If it is right, it happens—The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

John Steinbeck

15 July 2023

• 13:35-14:15 Nowon station to Ichon station metro
• National museum of Korea (3h)
• National Hangul Museum (40m)
• 18:50-19:10 national museum of Korea Yongsan family park stop to Itaewon station stop bus number 400
• Dinner @ Starbucks
• 22:00-0:30 drag show
• Clubbing at night
• My first noraebang

The National Museum of Korea

Today was supposed to be simple. Visit two museums open on Saturday until 21:00. After last week’s clubbing, I’d resolved not to go out.

I started off with the National Museum of Korea, the sixth largest museum in the world.

It had been a while since I’d set foot inside a gargantuan museum. The excitement. It was a bigger version of Gyeongju’s national museum, with a ten-story pagoda in the atrium. Most of the explanations, I remembered from Gyeongju.

The first floor traced the history of Korea. Stone tools, such as chipped stones and axes from the Paleolithic age.

In the Neolithic age, people had dwelled in pits near rivers and sea, and obtained food through fishing hunting and gathering; thus, this period had marked the beginning of pottery, polished tools, domestication of animals, and cultivation of crops. Even the exchange of information with neighboring regions.

A trigger warning of human skeletons gave me déjà vu to Tokyo national museum, where I’d come face to face with a mummified corpse. Once again, beholding human remains near the end of my three months in a far eastern country. The human skeleton here wasn’t as scary, and the children weren’t as transfixed by it. I recalled the boy who’d viewed the mummy next to me.

The Bronze Age saw the emergence of agriculture, villages, lavish tombs, and a ruling elite. For the umpteenth time in my life, I was struck by the notion that a return to nomad life would solve humanity’s problems. Personally, I aspired to have no home.

The first kingdom in Korea was Gojoseon (ancient Joseon), ruling over the northwest peninsula all the way to Liaoning region of west China. In the south, smaller kingdoms had emerged, such as Buyeo, where a string instrument had been excavated in Gwangju. An ancient Korean guitar.

Out of the three coexisting main kingdoms, Goguryeo was the first to establish a state by expanding into neighboring regions. It had incorporated elements from foreign cultures, such as China, into its own.

The Gaya armor and helmets presented seemed as rusty as the ones in Gyeongju. Same impression of militant efforts ending in rust and vain.

The Silla kingdom rooms featured more gold crown and bird-shaped pouring vessels. Rusty swords and beaded necklaces. Known as the country of gold, the jewelry and dishes here were proof of it.

In the 7th century, the Silla and Balhae kingdoms had united, and created a centralized state. Zen Buddhism had grown in popularity. Then Goryeo had become the second dynasty to unite Korea, as well as the first to introduce a civil service examination system, so as to secure government official with knowledge of Confucianism.

In 919, Gaegyeong (in modern day North Korea) had been declared the capital. Temples had developed a printing culture, to spread publications. Senior monks had become royal or state preceptors.

Immersive digital galleries recreated scenes using 270-degree projections on walls.

The Joseon dynasty, lasting between 1392-1897, had chosen its name as a successor to Gojoseon kingdom. Founded by general Yo Seonggye, later King Taejo, who had sought to replace Buddhism with neo-Confucianism, give allegiance to the Ming dynasty, and follow physiocracy, which posited agriculture as the key to economic prosperity. The dynasty’s 500-year reign was made possible by the Benevolent Rule doctrine, where the ruling elite exemplified proper living for the people.

Interestingly enough, Joseon, like Japan, had called itself the country of the rising sun in the east.

A copy of Taejo’s portrait I saw in Jeonju was hung here.

Finally, the historical galleries reached the Korean empire, lasting between 1897-1910.

On October 13, 1897, King Gojong of the Joseon dynasty had founded the Korean empire. Now known as Emperor Gojong, he’d wished to defend the nation’s sovereignty from foreign enemies, and modernize the country.

But his efforts were short-lived, as Japan had colonized Korea during the Russo-Japanese war. From 1910 until the end of the Second World War.

The second floor of the museum exhibited art. The “room of quiet and contemplation” was a large and dark hall, where two Pensive Buddhas stood a few meters apart. The architecture amplified their pondering nature, and I grew contemplative myself. Their positions were identical, but not their appearance, crown, and garments. This made me think about different people going through the same thing, and how, despite our differences, we would suffer the same fate.

It just sucked that my road there was not what I would’ve liked it to be.

