---
title: 'Seoul Calling'
date: '2026-04-01 09:00'
template: entry
published: true
hero_image: ''
lat: '37.5635'
lng: '126.9851'
location_city: 'Seoul'
location_country: 'South Korea'
weather_temp_c: 10
weather_desc: 'Rain'
---

The flight from Osaka to Seoul takes one hour and forty minutes. Shorter than some commutes I have had. At Incheon I changed SIM cards, changed currency, changed alphabet, and walked out into a grey April morning with rain coming in off the Yellow Sea.

Korea hits differently than Japan. Japan felt deliberate and enclosed, every surface managed, every system timed to the second. Seoul feels faster and more argumentative, as if things are still being decided. The streets around Myeongdong were already busy at 9am: coffee shops the size of ballrooms, street vendors selling *hotteok* (sweet pancakes) from portable griddles, and the particular energy of a city that moves at one speed regardless of the weather.

My guesthouse is in Mapo-gu, a neighbourhood that turns out to be significantly cooler than anywhere the guidebooks sent me. Independent coffee roasters. Record shops. A gallery in a converted printing house showing black-and-white photography of the Han River in the 1970s.

I spent the afternoon walking the Han River itself — a massive green ribbon running through the city with dedicated cycling paths, outdoor fitness equipment, and Koreans doing every possible outdoor activity despite the rain. A group of older men playing badminton with very serious expressions. Two people kayaking. A family of five sharing a communal barbecue under an umbrella.

Dinner: Korean fried chicken at a place that opened at 5pm and was full by 5:05. Beer so cold it was almost painful. Outside, the rain kept up steadily. I stayed longer than I meant to.
