Crocodile Town

Still recovering from the previous night, and now stuffed to the gills with yellowtail, we descended from the main road and under an overpass to the parking lot sitting on the side of a rather absurd-looking reptilian head, which given the sort of animals housed at this establishment one would assume to be modeled after a crocodile, yet the presence of horns jutting from it's crown indicated that it was more likely than not recycled from a more medieval-themed venture. Banners clung to the outside of the warehouse-like complex, depicting a Thai girl putting her head inside of a crocodile's gaping mouth. Intrigued, we followed her example and bravely marched through the jaws of the dragon, to a small ticket booth where dropped down our $12 and dashed off to make the 3:30 show which had begun three minutes earlier.

Dashing through corridors filled with objects too blurry to discern at the speed we were traveling, we followed the unique, warbling, and terrible sound of the layered reverb and crooning that is Korean balladry. The act had just begun, we saw, as we walked in on to see a woman wearing a bright red hanbok, or Korean traditional dress, doing her best to sing but still strangling the cat, perched on a platform surrounded by paleolithic killing machines. Thinking that at the end of the song she would be risking life and limb in the maws of these crocodiles, we sat on the edge of our bleacher seats, waiting with bated breath for her attempt at music to end. Disappointment soon followed, as she bowed and shuffled of the stage to backstage safety. Soon enough, a pair of Korean men came out into the enclosure, carrying Mongol spears and dressed in what might have been some sort of traditional croc-wrasslin' attire, but just looked like basketball jerseys and shorts. When they began their hunting dance, both Gabe and I got the distinct impression that we had been ripped off, that the thrills these Koreans were peddling would turn out merely to be "hey, look at these idiots dance in an enclosure of sleeping animals! Exciting!". We were relieved, therefore, to see that once the musical number was done, they ran into the water and began saturating the tile, then proceeded to drag the awakening beasts about the enclosure by their tails. While some may call this abuse, I would guess that would such a sight have ever bothered me, it has been months since that point has passed. They proceeded to try more and more daring stunts with the crocodiles, using wooden wands to seemingly hypnotize them, stroking the inside of their mouths and the tops of their heads in a repetitive, rhythmic fashion. First hovering in the general vicinity of their jaws, the performers became increasingly bold, progressively inserting more and more vital parts of their body into their open snouts and undertaking increasingly difficult stunts, starting with fists, moving to arms, then laying out on their backs. They would get a running start, slide on their stomachs across the smooth and wet tiled enclosure, coming to a skidding halt just within range of the crocodile's mouth to give it a kiss. The advert-promised climax came when they stuck their heads into the (suspiciously lethargic) beast's mouth. But if there was a grand finale, it was certainly this- an event eliminating any doubt about whether these reptiles were on drugs:


Animals and Artifacts
After what we agreed was an amusing but strange show (something about the manipulation of indifferent scaled monsters backed by blaring Korean techno is patently odd), it was time to set out to explore the rest of the CrocTown facility. I didn't know what to expect exactly, though I would have leaned towards 'more crocodiles', but such foolish notions were soon put to rest as I walked through the next door, and came across the BRIGHT BLUE HAND OF SATAN! There, mere feet away from a croc stunt show, was erected a massive fiberglass hand (plus a few extra fingers here and there) clawing out of the ground. As out of place as it already seemed, a survey of the room leading out from it left us in an even greater state of confusion- a swarm of vulture-sized animatronic ladybugs flexed their wings from their mounts on the walls. Around the bend and into the next room, we found a miniature zoo of sorts, lined with glass cages displaying, on one side, numerous small reptiles, and on the other, a collection of small mammals that could very well have been dinner to their neighbors across the hall. Highlights included the Sudan Plated Rizard, and the Ratte (presumably a caffeinated rodent mixed with hot milk). There was what looked like a mix of a porcupine and a possum, the name of which I am sure I would have known when I was a child, but which has been erased by the years in between. My favorite were the panda mice, little furry pets that I found incredibly reminiscent of the dalmatian mice in The Royal Tenenbaums.

The Bright Blue Hand Of Satan


As if trying to top itself in the absurdity of its disconnectedness, the next room we entered was a hodgepodged collage of antique gadgets and furniture, complete with old rotary telephones, cracked and aged Korean movie posters, war memorabilia from the Korean war, and replica of furniture from the thousand-year-old Joseon dynasty period. I have to admit that, knowing the somewhat bitter way that some older Koreans feel about Americans in relation to the Korean War (not to mention the grudge held on Jeju towards America for 'simply observing' during the Jeju Massacre during that period), I did feel a little bad about having a Korean man take our picture as we crouched in helmets behind the plastic battlements, in front of a mural no doubt depicting the sacrifices of the Korean people in that war. This was, however, comparably solemn and respectful compared with the tourist attraction we now spotted in the far corner of the room.

War is hell...


Ghengis Kyle
Nestled back behind a large assortment of recreated royal thrones and gama (Korean litters), we saw a raised platform occupied by what appeared to be recreated scenes of ancient Korean palaces. A large clothing rack next to it held a wide array of costumes. Lingering briefly out of curiosity, we were called up onto the dais by the old Korean man who was in charge. He told us that for 3,000 won, we could have our pictures taken dressed up like important people from Korean history. Not wanting to refuse the old man, we adopted a 'might as well' attitude once again, and were promptly dressed. The only costume large enough for me was a Mongol warrior. My friend was dressed up as either a king or Confucius. The man used our camera to take around 15 pictures, though he was decidedly unhappy later when he turned around to find the king wearing the queen's wig, and the Mongol warrior having unsheathed his sword and swinging it around.






Departing from what we believed to be a dead-end in the exhibit, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of a shabby curtain hanging on the far side of the war exhibit. We luckily chose to investigate, and found a dark room lit only with blacklights. It seems that, just for good measure, they had also added a haunted house on to the Crocodile Park, whose downright creepy atmosphere it owed as much to its unexpected location as to its actual contents. The contents, however, didn't hurt; styrofoam mannequins of children were painted with fluorescent paint so that in the blacklight, it looked like they were crying blood, others were chopped up and strung across the room. The first room in particular was incredibly disturbing, as we had no idea what the place was, and it was full of cute forest critters smeared in neon paint.

This photo was taken with flash, so you have to use your imagination.


One the way out, still confused and a little creeped out, we passed by the last exhibit before the door: a macaque, who because of the thick glass we were unable to hear. It was by far the meanest monkey I have ever met, as upon seeing us it charged across its habitat and began shouting at us, eerily moving it's mouth like it was swearing at us. We tried to get it to repeat the performance, and that's when it got really mad.


As it cursed and screamed silently at us, we departed from the madness that was Crocodile Park, a place that seemed to be put together from scraps of old theme parks . We can only assume that the reason for the additions was its direct competition with the other crocodile theme park on Jeju, Crocodile World. I can't wait to see how they are competing.