Memories of Seoul -- Leaving The Olympics Behind (Seoul)

Member Name: travelnotes

Product:	Seoul
Date:	09/10/00 (83 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Tickets to the Olympics were easy to get hold of, and not too expensive.

Disadvantages: Evangelists can spot a foreigner a mile away.

At Kimpo International airport, everybody had a destination. The departure board flicked the flights away, new ones climbed the ladder towards boarding; my destination was Taipei.

Great Britain lost to South Korea's women in the Olympic hockey, to the delight of the majority of passengers watching the screen in the departure lounge. Some of the Koreans squatted on the floor, but most of them watched standing in a semi-circle, with one eye on the flight situation.

Three security guards stood with their guns slung over their shoulders; the Games had so far gone off peacefully without any threats from the North or other outside sources occurring. But surveillance and stringent bag-checks continued.

On board China Airlines-823, the in-flight magazine was of little interest. The sun reflected off the wing-tip and through the window on my right.

After ten days at the Olympics, it was satisfying to be on the move again; to be a traveller looking for residence, rather than a resident among travellers. English was the common language between the Germans and the Swedes, the Indian lady, and the eccentric Belgian. He told everyone he was writing a book about the Olympics and would return in the evenings with Polaroid snaps of the athletes going about their preparations in the Olympic Village.

Some of the tennis stars were considered to be the Olympics' big-guns. In Seoul there was no five-star treatment for the Wimbledon winners and racket made millionaires. They shared rooms and had to queue at the cafeteria with the shot-putters and high-jumpers, funny-walkers and gymnasts.

With no-one next to me on the plane, and an ocean of black heads in front of me, I welcomed my anonymous solitude. It was a chance to catch up on some neglected reading, writing and further reading.

In Seoul there was never a quiet moment. Not even on the subway returning from the Sports Complex. Lost in thought, I often studied my map
and contemplated a new area of the city to explore and search out a Korean meal, when somebody would tap me on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I speak with you some little English?" a stranger; an inhabitant of the host city would ask.

"No, go ahead." Occasionally, I did mind; especially as the conversation invariably led the same way. But I was too polite.

"My name is...." The straight forward introduction was the most common. Or else it was, "Can I help you?"

Once the ice was broken, the questions followed along these lines:

"How long have you been in Korea?"

Everyday my answer lengthened.

"What do you think of the Korean people?"

Friendly and helpful, of course; which on the whole they were. The streets were clean; a necessity as much food-trading was done at floor-level.

Street-vendors were in abundance: hot-dogs, on a stick and dipped in batter, were a local favourite; bananas, slices of pineapple and water melon were also popular. Rubbish bins (trash-cans) overflowed with sticks and banana skins.

"What is your work?"

I would change this to suit my mood -- I was away to do nothing more than move along, look and see, read and write, and take a few pictures; I couldn't say that was work.

"Would you like to read this?"

The booklet was invariably about believing and the wonders it could do to my life.

"Thank-you, I believe and isn't life wonderful," I would smile. I had been verbally manoeuvred once again in the preacher's chess-game, that would always end with a very polite: "Welcome to Korea," and "Have a nice stay."

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