Walking All Day

I think the most beneficial aspect of my return to Korea, on my own, is that it feels very much like what Roland experienced on his own return, in 1998. He's familiar with the landscape and the rich culture, steeped in history, but the people he knew, the friends upon which he relied so heavily, not just for companionship but for support through his "recovery," are absent.

Like Roland, I am utterly alone. But it doesn't mean I'm lonely.

On the morning of my second day in Seoul, I awoke and looked at my watch. It was only 5:45. I had set my alarm for 7:30 but only as a reminder that I couldn't sleep all day and that I eventually needed to get up. I told myself to close my eyes and to try to get some more rest, but my body was having nothing of it. After another 45 minutes, I lifted myself from under the sheets and looked out the window.

I drank some water, checked into social media, and then lay back down, willing myself to try to close my eyes, to no avail. My head began to ache, and fearing a migraine might try to take over my body, I downed some ibuprofen.

By the time my alarm sounded, the headache was on the way out. I knew it was 6:30 in the evening back home. I hoped that DW and the kids would be home, perhaps watching TV, and called with Facebook video chat.

DW was surprised that I was awake, considering we last spoke six hours earlier, when she saw my photos being posted. When I lived in South Korea, from March of 1997 to March of 1999, I rarely made phone calls. I mostly communicated with family and friends through e-mail. This age of technology, with the very fast WiFi in my hotel, sent crystal-clear images and sound through my smartphone.

I said I was utterly alone but Roland didn't have the immediacy of communication as I do. It's only when I'm away from WiFi (I've decided against a Korean plan) that I'm as isolated as I was back then.

The chat with DW and the girls lasted nearly a half hour, and I decided it was time to get a start on the day. A shower, shave, and fresh clothes. My camera gear, and I was off in search of breakfast.

Coffee, in 1997 to 1999, was scarce and when you did find it, it was expensive and nasty. It wasn't so much coffee as very strong tea, tasting more like watered-down instant. I tended to stick with tea—in particular, green tea and barley tea.

In my walk, last night, I found no shortage of coffee houses, including one with my eldest sister's name, which was about three minutes from my hotel, on Sejong-daero, the main road from the old gate to the imperial palace.

This coffee shop was closed, but I spied a shop a few doors down that had a familiar name: Paris Baguette.

Chŏnju had a few Paris Baguettes, a chain of bakeries that specialized in breads and Korean pastries. More than 20 years ago, it was the only bakery that made multi-grain loaves. This one, in Seoul, was called Paris Baguette Café, and I could see plenty of people inside, so that's where I went.

Korea tends to build businesses based on successful models from other countries, and Paris Baguette seemed to take some notes from Starbucks, as they had many food items that were close copies from that coffee shop chain. I ordered a breakfast sandwich (ham, cheese, and egg on an English muffin) and a cappuccino. The man who took my order told me he'd give me a discount, and heated the sandwich while a woman made my beverage.

I have to say: coffee has gotten a lot better. I really enjoyed my cappuccino as I ate my sandwich (a bit too much mayo) and sat by the front window.

Another observation: Seoul has become more international over the past 20 years. When I last visited the city, which I did numerous times over my two-year residency, I would count maybe a handful of foreigners over the course of the day. In Paris Baguette, there were five non-Koreans, plus me.

Also, as I ate my breakfast, many other waeguks, as we're called, walked by. A woman of Middle-East descent, in a head scarf; a black woman; several white folks. In the course of the day, outside of tourist spots, I would encounter countless foreigners.

Seoul is no longer homogeneous.

As I had done the previous evening, I walked up Sejong-daero, but with more of a purpose. I wanted to reach Gyeongbokgung Palace before 10:00 to witness the colourful changing of the guard. I did so with less than 10 minutes to spare but caught the act.

I've been to this palace a couple of times, in 1997 and 1998. But I don't think I had walked the whole grounds on either visits. My feet were feeling pretty good, so I took my time and captured photos and video over a couple of hours.

As I left the palace grounds, through the National Folk Museum, I started to think about lunch, but I knew I was close to the Bukchon Hanok Village, and I had never been there before. This village comprises several traditional Korean homes, many which haven't changed in 100 years.

I'll be staying in the Chŏnju Hanok Village, when I arrive there (I'm there at the time of publishing this post), but I wanted to see this one, which is on a hill and has some commanding views of Seoul.

I looked for places to eat but they were either packed or empty, and memory told me that an empty restaurant was empty for a reason. I decided to keep moving.

I turned south and headed toward Insa-dong, famous for its narrow streets of artisan shops of all kinds, but deeked around, with another destination in mind. The previous night, I had wanted to go to Jogye Temple, to see the thousands of lanterns that would be hanging in celebration of Buddha's birthday, on May12. I figured that the night before wouldn't be as packed as the actual day. But fatigue had made me sleep, instead of going out, and when I did go out I didn't venture as far.

I don't know how busy the night before had been but the actual day was packed. I turned on my 360-degree camera, set the selfie stick to its maximum length, and held it straight up, almost to the height of the hanging lanterns. I walked a lap around the main temple, stopping only a couple of times to take shots with my D-SLR.

Another half-lap, and the claustrophobia of the crowd told me to leave.

I still hadn't eaten, so I wandered into Insa-dong and looked for a place to stop and rest. But I wasn't feeling the food I saw and I was beginning to feel tired, and just wanted to head back to my hotel. I did manage to find a birthday gift for DD15, who turns 16 while I'm away, before finding the Cheonggyecheon canal from the night before, and walking along it until I reached Sejong-daero.

On my morning walk, heading up to the palace, I spied dozens of people in yellow t-shirts gathered at the park by City Hall. They were members of Falun Dafa, organizing what looked to be a rally. On my walk back to the hotel, hundreds of Falun Dafa supporters were marching along Sejong-daero, carrying banners and signs.

I'll share those photos, tomorrow.

I reached my hotel shortly after 3:00 and was soaked in sweat, especially where my backpack had covered me. I peeled off my clothes and let the air-conditioned room dry me.

I was tempted to nap, but again I worked on my photos, which I shared on social media.

By 5:00, I was starving and decided to check out the tiny shop in the alley across from my hotel. It wasn't packed, but several patrons seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the photos outside, showing the available meals, made it attractive.

I ordered the kalbi-dang (beef soup), which came with plenty of side dishes. Along with some rice, I was stuffed in no time.

Back to my room, where my fatigue really got the best of me.

Another half-day in Seoul, and then it would be on to Chŏnju...