Celebrating America With Seoul

With a week of Korean life in the books, consisting of non-stop new foods, hundreds of conversational dead-ends and the feeling that all were peering underneath my skin as I strolled down the street, I figured I was due for some American  ”normalcy.” It thus worked out in my favor that my buddy Adam, who is teaching in Seoul, invited me down for a 4th of July Celebration that featured Baseball, fireworks and some pizza to top it off. I hopped on the train from Chuncheon, Saturday morning and made the two-hour, winding trip down to the capital. 

Like the drives between Missoula, Montana and Butte, America, the train ride to Seoul cut a track through the mountains of northern-South Korea, over rivers, and in and out of the small farming towns that connect the cities throughout the country. This is a beautiful ride with mountains in morning mist rising above corn fields, small towns popping up out of each tunnel we emerged from, and fly fishermen lining every creek and river we crossed over. For a boy who found his place in the mountains of the West, there is a distinct feeling of “coming home” as I gaze up at a strikingly similar landscape that surrounds me. Being in a country that has 80% of its land covered in mountains and hills, I know I will be able to do my fair share of exploring during my time here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we left the mountains and their reposeful calm, the ex-urbs of Seoul began to rise before me in the demanding sense that all world cities impose upon new visitors. Having spent time in Berlin and Istanbul two years ago, I had  an idea of what the physical size of Seoul would be. It is seemingly everywhere when you are within it. But the feel of Seoul is distinctly Asian in its pace and rhythm, in the same way that Berlin is an organized and orderly German institution, and Istanbul is a colorful and chaotic nightmare, leaving one with a dull headache that only retreats months after they’ve left. 

I exited the train, and immediately found myself in a swarm of people heading in every direction, while I tried to stop, compose myself and get my bearings in order. I got a hold of Adam, (thank god for cell phones) and we somehow met up in front of a Pizza Hut, oddly enough. We took the precise and efficient subway towards the Olympic park where the baseball stadium was, got some fresh sushi, bought our tickets, and made our way to a patio outside the stadium to meet up with our friend Nicole, and began our tailgating. 

The Korean baseball experience is unlike anything I have ever been a part of before, and I’m sorry to say, blows away everything about attending a baseball game in the states. (Save the quaint American ballparks and higher level of play) For starters, tickets are no more than $15, with our bleacher seats costing a cool 6,000 WON, or $4. Secondly, not only are you allowed to, but you are encouraged to bring any and all outside food and drink into the park. There is a convenience store located right outside the entrance, and the line for beer in there rivals those waiting to enter the park before the first pitch. This leads to quite the festive atmosphere within the park, for many families set up picnics in the bleacher section, and most are more than willing to pass over a beer or two when ones supply has run dry. There is also no assigned seating, per se. When you buy a ticket, you buy for a section, (bleachers, upper deck, or terrace level) and pick your seats as you see them. Further, there appeared to be no security guards in the entire park, and so movement between sections is a free flowing process. Finally, the camaraderie, the energy, the passion of these fans is something I have never felt before as a sports fan. The various and unique chants that are awarded to each batter, never cease to flow from the stands. Even when their team is stuck in an 11-2 hole in the bottom of the eight, these fans keep the drive alive, hoping to will their team to a rally. If only Cubs fans could keep that flicker of hope when all looked lost, maybe we’d come back in a few big games…Oh, who am I kidding.

We saw the Korean equivalent of a Cubs-Sox game, as the Doosan Bears (The Korean team I have put my heart behind) were basically slaughtered by the LG Twins. (I sure do pick the right teams to root for) The two teams play in the same stadium which creates an interesting experiment of fan pride as the stadium is split in two with the red of the Twins covering first base and right field, and the white of the Bears blanketing the third base line into left field. The most interesting aspect to the cheering is that when one team bats their fans chant and scream and cheer with a passion unrivaled, while the other team’s fan base sits in silence, waiting out the defensive side of their inning. As the teams switch, one fan base is turned on, while the other is turned off. And it continues throughout the game in this manner until the last out. 

