Vignettes of the World
Once outside of Seoul, the non-Korean-speaking tourists would be left to their own devices as to how they communicate with the Koreans and find their way around. That was Suwon to me. In Hanja, Suwon means “the origin of water.” Suwon is the provincial capital …
The Qing Dynasty mansion known as Tai Fu Tai is a site that speaks to the local history in Hong Kong before the colonial times. Originally constructed as home to Man Chung-luen, the brick mansion showcases the honor bestowed on a senior Qing official. A …
“Seoul, the Soul of Asia” is quite a catchy characterization of Seoul. It is not my phrase, but it did inspire some curiosity in me. How was the soul of Asia like?
To the extent possible, I explored Seoul on foot and by public transport. My first impression of the Soul of Asia was the efficiency with which the city was set up, and its accessibility throughout. The cabs of Seoul were especially tourist-friendly. Ever since South Korea hosted the 1988 Summer Games, the cabs have all been wired to English-speaking operators, should the tourist be unable to communicate with the driver. I did not have to use that service even once, however, as I somehow was able to make out the pronunciation of the sites with English transliteration. The drivers certainly were very savvy in understanding the tourist as well.
I knew very little about Korean history before the Korean War, and by visiting the many palaces in Seoul I had the opportunity to learn the fascinating stories of Korea’s dynastic past. The Changdeokgung Palace was the first that I visited. I highly recommend that fellow travelers join a tour, as many stories about the palaces were told. Otherwise one would miss the significance of the sites. The tour came across the Daejojeon with Hanja that I could read, meaning “the big creation” in Chinese. The tour guide said it was where the royal babies were made. I found that to be hilarious.
At Changdeokgung I heard the exceedingly moving story about the empty house outside the palace. It was where the last king and queen of Joseon Dynasty lived their last days. The courts there were not painted, which was quite a contrast with the colorful restoration of the palace proper. Yet the plain wooden structure stood proudly in its natural state, as the witness to a dynasty fallen, stripped of its power and wealth, yet keeping its dignity. The queen lived there until she passed away in 1989, when the “empty house” really became empty. The last king and queen of the Joseon dynasty died without issue, as such the dynasty, and its symbolic significance for modern South Korea, ended. As I stood there admiring the scene, I seemed to sense the house breathing a kind of spirit that bears the weight of history, its structures being the last home to Korea’s monarchy.
I was able to find my way to Jongmyo on foot. At first I thought it was an ordinary temple, but soon realized that it was the royal ancestral shrine where the dynasty memorialized its spirits. The spirit tablets of the kings and queens were supposedly enshrined in the spirit chambers, but it was closed when I went. The ancient Koreans held ceremonial rites there. An elongated, plain structure of the shrine certainly meets the solemnity required for this purpose. I saw no one there at Jongmyo, maybe except the spirits that rested.
I then cabbed to Insadong Gil as recommended on the Lonely Planet, “it boasts a delightfully confusing mishmash of back alleys.” At first glance, Insadong was disappointing as it seemed too eager to cater to the tourists. I wanted to see antique stores that were old, decrepit and mold-smelling. I walked around dutifully as a tourist, bought some snacks here and there and felt like I was fainting from the cold. Then came a delightful teahouse in sight and I had mei-cha (plum tea) there. That was the turning point for me in Insadong and I came alive. I asked the waitress to teach me how to say, “where is the Hyewa train station” in case I got lost somewhere and had to get back to the hostel with no sense of direction. She wrote the phrase in a way that I could pronounce as an English speaker, “haywa yo, chabon churgu.”
Back in the neighborhood of the hostel I finally had my first Korean grill in South Korea. It was then that I learned that every restaurant serves grilled meat for two people’s portion at the minimum. My dining there alone made me seem like an odd duck. The Koreans do not eat grilled meat dinners alone.
On this first full day in Seoul I had a taste of what the Soul of Asia was like. Seoul has many sites of history to show for, and it certainly welcomes outsiders with open arms. I did wonder though if there would be more in the coming days, or would it just be a city life that bears mutual semblance in all developed parts of the world? As my journey progressed, I became increasingly drawn to South Korea as a country.
