Seoul/Bucheon – Siminka's View

Waking up was a struggle this morning. Our pre-booked taxis were waiting for us at 5:45 AM. I was hoping for a smooth airport experience like the day before, but unfortunately, reality had other plans. It was just the usual, boring airport routine. The flight was so short we didn’t even have time for a nap—we took off at 9:00 and were landing shortly after 10:00. Since we didn’t have a working VPN in China, we hadn’t bothered with online arrival cards for South Korea. So, after landing, we had to fill out health declaration forms and arrival cards. The hardest part was the address field—it’s tough to copy-paste offline, and we only had the address in the original Korean. Luckily, a helpful worker filled it out for us. Immigration was packed with people and long lines, so we really appreciated being fast-tracked because of Simeon.

We bought 9-day SIM cards for about $27 each. Then Johnny sorted out Tmoney cards for public transport. The clerk misunderstood him and loaded less money than we’d planned, so we had to top them up. But you couldn’t do that with a card—only cash. Johnny went to find an ATM and came back ages later, looking exhausted. He said the Korean ATM was incredibly complicated and getting money out was a real battle. (I tried it myself a few days later and spent a while puzzling over it too. There were two screens and a flood of Korean text that I couldn’t translate fast enough with Google Lens. Eventually, I spotted a tiny, inconspicuous green button in the bottom right corner of the lower screen to change the language. Lesson learned: be patient and look for the hidden buttons.)

With our Tmoney cards, we headed for the metro. We stayed in Bucheon City, which isn’t actually Seoul. We chose it because the price difference for eight nights was a staggering $850.

One thing to watch out for with Tmoney is the “beep.” You have to tap in and out of all public transport. I once messed up my whole sequence because Simeon suddenly needed to use the restroom, and the bathrooms in the metro are behind the turnstiles. After that, I couldn’t get back in sync with the system, and it started charging me random amounts—always significantly higher than what the rest of the family was paying.

The trip from the airport was long. Between getting lost and transferring, it took us about three hours to reach our place. The apartment was nice and clean, but tiny. At least we had separate rooms. I slept with three kids in one room, Johnny slept in the living room/kitchen/hallway combo, and Leo was the only one who lived like a king with his own little room. There were no closets or storage spaces, so all our things stayed in suitcases that barely fit in the apartment. Despite being one of the smallest places we’ve stayed, it was probably the best equipped. The kitchen and bathroom had everything we needed, so we didn’t have to buy a thing.

Bucheon and Seoul are both beautiful, polished, and clean. But one thing that absolutely drove me crazy was the lack of trash cans. It’s unbelievable that in such a civilized country, there’s nowhere to throw away garbage. It was so annoying to have to carry a bag of trash with me all day. There aren’t even dumpsters near the houses; trash is just left on the street in bags. Apparently, this “no-bin culture” is also a thing in Japan and Taiwan. I read the reasons for it, but the arguments didn’t convince me. They should definitely reconsider, at least in areas with tourists and students, so people don’t have to lug around inconvenient trash all day.

Seoul and its surroundings don’t have much in common with the rest of Asia we’ve seen. I didn’t notice any local “oddities.” It’s a city built to Western standards. But unlike many Western metropolises, it’s clean, safe, and quiet. I loved the wide, accessible sidewalks with no obstacles. Bucheon was full of green parks and well-kept urban spaces, with large, safe playgrounds and sports fields near the apartment complexes. The streets were incredibly peaceful, with no visual or light pollution (much like Shenzhen). And instead of scooters, there were bicycles everywhere. Everyone looked clean and well-dressed. Elderly men wore suits and hats. No one looked ragged, dirty, or smelly. Even the seniors collecting recyclables took pride in their appearance. What I missed, however, was local street food. There were stalls in the center, but they felt more like they were for show, and the price-to-quality ratio didn’t meet our expectations (prices were similar to Slovakia, but the quality was nowhere near Thailand, China, or Vietnam). We found some cheaper, more local street food in Bucheon near a playground, but even that didn’t really appeal to us. The food culture in Korea is different—people cook at home more and eating out is more of a special occasion, similar to Slovakia. Most of the food options were American-style. Fast food was everywhere, along with very sugary drinks and snacks labeled “fatty” that made you feel guilty just looking at them. I was actually surprised by how many kids and adults were on the rounder side. I’d thought Korea was all about fitness and healthy local food.

The KakaoMap app was a lifesaver for public transport. You just enter your start and end points, and it tells you exactly which metro line to take, where to transfer, which bus to catch, and even how crowded it is. It made those endless long-distance trips much more manageable and kept us from getting lost in time and space. Honestly, though, if it weren’t for Matyas and his amazing sense of direction, I’d still be wandering the metro despite the app.

