"Taco Bell's coming to Itaewon," she announced proudly one day in Chungju. "It'll be opening in June."
I didn't understand her enthusiasm. I hadn't eaten there since I discovered Taco Cabana, a staple of the Texan diet and an authentic Tex-Mex chain that mashed its flour tortillas flat right in front of you. That, I knew, was real Mexican. "Taco Bell's not Mexican food," I replied, nonplussed.
It was a reminder of home in Longview, Washington, she explained--almost as important to her as hearing Rihanna's "Umbrella" every time she docked at a new port during her Semester at Sea. The song, played in almost every country she'd visited, filled her with reassuring familiarity when she heard it; eating at Taco Bell would surely do the same. It's just like me finding a little taste of Texas so far north of the border. Living in Korea just wouldn't complete without a visit to the famed franchise or a meal in its distinguished dining hall.
At the end of February, just weeks after I found I lost my job, Laura informed me that her hagwon was giving her a three-week notice. "We should start a club," she texted. "Mary and Tristan [two others from Chungju who had also lost their jobs] can join." She had until the 15th of March to finish her contract, when originally it was supposed to end in the middle of July. Taco Bell wasn't due to open for at least another three months. This meant one thing--no eating in its hallowed halls. There was one nugget of hope, however: She was scheduling a trip back to Korea mid-summer with her family, as her parents had purchased tickets to visit her just three days before Laura was informed of the tragic news. Perhaps that would give the food chain time to finish rennovations.
Ever-mindful of the approaching day, I watched the busy corner of Itaewon for the anticipated unveiling. Laura's predicted month came with still no sign of life under the "Coming Soon" sheild. When Laura returned mid-June, the grand opening had slipped from the end of the month to the first weekend of July, the next-to-last day Laura would have in Korea. By the end of her trip, however, the date had slunk further down the calendar, to July 11. One week too late.
"I would have still had another two weeks!" she lamented as we glimpsed the impassable curtain, regret slipping from her voice like hot sauce from the corner of her mouth. It was then I decided something had to be done.
On the afternoon of July 11, a Sunday, I was out with some friends in Itaewon after church when I remembered the auspicious occasion. I walked with an acquaintance of mine to the street corner across from the Hamilton Shopping Center and gazed across traffic. On the other side of the street, the white billboard had been taken down, replaced by gleaming windows two stories high and couples enjoying the view from small cozy tables. I briefly thought about stepping inside, but the line (mostly populated with foreigners) stretched from inside the doors past Cold Stone Creamery half a block away. Maybe another time.
It's been more than two weeks since the branch first opened its doors to Seoul's bustling public. Though the frenzy over Taco Bell may not have fully diminished on the weekends, my friend and I figured that a weekday like today might be at least a tamer time to venture in and taste its menu. When we arrived, the line protruded only to the edge of the restaurant's windows, mere meters. My companion suggested we'd have to wait at least 20 minutes just to order, but we had ordered and were seated in under that. We enjoyed our mock-Mexican dishes, a quesadilla and a mild taco salad, with a side of chips and sweet tostsadas--all for about 14,000 won ($12.00 USD). 80's-style English music pouring from the speakers like warm nacho cheese. The dinner tasted mostly like the Taco Bells in Texas that I remembered, though with more fresh vegetables and a curious kiwi salad dressing on the side. The steak salad was well-satisfying and I knew I couldn't pass up a good meal.
Laura Wells, this Bell's for you!
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