Seoul
The time was six in the morning as I left my hotel to be greeted by a sweeping wave of heat. I was to be in Korea for a week, and having booked my flight less than a day before departure, I didn’t pay much mind to the weather forecast: high 90°s and thunderstorms. Determined to make the most of it anyway, I tried scheduling any outdoor activities on the few dry days woven between the periods of heavy heavy rain. Today, being one of those days, was earmarked for Bukhansan National Park; not summiting, not even going up to the fortress – I didn’t dare do that on a day with a high of 97° – just a quick hike around the foothills, maybe climb to the top of a small hill if there’s a view. There was unfortunately no view; the foothills being extremely woody, I could only catch a mere glimpse of the concrete jungle peeking through the dense leaves. However there was ample opportunity to look the other way and admire the peaks of stone just barely jutting out through the otherwise completely forested mountains that I am sure would look beautiful in the autumn. By the time I reached the bottom sweat poured down my face and stung my eyes, though the real threat of stinging was from the hornets patrolling the path and chasing after me when I tried to sneak by. I decided I was not going to try another trail.
The bus ride back into town made me realize just how hilly Seoul was; sitting in the rear, the old diesel engine groaned as the bus stopped at yet another intersection where it would roll back before slowly chugging up again like that slight drop at the top of the roller coaster lift hill giving you just the slightest tease of the steep incline. The buildings went right up to the sides of the mountains, sometimes even further, making the already tall apartment buildings tower over everything else. I dreamed about what the view must be like in one of those flats the whole ride to Changgyeonggung Palace, looking over the rest of the city as if they were less colorful Lego blocks scattered on the floor.
A stroll through the Secret Garden provided reprieve from the sweltering sun that had worn me out. The branches hanging overhead turned the footpaths into a cool shelter, and save for a few bald patches letting in rays of radiative heat, formed a tunnel of sorts that channeled along a refreshing breeze. Entry was restricted to a certain number of people per time slot so besides a couple groundsmen cleaning up, I was by myself nearly the entire time; hard to imagine such solitude once you’re thrown back out into the hustle bustle of the city. And hustle bustle it indeed was considering my next destination was Bukchon Hanok Village, one of the bigger tourist draws.
The entrance was a fairly unassuming driveway on a wide boulevard filled with otherwise standard shops; I’d have missed it completely if it weren’t for the swarm of visitors dressed in hanboks crowding the intersection. From the getgo it was filled with officers, enforcing noise limits and making sure it didn’t get too crowded. I slipped off the main road into a tiny back alley, quiet and empty aside from a group of tourists taking selfies. I am an absolute sucker for verticality in cities so it’s safe to say I love a good restored traditional village built on the side of a hill; snaking up corkscrew streets and cutting through narrow stairs between homes, it’s the equivalent of an adult jungle gym. But it was definitely harder to appreciate when being shushed by officers and goaded along like it’s some exhibit that has slowed down the line and needs to be fixed. Crawling down a tight cascade of stairs led to Samcheong-ro, where I stopped for bingsu before venturing through Gyeongbokgung Palace; I must admit I wasn’t a particularly big fan of any of the palaces as they all felt a bit samey to me.
Waking up at four the next day was a great excuse to hike Namsan – I could catch the sunrise ahead of the downpour forecast for the rest of the day. Ten minutes into my climb was enough to realize that the wind was going to put in overtime today, blowing in the rainclouds hours ahead of schedule. The rain (and time of day obviously) created an unusually foreign backdrop of the otherwise busy Myeongdong. A handful of dim streetlamps provided just enough light to navigate the lifeless pitch black backstreets to the base of the mountain. Climbing up the steps of the trail, the precipitation grew and grew, turning the pitter patter on my poncho into a heavy thumping. My shoulders grew tired as my backpack soaked it all up like a sponge and tripled in weight. Resting at a long stretch with an unobstructed view of the peak, it was clear the clouds were far too low – the strobe of the red aviation lights lit up the insides of the clouds and filled the sky like some demonic weather from the depths of hell. Some kind soul was generous enough to build a viewing platform (photo islands, as I learned they were called) on the way up, where I stopped for a half because the twinkling city lights were so mesmerizing I had totake them all in, not because I needed to give my burning calves a break.