Up ahead, there was a Greek helmet donated by Son Kee Chang, who had won gold in the men’s marathon at the 1936 Berlin summer Olympics. The helmet, in a gorgeous shade of aquamarine, was beginning to rust. I enjoyed this color combination. Beauty being eroded in real time.

Some of the galleries had closed five days ago, for renovations until December.

The third floor was dedicated to world art.

• Mesopotamia: religious objects and the invention of writing in 3400 BCE. Mostly for listing things and keeping legal records. But there was also a multiplication table. An ancient mastiff. All art that I recognized from university and appreciated.
• Central Asia (Tukestan region): interesting Tarpan earthenware.
• Southeast Asia: Buddhist sculptures.
• China: Buddhist steles and colorful tomb guardians (green, brown, and white, instead of Korea’s five colors.)
• Ancient Greece and Rome: I entered this gallery and felt I was home. I recognized many of the mythological characters and scenes depicted on sculptures and amphorae. Interesting how the museum’s explanations didn’t mention the sexual nature of symposiums.
• Finally, Buddhist sculptures and Korean pottery made of beautiful jade.

The National Hangul Museum

In the afternoon, it finally stopped raining. I strolled around the museum’s garden, stopping at a tiny waterfall. The Dutch volunteer texted me about a drag show in Itaewon tonight. I hadn’t heard of its existence, and, after resolving last week to not go out again… I changed my mind.

The adjacent Hangul Museum was nearly empty.

Hangul was invented by King Sejong in 1443 in order to turn the country literate. Hanja (Chinese characters) had been hitherto in use, much to Korean’s discomfort, since the language they’d spoken wasn’t Chinese.

In an unusual move, the king had strove to share his power of literacy with all the people under his rule. He’d written a book explaining the principles behind this new writing system.

Hangul was the only alphabet in the world whose creation details were recorded in a book. 28 letters, made by combining 8 basic shapes: five consonants and three vowels, all based on simple forms of dot, circle, and line. Thus, it was possible to learn this writing system in one sitting.

Since then, four letters had disappeared, their sound becoming less used.

To prove the efficiency of his new system, the king had written 125 poems, and converted Chinese pronunciation to Hangul. He’d published books in Hangul about medicine and Buddhism.

Only in 1894, however, had Hangul become the official script of Korea. In 1910, the Japanese occupation had stripped the writing system of this title.

After the liberation of 1945, horizontal Hangul had been adopted by the state, to make it more legible.

Nowadays, illiteracy in Korea remained below 2%. Hangul was written in syllabic blocks combining initial, medial, and final letters (rather than linearly).

I understood why Ryu from Busan had told me a few weeks ago that Hangul was the smartest alphabet in the world. Now, more than ever, I wanted to study it.

Shame that I was in the museum alone. A small yet informative exhibition. I wished they would’ve included a section teaching the actual letters to foreigners, to increase literacy.

A Date with My Japanese Equivalent

Since I had some time to kill until the drag show at 22:00 (I was too close to Itaewon to justify going back to Nowon for a change of clothes), I met at the last minute a Japanese guy who was living in Itaewon.

Dinner with him at Starbucks (not a Korean place, sadly; we looked for something close and quick) was full of unbelievable moments.

He was 28, with a short bowl cut streaked with light brown highlights, beauty spots on his cheeks, a shaved goatee, and zero body fat. Between the ages of 10-15, he’d attended boarding school in Suffolk, close to my grad school in Norfolk. At 15, he’s dropped out of high school, to focus on writing fiction.

Since then, he’d lived in an island in Shimanami Kaido, where I’d spent two days in spring; and now, he was doing a one-year working holiday in Korea, and making short films.

Same age. Same dreams. We talked in Japanese and English (so weird, having almost an entire conversation in Japanese again). Our differences in background – country of origin, education – had led us to a similar place in life. Getting straight A’s and doing two degrees hadn’t born me much fruit.

A Magical Date at a Drag Club

At 21:30, he walked me to the drag club. Both of us were poor, aspiring writers, so he skipped the show due to the entry fee.

The club was very different from the one in Busan. Brighter, smaller, with barely any Koreans. A foreigner spot, both in terms of staff and clientele.

The Dutch volunteer showed up soon after, insisting on paying me back for the entry ticket (“I invited you. This is my treat”), as well as a Korean guy I’d invited to join as well.

He was 24, originally from Seoul, now a grad student of urban planning at Columbia university. Short, bleached hair, athletic build. Heaps of charm.

