Losing My Seoul

This place is killing me. I’ve been in Seoul for five days now, and I just cannot stop eating. If it’s not the tabletop barbecue then it’s the sweet potato noodles. If it’s not the kimchi pizza then it’s the egg waffles. If it’s not … well, you get the picture. It’s got to the point where I can no longer pick a favourite food because everything I eat seems irresistible.

I do, however, have a favourite drink. It’s called muju. It’s a sort of thick wine with a strong cinnamon flavour and it’s served piping hot in a bowl. It works very nicely in the depth of winter because you get a nice warm glow outside from the hot bowl cupped in your hands, another one inside from the hot wine trickling down your throat, and a pleasant little tingle from the warm smell of cinnamon wafting in front of you face.

(I’m leaving tomorrow morning and I'm really going to miss the pleasure of having a hot meal and then stepping out into a breezy night while the temperature is -10C. Yes, that is a minus sign and yes it is that cold).

There was more to this trip than food, though. There was the historical incident at Namdaemun Gate. I was flipping through my Lonely Planet guide on Monday. It was especially cold outside and I had decided it was prudent to be a virtual tourist in the cozy comfort of my hotel room. But then I saw an article on the said gate, also known as National Treasure No.1. I am incapable of resisting a name like that, so I dragged my feet out of my room, squared my shoulders, and set out to savour the sight.

About half an hour later I got my first sight of the gate, and I have to admit I felt a little disappointed. The gate seemed to have collapsed, and the monument seemed in remarkably bad shape, especially given it’s rather grandiose designation. The big striped blue-and-white scaffolding really did not make the picture ny prettier.

Then I noticed the news crews. There must have been a dozen TV vans and as many groups of cameramen and carefully-groomed anchorpersons. I thought of asking someone what the big deal was, then realized my folly. This has got to be the least English-friendly city I have ever been too. They even do sign-language only in Korean. Rumour has it there was once a Scottish tourist who spent thirteen years walking in a very large circle because he could not ask for directions. It’s so extreme that they actually have Korean-to-Korean language dictionaries.

Anyway, the point is that all I could do was take pictures of news crews and walk away.

I found out later what had happened. A certain Mr. Chae had decided to turn the gate into the world’s most historic bonfire. He’d been ticked off at not being paid in full for some land that he had sold, so he decided to vent his spleen by destroying a six hundred year-old monument. That’s right, folks. He went to a beautiful wooden building that had survived wars, invasions, and six centuries of inclement weather, and set it on fire with paint thinner. He did not even give it the dubious dignity of dousing it in petrol. He burned the poor old building with half a dozen cans of glorified nail-polish remover!

Here’s the kicker: apparently a couple of years ago he had set fire to Changgyeonggung Palace, another ancient monument. The guy is a freaking serial-offending land-selling monument-killer! Jokes apart, it really is very sad. Most of the classic old buildings in East Asia are extremely elegant and extremely fragile wooden structures. It’s a miracle that some of them have survived bombings and fires in multiple wars and revolutions. To then destroy one of the prettiest ones in such a callous manner, for such a petty grubbing reason, is simply unforgiveable. It’s a crime against a nation, a culture and millennia of history.

I guess I should be thankful to have seen the things that I have seen while they still exist. Can you imagine not being able to see the Taj Mahal or Stonehenge anymore because they were fire-bombed by football hooligans? It's disturbing that it can be so easy for disgruntled louts to ravage the milestones of human civilization. Now I'm even more determined to see as many of them as I can, while I still can. The milestones, that is, not the louts.

Next stop, Egypt.