Palaces, Skyscrapers and Mountains

A Springfieldian traveled across the world to spend Lunar New Year in Seoul, South Korea—a city nestled in mountains that’s simultaneously ancient and modern.

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Seoul, South Korea, is a city of contrasts. It’s a city with a balance of past and present, tradition and modern living, the familiar and the surprising. After a long walk searching the streets of Seoul for a Buddhist temple that we never found, my sister and I stumbled into a huge palace complex that was walled in by stone—Gyeongbokgung. The gargoyle-lined sloping roofs of its more-than-600-year-old buildings sit against a backdrop of picturesque mountains, but turning 180 degrees sets up a different view. Looking the other way, you can see the brightly detailed soffits and ceilings in front of a different kind of altitude: skyscrapers.

That’s what it’s like to be in Seoul. One minute you are on the traffic-filled streets of the second-largest city in the world, passing a 7-11 and buying warm walnut-flavored waffle bites from a street vendor. Then four steps later, you are in the middle of a history unlike anything you can see in the Western world.

Starting with Dok

I visited Seoul the week of Lunar New Year (February 7) because it was a work holiday for my sister, Lizzy Pollock, who is living there and teaching English to the cutest kindergarteners on Earth. When I arrived, hungry and sleepy and more than 20 hours older than I was when I left Springfield, Lizzy and I hopped onto the bus and rode into Seoul. It’s a colorful city at night; buildings and bridges over the Han River are lit with bright, changing colors. Lizzy took me to Soyouki, one of the restaurants in her neighborhood. We had a beer and seafood dokbogi. Like many dishes in Korea, it’s is served spicy and family-style. It’s a mixture of mussels, calamari, shrimp, carrots, onions, cabbage, a very hot sauce and dok. I saw a lot of dok in Seoul. It’s a fat, chewy rice cake that’s pretty flavorless on its own but tastes great in hot sauces. You can buy it on the street, too, on tiny little plates and served with a toothpick.

Making Friends

The next day, I spent the morning meeting Lizzy’s students and the afternoon wandering the Jongno neighborhood alone while she worked. There I learned that if you just stand on the sidewalk and look confused, some nice person will inevitably stop and ask you if you need help finding something. One of my helpers was an old man named Park. I was in Tapgol Park when we met, and he told me his name by saying, “We’re in a park? My name is Park!” He was a sweet little guy who gave me a refresher course in early American history.

Tapgol Park is an interesting spot. It has pretty pavilions and a 10-tiered pagoda. When I first met my buddy, Park, and told him that I thought the buildings were beautiful, he said, “You think this is beautiful?” before changing the subject (and telling me all about how he’s heard rumors that New Yorkers are strange). I didn’t understand what he meant until I walked around the perimeter of the park and saw that those pretty structures were all surrounded by flat stone monuments depicting violent images of Japanese occupation. The prettiest pavilion in the center of the park is the spot where the country’s declaration of independence was read aloud in 1919. Korea wasn’t liberated from Japan until 1945. When I was there, a man showed up with a wooden flute and played a hauntingly sad song in that spot.

After I said goodbye to New Korean Friend Number One and left Tapgol Park, I headed toward Insadong, the adorable shopping district filled with cobbled roads, cozy and cleverly decorated teahouses and Korean folk art. As I stood on the street corner with a subway map in hand, I met New Korean Friend Number Two. I asked him the best way to get to Insadong, and he said that he’d just walk me there. Once we got there, we were chatting, and he told me, “I’ve been studying English, so I’m really excited to talk to you. If it’s okay, I’ll just go with you.” He seemed like a nice kid, so I told him I didn’t mind. For the next nearly two hours, New Korean Friend Number Two walked in and out of shops with me, pointing out various items with a little wave of his hand and his standard set-up of, “Traditional Korean…” He showed me Traditional Korean Plates, Traditional Korean Tea Sets, Traditional Korean Aprons. He even walked up to a man in a hanbok (a.k.a. a Traditional Korean Outfit) and, with his palm out towards the man’s face, told me, “Traditional Korean Beard.” As odd as it was to have him spend the afternoon practicing his English on me, I completely enjoyed his company.