A Sunday stroll through Seoul.

I wake up at a surprisingly reasonable hour, having expected to sleep through the morning. Or maybe it’s the jet lag working its magic. I’m too discombobulated to tell.

I tend to have a difficult time wandering a city aimlessly. I need a destination to wander to. Once set, I’ll happily wander in that direction, but a direction must be had.

Checking my map and list of places to visit I spot a ramen shop near the Gyeongbokgung Palace. It’s perfect as I’ll be able to walk down the Cheonggyecheon canal and the Insa-dong Culture Street en route. With my destination in mind I set out to begin my walk.

It’s not a long walk to the canal and soon I find myself standing over it. Running almost 11 kilometers, the stream was historically maintained as part of Seoul's early sewerage until the mid-20th century, when the stream was filled in with concrete and an expressway built over it. In 2003, the city began a two-year urban renewal project to remove the expressway and restore the stream. Unpopular at the time, it’s since become beloved by locals and tourists alike.

On reaching the canal, I find an easy access point and take a set of stairs down to the stream level to walk alongside it with various groups of locals enjoying their Sunday mornings.

At various locations stone steps embedded in the stream offer the ability to cross. At one such crossing I follow a little boy as he tries to leap from one stone to another. At one point his misses a step and falls into the water. He wades across and climbs out crying, reaching out to his mom who laughs and laughs as she embraces him.

Nearing the Insa-dong Culture Street I look for an exit and climb back out from the serene gardens that line the stream back up to the city level. It’s a stark contrast, and almost incredible that such an urban respite runs through such a large swath of Seoul.

The Culture Street is a bit of a tourist destination as evidenced by the various sidewalk stalls that have been set up to sell this and that. I pass a Hanbok clothing store and don’t realize how much the traditional clothing will play a part in my day.

At the end of the street a mall complex sits on one side, containing floors of small shops and a few art galleries. A large hotel anchors the corner. On the other side, a warren of small streets wind around a collection of squat old homes, some of which have been converted into restaurants. I am tempted to stop in a few, but one tells me that they’re full up and another is about to close. I stick to the plan and continue on to Oreno Ramen Insa, itself hidden down a small alley in the back corner of a building.

There’s a line out the door when I arrive. Once again I consider eating elsewhere, but looking at the map don’t see many places in the area that would be any more promising and decide to stay.

The line moves quickly, especially for small groups and I find myself jumping the line to get in. I’m then confronted with my first ordering machine. I had watched others use the machine to order, taking a ticket and handing it to the waitress who then puts in the order. It’s an efficient system and one I’ll see used again and again while in South Korea.

The ramen is good, though not as good as Shōyu in Riga, which retains its standing as my favorite ramen this year.

I eat quickly, taking liberally from the jangajji provided in a small box set before me. I didn’t notice them at first until I saw other people snacking on the pickled vegetables.

Outside, the line doesn’t seem to have shortened and I make my way back down the stairs and to the main street that runs east west alongside the neighborhood. I follow it east I to the Gyeongbokgung Palace.

Nearing the palace I start to see a number of people in hanbok. On the corner opposite the palace there are stores renting out the traditional garb and Korean and non-Korean tourists seem to flock to them. It creates a festive air, and it’s fantastic to see so many dressed up.

Arriving at the Gwanghwamun Gate two women stop me and ask me to take their photo. They’re dressed in beautiful hanbok, two of the most striking examples I’ve seen. They pose a marked contrast to the casually dressed tourists around them.

As I stop to admire their outfits people start to line raised platform that occupies the center of the plaza that runs from the gate to the street. Attendants chase people from the walkway and soon I see why. I’ve arrived just in time to witness the changing of the Royal Guard ceremony.

It’s quite the procession and takes some time to pass. Reaching the main boulevard it turns to the left to head around the ramparts. I lose them in the crowd. Turning back to the gates I walk through one of the arched entrances and get my first glimpse of the palace.

The first royal palace of the Joseon dynassty, Gyeongbokgung was established in 1395. Meaning ‘great blessings palace,’ Gyeongbokgung palace flourished under the 1418–1450 reign of Sejong the Great, fourth monarch of the Koreanic state Joseon, who invented Hangul—the native Korean script—at the palace.

The palace was burned down in 1592 amidst the Imjin War, a series of two Japanese invasions of Korea. It wasn’t until the 19th century that restoration efforts would bring it back.

The ticket is office to the right as I enter and I spot a sign that lets guests know “Visitors wearing Hanbok can enter without a ticket. (no ticket).” I don’t think it’s necessarily the reason so many are wearing Hanbok, but it’s a genius strategy to encourage it. Surrounded by so many dressed in traditional garb I feel like I’ve stepped back in time, or as if I’ve just walked onto the set of a Korea historical drama.

The palace grounds are huge. I walk through the center of the complex, through two more gates before I reach the Geunjeongjeon, the Grand residence of the 14th-century Joseon Dynasty.

The palace is teeming with people, and I’m happy to have come on a day when there are so many in Hanbok. There are times when I wish to have buildings and temples to myself, but today the sheer number of people in Hanbok heighten the experience and exude a sense of fun that’s infectious.

Continuing past the main buildings I decide to explore the edges of the complex and walk along the side paths to the east until I reach the further edges of the palace. A path leads off to the The National Folk Museum of Korea, but I don’t quite feel like being indoors. I’d rather continue walking around the grounds, admiring the architecture and gardens and all the different shades of Hanbok I encounter.

The Hyangwonjeong Pavilion sits on an island in the middle of a small lake at the back of the palace and I take a moment to take a small break. The crowds have lessoned in these far reaches of the palace and as much as I loved wading through rivers of such beautiful clothing, I appreciate being able to take a moment to drink in the surroundings.

