One Angry Monkey

I was flipping through some of my old photos this morning and I came across one, I think it was the only one, I took during my brief visit to Seoul. I loathed the place from the moment I left the airport and spent my entire time there thanking whatever gods may exist that I was only spending two nights there. Now to be fair all I saw was the bit between the airport and my (dodgy) hotel, a few nightclubs and a little CBD so my view is a little narrow but there aren’t words for how much I disliked being there. It was dirty, smelly, crowded… It was pretty much your sterotypical Asian city I suppose. Do I sound racist or judgmental? I suppose I do. In my defense I loved all of my time in Japan. Even the bit where I ran out of money and only had a bag of chocolate somethings to last me the two days it took to get back to my brother’s place.

On my one full day in Seoul I decided to take the subway into the CBD to, you know, see the sights and such. Well the sights were boring so I thought I’d return to my hotel. That was where I ran into a problem. Somehow I’d gotten myself all turned around and lost my bearings. I had no clue where the train station was. Due to the short duration of my trip I hadn’t exchanged much money and thanks to my drinking binge the previous night I wasn’t convinced that I’d have enough left for a taxi. So I decided to ask for directions. Only problem there was that I don’t speak Korean. Oops.

So I tried asking a few people in the street. Would anyone stop? Sure, for long enough to perform the complex set of hand movements and facial expressions that translates in any land to “I don’t speak English. Buy a phrase book.” One kindly older man (probably in his fifties), however, seemed to understand what I was looking for though, and generously began to guide me.

That seemed unusually kind and I was delighted to have stumbled across a person who would do such a thing in this day and age. As the streets grew narrower and more alley-like I thought to myself, “Hmm. This is odd, I don’t remember coming this way but he’s a local. It must be a shortcut.” Yes, I am the epitome of the idiot tourist.

We stopped outside a building that, like all of the other buildings I’d come across, had its sign written only in Korean script. I eyed the script suspiciously. One of those symbols seemed strangely familiar. For a long moment I couldn’t figure out why, after all I’d never even considered learning Korean, let alone expressed any interest in the written language. Then I managed to place it. The exact same symbol was the last symbol on the sign for my hotel.

That dirty old bugger.

With much hand waving, head shaking and firmly enunciated “No.”ing I managed to convince the old man that no, it wasn’t his lucky day. Surprisingly, after that he did actually lead me to the subway station so I suppose it wasn’t all bad.

Evidently the English word “subway station” must sound like the Korean word for “want a root, grandpa?”

This entry was posted on Monday, April 23rd, 2007 at 8:55 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.