Seoulscapade

(All sculptures pictured in this post are at Olympic Park in Seoul)

As a foreigner in Korea, I think I am afforded certain privileges or exceptions the locals don’t as readily allow to each other. I’m looked on as a guest here, and that means that Koreans will often go out of their way to help me. So I thought I’d post some of the memorable acts of kindness I’ve experienced while in Korea. I can’t say how much of it can be put down to my foreigner status. I’m sure it was a component. But the kindness I’ve experienced is also because there are just a lot of good and kind Koreans out there, who would perhaps be that way with anyone.

Memorable Act of Kindness No. 1:

When I bought my small Minolta digital camera, it was without a case, but I really needed a case because I was going to be travelling around with it a lot. So I got a Korean work colleague to find out where the Minolta office was in Seoul, and one Saturday I headed there to buy a case.

I emerged from the subway close to where the Minolta office is, and with a few details written down in a notebook, started walking in the direction in which I thought the office might be. All I had was a building name and number and that it was near a bank. I couldn’t find it. All I could do was walk along and gaze upward at buildings for anything to do with Minolta.

I passed a guy getting on his scooter (which was parked on the footpath where, naturally enough in Korea, cars were also parked), and when he saw me, he immediately said something that I imagine was Korean for “do you need any help.” I communicated my objective in spats of English and he motioned for me to get on the back of his scooter. I thought, why not?

We shot off down the street and turned up a side street. He stopped and motioned for me to go into an adjacent building. But when I got up to the second floor, I found that no one there knew anything about Minolta. It was the wrong building. When I got downstairs, the guy on the scooter was waiting and I conveyed that it was the wrong place. He suspected it might be, which is why he had waited with the motor running.

We shot off again for another building nearby, presumably his next best guess. This time, he didn’t wait—a move that gave me confidence. The Minolta office was indeed there, but staff were a little perplexed to see me; it was actually a messy sales office, not a shop as I imagined it would be. Nonetheless, they hunted around for a camera case after seeing my camera type.

The case I wanted wasn’t available but another, sportier kind was found lying in a desk draw. They handed it over and when I went to pay, I was waved off. They just gave it to me.

I left with thanks and headed for the subway. About 300 metres down the road I heard someone running behind me and saw out of the corner of my eye a figure reflecting in a glass window closing in on me. What now? I wondered. It was a guy from the Minolta office, chronically out of breath, with my little notebook, which I had left behind in his office. He’d run all the way, nearly to the subway, to ensure I got it back.

How amazed I was at the morning’s events—the help, the concern, the generosity. All this, plus I got what I wanted, plus I didn’t have to pay for any of it, plus my forgetfulness didn’t cost me my notebook. You couldn’t have gotten the smile off my face that morning. Incidents like this don’t happen so much these days, as I tend to know where I’m going now. But I know I would get help if I looked lost.

Memorable Act of Kindness No. 2:

One night I went out drinking with the girls, my wife and two of her friends. We ate at an Indian restaurant across town and had a few drinks at a bar frequented by foreigners. That was why we were there, mainly, to visit the “foreigners” bar. One of Sunah’s girlfriends was developing an interest in finding a foreign boyfriend. A little drunker after that, we headed back across town by taxi to a bar close to where the girls live.

It was when getting out of the taxi that I lost my wallet. I don’t recollect clearly how it happened. I guess it slipped from my lap. I was paying driver and waiting for change. The traffic was loud, everyone was in a hurry, the girls were loud and all talking at once–that’s very confusing for the male brain. Somehow I just stepped out of the taxi without the wallet. I think it was on the way to the bar that this horrible realization hit me.

If it has happened to you, you know the sinking feeling. If it’s happened to you while half drunk and intending to party more, you’ll know what dampener it can be. At the bar, I announced my dilemma and borrowed my wife’s mobile to call my parents back in Australia to get them to cancel my credit card as soon as possible. Then I tried to put everyone at ease and return the atmosphere to the upbeat tempo of earlier in the night, even though my mind was mournfully going over all the cards and IDs and things I’d have to replace.

It must have been less than half an hour later that I receive a call on my mobile. It was someone Korean so I handed it to Sunah. It turned out to a woman travelling with her father who’d found my wallet in the taxi. She hadn’t told the driver because she didn’t trust him. The wrong kind of taxi driver, perhaps, might have just taken whatever money there was and thrown the wallet out the window. The woman then said she’d leave it at her local police station for us to pick up the next day, and she told us how to get there.

