Seoul Power

Why would I be in Seoul, Korea for just a day? Because when you use a frequent flyer ticket, you go with the airline and the routing they give you. Thus, my Korean Air flight from Sydney to Bangkok went via Seoul. And to add interest to the already-longer-than-necessary travel, I had a 14 hour layover there.

It would have been easy to stay in the airport and read, plan my travel, maybe do some email, write a story or two, and work on "projects" such as balancing my checkbook (yes, I know I'm compulsive). But that scenario didn't jibe with the spirit of this journey. If I was in Seoul, I ought to see Seoul!

But I seized with fear. My only other experience with an Asian city was Manila, and there I had the buffer of a friend who lived there who could give me the information I needed and at least point me in the right direction. I knew nothing about Seoul -- frankly, I had little interest in Seoul. I had no guidebook or map; I only had gone on the internet briefly to determine what the sights to see might be. I couldn't decipher the alphabet, knew nothing of the language or culture or money. It was 6:00am and none of the information desks in the transit part of the airport were open. I did see some lockers where I thought I should leave my overly-stuffed carry-on backpack -- or at least many of the heavy things from it -- but I hesitated to do that until I could get information and might better be able to assess what I'd need "out there."

As I've mentioned before, travel is living with a series of bad decisions. The first such bad decision was exiting the transit area with the heavy pack. There were no lockers on the other side, only a storage room that not only wanted too much money for this service, but didn't seem secure enough. Thus, the heavy pack was to come with me on my adventure into Seoul. But this discovery wasn't immediate, as none of the other ones were. Assessing the locker situation, changing some money, getting a map, figuring out the bus routes, getting a bus ticket, determining where to catch the bus, and realizing that my exit from the transit area required me to obtain a special departure tax waiver all took a couple of hours. Add to this, conflicting information about each of these logistical matters. Many people wanted to be helpful, but often didn't know what they were talking about, so I'd have to sift through all of this and hope for the best. I've discovered that asking several people the same question is often a good idea, eventually you'll find two answers that coincide.

So now I'm on a bus going into town and I thank my stars that I have a good sense of direction and can read maps with ease. And the driver even remembers to tell me when to get off (this doesn't always happen). I walk the remaining kilometer or so to the site I have selected and am met with this:

That gate -- Gwanghwamun Gate -- is where I want to pass through to get to the Kyongbokkung Palace complex (also called Gyeongbokgung on the map -- apparently Ks and Gs are interchangeable -- which makes navigating far more interesting). There was no way to cross this street. I stare at it for awhile as lanes and lanes of traffic whoosh by. I walk about a block out of my way until I find a crosswalk and manage to safely cross the street. Later in the day, when I'm on the gated side of this concrete ocean, I motion to a policeman that I want to be on the other side and don't understand how to get there. That's when I learn about underpasses -- ohhhhhh, duh.

So I enter the gate, very proud of myself that I have actually gotten to a tourist destination all on my own and I'm eager to see the sights within this complex and am met with this sight -- it's under construction!! I'm crushed, so I go into a museum I hadn't planned on seeing instead. When I come out of the musuem and wander around a bit, I discover that in fact, much of the complex is still open to visitors and that there is something to see.

In the museum, there are hundreds of school children. I move through the exhibits with them, getting that awww-aren't-they-cute? kind of feeling. I'm feeling happy and maternal and full of myself for getting informed abut Korean culture (although few of the exhibits are in English). Finally, one of them speaks to me and I am thrilled that I will be having an "exchange" with this Korean child. He says, "Hello!" and I brightly answer, "Hello!" and smile to which he says something unintelligible in English, gives me the finger, and finishes up by saying "F#*k you!" I am stunned. And hurt, very hurt. This quickly turns to intense anger because my goodwill has been violated. As he moves along with his group, I yell after him, "Would you like me to tell your teacher what you just said?!" (A sentence I can't believe escapes my lips.) I follow him into the next room, where his so-called friends easily give him up, pointing to him and waiting anxiously to see what this red-faced white woman might do. I can not let go of my anger and I become the same chronological age as him. What I do next is embarassingly juvenile, but amusing all the same. I dog him from room to room. Since we are moving in the same direction through the museum, it just sort of happens that way, anyway, but I make it absurd. I hover over him, saying nothing, hoping just to scare him with my presence. I lean in occasionally and say things in English he can't possibly understand, such as "You need to learn some manners, young man!" (Again, will somebody please tell me where that sentence came from?! Eighty year old words and eight year old behavior, sheesh.) I dish out evil stares. The other boys are beside themselves with this unfolding drama. There is much whispering and shoving and pointing and the kid IS scared and I'm delighted and continue with my payback campaign. I wanted him to be worried I was around every corner, ready to turn him in or spank him or place a western curse on him. This goes on for many exhibit rooms. Finally, I recover my middle-aged adult self and move on.

Outside of the museum are many lovely gardens and buildings to enjoy. It is beastly hot, but I wander anyway. I wish I could tell you the names of these buildings, but that piece of information is apparently stored in my brain in the same place as geometry postulates. However, if there are any Beatle lyrics you'd like to know...

I finish the day by eating Bulgoki, the national dish of Korea. I order by pointing; thankfully the enterprising two women who run the cafe have thought to have their meals translated into English. I am in a very small restaurant and without thinking, I drink the water they give me and live. I didn't know most of what I was eating, but happily scarfed it down and it was quite tasty. The two women who were serving me were all smiles even when I brought out the camera to take this shot, which I am sure they found bizarre.

Finally, I wend my way back to where I think the bus stop should be and find it by accident after going down this side street. I took this picture not because I found the street pretty, but rather, because I didn't. I have found Asian cities to be remarkably unattractive, except for the random temple or palace. And they are terribly polluted, as well. (More on this to come in future stories.) I return to the airport in plenty of time for my connecting flight to Bangkok, which gets me into that crazy city minutes before midnight. I feel proud that I wrestled my initial fear into submission, went out into the unknown, survived a verbal attack by an eight year old, and proved to myself that I can manage.