I met a young man on the plane to Korea. He told me that he has already completed his mandatory service in the military. “Mind the border,” he said, “it might be dangerous.” Korea was the first solo trip I made abroad. Although this young …
By Nic Dunlop Tuol Svay Prey, the district in Phnom Penh where the prison is located, roughly translates as “The Hill of the Poison Fruit Tree” Tuol means hillock. Sleng is also the name of a tree with extremely poisonous fruit.[i] In this …
There was a time when Hong Kong was considered China’s window to the world. In Chinese, it is said that Hong Kong faces the world with China at its back. If we consider the geography, geopolitics, economy and cultures of Hong Kong, what really provides the window to the world is Hong Kong Island; what has the back of China is Sheung Shui.
Although the border district of Sheung Shui would not be commonly associated with the collective memory of Hong Kong, it is a very important part of my childhood memory. My early life was inexplicably intertwined with this part of Hong Kong.
Sheung Shui as it is now has had a sea change since my childhood. Over the years, a closer relationship with mainland China has given it the face of a bustling town with high rise buildings and big shopping malls, transforming its former identity as the provincial back country. Yet there are still traces of the past, with people rushing in and out of the border carrying luggage. The scene of legal and illegal traders buying goods is reminiscent of the old market that once prided this neighborhood.
My aunt used to live in a three storied apartment building on No. 1, San Cheung Street. My own family was city dwellers and we lived in Kowloon, but our extended family lived in the New Territories. Back then, it was still much of a countryside. Whenever school holiday came my mother would take me to my aunt’s place to stay for weeks.
When I was young, I had the typical arrogance of city dwellers and I looked down on my home in the New Territories. Although I loved my family, I was annoyed by everything in that old apartment on San Cheung Street. The toilet did not flush properly, the shower was a mere trickle of water, and there was always this strange smell in the apartment. The mosquitoes were endless. Yet this memory of an old countryside apartment stayed vividly in my memory, because only in this kind of place could children be playing in an eerily spacious apartment at night, after the adults had been asleep, and calling it an “expedition.”
In pitch dark we tiptoed into the living room, passing a long corridor, then to the kitchen. We went in a single file, with flash in our hands. The rule was no slippers. Our bare feet might feel the crawling-by of huge cockroaches or geckos. My cousin would suddenly turn and whisper, “there’s a mouse!”
In the mornings we rose and my uncle would take us to the street stalls to have rice porridge or noodles as breakfast. In the afternoon, we might get a treat of shaved ice with red beans at a deli. Summer after summer, we lived our days worry-free on San Cheung Street.
In 2007, I visited my aunt’s old address for the first time after fifteen years of being away. I walked around Shek Wu Hui, Sheung Shui’s town center, trying to probe my memory for where the apartment was. When I saw the casket shop on San Cheung Street, right below my aunt’s old apartment, I knew I found it. That was the only shop on the street that I could still recognize.
As I approached, I realized that the smell that I did not like in the apartment came from the pungency of the wood used in carving the caskets, along with the traditional incense that was always burning at these types of businesses. I saw the shop owner at the table chatting with his family, just like yesterday. I was pulled immediately back to the memory that I thought was long-forgotten. The smell recalled tears in my eyes.
I slowly walked back to the bus stop to go home, on my way passing by three big shopping malls. I sighed, seeing that this drive to remake Sheung Shui as the corridor between Hong Kong and Shenzhen will one day bulldoze the very last remnant of my memory.
I am saving this entry to the last because this boy truly, truly moved me. This young ten-year-old worked at his family’s Uighur restaurant. On one of our last days in Lhasa, a group of us went to this restaurant for dinner. When we sat …
Have you ever had the experience that, on the nth day of your trip, you have lost track of time? That was Tibet to me. It is an environment that constantly entices you away from the established routines and thoughts that structure your life in …
Unlike Lhasa, Namtso is forever frozen in time. If there is one piece of advice I have for travelers going to Tibet, it is that they must bring some warm clothing with them, at least a sturdy, layered windbreaker and a scarf. It was frigid …