He had taken the last semester off to rethink his studies while traveling the world. This had included volunteering at a hostel in Seville and covering the Middle East (Egypt, Jordan, and Pride in Tel Aviv). From there, he’d come to visit his family in Jamsil. Both of us would leave Korea in early August.

We were supposed to meet yesterday, but my last-minute free ticket to Lotte World (incidentally, very close to his turf) had interfered.

To my shock and envy, he was fluent in Korean, English, Japanese, and Spanish, with some knowledge in French, Arabic, and Portuguese.

Following technical difficulties and a small delay (the unofficial rule of drag shows), the show began. Starring international queens, the vibe felt different to Busan: here they spoke in English, performed international songs, and the lighting was more bar-like than club.

But the queens did not pale in comparison. The show was a rollercoaster ride. I was blown away; the Dutch girl was hypnotized. One of the girls even sang the most incredible redition of Part of Your World.

Busan’s show had always started at 1:00 and lasted one hour. Here, the three acts commencing at 22:00 ended at half past midnight, with no less than two breaks, during which the audience competed for free drinks.

To my disappointment, the Korean student had to leave before midnight. We had vibed in an instant; yet my loyalty was to the Dutch girl. I couldn’t ditch her and go with him. We’d been talking about going to a drag show for two weeks now.

The show was followed by a dance battle for more free shots. I knew I had zero chance against the audience members brave enough for the task. The girls who’d volunteered as tributes danced like there was no tomorrow, and everyone was cheering so hard, that it was a blissful sequence. An instantly unforgettable celebration, full of solidarity and wow moments. Queer culture at its finest.

Close to 1:00, my Dutch friend left as well. Hongdae was one hour away now, necessitating two night bus rides, and she would be volunteering tomorrow. 

I chatted with some of the drag queens – mostly just me repeating how fabulous they were – and promised to return on my last Saturday in Seoul. (Next Saturday, I would travel the east coast.)

My First Noraebang

“Now what?” I wondered, my phone battery dropping to 10%. The Korean student was already on the bus back. I could take two night buses back to my host’s studio. But the night had only just begun.

Then I saw a text from the Japanese guy.

He was stepping out of a club nearby. I went out to the street, and ran into him.

We went clubbing together. He took me to Queen, a tiny bar with too many foreigners. Too cramped and tight.

After half an hour of awkward dancing, I took him to my favorite club.

The line was endless. Itaewon was in full swing tonight. After last week’s lame Friday, I realized Saturday was the only good day in Seoul for queer nightlife.

Yet the songs at the club sucked. The DJ was different from the one in my previous three times. The vibe was off. So we left soon after.

He took me to my first noraebang (karaoke) in Korea. I didn’t know the Japanese songs he’d picked, but singing Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, and Olivia Rodrigo with him was as fun as karaoke got.

We walked around Itaewon. The view at 3:00 of N Seoul Tower and the hillside buildings was unreal.

Today’s highlights: the National Museum of Korea (particularly the Pensive Buddhas, Olympic helmet, plus the Mesopotamian, Greek, and Roman art); learning about the logic behind Hangul; meeting yet another Japanese guy my age who was basically me (like my host from Tokyo); drag show with the Korean student and Dutch girl; my first noraebang; the view of Itaewon in the dead of night.

Stray observations:

• The beauty culture of Korea is so ingrained, that there are mirrors everywhere inside train stations.
• There are also assistant robots in almost every museum.
• I hate how drinking fountains in Korea usually offer foldable papers that one must turn into an awkward cup.
• Korea never neglects to mention the Japanese horrors it has gone through (rightfully so), but I never see a single mention of China.

16 July 2023

• 15:00-15:30 Itaewon station to Taereung station metro, 15:35-15:45 transfer to Nowon station

Breakfast with the Japanese guy at a Turkish bakery. Lots of pastries.

With so many things in common, I wanted to chat with him all day long. We wandered in the streets, browsing vinyl and discussing music at a stylish store. He frequently corrected my Japanese. I’d gotten rusty, and Japanese people often did not correct my mistakes. This might’ve been polite of them, yet not constructive to my learning.

I recalled the Miitaka guy being amongst the few exceptions.

At some point, I realized just how much I had on my plate – first and foremost, finding accommodation for my east coast trip, and Japan – and said goodbye to the Japanese guy.

Raw Marinated Crab

In the afternoon, I hung out with my host, who had returned from Jeju Island today, and her Canadian couch-surfer. My last few days being unexpectedly busy, I couldn’t sightsee Seoul with the latter, whose positive energy was infectious.

