Blog Entry VIII – Getting to Seoul

Up at three, we had the rental back by 3:50 and caught the 4 a.m. shuttle to the airport. The 6:18 flight lifted off the tarmac on time and we arrived in San Francisco just as shops were opening for us to have breakfast. Four hours later, we were boarding our Singapore Air jet and for the next 12 hours, we lost all sense of time.

Two friends, both seasoned Asia travelers, had often spoken about Singapore Air, and in only the most glowing of terms. Could it really be so? Well, it all started with the warm greeting from two beautiful smiling young stewardesses dressed in long flower-print gowns that reached to the floor. It didn't end until we touched down in Seoul's spanking new Incheon International Airport. In a word, we had been treated like royalty.

Was it the individual attention afforded each and every passenger or maybe the two incredible in-flight meals to which any culinary chef would have been delighted to lay claim?   Perhaps it was the delicious wines...or even the cold, red apple to cleanse our mid-flight palettes...all served with a smile. 


As wonderful as that all was, for me nothing surpassed the hot face cloths we received at each meal and the stainless steel cutlery..a far cry from that Air Canada plastic. 

Dare I say it? From time to time, we wondered how those poor souls in first class felt? All we were missing was the foot rub.

Soon we were descending. The sight below was a little harrowing. Greater Seoul alone has 26 million people - and looked it. Serried ranks of highrises just seemed to march to the horizon in all directions and as far as the eye can see.

Asia's newest airport worked with the efficiency of a Swiss watch and yet somehow maintained an atmosphere of unhurried friendliness. Stepping outside for the first time on Asian soil, the March evening sky was quickly darkening and ahead of us laid the last remnant of the old system, an hour-long bus ride from Incheon to Seoul.  So far, the stunning new rail line runs only between 8 am and 8 pm.

Incheon International Airport.  We were the last to leave the area.

Still, the lit modern skylines from both cities fascinated us. At Namdaemun Market, situated in Seoul's central area, we confidently stepped off the bus. “Everything should run smoothly now”, I thought. And why not? We were almost there and armed with Korean money, our hotel's name, address (in both languages), and phone number as well as our destination encircled on a fresh, new city map.

Our elusive hotel, the Hill House Hotel.  

The first taxi we hailed did stop. " Great! Hill House Hotel, here we come!" But then, negotiations through the passenger window took a turn. The driver spoke no English. Even though I had handed him all our information and the map and despite his putting on his glasses, confusion reigned supreme. In fact, any amount of map turning and GPS prodding didn't help. 

Soon, he was uttering some shrill incomprehensible Korean words and waving his hands like a second-base umpire. What he was clearly communicating to us was: “I don't want your fare”. Oh! Oh!

The tourism books all said that when in trouble in Korea, look helpless. That was no problem!!  

Soon out of the darkness (and it was dark), came a beautiful young Korean woman, who, in perfect English and a cute Asian accent, inquired if she could be of assistance. 


With maps and photocopied documents in hand, I explained our problem.  The next couple of minutes were spent listening to a lively discussion...in Korean...it could have been Greek.  

Suddenly the trunk lid popped and turning to us, she said, “He's good. Have a wonderful stay in Seoul.” We shook her hand and thanked her profusely.


Our driver was a good “Seoul” and he did try.  However, despite the hotel not being far, it was hidden somewhere in a maze of those dark narrow alleys that seem to cozy up to most huge avenues here. Soon both the GPS and he were talking to themselves and he began turning in circles.  Yes, we were lost.

By some quirk, I noticed a sign: “Hill House-100 Meters” and drew it to his attention to. However, the narrow entrance to the alley must have scared him because he didn't dare go any further ... and we couldn't argue. His fare for getting us that far was two thousand wan or two dollars.

We were now standing in an empty, dark intersection of many alleys, luggage in hand. Concerned, but not afraid, Linda called out that she had read that the hotel was said to be hard to find. It was the "Hill House Hotel" so we opted to take the street going up.  The weak brown light from the few strategically placed street lamps was enough to get us to the top where, discretely hidden in its surroundings, the "Hill House Hotel" appeared .... thankfully.     


Once inside, the courteous smiles and warm welcomes made it all worthwhile. Tired, we made a B line to bed.

What a day...or two! In all the confusion, we lost nothing, save Thursday. Thank you, Mr. Dateline.

Until next time!