A full Day of Seoul.

Since Amber had left the previous day and no one new had arrived, I had the run of the hostel. I showered and hit the streets midmorning, with a list of places to explore, including a palace, a couple of museums, and a prison. There was also a vague plan to maybe visit Seoul tower if I got the chance.

First I went to the GyeongBokGung palace, which turned out to be behind the Museum of History and the Museum of Art annex. So, I went to the museums first, knowing the palace would look pretty much like the others I'd seen so far.

The Museum of history was quite cool. As a foreigner (or a native) they'll loan you a video guide in your native language in exchange for holding onto your ID card, so I gave them my driver's license (as I keep it more handy than my passport) and wandered through the museum with the strange contraption. It worked, apparently, through some sort of combination of a local positioning system and a simple video receiver that detected squares on the floor. So, if it knew roughly where it was, and it saw a square, it would display some text and a short video about the exhibit item you were currently viewing.

This was a pretty cool way to find out about different items as you went, without being constrained to a set time schedule by a prerecorded audio track, and I learned that at one point, the most advanced water clock in the world (for its time) was operating in Seoul, and was the clock that determined when the start and end of day bells were rung, dictating the speed at which everything in Seoul happened. That's it there.

After exploring the museum of history, I wandered over to the palace (it was a palace, pretty much like the others). I noticed something I've attempted to photograph here, that I thought was interesting, and that reminded me of "the king and I". What you're looking at is the primary walkway leading from the king's royal audience chamber in the palace towards the main gates. You'll note that the center line is raised slightly, above two side pathways which are also raised above the floor of the courtyard. It seems that these walkways were present in almost all public areas where royalty traveled, and they ensured that when the king walked, he was a step above everyone else in the procession, or anyone walking alongside him in conversation. At stairways, the stairs alternate with those of the center, so the center step is always one full step "above" the steps to the left and right, continuing the tradition.

When I left the palace, there were chairs and a set of lock-together mats set up in front of the palace. I noticed students in characteristic white Tae Kwon Do uniforms with black belts milling near a small event tent set up next to the mats, so I went over and asked one of the assistants when the demonstration would begin. I was told it would begin at 2PM, and though this meant I was going to miss the changing of the guard at DeokSuGung, I changed my plans and decided to stick around.

With 45 minutes to kill, I went to visit the Hong Kong museum of Art Annex building, located nearby. The art there was mostly modern and contemporary art, but some of it was quite moving. In particular, something struck me, which was that the Koreans quite often worked in three dimensions within two dimensional space, either by using a second pane of painted glass over the canvas, or by working strips of fabric or other materials directly into the canvas to add depth to the images. The effect was very compelling, and this stylized angel with textured, iridescent wings particularly caught my eye.

I arrived back a couple of minutes before the demonstration started, and was surprised and pleased to learn that the show would include traditional Korean dances as well as examples of TKD.

I'll try to let the photographs I took speak for themselves, but here's a brief explanation. The dancers were first in traditional garb, and then with a tradition Korean drum, somewhat like a doulbe-ended Jimbae that you carry over your shoulder.

The Tae Kwon Do performers were from Kukkiwon, and in addition to some basic forms, they also performed some two man choreographed fights which were quite entertaining, broke some boards (all Korean martial artists have a burning hatred of 12"x12"x1" pine planks. This is a global constant), and kicked the shit out of some fruit. Those shards you see in the last shot were apples impaled on the ends of butter knives.

I snuck out of the show once I felt like I'd gotten a good sampling, and headed across town. My plan was to visit the DeokSugung palace, particularly since, due to the time period during which it was developed in the 1800s, it had an amalgam of traditional eastern and western architecture.

Once there, I captured a few shots I was proud of, though I set my exposures wrong and the resultant images game out with far too little color data, still, I like the juxtaposition.

When I'd finished there, I hopped on the metro again, this time intending to go to Seodaemun prison.

When I reached there, I stumbled across a couple of dozen elderly Korean men using a small park to play a game. The game seemed similar to Chess, and also Foxes and Geese, and also a little bit similar to Checkers. I was fascinated. It turned out to be Korean Chess, which is an evolution of a Chinese version of chess. There are also some strong similarities to Western chess. However, the game is must faster and play tends to roll across the whole surface rather than often becoming isolated to a single area. This is due in part to a lower density of pieces per amount of board real estate, and partly due to the fact that most of the pieces have more range and flexibility than their western counterparts.(including a cannon piece I learned about when I looked the game up later, which can move in straight lines like a rook, and must jump over other pieces in order to move or capture, but can move any range on the board).

There were only four games in progress, with about three men per game just standing around, only watching the action. It seemed, in fact, that some of the men never played at all, prefering only to watch and comment on strategy to each other, or occasionally to the players. I got permission to take a couple of pictures, and this is what the board looks like when it's first set up.

I would discover later that the game is called Jang Gi, meaning chess, and it's full name is typically "Han Gul Jang gi" (Korean Letters Chess).

I spent almost two hours watching various games. An older Korean gentleman bought me iced coffee, and every once in a while they would stop at the end of the game and inform me of a checkmate if it were especially obscure. I resolved to buy a set of pieces, and the slightly ornate wooden board required to play, if the opportunity presented itself.

I finally pulled myself away from the games, knowing that Seodaemun prison would soon be closing, and hoping I could wander through it in the time remaining.

I try to make it a rule to write about everything I experience, good and bad, here, but I'm going to refrain with Seodaemun. I know that when I write about Seodaemun, I'll also be writing about Iran, China, and modern America. I know that I will not be able to refrain from working my own politics into my analysis because they factor so heavily into my interpretation of such a place.