Walking to the far corner of the complex I head towards the Jibokjae and the library housed within. I’m asked to take my shoes off before entering and enjoy the feeling of the smooth wood underfoot.

Walking back through the complex towards the entrance I pass by the open rooms of the Sajeongjeon Hall (the King’s Office) and continue on the large flagstone-paved courtyards

Another, larger pond commands the western area of the grounds next to the palace. The Gyeonghoeru Pavilion anchors its eastern edge. A popular backdrop for those in Hanbok, I stand and watch as a group cycles through each individual to get individual shots of them looking out towards it.

I follow the path alongside the pond to the western entrance. It’s a warm afternoon and I’m looking for refreshments. There’s a neighborhood to the west of the palace that looks promising and I decide to wander that area to see what I might uncover.

Before arriving in Seoul I had come across a Reddit thread about coffee shops in Seoul. The original poster was looking for coffee shops that weren’t “Instagram-friendly” and focused on the coffee itself. Some people scoffed at the premise of the question, as if being “Instagram-friendly” precluded a good cup of coffee. Much later I’d meet a woman from Australia who would welcome a coffee shops with South Korean aesthetics into her country. And after hearing her mention it I realized I hadn’t really come across any cozy cafes when I was there.

In the end, while searching for one coffee shop I stumble upon Onground. A modest entrance belies the vastness of the cafe as room after room opens up after entering. I order a flat white and am given a buzzer. I find a table in a small courtyard beside the largest room, happy to have the best of both worlds.

When the device buzzes I leave my bag and head back to the front counter. I’ve watched women leave phones and purses to mark their spots as they leave to order or collect their drinks. I know that places like this exist; I’ve experienced it in Japan and other countries, but after having spent more time in South America the trust and the social contract that makes this all possible amazes me anew.

I walk south from the cafe. Deoksugung Palace doesn’t look too far away and I’m already this far west of where I’m staying so decide to round out my day with a visit to the former royal palace.

As I walk I’m struck at the mix of architectures and time periods that jostle against each other in Seoul. From moment to moment I can be standing within a centuries old palace complex, roaming a wide modern boulevard drawfed by towering skyscrapers, or navigating cramped back alleyways full of restaurants and shops, their signs a tangle of characters cheek by jowl beside each other.

On one wide street I pass the Saemoonan Presbyterian Church, a swooping concrete structure. Inspired by a mother's arms stretched out toward the sky, the structure was designed by Lee Eunseok, a South Korean architect and architectural theorist.

Reaching Deoksugung Palace I walk along a tranquil path to the rear gate to find it closed. I had passed a guard and might have hoped he would have informed me, but I realize that some have come down this lane to sit by themselves and enjoy the quiet.

I’m not alone in thinking that we’ve found an entrance to the palace. I cathch to a group of tourists who had the same thought who try the door to find it locked.

Retracing my steps I follow the outer wall of the palace, past a suprising sculpture of squashed people. Created by Yi Hwan-kwon in 2009, the work is inspired by the traditional open-air storage jars (or jangdok) in which kimchi is fermented in. The work is titled Jangdokdae, the word for traditional Korean outdoor platforms where the jars are stored.

It’s a peculiar piece to be placed where it is but I appreciate the sudden shift it’s caused in my perception of place. And I admire how it reflects upon the traditional even as it makes me wonder about what’s actually being said.

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At the front gate I pay my entrance fee and step into the courtyard. It’s much more sedate than Gyeongbokgung Palace. The crowds are less, and while there are some in Hanbok, that, too, is lessened.

Deoksugung's origins date to 1593 when it served as a temporary palace for King Seonjo during the Imjin War. In 1611 it was established as an official palace under the name Gyeongungung, before being renamed Deoksugung in 1907.

It’s a beautiful palace, much more manageable in scale, and I take my time walking around. I’ve decided to stay until dark to see the building lit up at night and have time to spare.

On the steps of the Seokjojeon (Korean Empire History Museum) guards interact with visitors. A string quartet plays on the balcony and I can just see the tops of their heads and the tips of their bows as they go through the motions that make music.

Two women in Hanbok are engaged in a photo shoot along the back buildings and I watch as they stroll and pose amongst the wood and stone structures.

The afternoon grows long and the light starts to dissipate. The sky grows pale before it starts to deepen and I sit and wait for the lights of the palace to illuminate.

The main hall looks beautiful, the warm glow burnishing the orange and gold structure. It almost appears as though the wood is lit from within.

Dusk proves to be my favorite time at the palace. Most of the toursts have left, and, perhaps owing to it being a Sunday, a tranquilness seems to settle upon not only the palace but the city itself. The soft glow of the electric lights serve to highlight the structure against the cooler colors of the night, and I sit on a stone step to take it all in.

Emerging from the palace complex I am once again thrust into the modern city that is Seoul. I think the last time I felt the same dramatic jumps between the historic and the modern were probably in Japan. I’ll be curious to see how it feels when I return at the end of the year.

On my way home I wander through the Myeongdong night market. My dinner consists once again of snacks that I pick up along the way, poking the food out of paper containers with wooden skewers or holding my food directly in hand.

The rest of the walk home is quiet and fairly non-descript. My hotel is nice but it’s a little out of the way. Later in my visit I’ll spend some time in in Sinsa-dong and realize that I may have enjoyed my time a little more had I stayed there. There’s a bit more to do in the immediate vicinity and a lot more restaurants I’d have wanted to try.

For my first time in Seoul, however, I can’t complain. I’m happy to be here and excited to see more in the coming days. But for now, my feet weary and my head heavy, I take off my shoes, strip off my socks, and begin my preparations for bed. 🇰🇷