It was February 2023.
I was on a work trip in South Korea for a few days, auditing one of our company’s supplier factories. I was there with four other colleagues for the audit. We were in a smaller, newer town in Korea called Changwon-si which was near the coast.
It was day 2 of our work trip, a little past 9 pm. It was still cold as it was at the end of their winter, temperatures were between 2–5 degrees Celsius. My home country was a tropical country where the climate was warm, so I had not gotten used to the cold of winter yet. I blamed the cold wind for chilling me down, although I was already in my winter clothes from top to bottom.
I had left my colleagues behind at the large departmental store called Lotte because they wanted to continue shopping. I had made my rounds throughout all levels of the huge store, and not being a shopper myself, I decided I was done. I left them a message that I would make my way back to our hotel first, then I pulled on my coat and the hood over my head and headed out.
I wanted to get back to my hotel room, have a hot shower, and watch TV. Hotel TV, that is. I was an introvert and I enjoyed unwinding with a good show, or a good book.
It was windy as I stepped out, the cold hit me and I had to take a few seconds to adjust. I could not read the signboards in Korean, and I couldn’t speak the language of the locals. I reminded myself of some of the key landmarks to follow and started walking towards the streets.
The anxious side of me did worry that I would get lost on the way back, maybe get kidnapped, and be unable to reach out to the others, but the likelihood was low enough for me to take the chance for a solo walk back.
Another part of me actually enjoyed the independence and the anonymity I had.
No one knew who I was, and I could stare and view the scenery, the people, and the oddities of this land without caring about what others thought of me.
So I did just that, and nobody cared. I was a small 157 ft Asian among taller Koreans, and I obviously did not look local or fit in.
I crossed big roads with the company of strangers, I took out my phone, and snapped images along the way as I walked. I saw quaint interesting cafes and bars for late-night desserts and drinks, and wished my husband was with me so we could venture into one of them.
I walked through narrower lanes between blocks and went into a beauty store to look at their products and bought a few facial masks, and continued my walk back.
I saw a group of young men, and friends, laughing, goofing around and talking aloud together behind a restaurant, I saw older women in their 60s and 70s with their expensive bags and fur coats walk around although their form looked like some beginnings of osteoporosis on their smaller frames.
I also saw some young girls with curlers still on their hair, trying to achieve the wavy fringe that was in fashion at that time. Also monuments, tall buildings and stores, tasty restaurants with their food aroma billowing out the kitchen vents, Korean barbeque and coffee shops, and eventually, I found the way to the back entrance to my hotel.
I stepped into the warmth of the lobby and proceeded to my room. It was a good 20-minute walk, alone and cold, but the experience was one I did not regret.
I felt invisible, and weirdly empowered, maybe because I was at ease at being unknown to others I met along the way, a world apart. Okay, maybe just an ocean apart.
Honestly, it was a beautiful land, and I enjoyed my time there, and the sights, smells, and sounds I saw on that night walk are captured in my mind and photos.