Soul searching in seoul
Every city has a purpose. Some provide jobs and livelihoods, others showcase glitz and glamour, some revel in their history, others pride their modernity, some choke themselves with traffic, others celebrate their public spaces. Seoul, the capital of South Korea, does all these, and thrives rather elegantly.
We visited Seoul this summer, experiencing a city vastly different from what we have ever seen through our travels in other parts of the world. To begin with, Seoul provided us the opportunity to be real tourists. It did not present itself to us, rather it let us explore, fumble, struggle and enjoy — letting us experience the city that has built for its people rather than a mirage that popular cities create specifically for its visitors.
So as we walked in its bylanes we used sign language to bargain for pretty Korean handicrafts, realising the pointlessness of our English vocabulary that is otherwise quite useful in most parts of the world. When we rode the metro, we used our mobile apps — amused at how Koreans rely on technology to make everything convenient, especially public transport. To eat, we showed pictures on menu cards, laughing at our confused conversations, trying to find vegetarian food in a country that literally lives on fish.
Seoul has something for every kind of seeker, and yet nothing is really built for the tourist. The quiet Bongwonsa Buddha temple that is hidden in the clutter of sky-scrapers attracts those in search of peace from outside and within. Insa-dong, a street filled with little handicraft shops that tourists hop to, is also a local hub. The Gyeongbokgung palace that is teeming with visitors is a constant reminder of history and culture for its own people. The various museums though mostly visited by tourists, are also thronged by local children. In its commercial centre Gangnam, which is now immortalised in a popular pop song, office-goers speed across even as tourists try to catch a breath.
There is all this. And then there is Seoul’s obsession with its public places. As tourists, we were most charmed by the city’s usage of space. The city is filled with random pieces of design and architecture that add character to its surroundings. The Han River has many fronts lined with tents where families group together. The skyline creates a pathway for pedestrians such that there is a pattern under the glass buildings. Cheonggyecheon, a charming street by the water, has floating lanterns, where couples huddle and little children wet their feet. The favourite family pastime is karaoke bars, which is also the most interesting part of its night life.
In Seoul, most places have thick tree canopies, a reminder that green can coexist with development. Every street has a park. The park has infrastructure that is functional — exercise machines for everyone. It isn’t odd for a person dressed in a suit to stop by and do a few pull-ups on tall rods en route to work. For kids there are mazes drawn on the sides, so that they can cycle or hop their way from one end to another. Similarly there are little newspaper and book corners on tree stumps with comfortable benches for the elderly.
In its public places are markers which suggest that Koreans are very health-conscious. Well, this is also reflected in their food. We have been told that what Koreans eat at home is what they relish outside. The soup, meat and a wide range of side dishes (kimchi, vegetables, leafy wraps) are made as much for the body as for the taste buds, whether it is served on the street or in the restaurants. Their fixation with public health is also the reason why they have placed spectacularly clean toilets every few hundred metres — something I cherished, as an Indian who has always cursed the absence of public toilets.
There is a lot we saw in South Korea, other towns and an island. But for me its uniqueness lay in Seoul. A city crowded to the brim that doesn’t pretend to give tourists the exclusive. Its truest gift to the traveller is what it has for its public — children, elderly, you and me.
The writer is a social sciences researcher and an aspiring kitchen gardener