So in Seoul, Itaewon is like the foreigner capital, constantly brimming with drunken westerners. I've been there twice so far, and have yet to interpret it completely sober. My recollections of last night have me in this absurdly crowded bar called the Wolfhound, talking to people from England, South Africa and U.S., all guzzling frosted beer and bad mix drinks and ending up in a hilariously bad dance club. Most of the people were very nice and I had a pretty fun time celebrating my co-worker Jaemie's birthday.
Of course, this was not the highlight of officially living here a week.
On Thursday, I was sent after school to the Immigration office in Seoul, about an hour's commute from Bundang. As I lust after traveling into the unknown, prompted to use urban survival skills, and marvel at the sheer massiveness and never ending complexity that is life, I went alone with only a subway map, immigration papers, directions and enthusiasm. One cannot express the complexity and massiveness that is Seoul. If you've ever been to New York, its public transit is comparable. In fact I would say it's better. The trains are well-lit, clean, and appropriately complimented by raw, thick, sprawling underground cities. And that is to be taken literally. Seoul's subway stations are a consortium of consumer business first, transport hubs second. Clothing shops, arcades, food stops, and even banks construct a subterranean maze so unprecedented in scale, it is nearly incomprehensible. Seoul's underground network is made up of vast walls, tunnels, and grandiose staircases on par with being slightly-larger-than-large-enough and are constantly illuminated by borderline surreal fluorescence. It is bright, solid, stoic, and completely embarrasses the Chicago Transportation Authority. To say I love it is an understatement.
Aside from this, the infrastructure of the city is to be constantly marveled. The sheer physical weight of its massive granite blocks, grated metal, and deep cement sliced neat into such elegantly simple structures is astonishing. However, newness is perpetually contrasted by ancient density. The major streets' offshoots are inundated with a standard array of steep hills, compacted storefronts, and winding built-before-cars-existed throughways. I have been consistently amazed traveling through this city, as it has always been overwhelming in volume. As with New York City and all metropolitan areas, the vibrancy here is encased in the grit. Unlike New York, charm is ensconced within the endless holding aquariums brimming with exotic sea life, the worn neon Hangeul hanging above floor seating only restaurants, and dozen or so street vendors encountered on a stroll down a bustling city block. I couldn't but pause every few blocks on my way to immigration to observe something I'd never seen before: live squid, eel, clams, perfectly foreign alleys packed with haphazard looking electrical wiring, hastily parked scooters, and crumbling balconies. Maybe its the Metric system working its charm, but structures here seem to have their own unique physicality unlike anywhere in the States. It feels as though geometry sprawls throughout the architecture here in a deceptively homogenous manner to that of my own country. The perfection in completed structure is a different type of perfection. Needless to say, it is the beginning of quenching this foreigner's thirst for the exotic.
After reading on the internet that Koreans have no concept of personal space before I arrived here, I observed a nearly 200-person line in seemingly normal fashion stretching down the sidewalk to board a bus. I observed and stood in lines waiting for trains at subway stops. It appeared to me that patience is conceived of differently here, as a willing and calm line of people in America waiting to board a bus in a dense urban area would probably result in some type of obnoxious yelling. I will say that riding a totally packed train is different from Chicago, as I definitely had the brightest hair on the car. And my god, observing the obscene amount of cuteness bursting from everywhere I walk in Korea is ridiculous. Korean girls have just adopted a new fan. There was seriously a girl on the train on my way back from immigration who could've quite possibly been the cutest girl I've ever seen. The bangs, the thick rimmed glasses, the collared shirt, the cute cute loafers, everything. It was ridiculous. I am a huge fan of girls that look like total nerds, probably are, have bangs and are actually really hot. And holy lord train girl fit this profile to the tea. In fact the percentage of girls that do in this country is significantly higher than back home. It is awesome.
Anyway, I am really seriously considering pursuing my personal DJ aspirations so I can make people dance and feel good. I want to be really good and only play music that would fit the essence of feeling fantastic. Basically, old school disco tastefully and progressively meshed with good downbeat, funky bass driven electro as the set wore on. Oh man I get goosebumps just thinking about it. I even just thought of the most perfect name: Vega. More on this later.
Shrimp and White Wine!!!! Tumblers better than pumpers.
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