What a relief that was! The dampener had been lifted, the party was back on.

The next day, we made our way to the police station and it was waiting there as promised. All the cops were standing around, all taking an interest in a foreigner’s visit. I checked the wallet and found that nothing was missing, including $100 US bill I kept in it for emergencies. After we left I got Sunah to call the woman back to thank her and to offer to take her and her father out to dinner. She declined saying that it wasn’t necessary.

That was it. I never saw her and was never able to thank her in person, but I won’t forget her presence of mind and honesty in handling the matter.

Memorable indicent of kindness no. 3:

The last act of kindness I’d like to relate is the most recent. It happened a few weeks ago. There’s not much to it but it was for us incredibly helpful. We went shopping at Cosco and as usual, when done, we waited by a main, eight-lane road in front to get a taxi home. This time, unlike previous times, the traffic was horrendous. Normally, it’s just semi-horrendous, but we were there before the Chinese New Year, so everyone was out shopping all over Seoul. It was also around lunchtime, too, which wouldn’t have helped.

We waited and waited and waited. Taxis avoided us, others were full. It was really starting to look like we were stuck. Nearby a Korean lady was waiting as well. She wasn’t trying to get a taxi, though. It turned that she was just waiting for her husband to turn up. Eventually, he came and they loaded their things into their boot and began to drive off. Then the car stopped. The window came down and the woman, who was in the back, asked us, or rather Sunah, if we would like lift. I was amazed at such fortunate. There was no telling how long we might have been stuck there.

We packed our heavy bags into the boot and got in. The car was one of the most expensive models they make here in Korea. So we had a luxury ride as well! I learned that they were happy to take us to the nearest subway station, Sadang, because it was on their way. That was more than fine to me. I was so relieved.

It turned out they were a retired couple, and judging by the car, they were not short of cash. They were on their way to see their daughter. The husband had worked for the education department, and he’d been in the section that allotted money to Seoul National University and the BK House residential building, which Sunah and I had only recently vacated. That was quite a coincidence.

Nothing much more was spoken after these details. We neared subway station, we passed it and we just kept on going. I enquired after why we had not stopped at the station. It seemed that it had been decided to take us further, closer to our apartment building, because their daughter lived in an apartment complex that was not far from ours. What another coincidence! And handy, too, for us. They passed Seoul National University Subway Station, the next one along from Sadang, and kept going. I think the plan was to drop us off on the main road where it’s possible to get a shuttle bus to our apartment complex.

But we neared the waiting shuttle, we passed it and we just kept on going. In fact, they took us close to the entrance of our apartment complex. I was so thankful. Sunah and I unloaded all of our shopping from the boot onto the sidewalk, and we both profusely thanked the couple. It was then that the woman took stock of our heavy bags on the sidewalk. She has some words with her husband and the next thing we knew she was insisting we load everything back into the car. They were going to take us directly to our apartment building. Why not, since we were practically there already.

At this point, I was really laughing inside. It was just crazy. These total strangers had chauffeured us all the way from Cosco and now took us into the basement of our building right up to our elevators. Profuse thanks all around once again. I wanted to offer something, but money would have been cheap—perhaps invite them out, then, and Sunah was thinking the same, but waiting on me to make the first move. In the end, it was all a bit rushed, we got our shopping out not wishing to delay them further, and in haste neither of us spoke up in time.

What a nice couple. It also turned out that their daughter’s daughter goes to the day care center just in front of our apartment complex, the one we see every morning on the way to work. Yet another coincidence. What can I say, if you put nice people and coincidences together, you going to have a good outcome.

There is a flip side, however, to being a foreigner here: sometimes elderly gentlemen will offer to help if you happen to stand for a few seconds before a map of any kind. It can get to the point where it feels condescending: do they think, here is a foreigner, therefore he hasn’t got a clue?

Once an old bugger insisted on helping me when I didn’t need it on the subway: I’d indicated to him clearly that I knew exactly where I was going by pointing at a map in the carriage, at the stop I was getting off at and giving him the thumbs up. He wouldn’t hear of such nonsense. He continued to question me for a while in Korean. I had no idea what he was saying. Then kept a watchful eye on me the whole journey. When it was my stop, he was up and slapping me on the arm, gesticulating vigorously. It didn’t seem to matter that I was already waiting at the door to get off. I thanked him as I left as best I could without a show of gritted teeth. I mean, it probably made his day.