The climb thus far had mostly been stone-carved blocks through dense foliage, but not too much higher than the photo island was the station for the gondola (clearly not open yet or I would have taken it) and I would presume the sudden presence of plastic stairways and vending machines and food stalls and railings full of locks would owe their existence to that. A wild cat ran by me in the dark, giving me quite the scare seeing life for the first time in an hour. I finally reached Namsan Palgakjeong, a pavilion sitting next to N Seoul Tower where I could at least take the poncho off and let my skin breathe. Patiently waiting as the sky turned from black to blue, I was sitting well inside the clouds and the tower was completely invisible save for a few brief moments where a void blew through. As blue turned to gray, it was clear even the summer sun did not have enough power to burn away this weather and I made my way back to town.
A bit of an odd destination but I decided to visit the Seoul National Cemetery; I had to transfer there on my way to Gangnam anyway so why not check it out? The entrance was surprisingly busy with dozens of cars queued up in parallel but once inside at the graves, it was silent and peaceful. Being a cemetery specifically for veterans, the headstones were all uniform and spaced out in a perfect repeating pattern following the terrain like a pin imprint toy.
The Starfield COEX Mall was frankly pretty disappointing; the whole area around Gangnam felt very sterile (high rises up top and luxury storefronts at street level) and the mall was a continued reflection of that. The library was surprisingly small; not sure why I expected it to be big and grand but I certainly didn’t think it was going to be a small opening in the middle of a shopping mall. Certainly impressive what they managed to do with a small space though and again, I love compact verticality! But I’m not sure there was enough of a selection that I would have called it a library – I suppose smaller collections have been labeled as such though.
Taking the subway to my last stop of the day, Dongdaemun Design Plaza, the train rose aboveground for a few river crossings main one being the Han River and I realized what was so different about Seoul that I missed about Tokyo: in Tokyo there were subways yes but there were also many train lines running through the city; train lines that ran through elevated and sunken tracks, letting you look out over the neighborhoods or immersing you in the city respectively. In Seoul, trains didn’t seem to be very useful for intracity transit, scratching out the possibility of admiring the city while getting around rather than staring out a black rectangle. Dongdaemun Design Plaza was certainly a magnificent building, easily my favorite of Zaha Hadid’s (though the one in Baku certainly looks quite striking too). Spiraling around the ramps, following the paths that take you to each layer interwoven like string in a complex knot around this steel-framed blob was an absolute treat.
Dongdaemun was only a stone’s throw from my hotel so I went back on foot. Cheonggyecheon proved to be a pleasant stroll; it started off with busy overgrown vegetation near Dongdaemun but cleaned up nicely into concrete slabs closer to the source of the stream. I love stepping stones as a water crossing and there was even a floating stage where a local band was setting up to perform though admittedly I wasn’t interested in waiting around for the show. To end the night, I watched the festivities at the Myeongdong Night Market which was cut short by a sudden downpour. Slow moving crowds watching vendors roast marshmallows with torches embodied the spark of a summer festival, just for all that to be extinguished when everyone scattered into the shops.
Another clear day meant another day hiking the many hills. Today’s pick was Inwangsan, and with a name meaning gentle king I sure hoped the sun would take pity on me. Taking the bus to Muakjae meant getting off at the crest of the mountain pass; with Inwangsan on the left and Ansan on the right, I started having indecisions on what would provide a better view. Ultimately conceding that the two were close enough it didn’t matter, I followed the original plan. After just a short climb up 45° neighborhood roads winding through some apartment buildings, I was already out of breath and not off to a great start; looking back towards the street, the crimson red paint on the roads sat in stark contrast to the mass of greenery surrounding it. A short scramble through the forest later, I arrived at Muakjae Sky Bridge, a literal extension of the forest, connecting the mountains on both sides of the highway via a continuous arm of foliage.