After indulging on a huge bag of fresh mandarins from Jeju Island, the three of us had an early dinner at a local restaurant, where we shared an incredible tofu stew and multi-side-dishes meal. I ate raw oysters (so slimy that no chewing was involved), raw marinated crab (a Korean specialty, which the Japanese girl from Saitama I’d met in my Hongdae hostel had specifically asked me about; it tasted like spicy jelly), tons of vegetables, and, to my utter disbelief, a rare sekihan (sort-of-sticky rice painted purple after being cooked with red beans).

We poured tea over the bottom layer of the rice that was glued to the bowl, so as to turn it into a traditional dessert-kind-of-tea, slightly reminiscent of a hot version of sikye.

After fighting with our credits cards at the cash register, my host stashed mine deep in her denim, and insisted on paying again.

I did not deserve her.

The three of us then checked out a large grocery store, where I found a rare, large pack of the Korean knockoff of the chocolate and biscuit mushrooms, my favorite Japanese snack.

Hanging out in my host’s studio after that, while she was painting, and the Canadian guest was reading a hilariously titled “I want to die but I want to eat tteokbokki” novel that made me feel seen, I frantically looked for accommodation for my east coast trip.

My host called a remote hostel and booked it for me. It didn’t have a website, and online payment was for Korean cards only.

I realized I didn’t have shorts for my upcoming hike. My host brought threads from her apartment and sewed my torn, single pair of shorts. She did a job infinitely better than what I’d attempted on the already-torn straps of my bag, back in May.

We drank organic rice wine and chatted. What a fun night.

I glanced at my list for South Korea. The next two and a half weeks wouldn’t suffice for my top priorities. I had two days before my east coast trip; they’d have to be dedicated to planning Japan and spending time with friends, who were about to leave.

Today’s highlights: Jeju mandarins; trying more and more traditional dishes during the amazing dinner; drinking organic rice wine in my host’s studio.

17 July 2023

• 09:55-09:57 Nowon station to Changdong station metro, 10:03-10:42 transfer to Dongducheongjungang station
• Visiting my host’s mural
• Brunch at McDonald’s
• 12:07-12:37 Jihaeng station to Changdong station (express train), 12:43-12:45 transfer to Nowon station

Dongducheon

Today being the Canadian’s girl last day in Korea, the three of us put an alarm and took the metro to our host’s hometown, a snoozy town one hour north of Seoul. There wasn’t anything to do there – seriously – but we wanted to see the gigantic mural she’d painted near the train station, as part of a collaboration with the city.

I was dead, dead tired. Yawning nonstop the entire time. But I was the one who’d suggested going there in the morning, before the Canadian girl left Seoul. We owed it to our host.

The Canadian girl had a fun tradition of visiting McDonald’s in every country she went to. The menu always differed slightly and offered a cultural experience. I had a shrimp burger (SPICY), honey butter fries, and an ice-cold Jeju Hallasang Chiller juice.

In the afternoon, I wrote for a while, and then went to the post office, to send a package full of Korean snacks to my family. The office said that shipment by sea wasn’t possible to Israel. Just like in May, when I’d had my suitcase delivered from Seoul to Busan, the only available method was the fastest one, this time by air.

Bali bali on the one hand, pain in my pocket on the other.

It cost me as much as a sea shipment from Japan. Which was still too high for my current budget. I had to downsize even more. No more expensive meals and attractions. Instead, I ought to get a job.

In the evening, I colored more objects for my host, and had dinner with her and her assistant. (The Canadian girl had left to the airport.) Then I wrote again, determined to catch up with my Seoul trip.

Today’s highlights: visiting my host’s mural; a decadent McDonald’s brunch.

18 July 2023

• 13:30-13:55 Nowon station to Dongdaemun design and history museum station metro, 14:05-14:10 transfer to city hall station
• Museum of art Seoul (2.5h)
• 17:20-17:45 City Hall station to Jamsil station metro
• Dinner at a Lotte Tower restaurant
• 21:55-22:00 Jamsil station to Konkuk University station metro, 22:10-22:35 transfer to Nowon station

I woke up nauseous today. Practically forced myself to nibble something for breakfast. I felt similar to that day in Hongdae, when I’d developed a fever.

Nausea was a sensation foreign to me. I never, ever suffered from it. This, stomachaches, headaches – I was more prone to throat ache and exhaustion instead.

