Skinning a sea snake
22 Mar
Amy and I wandered into a small restaurant after an after-hours attempt at finding the lamp shop. The woman who works in the kitchen invited us in after seeing us admiring the beautiful sea snakes slithering around in the tank outside the restaurant. We were wondering what the spiderweb-like membranes that floated in the tank were, to which a kind Korean couple explained in broken english it is their “shed skin.”
The waitress promised us just coffee after we repeatedly motioned ‘NO’ to eating the snakes. We drank our coffee and ate some delicious mashed sweet potatoes with veggies, and were just in time for the ‘show.’
I was in the perfect position to see our waitress open the tank. She used a pair on long tongs to pull out five or six sea snakes, writhing in their pre-death dismay. She then speared the snake in the head with what seemed like a sharp screwdriver, impaling it to the cutting board. She managed to grab the snake, pull it out longways, and slit it up it’s whole body. She de-skinned the writhing piece of meat and threw it in a container with the others. This whole process took about 2.2 seconds per snake, it was amazing.
Thoughts of scrubbing the guts off live crabs with toothbrushes on the jetties of Island Beach State Park filled my vision.
I am not squirmish by this kind of thing, and wide-eyed I continued to watch this woman pull the guts that were still connected to the now frantically writhing tubes of meat. She replaced the screwdriver and, butcher knife in hand, chopped them into two inch chunks. The bite-size snake warriors struggle on.
Memories of bubby’s huge triggerfish that wouldn’t die after about thirty minutes in an empty bucket danced in my mind. The innate struggle towards life, even when skinless and gutsless. That’s hardcore.
The plate of flopping snake-bits were served to a table of fine gentlemen to our rear, who proceeded to grill them in the middle of the hibachi/grill-style table. No one in the restaurant was the slightest bit skeeved about the whole debacle. Everyday life, here in we-eat-all-sea-creatures-no-matter-how-phallic South Korea.
I wonder if I were skinned and gutted and chopped to pieces, would I still squirm and scream and try to get away? Or would I just recognize there is nothing I can do, lay down, and die? I suppose it is one of those “you have to be there” situations. Regardless, it was an insightfully horrific experience. I learned a lot about the life-spirit in all things alive. To the end, my friend.
On a lighter note, the waitress also brought out her yapper puppy from the back of the restaurant and secretly deposited her in my lap. The dog was wearing a pink fleece hoodie, and had the tips of its ears and tail manic-panic’d pink.
The dog smelled much better than I do on any given day, thanks to her doggy cologne. She liked me and sat poised on my lap, her beady eyes curiously examining my gushy “you-are-so-cute-i-love-you” faces. She then put her paws on my chest and licked me on the lips. Woo! The most action I’ve gotten in a weeks, and a pretty pink lady at that. 🙂
MRumianowski
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