And you can see our general impression of the food in the images below.
Mmmm, buttered chewy corn on a stick.
Tastes like home!Anyway--Everland. The overall feeling one gets from a visit to Everland is something like, "I'm trying to be Disneyland and failing miserably, but in the process coming up with something quirky and fun."
Take, for instance, the Hurricaine, a combination rotor-pirate-ship that's the first ride you see upon entering the park (after a good kilometer of gift shops, that is--they got that part of the Disney experience right!).
Yes, that's the Epcot Center in the middle. The Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building are on the left, naturally, with the Statue of Liberty nearby.
What's more, in the middle of a hurricaine so powerful that it blew the Epcot globe all the way to Manhattan, while cloning the Empite State Building through sheer force of awesome (yes, that's the Empire State Building behind Lady Liberty), we happy-go-lucky Americans are all dressed up like 80s Eurotrash and/or colorful turn-of-the-last-century circus clowns, dancing in the streets.
I'm especially fond of the androgynous fellow in the yellow sailor-suit-raincoat, who is apparently holding onto his hat and his leg, just in case either should start to blow away.
Also, this guy. I think I knew him in college. And wish I hadn't. I'm also impressed by the fact that you can see he hasn't shaved for days. This is the worst storm in history, people. He may have time to don his best turqouise suit and flail around on the docks like a fish, but shave? Please.Just around the corner from the Hurricaine is a charming little 1950s-nostalgia street. (American 1950s, that is--the 1950s in Korea didn't offer a lot to get nostalgic about . . .) The street is lined with old magazine covers and ads, most of them benign, like this one:
Others, I suspect, would not quite make the Disney cut.
Finally, in another Disneyesque move, Everland as a whole tries to project a vaguely European feel. This is evident from the moment you set foot in the parking lot, at the edge of which the park has erected a giant wooden block clumsily painted with what, I think, is supposed to be an Italian hill town.
The theme continues in Alpine Village, ironically located at the lowest elevation in the park.
Yes, Herr Kessler, I can read the sign below. My German hasn't vanished yet!
Of course, they don't seem to care where it is in Europe, as long as it's European, and in this case, vaguely Alpine.
Here, for example, it seems the same monster storm that blew Epcot to Manhattan deposited the Jungfrau at Chamonix. Impressive.
The Alpine Village also included a halfhearted Korean attempt at German food, which was slightly troubling.
Though if I hadn't been on the clock, I might have been tempted to try the beer.
Stay tuned for a glimpse of Everland's wacky little zoo . . .
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