Seoul Searching

by Simeone Andrulli

A young student returns home; his shadows is rendered long by the setting sun and is projected onto the rocky slabs paving the narrow alleys which intertwine, divide and fade into an interminable maze. A faint smile shines on an old woman's face; she carries vegetables and some strange fruits, however typical of this land. A dog full of centuries-old boredom lays in a nook, watching and barking indefatigably at the hurried passer-by.
Seoul is a well organized city with an excellent transportation system and one of very few Asian cities that lends itself to exploration on foot. Besides the Royal Palaces where just married couples take advantage of the historical setting to have their wedding photos taken, just a ten minutes walk from the downtown's high-rise buildings it's possible to stumble across a few pockets of traditional architecture where the slow-paced old-world ambience takes over the busy and fast-paced modern city's. Like a two-faced Janus, Seoul let co-exist its ancient heritage with the vibrant, energetic and profane side of itself.

There is an uncompromising Korean-ness in these old streets. Exceptionally the houses arise above the first floor and the beautiful stained wood doors adorned with ornate brass door-knockers look as if being gates of a mysterious and secretive world. The wind doesn't cease and from the ajar doors, some furtive and pensive eyes glance at the alley in search of somebody. Quite a privilege gaining access beyond the banging doors.
Many of the proprietors are finding increasingly difficult to resist developer's pressure and have turned their houses into yogwans - traditional Korean guest house - or traditional restaurants. In a noble fashion, the roof-tiles and the front wall still carry vestiges of Seoul'past conveying nostalgic feeling for faded times. Despite the municipal decision to demolish many of the houses, for some fortunate combination of circumstances and fortuitous coincidences, somehow they keep hanging in there. If it would really happen, it will be the end of an almost institution of Seoul, valuable relics from a long-gone era. People walking through the nearby areas seem to be unaware of what is happening in here. The consumerist hysteria has let a veil of indifference fall over the Seoulites. Near Lotte complex, in the heart of the city some young policemen practice their skill to prevent riots; within a short walking distance people in quest of a few minutes of relaxation after an exhausting shopping day: again two worlds apart.
A gust slams a window, a wrinkled hand hurries to secure it. The dog is still there. I take a last and long look at the alley: maybe next time I visit Seoul they won't be there anymore.