Chance Encounters of the Third Kind

by benrobins1

Seoul is big. To quote Douglas Adams on the subject of space, ‘Space Seoul is big. You just won’t believe how vastly, hugely, mind- bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it’s a long way down the road to the chemist’s, but that’s just peanuts to space Seoul.’

Part of the constant construction work around Seoul – like Lego meets Minecraft meets Sim City.

It is a megacity (a title I had only previously been aware of courtesy of the dystopian Judge Dredd comics), and the world’s 4th biggest city – yet, in true fashion for foreign travellers, you still seem to manage to bump into people you actually recognise. (see also: fellow photography geek Chris Brown and Swedish/Chinese couple Kris and June, who told us where H&M is much, much earlier in the day).

Well, I’m enticed.

Perhaps more poignantly, it is a megacity which Meg & I are, on some basic and culturally-disabled level, able to traverse without getting lost or suffering loss of life nor limb nor wallet. As a child born in London I feel this is something I should have adjusted to by now, but what do I get instead? Verdant, lush countryside for the last decade+ of my life. ‘Thanks, Mum & Dad.’ (expressed sarcastically, but in fact meant with conviction)

We have survived the expedition to Itaewon, but are left craving a little more in the way of actual Korea; Itaewon is the most culturally diverse area of Seoul, and as such everybody rips/is ripped off. Or indoctrinated into a ‘real’ American Baptist Church for ‘real’ Bible preachers. Tempting as such a proposition was, I refer to the ‘religion/penis’ dichotomy (don’t whip it out in public, don’t force down people’s throats unless in the appropriate registered building) for my unspoken, imagined retaliation. On the bright side, Meg got a poncho.

Not to say we didn’t explore thoroughly; there is an unbelievable range of antiques shops, country-specific restaurants, leather retailers and tailors, usually crammed into their purpose-specific streets around Itaewon.

I don’t know, either.

The most engaging/heart-wrenching point of the venture would be the battle of sense/longing we experienced when told by a RSPCA (or Korean equivalent) street petition group that we could adopt any of the wagging dogs milling around, as they needed new homes. I suspect that, if we’d had any idea that we’d actually be allowed a dog in any way, we’d be the joyful owners of a three-legged Pungsan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pungsan_Dog)  called Tripod by now.

On a shorter note, I have been the victim of polite paparazzi (could I photo you thankyou?), and an unashamed shopkeeper politely inquired of Meg, you with baby? Meg was not impressed. I was in hysterics.

So they tell us.

I type this as I wrap Meg’s birthday presents for the morning (she won’t see this until then), so do feel free to convey any love not transferrable via Facebook. If the cake’s in the same state I’ve been all day, it’ll have to be eaten with a straw.

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