handbell, with shouts of "Hya!" For foreigners, he had his own stock greetings. "Best friend!" he would shout, or "Best man!" To women, he might exclaim "I love you!" On putting down a little money for a bottle, he'd always throw in paper cups and an extra bottle or two, ladening you down so much you'd have to find people to help you finish all that makgeolli. After a few selfies together, he'd be off on his way to unload more makgeolli on others.

One night in Hongdae Playground, I asked him for an interview, only to learn two more English words he knows: "No comment."

All that is known about him is he must be in his 50s, his dark skin is cracked with age or exposure but rubbery like a TV comedian, and his clothes are shabby.

Rumors abound online about the secret life of the makgeolli man. One 2014 discussion suggests he was once an actor, but a sad memory affected him deeply, leading to his cheerful but shielded demeanor. Another rumor alleges he is secretly rich, going so far to say he owns LG Palace, the building found outside Hongik University Station exit 9 with a KFC on the main floor.

These rumors were shared in a Facebook group paying tribute to the makgeolli man created in 2010. This group mostly contains selfies taken with the makgeolli man from over the years, as well as a link to a Daum webtoon portraying him and a link to a recent video of him showing off some impressive singing chops at a Hongdae club. The video has over 108,000 views and was featured on Huffington Post Korea.

The makgeolli man Facebook group still has 299 members, though most activity was confined to that first year.

This dropoff of interaction corresponds with a craft makgeolli explosion that upended Korea's traditional alcohol scene early this decade.

The drink proliferated, with makgeolli restaurants serving high-quality new makgeolli recipes and culinary academies teaching makgeolli fermentation. With options to drink great makgeolli cropping up, the novelty and demand for poor-quality makgeolli out of the back of a cart dried up quickly.
"His makgeolli isn't very good," one makgeolli maker admitted to his class when asked about the man.

Thus, the makgeolli man has been abandoned by the people he so jovially expressed his love to.

But as the Velvet Underground was said to be a terrible band, yet inspired those who saw it to go out and do great things, ushering in a new cultural paradigm, so too should the makgeolli man's role in promoting makgeolli not be overlooked. He championed this drink, which before its recent renaissance was only remembered as a cheap, low-quality working-class drink. He brought us all awareness, one bottle (or two or three) at a time.

For those of us who formed ― and erased ― many nights of memories with his drink, he remains a legendary figure worthy of song, a modern-day Candyman handing out cheap booze. And we don't even know his name.

The writer is a contributing writer and copyeditor at The Korea Times.

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