Early Morning Encounters with Nine Koreans

Home since February 1, 2009 has been room 301 in the Yesung Life Officetel. It is located just southeast of Gangnam Station, where 110,000 people board the subway and another 110,000 alight from it every day. A creature of habit, I do not visit the other three quadrants very often. Through late 2016, I ran two miles every morning in this neighborhood. And since then, due to problems with my lower spine, I have made do with biking and an occasional 30-minute walk. Such is my exercise routine these days (in fact, it is supplemented by light lifting, pilates and stretching later in room 301). There are nine people I see or have seen with some frequency on my 6 a.m. jaunts, although I have had genuine contact with only one of them.

● A male street-sweeper, clad in the standard bright-green uniform issued by Seoul’s sanitation department. Stocky and muscular, he is also effervescent. This man is clearly happy when we cross paths. Once I saw him during the day, took a selfie with him and got it developed at the photo store run by my friend Jung-sook. You should have seen his reaction when I handed it over.

● A female street-sweeper, also in bright green. Oh, this lady is so sweet. We wave to each other with warmth and zest. I give her the old thumbs-up and tell her how proud I am of her. “Keep up the good work!” I say virtually every time. She bows to me in the Korean style. She knows no English, and yet some kind of interpersonal communication does take place.

● A man about my age whose hair is completely silver-gray. I used to see him walking around the track at Yeoksam Elementary School, but now it’s out on the streets. Another thing is that lately he is accompanied by a female—wife, sister or friend, I do not know. At any rate, I always get a big smile and a warm wave of his hand. Hers, too.

● A lady at a bus stop who apparently moved away several years ago. How and why we formed a connection, I have no idea. But in time, we would see each other and happy smiles appeared on both faces. I think of her with considerable fondness every time I pass that bus stop.

● A rather big man who walks with a cane. Like the aforementioned gray-haired gentleman, he formerly did laps at the school. A couple of times, I failed to see him while riding my bike. He would not let me pass by and called out to me strongly. We smile and wave. This makes me downright joyous.

● A young (30 or so) woman whose job is to sell yogurt and related products from her motorized cart. It is beige, matching the uniform she wears. I have made purchases from her a few times. She has eyes as bright as the sun.

● A small man in a rumpled suit who always seems to be carrying a briefcase and another bag or two. I cannot say how and why we formed a bond but that does not matter. The enthusiasm with which he greets me is very touching. He is unique in that I always stop my bike to shake hands with him. More big smiles.

● A man I met a few times. I wish I could remember his name, but I do not. He must have seen me wearing a University of Texas shirt because that was enough to spark an encounter. His son, he haltingly said, was about to start work on an MBA at UT. So one time, the three of us went to a local hamburger joint, ate lunch and talked about my alma mater and life in Austin. The guy did get his degree a couple of years later. As for the father, my sort-of friend, I learned more about him from some men I used to lift weights with at Yeoksam Gym. They said he had been a high-level banker but was told to stand down upon reaching the age of 55. Such things happen all too often in Korea.

● And finally, the fellow you see pictured here. I have all sorts of mixed feelings about him. Homeless, he wanders slowly around the neighborhood or sits or sleeps in Magpie Park next door to the Halla Classic Building, the location of my employer, Hansung Intellectual Property. There is a law against sleeping in parks in Seoul, and at one time it was vigorously enforced—but not anymore. He is unclean, of course, and nobody wants to get anywhere near him; I suspect he knows this. He has crude tattoos on his hands. More seriously, though, he has one and possibly two large scars on the back of his head. It appears that he had some kind of brain surgery in the past. I would dearly love to know his story. There are many possible explanations for why he sank to this condition, and it might not be his fault. I admit, however, that I sometimes grumble about this guy. I once said to my friend Yong Yoon that he ought to rotate between parks. Why befoul just ours? (I realize how callous that sounds, but it is the truth. I have, as you may know, my share of contradictions.) Several times I have approached him and discreetly passed him a 5,000- or 10,000-won note. In those brief moments, up close and gazing directly at each other, I detect some real intelligence and awareness. God bless him.