(Saturday, January 25) After a 2-hour English class with Dr. Kyoung-min Lee, I took the subway to the National Museum of Korea. Having been there numerous times before, I knew about what to expect. This is a world-class museum, the place my NGO partners and I said should have been home to Jikji if the National Library of France had taken our advice. It is divided into two parts—permanent exhibitions on the right and special exhibitions on the left. As the former is free and the latter is downright extortionate, I always go right. But I will tell you what is currently on display to the left: Vienna 1900, The Dreaming Artists—From Gustav Klimt to Egon Schiele; Sculpted Celadon of the Goryeo Dynasty; and Geumsa-ri, Where Moon Jars Were Made.
(Sunday, January 26) I attended the 11 a.m. service at the almost-next-door Chunghyeon Presbyterian Church, changed clothes at home and went to Dongdaemun Market to find some Korea-oriented things—I got a T-shirt and three pairs of socks—for Scarlett Avincula, a blind eight-year-old Filipina who has absolutely stolen my heart. Before going home, I entered a hole-in-the-wall sikdang (restaurant) and ordered up a bowl of hot-hot-hot meat soup. Next to me was a 74-year-old man who was quite eager to talk with a foreigner. He laughed and called himself my elder brother.
(Monday, January 27) Cold and snowy weather would not deter me from going to Gyeongbokgung, Seoul’s main royal palace. I observed the changing of the guards, which is actually just a re-enactment of what was the real thing until the darn Japanese took over in 1910. By the mid-1920s, these jerks had destroyed Gyeongbokgung and erected their imposing Government-General Building in its place—the symbolism was impossible to miss. That detested edifice was torn down in 1996 and a new version of the palace rebuilt. I will remind you that the original (built by order of King Taejo in 1394) was destroyed by the Japanese during the Hideyoshi Invasions of 1592–1598 and was in ruins for more than 250 years; the royal court was at a different palace during that time. I walked halfway down Gwanghwamun Plaza and located the Original Pancake House where I consumed a delicious and slightly self-indulgent meal.
(Tuesday, January 28) More cold and snow. I took the subway to Nambu Bus Terminal, where many of my 2008–2020 excursions began and ended. After a short taxi ride, I was at Seoul Arts Center—always an interesting place. In fact, most of the shops on streets fronting it (the back is a forest) are for buying musical instruments, learning ballet and so on. Either going on now or coming up soon are a cello recital, a piano recital, a trumpet recital, the Seoul Winter Music Festival, the Spring Duo Concert, the 2025 Mozarteum Summer Academy and the Beethoven Symphony Project. The big thing on this day was a Van Gogh exhibition called “A Great Passion.” The line to get in was too long, so I just perused the gift shop. There were Vince mouse pads, Vince bags, Vince jigsaw puzzles, Vince umbrellas, prints of the master’s works—you name it. I bought an old-fashioned post card (“Sorrowing Old Man”) and a couple of 3-D ones (“The Sower” and “Starry Night over the Rhone”). While paying the bill of 14,000 won, I asked the lady behind the counter if she was aware that Van Gogh was not a suicidee. I have read two lengthy biographies of this great Dutch painter and written about him here: https://richardpennington.com/2017/07/17/in-search-of-vincent-van-gogh/.
(Wednesday, January 29) Day number five of my six-day Seollal holiday consisted of a subway ride north of the Han River to the Seoul Museum of History. I should have visited this place a long time ago! Almost as soon as I walked in, I met a chubby and friendly Chinese guy who made no secret of his dislike for the Communist party; me too. I spent nearly two hours there, learning more about the city in which I have lived for almost exactly 16 years. (I got here from Daegu on January 31, 2009.) I was previously unaware that Seoul is bidding to be the host city of the 2036 Olympics, a re-do of the triumph of 1988.
(Thursday, January 30) I took Line 2 over to Line 4 and then north to Myeongdong Station, intent on returning to Namsan (“South Mountain”). This is where, 10 years ago, a friend had taken a series of photographs of me with the sprawling city in the background, one of which was used on the cover of A Seoul Miscellany. He later translated my jocular “Advance Praise for A Seoul Miscellany” into Korean, three segments of which I will reprise here in the original:
“The world has been waiting for A Seoul Miscellany, and finally it is here. We should thank Pennington profusely for what he has done.” —Wall Street Journal
“A Seoul Miscellany is a heady blend of interesting, poignant and sometimes harsh tales. There has never been a writer like Richard Pennington.” —Xinhua News Agency (Beijing)
“Pennington’s magnum opus should be translated into 100 languages and made required reading in every classroom. It’s that good!” —Sydney Morning Herald
When I stepped up to buy my ticket for the cable-car ride, the lady pardoned herself and asked my age. I told her, and she proceeded to give me a 25% discount. It’s not the first time this has happened. Upon arrival, I walked to some of the better places to take photos. I did not stay long, however. It was cold, and there were too many infidels. Whenever I see one of those swarthy women wearing a rag on her head, I mumble, “That s—t ain’t gonna get you to heaven, sister, take my word for it!”
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