Fishmongers all at sea

Seoul's oldest and largest fish market – a city landmark and tourist hot spot – is fighting a move to a futuristic, half-billion-dollar facility. Vendors are insisting they prefer the sprawling, run-down site they’ve called home for 45 years.

The dispute mirrors others in the vibrant South Korean capital, where design upgrades of some traditional locations and neighbourhoods are being fiercely resisted.

Nestled between densely packed high-rises in the southern part of the city, Noryangjin Wholesale Fisheries Market is a 24-hour sensory overload that sells pretty much every seafood imaginable, much of it still alive.

Suhyup, the corporation that manages the market, wants it moved into a shiny, steel-and-glass, state-of-the-art facility it built next door – in the shape of a dolphin – at significant expense.

The management argues that the current site is outdated, inefficient and structurally dangerous, while the vendors say the stalls they’re being offered in the new building are too small and over-priced.

Moving would “completely scrap the Noryangjin brand”, says Lee Seung-Ki, who represents a vendors’ committee pushing for the refurbishment of the current site.

The plans echo the situation in Tokyo, home to the famed Tsukiji market – the world’s biggest fish emporium, which authorities are planning to move to a new, more modern facility this year at an estimated cost of US$3.8 billion (Bt136 billion). 

Advocates say the new site, which is 40 per cent larger, with state-of-the-art refrigeration, will give the popular tourist draw a badly needed technological update, but some vendors feel they’re being shunted away from a prime location.

Noryangjin snoozes but never sleeps, with some sort of wholesale or retail activity going on round the clock. In the main retail section, banks of fish tanks, swarming with bream, halibut, skate, giant crab and octopus, form water-slicked corridors that stretch into the far distance.

Vendors dressed in bloodstained aprons and rubber boots engage in noisy competition for customers who range from home shoppers to high-end city restaurants.

“Noryangjin is my life,” says 73-year-old Baek Kyung-Boo, who’s been selling shellfish in the market with his wife ever since it opened in its current location in 1971. 

Baek’s average day starts at 3.30am, when he attends the fiercely competitive wholesale auction to pick up his daily stock. “I spend up to 15 hours a day here,” he says as a motorbike zips by carrying a precarious stack of boxes full of fish. 

The 66,000-square-metre market has been operating 24/7 since South Korea lifted a |nighttime curfew in 1982, and serves 30,000 customers a day.

It’s become a cultural landmark that attracts hundreds of tourists – many to sample a local delicacy of still-wriggling octopus cut up live and slathered in sesame oil.

Vendors opposed to the move fear the market will lose its identity and the sights, sounds, smells and general chaos that make it both authentic and unique. But the management is insistent.

“The current building is over 40 years old,” said Suhyup official Kim Duck-Ho. “Many parts of it are corroding and it’s dangerous for both the vendors and customers.”

The new complex could hardly be more different. Along with the fish market, it will house glitzy restaurants with a spectacular river view and terrace cafes that will stage live concerts.

It’s been ready to welcome new tenants since October, but four months in it’s still a ghost structure, with only the parking lot and underground refrigeration system in use. 

Suhyup drafted the relocation plan in the early 2000s and insists it had settled all issues – including rents and stall space – over 23 rounds of negotiations. But the vendors’ committee and others are still refusing to shift.

The dispute has come to a head with the management organising what it insists is a final draw for the 681 stalls in the new building.

“We are encouraging the vendors to take part in the draw,” says Kim. “If they don’t, we will understand it as a contract termination and recruit new tenants.” 

The management says it can’t afford to wait any longer, given the expense of operating two buildings, and plans to complete the relocation by March 15.

But the opposition is not backing down, with protests being staged in the market twice a week. The vendors don red vests bearing the slogan “Fight in solidarity” and march through the stalls.

“Once we move, it will be our home for another 100 years. Noryangjin cannot lose its colour,” says Baek Kyung-Boo.