My memories of Seoul are mixed - how walkways become warpaths during rush hour, how fashionability is the only currency that is legal tender, how incessant sales promoters standing before the candycane facades try to convince you that your beauty is only as deep as your pocket, how shops never seem to close and how people never seem to sleep. But the weather was perfect in our stay there, and there was never a lack of things to do and see.
Below: The sun sets on yet another day in Seoul, but night does not seem to bring rest, and so it passes until daybreak.
We also managed to learn a few things about the city, despite this being our second trip there.
South Korea is really an island with Seoul
Language notwithstanding, Seoul and Taipei felt remarkably similar in my eyes. It could very well be the shared circumstances of the trips which Mary and I took to these places - heading there on our own and subsequently returning with her mother, all within the past four years.
The two cities also share broadly a similar historical inheritance, being outposts of Chinese culture, and today remain echoes of the Cold War. The latter manifests in the disputed names of the countries in which these thriving cities reside - the Republic of Korea, and the Republic of China. There is another Korea, another China, out of whose shadows our aforementioned countries have long moved out of. But Seoul and South Korea, like Taipei and Taiwan, remain an island. Despite being connected to the rest of Eurasia through North Korea, the Demilitarised Zone prevents any landward advance to elsewhere in that direction.
Below (top to bottom): the mountains of Bukhansan National Park, to the north of Seoul. Further north is the DMZ, which severs all the landward connection the Republic of Korea has with the rest of the world; Syngman Rhee, South Korea's staunchly anti-communist and first President, smiles from a flea market stall in Insadong.
Because of that, South Korea cast its gaze far beyond its shores, and Seoul bears witness to a creative fusion of this outlook with firmly homegrown elements - a sprawling conglomerate known for its electronics and which has become a household brand worldwide, a plethora of drama series whose every twist and turn are followed religiously by many who would otherwise flounder without subtitles, and a pop music scene whose cultural penetration in the Far Eastern region (and general incomprehensibility) rivals that of their American counterparts. We already glimpsed the extent of K-pop's popularity back in December when we heard the unlikely rhythms of Psy's Gangnam Style in the unfamiliar environs of a Guatemalan border town.
Below: one of our favourite spots in Seoul, the Cheonggyecheon stream. Once upon a time it was Seoul's Styx, a dump for the slums which lined its banks in the first half of the twentieth century and a shameful sight that was subsequently covered by concrete and a highway built over it. Refurbished, today it stands as a symbol of Seoul's reinvention as one of East Asia's leading metropolis.
Fashion Week, week in, week out.
Euny Hong's The Birth of Korean Cool (2014) charts the globalisation of Korean pop culture in recent decades, and explores the factors behind this meteoric phenomenon. Nowhere else was Korean Cool more obvious than when we emerged from the warren that was Dongdaemun Design Plaza, blinking awkwardly at the spring sunshine and the glitz all around us. At the further end of the plaza, a banner blandly announced Seoul Fashion Week.
Below: Seoul Fashion Week, the perennial state of affairs.
Above: Seoul Fashion Week, the yearly event.
We waded into a postmodern pastiche, populated by those whose creed conforms only to the unabashedly conspicuous. Their apotheoses, individual and collective, were captured by a bevy of eagle-eyed photographers - vultures hovering around their preened subjects, feasting at an unapologetic pageant of blatant voyeurism. If one had chopped up their top and bottom halves and randomly put the pieces back together, the resultant assemblage would not have looked out of place.
Below: Our impromptu attempt to fit in with fleece and flip-flops.
I'm not sure how necessary a Fashion Week was in Seoul given that it seemed to be the unchanging daily state of affairs on its streets. An onservation which would win me a rap on my knuckles was that there were three types of Seoulites - those who manage successfully to look beautiful, those who don't bother but are nonetheless beautiful for this innocent neglect, and those who try hard but fall flat.
The Seoul Make-up
No, not the thick layer of powder one invariably finds on so many faces here, but the city's interesting social composition, visible as we walked around on our last three days there.
Attracted by the vibrant art and craft scene in the bustling district of Insadong, Mary decided that she wanted to go again long before we arrived. An area which housed the Joseon-era elite before the tumultous years of the Japanese Occupation witnessed their eviction, today the concentration of antique dealers and chic hang-out places draws visitors in untold numbers. Amongst the crowd who have come to enjoy a day out were street evangelists and Buddhist monks. Not far away from Insadong's main drag is one of Seoul's oldest churches, and I have since learnt that the monks come to pore over the rich Buddhist pickings on offer in the shopfronts and by the sidewalk.
Above: Insadong wears many hats, and attracts a diverse following to its many antique and art and craft stores.
Below: a nun steps out of a hair salon. This wasn't actually taken in Insadong, but captures the sometimes stark contradiction of life in modern Seoul.
The presence of both groups revealed the external influences which Korea has historically been subjected to. While doubtless Christianity is perceived to be more foreign than Buddhism, the latter was also brought into the country from far abroad, once upon a time. East and West lose their well-defined duality in this case when we behold, and ponder, the curiosity of Buddhism being a western religion in Korea while Christianity and its heavily American imprint came mainly from the east.
Below: Enjoying balmy spring weather on the grounds of Ewha Womans University. Started by the American Methodist University Mary Scranton in 1886, today it is one of the world's foremost women-only education institution. Before, I thought Ewha stood for something. Afterwards, I learnt it meant "Pear Blossom", named ostensibly after the trees which grew near its founder's home.
One cannot leave out Islam too, which we had brief glances of amidst the halal establishments in Itaewon the following evening. It wasn't apparent at first, and the only question on our minds were why there were so many kebab joints. The discernible Turkish presence in Seoul today could primarily be attributed to the exploits of the Turkish Brigade on the side of South Korean forces in the Korean War nearly 65 years ago. Much was made of the Turkish contribution beyond arms and fighting men, as they started schools and orphanages for those affected by the fighting. However, unbeknownst to many, Islam in Korea has had a far longer history beyond the Korean War and even beyond its Turkish minority, and Korean Muslims are known by the creative abbreviation of Koslims.
Below: Kebabs in Itaewon.
With the financial needs of our new house at the back of our minds, Mary showed remarkable restraint in her shopping. We had set aside three full days for this, but half-way through the last day, she felt she had walked into enough shops. What time we had left did not suffice to do anything else, but we left without regret. There was none of that shopper's revanchism plaguing our last visit. Should we have bought that? We should have changed more money. Let's go back.
On the whole, we enjoyed our time in South Korea. I'm still not sure I've found my Seoul, though
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