Silly me. Yesterday I did a great deal of planning to maximize every minute of my time in Seoul, thinking that I could visit most of the museums, palaces, and exhibitions in a whirlwind tour. It was not until late last night when So-Young commented that all tourist-related sights are closed on Mondays. Like I said: silly me. This is basically like visiting Washington D.C. on a national holiday when nothing is open for touring.

Naturally, I modified my plans to involve more "walking tours," and at 9:00 a.m. I set off in pleasant weather. It was a 4-5 kilometer walk to the INWANGSAN Hillside where a variety of Shamanist temples and shrines are located. Most of the walk was along main roads, such as the one pictured above, however as I escaped from downtown Seoul the sidewalk narrowed, and then disappeared altogether. At the same time, the once flat streets gave way to depressingly steep hills; there were signs warning of 30 degree inclines!

Purely by luck, I happened across a peaceful park that was once where ritual sacrifices were performed on altars. Now, there were only a few random couples walking pets, elderly men going for a stroll, and me resting on a bench reading the international edition of the New York Times.

By the time I reached the entrance to the hillside walk it was already 11:00 a.m., which was far later than I was anticipating. Between stopping to read the paper, resting in a shop while eating a popsicle, and trying to find my way on numerous occasions (my Korean is naturally atrocious), it is no surprise it took so long. As for the hillside walk, there were a couple of things that are definitely worth noting. Firstly, the view of the city was amazing, as should be obvious from the pictures below. These pictures should also give an idea of what I am talking about when I say the city has mini-mountains all over the place.

The second worthwhile event was purely coincidental, and I nearly missed it entirely. As I was preparing to leave, I decided to take a small side path; I have never been able to resist the temptation of exploring. Anyway, I happened across a Shaman ritual being performed by five women and one man. I wanted to be polite, and thus did not not take any pictures, but the scene looked like the following: the man was kneeling in front of a shrine while beating a drum and performing a chant, while one woman was standing straight with a folding fan spread in front of her face. The rest of the women were standing off to the side tending to a variety of goods they brought with them (mostly fruits). After a few minutes of quiet observation, I realized the woman was crying, and I was left to assume that she lost her husband and this was a kind of petition to the gods to look after him. (Shaman gods are different in that they need sustenance to survive.) I spent 30 minutes just watching this ceremony, and while my recount of it may not sound all that interesting the truth is far different.

I decided to take the train back to downtown Seoul, and ate lunch at a fairly standard restaurant serving normal Korean fare. I ordered kimchi bokkeumbap, which is kimchi served over fried rice, and tangsu mandu, or fried dumplings with sweet and sour sauce. Both were delicious, and at only a few dollars/dish I easily got my money's worth. (As a side note, Korea uses the won, which is currently trading at around 10,000 won/USD.)

The only other exciting thing to happen in the afternoon was when I stopped in an arcade to see DDR madness, and also a batting cage I passed on the side of the street. I paid 10,000 won for 20 balls, but only made contact half the time. The trouble is not my hand-eye coordination (...), but rather there is no time to sight the ball before it flies past: the pitching machine is only 10-12 meters away (roughly half the distance from a pitcher's mound to the plate).

The rest of my afternoon and evening were spent with a Serbian girl named Senka, which means "shadow" in Serbian. Senka recently spent a couple of months in Japan, but was not crazy about the country. For someone not to like Japan, especially considering how she claimed it was difficult to become close with Japanese, I was able to easily guess the reason: she does not drink alcohol. Honestly, there is no way anyone can integrate and make friends in Japan without being willing to ADAPT, and much of Japanese life revolves around alcohol. Traveling is about experiencing new cultures, not just seeing new things.

I ate a spicy seafood bibimbap dinner with Senka and an American photographer who lives in Madrid, Spain. Afterward, I spent the next hour or two shopping for OMIYAGE, or souvenirs, to bring back for my friends in Japan. Bringing back OMIYAGE is an essential part of Japanese culture, and I ended up with enough goods to fill my formerly empty suitcase.

The last item on my agenda for the evening was visiting a Korean hot bath. I enquired at the front desk of my guesthouse, and wrote down directions to a fairly nice one that was only a 20 minute walk. Located in the basement of a large commercial building, this hot bath was slightly more exclusive than what I was expecting: it cost 12,000 won ($12USD), whereas most are only 4-5,000 won. The slight price jump got me better facilities, greater variety of baths to choose from, and probably a better clientele around me.

The hot bath process is the same as in Japan: (1) pay at the front counter and receive a locker key, (2) remove your shoes at the entrance and place them inside a shoe locker, (3) fully undress in the locker area before heading into the bathing area, (4) grab a towel on the way into the baths and proceed to cleanse yourself at one of the mini-stools, (5) climb into one of the hot baths (there are different varieties to choose from, such as green tea, normal tea, normal water, "special" water, etc), (6) alternate to the cold bath to stimulate blood flow, (7) break the routine with a trip to the sauna/steam room/freezer room (where massive slabs of ice line the walls), (8) let the body unwind.

I spent three hours at the facility, but only two hours inside the actual bathing area. Afterward, I wore a robe and joined the late-aged businessmen in the lounging area, or jjimjilbang. This area is unique to Korea, and one can lounge on the chairs and watch television, or even climb upstairs into a bed for actual sleep. I wish I could have done this, but I was returning to Tokyo on a 9:00 a.m. flight the following morning, which meant I had to catch the 5:00 a.m. bus to the airport.