 

 

 

 

After the game we made our way over to the 1988 Olympic stadium, which is completely open to the public, lit of some fireworks and sang The National Anthem in celebration of the country we originated from. It was the perfect gesture towards the good ole’ US of A, and gave me a sense of home, so far from my family and friends. We then jumped into a cab and headed towards Itaewon, the foreign district of Seoul to party the 4th away with some other American’s.

 

 

 

Seoul is without a doubt the cleanest world city I have ever been to, a feat so great, that I cannot fathom the unseen work it takes to give it the image of a housewives’ daydream. When does all this cleaning, all these meticulous trash hunts, happen? More importantly, who does this cleaning? For, Seoul never sleeps. New York can have the phrase, but Seoul lives up to it in every sense. With bars open until the break of dawn, a non-stop supply of US soldiers and ex-pats to entertain, plus a business culture that relies on soju and Hite (Korea’s Light Beer, that is actually worse than Miller Light…I know, I didn’t think that was possible) for success, Seoul fights on through the night until a short break at dawn, only to do it all over again tomorrow.

In every direction one gazes there are people, groups upon groups, pouring in and out of restaurants and bars, into the streets crowded with taxis seeking inebriated customers. Where would they go with the customers when they got in, though? The streets are a mess of cars and humans, there is no where to drive. A single city block could take at least an hour at least to navigate down. To hop into a cab in the foreign district of Itaewon would be a trip to nowhere. Yet somehow, someway it works. There is no unnecessary honking from one cabbie to another, and while there are masses of people streaming in and out of the street, someone always seems to hold up enough foot traffic to allow a few cabs to escape. 

Quite possibly the greatest thing about Seoul is its endless diversity. Where as in Chuncheon I am the sore thumb that sticks out far and wide, in Seoul I was just one more foreigner taking advantage of the pleasures of Korea. If one stops and takes in the people in their immediate area, they are almost guaranteed to see at least one person from each continent on this planet. Yet the varieties of Seoul are most present in its assortments of late night food-offerings. In a three hour span of time I ate a Turkish Kebab, a burrito, and a slice of pizza, thereby forgetting the “new” culture I had placed myself in. This feeling gave me a sense of pride, knowing that I would not be in Seoul for the majority of my stay in Korea. In many ways, being in Seoul, it is far too easy to forget the fact that you in fact in Korea, and not just another international city, filled with foreigners partying. As fun as the non-stop atmosphere of Seoul was, it was here that I realized my place in Chuncheon, which suddenly felt more like home than ever before.

The nightlife in Seoul is exhausting at best, and by 3am one bar differs little from another, for they all blast non-stop power-driven bass and a catchy riff over the top that induces the night-owls in, and sends an old man like me back to bed. These bars bring back dark memories of my last job and are a constant reminder that the world cannot escape the lure of the greased-up, late night dance-off. 

When one finally makes it home from the night, sleeps off the fun and emerges into the world again, they are blown away by the fact that Seoul is still plugging away as if the night before had never happened. Even on a Sunday, all business are open, and the streets are once again filled with cabs transporting people from one side of the city to another. To think that this transition happens on a regular basis, with seemingly no down time in between, is nothing short of amazing, and tiring. The stamina and rhythm this city puts on full display really calls into question the tenacity of the world’s other “party cities.” If nothing else, it sure entices me for what the Lunar New Years celebration is sure to hold. 

I bid farewell to my friends from home, and new friends I had made in my weekend get-away, and caught an evening train back to Chuncheon. In quiet reflection, I rode through the same small towns, over the same rivers and beside the same mountains that led me to Seoul. This time, though, I knew I was heading back to the place I belong. As the sun set and I caught up on some much needed sleep, I felt an ease for the first time since being here. A feeling telling me that I really have made the right decision to leave all that I knew and loved behind me in pursuit of something which I have yet to discover.

Before I go, I need to give a congrats to my Grandparents, Nana & Papa. This Thursday is their 60th Anniversary, a feat matched by few anymore. Without them, I would not be here, and without there endless supply of love, support and advice, I would not be on the road I am on. Thank you two, for everything, and congratulations on 60 years of love and unity.

Till next time…

 

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