I stayed on my side of the divide and started up the brutal flight of stairs to the top. The city rose into view as the dense shrubbery gave way to open blue sky; from above, Seoul’s hilly terrain was so strikingly clear: the tops of mountains just barely squeezing through the expanse of buildings like grass growing in the cracks of an abandoned sidewalk or a more docile Parícutin, the islands of woodland standing ground against the ebb and flow of the ever rising concrete tide. These hikes were easily my favorite thing in Seoul: natural observation decks placed smack dab in the middle of the city. If I visited again, I would definitely go down a checklist of mountain trails and see the capital from every angle. Perhaps in the autumn?
The way down was along the Seoul City Wall and was the main route people took, squeezing past people desperately fanning themselves on the way up while I, already drenched in sweat, breezed down. This trail went right past a temple and spat me out into the heart of some apartment blocks. In need of a refreshment, I grabbed a melon popsicle (Western ice cream just can’t compete) and inched down the inclined streets as if I were making my way down loose gravel.
It was midday by the time I finished my shower and with the scorching summer sun beating down, baking the city like little blocks of dough on a cookie sheet, I ran through my list of indoor activities available. Without really feeling inspired to go to another history museum, I opted for a cat cafe instead; best part is, it wasn’t even a full minute’s walk from my hotel. Though my friends’ cats enjoy my presence, the ones here did not particularly take to liking me, mostly running away when I approached. Partly my own fault since other patrons had treats to feed them whereas my empty hands offered nothing but love and affection.
As the light of day yellowed and weakened, I headed for (get ready for this shocker of a twist) another mountain. The destination was Eungbongsan, right where the Jungnang meets the Han River. After tunneling through Namsan and transferring in Itaewon, I ended up on a bus in Geumho-dong which turned out to be one of my favorite areas in the city. The bus route was an absolute roller coaster of ups and downs and that idea of tall apartments being built on top of already tall hills I mentioned earlier was taken to an extreme here. I feel most other cities zone taller buildings at lower elevation where they can be more stable, and as you climb in elevation there are fewer and fewer stories to them, approaching some imaginary hard deck (hard ceiling?). Seoul seemed to have taken the inverse approach to that and it created a sort of exaggerated scale where everything felt stretched: the lows lower and the highs higher. Was it because the easy access flat land was already taken by traditional shorter buildings and thus new apartments built after the population boomed had to settle for the hills? Was valley land less stable and harder to build tall on, too prone to liquefaction? Ultimately I don’t know how Seoul’s zoning ended up the way it did but I’m all for it.
The trail up to the peak ran up the edge of the park, providing a perfect view of the confluence of the two rivers. With a straight shot of the many bridges crossing the Han and even Lotte World Tower poking above the mountains in the distance, it was a fantastic vantage point for sunset. I stayed until the sky was completely dark; swatting away ravenous mosquitoes is surprisingly difficult with a camera in hand. Ultimately unable to defeat them, I cut my losses and accepted the obnoxiously placed bite on the knuckle of my finger restricting its range of movement by half. I descended via a different path, one that led to an adorable pedestrian bridge across the now empty boulevard – how nice it must be to live across the street from a mountain.
With one final day left, I visited the Olympic Park with the intention of going up Lotte World Tower afterwards; though I was there far too early for it to be open, and with its head in the clouds it didn’t seem worthwhile anyway. Instead, I followed the subway tracks and walked across Jamsil Railway Bridge. Walking through the Olympic Park and to Lotte World definitely broke a sweat but surprisingly, the even longer walk across the Han actually cooled me down thanks to the winds running with the water. I wasn’t actually sure if foot traffic was allowed on the bridge – I couldn’t understand any of the signs and I only saw cyclists – so I just tried to keep out of the way and prayed nobody would chew me out. Thankfully no one did and I reached the other side intact; a swarm of storm clouds blew in to where I had just come from and I let them escort me all the way to the airport as I waved goodbye to Seoul.
