7 Years in Seoul

At age 15, I left my parents' nest to study in Seoul, South Korea. It is one of the most rapidly developed countries in modern history, and it has been never the same as yesterday. Its capital, Seoul, hosts the government that has led the Miracle on the Han River, the skyscrapers of multinational corporations, cutting-edge tech startups, and hundreds of embassies and consulates that endorse one of the most powerful passports in the world. At its heart, the unique culture embraces 5,000 years of its stupendous history and the modern K-pop beat vibrates nonstop. The Koreans cultivated a 24-hour city with the lowest violent crime rate in the world, from a war-torn country, in less than 70 years.

Following Confucian traditions, the people are diligent and conscientious yet not indifferent to the predicaments of others. Everything is wired digitally; the data collected are swiftly made available to the public. While enjoying Seoul’s nightlife, a tourist loses his iPhone, only to be astonished by the lost-and-found platform that operates online nationwide. He discovers that thousands of good Samaritans have cared to visit police stations to return lost smartphones just in one day, and he realizes that he has to sift through a lengthy list to locate his own device.

After spending long weekdays in college, I used to run along the Han River. It flows through the city from my campus to Hongdae. It’s a must-visit college town in Seoul, as its youthful and romantic ambiance welcomes artists and tourists together.

I just loved wandering the city. Indeed, I came from, as the Koreans put, “the countryside.” As Seoul is surpassed by no other cities in Korea in almost every aspect, even those who’ve come from other metropolises, like myself, are often described as such, understandably, as a joke or self-deprecation.

While running, I behold splendid, mile-wide bridges connecting the northern and southern parts of Seoul. Getting winded, I get lost in reflection. They may compose yet another night view for many, but I see what our parent generation had achieved upon what was nothing more than ash, recalling that the bridges were once ruined and reconstructed amid the fratricidal war. I see military checkpoints still operating on the bridges in case of an invasion of North Korea. Then, I see the DMZ is only twenty miles away from the bridges.

Staring up at the sky with no stars but its bustling airspace, I feel the presence of the United States and China as they divide the peninsula. At restaurants and shops, the neon signs display English. They bewilder the elderly, who grew up with Chinese instead. After the war, the old generation replicated Japanese products in order to localize them (called Import Substitution Industrialization). In that way, they managed to beef up the fragile economy in a competition against their communist adversaries in Pyongyang, while harboring a deep-seated animosity towards the “Japs.”

Passing by another bridge, memories flood back of colossal protests that swept the nation against President Park, leading to her impeachment in 2017 on the grounds of corruption. I see unwavering protests encircling the presidential palace. It was a stark portrayal of a nation divided along generational lines, with both young and old grappling with a generation gap. During the tumultuous period of rebuilding the nation, the older generation had sacrificed a lot for the glorious future. It is now, however, enjoyed apart by the old and young. Signaling the gravity of the status quo is a news article reporting the president handed out a bestseller, to all of his staff, concerning the widening chasm between generations.

I also see women struggling with 35% of the wage gap and deeply imbued Confucianism, immigrants including North Korean defectors coping with xenophobia, and sexual minorities confronting social stereotypes without active support from the government. Politicians are in no mood for action, scared of losing the elderly votes in the aging society. They have also procrastinated to reform social security, which cannot possibly be sustained with the fertility rate less than 1.00. Time is rather on the other side of Korea, as the country keeps aging. My stopwatch ticks.

Seoulites use phrases like “jumping into the Han River,” when their life is tough; and, unfortunately, some do. I get saddened as seeing, beneath the surface of the river, the dark side of Seoul. However, I thank Seoul for how differently I now see and recount it, compared to when I first stepped foot in Seoul.

I’m grateful that I could learn both tradition and modernity in one city. The subway line number one goes through antique parts of Seoul: the palaces and tombs of the Chosun Dynasty, bustling markets, and the mountains covered with red leaves in autumn. Line number two circles around young, contemporary parts: skyscrapers in the commercial zones including Gangnam (renowned for the K-pop, “Gangnam Style"), humming food streets, and campus towns (e.g. Hongdae). Getting into one of the “line number two universities” is a dream of young Korean students as well as their tiger parents.

I also thank Seoul for learning the East and West in one city. While it had been historically dominated by Eastern ethnicity, language, and culture, the recent influx of Western influence significantly reshaped the society. English has become the first foreign language, followed by Chinese and Japanese, although the order of the two often changes depending on diplomatic relations. Today, English holds as much importance as Korean or mathematics in the national SAT. At universities, most lectures are now delivered in English. In newspapers and books, Chinese have given way to English—a transformation that unfolded within just one generation.

Such dynamism spurred me to ceaselessly learn new things, cultivate my own gardens, and influence others with my voice. Everyone was entrenched in the past in some arenas, as the society had evolved unbearably fast. After some trials, however, I came to realize how difficult it was to articulate myself and influence others from what I had seen. Oftentimes, I found myself embarrassingly crude or preposterous.

Slowly, I started to distance myself from the bustling city and focus more on myself. It took some time as I had been a little addicted to hedonistic parts of Seoul. I thought that the world was messed up with injustice and hypocrisies, but before that, my room was in disarray. So was my routine. I couldn’t remember the last time I could wake up without an annoying alarm or I could sleep in peace. I thought that I knew things but I happened to just have stepped into a new world. Also, I soon understood that it was not easy to learn about some subjects in the wild, such as politics, history, and philosophy. I started to use my library card on campus, and I tried to meditate and keep a journal at home. In tranquility, I could see a long journey ahead. After I put almost everything on track, I received an admission from grad school. Leaving all the unforgettable moments behind, I moved to an idyllic city, Daejeon.