Amy's first BIG adventure. I overstate this the way one should on their first trip to Seoul, soul,
seoul. I had all these
preconceived notions of the
impossibility of navigating this world of a city. I knew at least it would be the largest
metropolis these little small town Ohio feet had ever trespassed, but all the same I knew . . . I had to go. And go I went. Spontaneously with a
cohort, my new travel companion who, thankfully had been to
Seoul just enough times to barely know her way around, reserve us a humble room in a cheap hostile, and (our saving grace) a few Koreans who had lived their all our lives. My point of this trip was strictly
pedestrian- and as a
pedestrian I went. We must of have walked miles upon
delicious miles on this trip and although my dogs barked for rest almost the whole way, my eyes were wide open and my mind a cup which was never more than half full.
I imagined Seoul an overcrowded dirty city full of rude people doing too many things. This was not the case. I guess in a way I was romanced with the helpful nature of the Korean people: it took no more than a minute of looking quizzically at any subway map for a gentle voice of concern saying always "excuse me, but may I help you?" There were not crowded subways nor dirty streets, in fact I must say in my brief experience, Seoul flows much more gracefully then any mega city I have encountered.
With in an hour of our arrival we had found our hostel nestled quietly between the subway stop and the largest palace in all of Seoul. Shortly after we were met Mi- Hee, my companion's acquaintance who led us through one of the most welcoming streets I have encountered since moving to Korea. Cobble stoned roads with leafy green trees gently blowing in the wind, couples and families slowly meandering between artisan galleries, coffee houses, and gourmet food restaurants. Am I in Korea? I realized there is a universal quality to every large city: the meeting of many worlds converging in one point to create the same conglomerate experience. It is why when standing on a particular street whether you are in Paris, New York, or Seoul one can feel at home implicitly.
She asked us what we were hungry for and as if reading our minds she said "How about a burger?" Now for those of you in the states, this seems like a rather mediocre suggestion but to those of us in Korea, a good burger is as good as a shiny golden nugget. So without a pause we emphatically agreed.
She lead us up a stair case which in every case would be deemed illegal in the states, to a little gallery which served gourmet burgers or was it a burger joint that served art- anyway we dined. We dined with fork and knife. They served me diet coke and a burger titled "formaggio" on the menu that was sky high (please see picture for reference). Let me say that I have fully enjoyed my months of Korean-ness dining experiences of trial and error- but this one moment was like an oasis in my cultural abyss in this side of the world.
My giant smile of a belly was then led back down the cobblestone way to one of the most miraculous palaces I have seen the Changdeokgung Palace . Now to be humbly honest, People had told me that visiting the palaces of Seoul is a MUST and in my mind I envisioned the gilded, overly ornate and disgustingly lavish kings and queens quarters of my western distant relatives . . . I am beginning to understand that even in the broadest terms the way things are done her in the East are almost universes apart. The simplicity of the Eastern aesthetic is something I have always admired. Myself coming from the land of more is always not enough, have found it rather cleansing the concept that beauty is found in the spaces between the objects instead of the objects themselves. We walked the spacious grounds passed the royal library which set high on a hill, at the foot was a large square pond, in the center a round island symbolizing the symbiotic relationship between world and universe. On the same note our barely intelligible but well-informed tour guide shared with us that the pond was strategically placed at the foot of the library to remind all the noblemen who passed by it that with out water there can be no fish (a direct metaphor for the kings symbiotic relationship to his people.)
I was reminded how and why the lotus flower is the symbol of Buddhism: pure, simple, and at one with its surroundings. 'Maybe I could be a lotus flower someday,' I thought. We meandered past a giant housing area that the tour guide identified as the concubines living quarters. I remarked to my traveling companions how I couldn't believe I was walking on ground where "concubine" was a legitimate term.
The end of the tour took us through a sacred doorway. This passageway, the tour guide told us, was to be passed through while making a wish. It was a simple doorway leading from graveled way to another lotus pond and grassy path. Me, being a person who never misses an opportunity to make wishes, quickly racked my brain for something good my life was a missin- and much to my surprise: I had nothin'. Perhaps, for the first time in my life, there was nothing I longed for that didn't have- and the things I didn't have I knew I didn't need and didn't need for a reason. So as I passed under the gate: this sacred gate of wishes, where millions had passed through for over a century making there own little prayers of hope, I said two simple and perfect words . . . . "Thank You"
