Chapter 1: Wandering Seoul

In a philosophical sense, I guess we're all Lost for most, if not all of our lives. We spend our time looking for familiar guideposts, hoping to run into a companion along the way. And when that doesn't happen, we look to a higher spiritual power to shepherd us in the right direction.

In a more earthly sense, I spent about 6 hours out of my first 36 in Seoul completely and utterly lost. I forgot the names of my apartment building, street, and subway stop. I forgot the neighborhood of my school, the district I live in, and how to ask for directions in Korean. In short, you shouldn't ask someone to come into work 6 hours after landing from a 13 hour flight, when they've crossed 8 timezones and the international dateline. Especially when that person is a foolhardy idiot like me.

But it can't all be blamed on sleep and idiocy; Korean streets have names, but nobody knows them. They give directions using buildings and landmarks -- basically, if you already know where you're going, you can get there. This doesn't bode well as a window into Korean thinking.

Also, they have subway stations that boggle the mind. To cross busy streets, you often have to go into one of these sprawling mazes, replete with vendors selling everything from rice cakes and hot dogs to cellphones and suits. The station at KangNam -- we'll get there eventually -- has a bona fide underground shopping center and arcade. In short, these are not exactly pedestrian underpasses.

Now, with 13 different entrances/exits from Kyode station -- the one nearest me, under which I must go to get to work every day -- it's a mathematical probability that I would end up lost. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. And even though a fellow teacher from work took me to work the first day, I managed to get lost coming home and going back the next day. Somewhere along my travels, I became a modern Theseus, taking pictures of where I'd been so as not to get too lost in the labyrinthine city, which is like the underground stations but with 10 more people and larger buildings. Some fruits of this exploit: (click for larger photo)

This is a Lotte Castle. There are approximately 1,235,654,680,112 of them. Using it as a landmark was like looking for keys by remembering they were "next to something that wasn't a duck. I think."














Here's a prime example of useless street signage. I had no idea what street I lived on, but neither did anybody else. In retrospect, I should have turned left. Guess which way I went?
















Because when you think Irish Pub, you think Japanese beer.














I have yet to try Korean Domino's, and this picture might explain why. For fun, try and identify 5 ingredients on that pizza.












A slightly creepy, but pretty cool garden sculpture thing. I went into a subway station 3 times, and came out 3 times, and each time I came across these two. The fourth time, I walked down, made a circuit, and tried to come out the same way I came in. I popped out two streets away. Cube 3, anyone?













Eventually, I gave up looking for my workplace and decided to come home. Fortunately, I'd learned my subway stop by then, and what Korea lacks above ground it makes up for underneath. After 4+ hours of exploring, I made it home in 20 minutes. Then, 20 minutes later, a co-worker came a-knockin', and he took me to school.

That's all for now. Join us next time, when our Hero attempts such Heroic tasks as sleeping and doing laundry!