Instead, I wrote about Seodaemun here. It's separate, and if you want to go and read it, you're welcome to do so. It is material more appropriate to that place, and to the commentaries I have made there over the past several years. If you're interested, you can jump over there and read it, else, read on.

When I left Seodaemun, it was just after 1800, and I decided that with the remaining time I would like to try to see Seoul from above, Sunset would start soon, and I knew from previous experience with the Eiffel tower that late afternoon into early evening is one of the most compelling times to enjoy such a view, so I headed for Seoul tower.

I guessed roughly at its location and by sheer luck exited the metro at the base of Namsan mountain, the oversized hill on the peak of which the tower was built. I wandered briefly, trying to find a sign indicating if there was a shuttle or bus of some kind to the top, but discovered no such signage. I did, however, stumble across assemblage of historic buildings moved from their original, scattershot locations throughout Seoul to a sortof village spanning several time periods and locations in Seoul history. It was staffed with polite Koreans in traditional garb, wearing guard uniforms or converting raw textiles to finished and softened cloth by hand. Near the entrance to the village was a stage, and nearby was a sign indicating that every Wednesday night at 7pm traditional music would be performed at that location.

My curiosity piqued, I wandered through the small village and surrounding park for the remaining 25 minutes, and then sat down to a really remarkable concert by a small orchestra of traditional Korean instruments. The music was deeply Asian, with the haunting plucked string instruments and piercing flute that seem so iconic to us westerners. On the last few songs they were joined by a powerful female vocalist, and I recorded each song as best I could on my tiny MP3 player. Maybe when I return to the states I'll find a way to export those files and post a few of them here as part of the epilogues I have in mind.

When the concert was over, I spied an information booth, and asked about a shuttle to the top of Namsan mountain. it turned out that just around the corner a yellow bus on a route specifically aimed at tourists picked up, and could drop me off at the base of the tower.

I caught the bus, and was glad I had, Namsan is deceptively steep, and much larger than it looks from the base. When we reached the top, I wandered up into the plaza at the base of the tower and was greeted by one of several really remarkable statues made of aluminium wire mesh, hovering in the air. It's from an exhibit called "The Soul in Flight" that is currently on display there, and the statues are equally compelling in start black relief against the blues and peaches of sunset, and illuminated by hidden spotlights against the sable backdrop of the night sky.

I ascended to the top of Seoul tower by elevator, and discovered that there was no place one could take a proper photograph of the city. No allowance had been made for a way to shoot unencumbered by the thick glass windows--no camera slots were available, nor was there a mesh fenced upper deck like the Eiffel tower so windswept and so charmingly archaic, as if someone decided to build a human henhouse on top of the world.

Instead, there was only thick, clean glass with soft reflections from the internal lighting and the occasional advertisement for Samsung's latest line of televisions, taking the form of the frame of a TV placed on the glass on every fourth window, giving one the illusion that it was television instead of a real image. I imagine the Korean script below the frame read something like "This would look better if it were on Samsung" but I have no idea.

I tried to take a few pictures, to at least convey Seoul as the neon flickers to life and people rush home to change for another night of partying and shopping. It never really gets properly dark in the deep canyons of Asian cities, and many bars are open till dawn, graciously (and profitably) letting people wait out the nightly Metro downtime in the comfort of a few friends and a few pitchers of beer.

The best I could do was a few slightly out of focus shots of the city skyline but I hope they help convey the raw candlepower of signage employed simply to be noticed amidst the chaos that is each and every street in a major Asian metropolis.

When I'd finished, I came down from the tower, rode the bus back to the subway, wandered long enough to find some street food. Street food in Asia so far has been a real win for me, and Korea especially has really fantastic vendors selling something remarkable on every corner.

The first thing I found was what appeared to be scallops in some sort of barbeque sauce. It turned out to be a simple sort of Asian rice dough cylinder which coated the inside of the mouth and stuck to the roof of it. The cylinders had been slowly simmered in what I guess was a combination of chili powder, water, and pure hate for humanity. The sauce was without character but with a strong, burning heat that refused to subside or vary in the way it affected the palate, and I, who love hot foods and eat them often, was forced near tears by the simple, vicious burning of the stuff. I still managed to eat most of the bowl, but by the time I neared the end the heat and the strain the dough was placing on the inside of my mouth was too much. I felt almost as if I'd eaten a full bowl of dry Captain Crunch, and the roof of my mouth were lacerated, so I surrendered the bowl and went looking for other food.

And there, I discovered country-fair food nirvana.

I'd spied someone eating one of these out of the corner of my eye the previous night, when Amber and I were wandering the shopping districts, and pointed it out to her then. I had not been hungry at the time though, and had refrained from purchasing one. Now, the dough-bowl-of-infinite-hate having done little to quell my hunger, I set out to find the FryDog.

I don't know what else to call it.

I'll try to post a picture later. The item is a regular hot dog, firmly encased in a clever combination of just enough corndog dough, and an entire order of crinkle-cut French fries. I'll let you process that for a moment: It's a corndog and a whole order of french fries on a stick. Deep fried.

It's death on demand, and it's the tastiest damn thing. If I get tired of the engineering business, I'm going to figure out how to replicate these things, then open up a country-fair food vendor's stand and go to the national fairs throughout the country. I'd make a killing--double entendre totally intended.

After my "that'll be 1500 won and three days off your life please" meal, I wandered back to the Hostel. Tomorrow, I am headed to Osan, to one of the oldest continuously running markets in the world, and then back to the camp where Mac is located.