My body wouldn’t forgive me for these hectic five months of travel until I gave it a week of rest.

This wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, though. Tomorrow, I would go to the east coast, and climb a mountain for two days. Then, my last week in Seoul wouldn’t be wasted in bed. Followed by a frenetic festival-hopping week in Japan.

Seoul Museum of Art

Today ought to be taken advantage of, as well. My last chance to see the Dutch volunteer before she left Korea. Per her suggestion, we met at the Seoul Museum of Art, another museum long on my list.

First exhibition: free, about Korean realism. The economic and population boom of the 1960s had pushed artists in the 1980s to depict urbanization and its social effects on poverty and consumerism. The exhibition emphasized Chun Kyung-ja, famous for her traditional color paintings.

This one took forty short minutes. So we bought a ticket to a gigantic Edward Hopper temporary exhibition. I couldn’t afford the expensive ticket. But it would be my first time seeing his paintings in real life.

I’d never enjoyed visiting a museum with someone this much. With Ray in Busan’s Museum 1, we’d bickered about art like husband and wife. With the Dutch girl, we engaged in a discussion that led us to new interpretations of the art. The kind of interaction one could only have with a fellow art student. Even though our perspective wasn’t the same, we each shed new light on the artworks, and reached a synthesis of thoughts and ideas. Like being back in class and participating in a seminar.

A shame that photography wasn’t allowed. I wrote down so many of his paintings, to check out again later. A true artist.

Afterwards, goodbye to the Dutch girl was as hard as they went. I gifted her a turtle trinket, a daruma doll, and green tea I’d gotten in Japan. As a thank you both for inviting me to the drag show, and for being a good friend. We’d grown extremely close since Pride weekend.

We both promised to meet again someday. What a premature farewell.

A Perfect Date in Lotte Tower

From there, I took the metro to Jamsil, to meet the Korean student.

While waiting for him at the Lotte World mall, I stuffed some Yakgwa into my mouth, to get some energy and wake up. My first bite in five hours. Nausea had replaced my appetite.

He took me to floor 81 of Lotte Tower, to what seemed like the fanciest restaurant in Seoul, with an eye-popping view over the city.

My resolution yesterday to downsize for the rest of this trip went down the drain. I was nervous, going into a place like this. Yet I couldn’t say no to him.

It was the perfect local’s hack. One could take the elevator to this floor for free, enjoy the view, and leave. Or simply order something small. Cheaper than paying for a ticket to the tower’s observatory.

We ordered tea, coffee, and French fries. Ate and talked and watched the sunset from the glass panels by our table. After several days of downpour and floods (Banpo bridge had closed due to floods), today the sky was clear. Perfect weather for a meal with a view.

Once again, I realized how valuable it was to befriend locals. I never would’ve come here if it weren’t for him.

(I’d already set foot inside the tower with the French guy in May; neither of us had known about this floor.)

Still, I was so nauseous and full, that I didn’t even feel like eating. Which might’ve been serendipitous, as a matter of fact, sitting at a fancy establishment like this.

He showed me the view from the best restroom in Seoul. A public restroom. Anyone could come here for free. The self-rising toilet lid with an advanced washlet was a sight for sore eyes. Flashbacks to Japan.

We talked endlessly. I could try to recreate the dialogue, and the little moments that built a permanent dwelling in my hippocampus. The point was, as tired and nauseous as I’d grown, I didn’t want our hangout to ever come to a close.

“You’re a really interesting person,” I said in the end, contemplating him for a long minute. “I’m glad I met you.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. If I didn’t have to wake early tomorrow for my bus to the east coast, I would’ve stayed longer.

Something about him had me weak. Not my nausea. Nor my fatigue.

In a move evocative of my host, he ignored my shoving of my credit card at the cash register, and paid for us both.

Fortunately, I had cash. Enough to cover my half of this light dinner. Which cost me more than an entire day’s budget. But worth was it.  

At Jamsil station, we said goodnight. I grew sad, perhaps too visibly so. I’d still be able to see him during my final week here. But after bidding a final farewell to the Dutch volunteer, I didn’t want to do the same with him.

Everything made me emotional these days. A stinging farewell to an instant friend; a magical night at a drag show. And whatever it was that transpired during that dinner. Something I could not fathom.

I went to bed at midnight, still nauseous, a part of me regretting my trip tomorrow to the east coast. I wanted to stay in Seoul.

Today’s highlights: the Hopper exhibition with the Dutch volunteer; an unforgettable dinner with the Korean student.