five hours in Seoul

Sometimes, all it takes is a bit of delicious food to activate the writing brain. I just finished a plate of Korean beef at a restaurant on top of a mountain near Seoul Tower. I think I might be the only foreigner here.

I’ve already walked more than 17 kilometers today, and I’m not sure how much more I can manage—especially in these dress shoes I’m wearing. I’m also layered up: at least six layers of T-shirts and sweaters, and two layers of pants. Seoul has not been lost on me.

This morning, I was walking through the city on a high. There’s something special about being a stranger in a new place—especially in that early hour when the city is just beginning to stir. I was walking around at 7:50 a.m., trying to maintain a steady pace to stay warm in the minus four degrees Celsius cold. The city was slowly waking up. Every ten minutes, the pace of traffic seemed to double.

I passed people setting up shops, and the smells of Seoul led me through obscure alleyways. The golden morning light was casting itself onto the tall skyscrapers. The main streets were almost empty—aside from a few teenage girls in short skirts.

I saw a palace. I wandered through the narrow lanes of Bukchon Hanok Village and even stumbled upon a famous tea house by accident. I briefly chatted with a young woman from Japan there before continuing my exploration.

What I saw afterward wasn’t particularly remarkable—maybe because the crowds had begun to overflow the streets everywhere I went. I had hoped to catch my breath up here on the hill, and I wasn’t entirely wrong. The cable car money was well spent.