Lost in Korea

A stranger in Seoul

[lostinkorea]

Korean Subway February 2014

The walls are granite, solid; advertisements litter them, regurgitating mindless promises – a new nose, a new jaw, a new face, a new you. The faces, they all look the same to me. Black hair, round face, lost in their phones – I wonder, what do I look like to them?

I look around. Neat lines before sliding glass doors, one behind the other, perfect; shoes pointed in the same direction, ready to go. Twinkling music announces the train, the lines push forward. I wonder, where do they go?

Stepping through the doors, pushing past the lingering passengers, getting on. I hear the muttering of Korean. The vapid noise of the announcer, telling us the train will be leaving. The low conversations between matching couples. A mother talking to her daughter. Friends gossiping. And all around me is silence. I wonder, what do they say?

I can overhear some words I know – the few I understand, the few I have learned. Here and there they come out, like wild beasts in the forest, afraid to be seen, afraid to be heard. 외국인. Sometimes I understand completely, and want to laugh – but I can’t let them know I know. They would be surprised, they would ask me questions: Where are you from? Are you a student? Oh, 한국어를 잘 말해요!  Not ready to answer so I stay silent. I wonder, what do they think of me?

In the train there are people with black hair with dark eyes, I am the only one of my kind. I don’t necessarily mind. I stand out like a shark at the zoo, I’m out of my habitat, floundering for air. No matter how long I stay here, how proficient I become at Korea, I will always be alone. Not my home, No. I wonder, would they let me?

I stand to get off. It’s my stop, time to leave. Children look at me, stare at me with wide eyes. Some, brave enough, pretend to look at their phones, but I can hear the snapshot of a camera. 스마트폰 . I feel awkward as if I was six feet tall with millions of eyes all different colors of the rainbow. In the silence that follows, I stand in front of the door. They have noticed I got up before the English announcement. They wonder…

When I step onto the awaiting platform the first thing I notice is that the silence that follows me ended when I got off.  Quiet conversations start up again, the momentary lapse forgotten, me, forgotten.

I walk away. 

[lostinkorea]

September 2013

Waiting for the 402 on Hooker Hill. Barely clothed ladies peek from behind darkened corners, illuminated briefly by passing headlights. I hear the rustling of voices far away, overshadowed and overheard. Screeching to a halt in front of me, doors swing open; hinges creaking dangerously. I just barely scamper onto the uneven floors before the driver jolts away from the curve.

Walk thoroughly lopsided, lurching like a drunk, to the third empty seat. The single ones with the window in front rather than in back. Plopping down I throw my purse on the ground. I pull the window open as far as possible, allowing the cool fresh air to hit my adrenaline-heated face.

The nervous rumbling of the engine travels up my feet. An anonymous voice reports the next stop. The clinging of the ‘getting-off-button.’ The driver halts suddenly, throwing me forward in my seat: automatically putting up hands to ward off potential injury. Doors clang open. Footsteps and murmurs jump off. The engine revs and we’re off once more.  

Silence is everywhere. There are no cars on this traveling road, up near the Namsan.  Just trees and trees and trees. And the occasional hooker. There are no more people getting on, only those getting off. And even then, it trickles to a stop until the only people left are the driver and me.

I love traveling this way. All of Seoul is splayed before me, winking in and out of sight, its lights shining brightly in the descending darkness. City rises and little houses pepper the land below me. Windows illuminated given me brief glimpses into lives. And I am hauled away again, only slight impressions remaining.

When I reach my destination, I press that magical red button and wait until the last second before stepping through seesawing doors. I lurch a little when I alight, left over momentum carrying through. Recovering balance, heels clitter and clatter on cold stones. The sound jumps over walls and bounces off windows. It keeps me company.

It’s almost midnight and all the drunkards are out. They stagger around harmlessly, old little men sitting solitarily in the dark. The wind clings to my skirt lifting it slightly around bare thighs. Pieces of hair join the fray, pulling free from a teetering bun.

Trees whisper, their leaves falling gracefully to the park floor. Crinkling sounds beneath the soles of my feet. I rat a tat tat about in twilight, a lonesome figure.

I leave behind the peaceful night to enter a garishly lit hall. Elevator dings shut behind me. I teeter over to the door, pull it open, and am awash in warm light. Stepping through the threshold and dropping my heels to the floor, I am home.