I got off the train after two hours and opened my bag to start my stream. The phone I use for broadcasting? Sitting on my desk at home. I’d packed everything except the one thing I actually needed.
I stood there in Gwangju, holding my Galaxy Z Fold 5—my backup phone—and realized I’d walked into battle without a gun. The Fold can stream, barely, but the frame rate was terrible, the screen kept shaking, and I had no map app, no navigation, no way to find anything. I was a modern guy reduced to asking strangers for directions like it was 1995. The whole plan was to visit the five-day market and eat squid hoe, but at this rate I’d be lucky to find the market gate.
My viewers kept asking why the stream looked so bad. I had to explain: I left my iPhone at home, so I was broadcasting on my Fold. And I forgot the charger too—though I did pack my iPhone charger. Which helps no one.
I wasn’t going to give up. I told the chat: “Today’s content is finding a raw fish restaurant without a map. ”
I started walking, asking people on the street. An older man pointed me toward the market.
He said two blocks and I’d find it. I thanked him and kept going, trying to keep the Fold steady while I walked. The screen was so shaky my viewers said they felt motion sickness. One joked it felt like a Y2K stream from 15 years ago.
I laughed and said, “For today, we’re first-gen. ”
I finally spotted the market. There was a sign for the squid fish market. But it was only 10:30, and the stalls opened at 11.
So I ducked into a nearby café to wait, ordering a blueberry juice. The barista looked young. I said, “You must be a student, right? ” She said, “No, this is my parents’ place.
I’m just helping during break. ” When she said she knew the owner well because they were family. I asked how old she was. Twenty-two.
I almost choked. She ran the place and I’d just been telling her she looked like a high schooler. While I sat there, my chat started pushing me. The viewers were spamming donations with notes like, “You can’t even take care of your own phone, you idiot,” and, “Eat properly, you fool.
” I took it in stride—at least they were entertained. Then the café owner brought me a waffle. She said one of my viewers had ordered it for me and paid for it. I was grateful.
For the first time that day, the chaos felt a little less chaotic. But the Fold was still dying. The screen kept freezing, the frame dropped constantly, and the audio lagged. Someone said, “The delay is really bad today.
” I could only nod. I knew that if I kept streaming on this phone, the connection would degrade. Three hours of this, and it would probably drop to 3G. I finished my juice and waffle, thanked the owner, and headed toward the market.
I had to see it. I’d come all this way—I couldn’t turn around without at least getting a look. When I arrived, the stalls were still setting up. The squid wasn’t ready yet.
I wandered, asking vendors where I could find the raw fish section. I walked down narrow aisles, past plastic tables and tarps, trying to keep my phone steady. The Fold kept popping open and shutting, and I was terrified of dropping it. One of my viewers, a regular who goes by Wang Kwon, chatted me up in the comments.
He said my legs were shaking because of the bad video quality. I said, “It’s not nerves—it’s the frame rate. ”
I found a stall that sold stewed crab. I love crab.
I thought about ordering some. But my chat wasn’t going to let me have anything. They were jokingly setting up “stacks”—viewer goals that would unlock spending money for my food. I was at minus five stacks.
They were making me eat for free, or not at all. I said, “I need at least one person to be generous. Just one real stack and I’ll buy the crab. ” Someone sent a small donation.
Not enough. I laughed and said, “I’ll keep asking. I’m not giving up on eating today. ”
Inside the market, I spotted a stall owner who looked approachable.
I introduced myself: I run a small channel, and I like to interview small business owners to hear their stories. I asked if she’d let me record a short conversation. She looked surprised, then agreed. Her name was Yoon Seung-ah.
She ran the stall and said it was her dream to run a café, but this was what she had for now. She was open from 9 a. m. to 8 p.
m. , working every single day. I asked who helped her. Her younger sister, who looked just like her, came by during school break.
It was clear she worked hard. I thanked her for the interview and told my viewers, “You hear that? She works 11 hours a day. I can at least buy something from her.
”
But my chat had other plans. They kept teasing me about the phone I left behind. “You forgot your iPhone, huh? ”
“How much food do you plan to eat, you freeloader?
”
“Eat well, you fool. Next time, don’t forget your phone. ”
I smiled and said, “You guys don’t let me eat, but you keep sending me money to buy watermelon and juice. At this rate I’ll go home a beggar.
”
I looked outside the market gate. A long row of squid stalls lined the street. People were already sitting at plastic tables, dipping raw squid in spicy sauce. I felt my stomach growl.
I’d walked two hours, streamed for three, and survived on one juice and a waffle. I told the chat: “I’m going to the squid place now. I’m coming back in ten minutes. If I don’t get one donation by then, I’m buying it myself.
I’m eating today, one way or another. ”
The chat erupted with laughing emojis. Someone sent a donation with the note: “Good luck finding squid without your iPhone. ”
I laughed and walked toward the stall.
I ordered the squid hoe. The owner asked if I wanted it spicy. I said yes. When it arrived, the squid was cold, crunchy, and glossy under the red pepper sauce.
I took one bite and felt my whole body relax. I said, “This was worth the two-hour ride. ”
But then I glanced at the phone. The stream had frozen.
No one was reacting. I checked the connection—still terrible. My audience was stuck on a buffering screen. I held the Fold up and shook it, trying to get a signal.
It didn’t help. I told the chat, “I’m sorry. This phone keeps dying. If it drops, I’m going back tomorrow with my iPhone.
This was a one-day risk, and I knew it. ”
I kept eating between stream freezes. I got a few more donations, and the chat came back to life. They asked about tomorrow.
I said I was heading to Busan next, planning to walk the beach and maybe do a few interviews. If the weather held, it would be fine. If not, I’d find another city. I paid for the squid, thanked the stall owner, and stepped back onto the street.
The market was winding down. Vendors were packing up. The sun was still bright over Gwangju. I said to my chat: “I still don’t know where I’m going next.
No map. No iPhone. Just the Fold and you guys. ”
Someone typed: “You forgot your phone again, didn’t you?
”
I laughed. “Not this time. ”
I checked my pocket. The iPhone was still at home.
I walked toward the nearest café for a cold drink, talking to my viewers the whole way, letting the stream keep running on the phone I’d honestly rather have left behind.