Wednesday, Oct. 5, 2022 – Today, we took a deep dive into Korean culture and history, starting with another sprint to make the only afternoon English language tour of the Secret Garden at the beautiful Changdeokgung Palace, a 15^th century Joseon-era palace where members of the royal family had lived as recently as 1989. We had been told the Secret Garden was a must-see, so we booked the tour, thinking it was 50 minutes but was in fact a full hour and half and included 97 other Westerners, including a group of Germans dressed up in traditional Korean clothing, their phones pinging and constant narration making it hard to hear the soft-spoken guide. But the gardens were beautiful and expansive. Tigers once roamed there, eating an occasional guard, and providing leisure space – theaters and study areas and ponds and pavilions – for emperors and their retinues. We learned that noblemen wore many layers of white clothing and were known for an almost Monty-Python funny walk, with their hands clasped behind their back, walking in a sort of zigzag pattern as they perambulated and cogitated. (Turns out that is how I like to walk, minus the white clothing, which I would have spilled something on immediately.) We learned the women wore up to 25 layers of clothing, and saw where fires were stoked under buildings to provide the famous ondul heated floors. Like the other palaces and grounds in Seoul, the original 15^th century wooden structures were burned by samurai invaders in the late 16^th century. Only 35 percent of the post-1610 buildings remain, but they are being painstakingly reconstructed. (The modern world intruded too: Just feet from the emperor’s most important pavilion, zombies were filmed coming from a shallow pond in the recent K-drama, “Kingdom.”) The forests seemed to have survived intact, and though we were in the heart of Seoul, it was quiet, the sound of frogs and crickets occasionally chiming in. 

 After touring the palace proper, we checked into a hanok, or traditional Korean dwelling, for a special one-night stay in the Bukchon Hanok Village, a hilly neighborhood between two palaces where the Korean government has tried preserve some of the older homes. Twisting streets are lined with homes with upward sweeping tile roofs and slatted wooden windows. Some hanok host guests, while others have small shops, such as a chic perfumerie where we found a scent called “Lumberjack” and hanbok-rental outfits. (Hanbok are the beautiful traditional Korean dresses that anyone can rent – and get into palaces for free!) Our hanok, the Rakkojae Binkwon, had a gorgeous setting, with the main building overlooking a grassy terrace and a spectacular view of downtown Seoul, its tower gleaming blue in the background, the blue signaling clean air.

Our rooms had a front seating area, with floor cushions and low table, and rich mahagony-colored wood walls and beamed ceilings. Rick had a hard time with his long legs sitting at the table, but there was a public room at the center of the building (with an all-important washing machine) where he could stretch out and see the view off Seoul from the open sliding doors. We slept on thick futon-like mats, but it was too warm to test out the ondul heating. The staff, who were wonderful, served us dinner on the terrace. There was an English-speaking staff member who greeted us, but manager spoke little English, but much more than my Korean. As she showed us around, as I started to panic when I realized there was no washing machine in our room (as advertised), Rick seized the controls and began to pantomime washing his jacket. The manager laughed with delight at his communication skills and led us to the common room. I, however, was tasked with the job of determining what time we would eat. After some confusion, I managed to blurt out “chonyeok,” which means dinner, and she nodded with delight. (Any communication was greeted with such joy between us! It’s amazing what a few words can do. ) Korean numbers are notoriously hard (for me!) and I requested yeo-seot-shi – 6 o’clock – and she held up one hand and her thumb, I held up one hand and my forefinger, as we Americans do) and she added “Sam-ji-pun.” And I nodded with delight – since it sounds just like Japanese – 30 minutes past the hour! Nee nee, totally san-jyu-pun, I said, totally mispronouncing the Korean. So it seemed like we were set on dinner. But now breakfast – achim. I was pretty sure I had us down for yeo-dul, but then another staffer got involved and said they want dinner at 8??? And we had to start all over again with our numbers – I must have seemed like what Asma’s family calls “tube lighting.” In India, the old tube lights first flicker and then take a while to illuminate – my brain is definitely on “tube lighting” mode with Korean. I will try to ask when something closes – and I KNOW I learned to say it – and all I can come up with is… blank. And as soon as I leave the store, I remember tada!!! Or tada heiyo! Too late. Tube lighting.

 Final note – as I left the convenience store a one minute walk from our hanok, I looked to my right and saw a logo with an N and a D entwined. I thought, What??? And sure enough, to my right were the entrance gates to the Notre Dame Educational Center. I poked my head through the gate but could see no one around, except a statue of Mother Mary in the garden beyond. A city of 25 million, 13 time zones from South Bend, and we chose a hanok right next to Will’s home. Another cosmic moment for the cosmic travelers.