BIG CITY

Seoul, S. Korea; a forty minute bus ride from Yongin and my current quarters. I’m in Korea as the guest of my niece Terry and her husband, Sung Ho. Space is cramped in the apartment but when you step outside, every space is cramped. Everything I see reminds me of how spoiled, if you will, we Americans are with wide-open spaces to accommodate our expanding needs. With over 10 million souls in Seoul (pardon the pun) the only place left to go is up. Mile after mile, 25-30 story apartment/condo towers are laid out like corn rows in farm fields. On the streets below, amazingly, bumper to bumper traffic moves along. There is a powerful sense of accommodation, people yielding to the needs of the whole; but that’s a story for another day.

When we crossed the river, coming up from the south, Sung Ho pointed back to our right at the concentration of high rise buildings that dissolved, out of focus in the distance. “That is where you jumped in 1961.” In ’61 I was a parachute rigger, assigned to the 2nd 503 Airborne Battle Group, US Army, stationed on the island of Okinawa. In early spring we flew up in the wee hours and made a training jump on the Han River flood plain, across the river from the city. I’m good with maps and figured out where we had been. That was 53 years ago. Today, that sandy, scrub region, as far as you can see is named Gangnam, one of the most affluent sections of the city. Today, a helicopter would have trouble finding a place to land.

My job on the jump was to supervise recovery of parachutes and other air delivery items. The sun had just risen and first light was on the tall buildings. As my canopy opened I could see the city, a couple of miles west and across the river. On hitting the ground, I was surprised to see people living in makeshift shelters, between sandy berms and under bushes. Children appeared from nowhere and we had to protect our equipment from little pirates. The fun ended when trucks arrived at the assembly point and it became just another work day. That night when line troops were in the field on maneuvers, I was on board one of two C-130’s hauling parachutes back to Kadena Air Base, Okinawa. It was just a fleeting glance up stream as we crossed into the city but my recall was crystal clear. 

In Seoul, we walked the tourist section with booths and stalls, banners on every window and something marked down 50% in every store. A cold, cutting wind made us zip jackets and pull up hoods. In this vertical environment, sunshine seldom reaches the street. We ate at a restaurant that reminded me of Spanish Tapas, except the food itself. Kimchi, tofu, rice and stuff I didn’t recognize was served in separate dishes to be shared. It tasted alright which is good enough for now. Chop sticks will come quickly; all I need is repetition. I’m told that I should practice transferring M&M’s from one bowl to another.

Walking between tall towers, we come upon a clear, shallow space with an old, traditional, Buddhist temple and courtyard. Jogyesa Temple is the center for Zen Buddhism in all of Korea and people were arriving for the 7:00 service. Through the glass panel doors, two giant, gold Buddhas rose against the wall to the ceiling and the monk in charge was already chanting. The service had begun. Folks were seated or kneeling around the walls on pillows. The reds and golds along with the dark wood  was surreal. 

On the bus ride home, all I could see outside were oncoming headlights. When we boarded, the bus was nearly empty and we had our pick of seats. Soon, it was packed tight; little old ladies with shopping bags, brief-cased men in western suits and teenagers in school uniforms, back packs full of text books. Everybody, I mean everybody, except me; was engaged on their smart phones. Those standing, hanging onto hand holds were adept at shifting weight and changing hands as the bus lurched through traffic. A friendly, head nodding, smiling gentleman beside me was searching the internet until I dozed off for a few minutes. When I looked over again, a woman, flipping photos left and right had taken his place. Her fingernails should have precluded her cell phone usage but they would would have made a tiger jealous. Someday soon, I’ll be able to negotiate the bus schedule by myself and I’ll be comfortable with maps. My smart phone skills though, are sadly unpolished and I fear I’ll never catch up.