The metro was nice. Cheongdam station, for example, was beautifully decorated with greenery. There was even a spot that reminded me of a scene from an old sci-fi movie—a bench under an artificial tree where you could sit and listen to forest sounds from a speaker.

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Objectively, the city feels good. It doesn’t have that “authentic” Asian feel, and it’s not exactly futuristic anymore, but you can see they care about creating a pleasant environment. If you want a taste of Asia but with Western European or US standards, Seoul is great. But we didn’t feel particularly good there in the first few days. It was just a feeling, but we all felt it independently. The locals seemed unhappy. There was a certain heaviness in the air, both in the metro and on the streets—a sense of gloom or melancholy. No one wore anything bright or colorful; everyone was dressed in grays, earth tones, and dark colors, as if they wanted to be invisible. No one smiled. No one talked. It was silent everywhere, with everyone just staring at their phones.

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On our first day, we went to Myeongdong in the heart of the city. There were tourists, but it wasn’t as bustling as we’d come to expect from Asian cities. I never would have guessed the center of Seoul would be so “dead.” Even the tourists seemed serious.

The atmosphere in Hongdae on a Friday night was completely different. That was the Seoul I’d imagined—crowds, music, and colorful lights. There were tourists, but the majority were young, stylish Koreans. We took the kids, but it wasn’t the best decision; it wasn’t really a place for them. There were performers on the street, and the first one we saw was a trans person—an older man dressed as a schoolgirl, singing loudly. Arthur was so shocked he started crying. We didn’t stay long. Johnny saw us to the bus home and then went back with Leo to experience the Friday night life.

Johnny had to work, so I took the kids out myself for two days. On the second day, we went to the aquarium. Arthur had been talking about Japanese spider crabs after seeing them on Octonauts, and ChatGPT convinced me they’d be there. After about an hour and a half of travel and some wandering around the underground COEX mall, we finally found the entrance. Admission for me and the three kids was about $65. It was nice, but after the Abu Dhabi aquarium, it felt like a waste of money—especially since there were no spider crabs, which left Arthur disappointed. Still, they enjoyed it. We also checked out the massive library in the mall, which is clearly a popular Instagram spot given the number of selfie sticks.

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On the third day, we headed to the Seoul Zoo, which is actually in a different city—Gwacheon. Our goal was the botanical garden because Matyas wanted to see carnivorous plants, and it’s in the same complex as the zoo, called Grand Park. Since the younger kids always manage to delay us—someone always needs to use the bathroom, eat, or whatever—we didn’t arrive until the afternoon. We reached what looked like the main entrance, but the woman at the window told me she only sold tickets for the cable car and a little train. I wanted to keep it simple since we had a clear plan, so we had to walk about a kilometer to the actual zoo entrance. Along the way, we saw a bold raven attack two young Korean women sitting on some steps. It wanted their food and managed to snatch it while they just shrieked. We passed the Seoul Land amusement park and stopped to watch a small excavator, nearly getting hit by a car that was coming out from behind a gate. Arthur noticed it and I pulled the kids back. Then we heard a crash—the car had smashed through the gate, and the driver was running after it, trying to stop it. He managed to, and luckily no one was hurt.

The setting was beautiful, surrounded by hills (like our Carpatians) and a lake. People go there for hikes, picnics, or camping, or just to sit on a bench and relax. The zoo was fine—plenty of public restrooms, drinking fountains, and places to eat. There were cafeterias, but mostly several 7-Eleven shops. I’d missed seeing local kids in the city, but it turns out they were all at the zoo! It was full of school groups, parents, and grandparents with little ones. The air was full of happy shouting and children’s chatter—the complete opposite of the city’s gloom. There were playgrounds, and lounge chairs where you could lie back and enjoy the view of the hills. In contrast, the animals in their enclosures didn’t seem nearly as happy. Everything was surrounded by chain-link fences, making it feel like a border zone. The animals just stood or lay there motionlessly. Even the monkeys, usually so active, were silent. I’d expected more from the botanical garden, too. The carnivorous plant section we’d traveled all that way for was tiny, with only a few species, some of which looked pretty sad. But it was enough for Matyas, so mission accomplished.

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We only really went into Seoul twice. I didn’t enjoy it much because it felt too touristy and business-oriented. Bucheon, on the other hand, was family-friendly and felt like what I’d want Bratislava to be—except for the trash cans. Arthur managed to make friends with some local kids at our complex, and they even included Simeon because they thought he was cute. We spent three beautiful sunny days at the playgrounds and didn’t bother with any other attractions. Besides, Johnny and Matyas were hit with a combination of allergies and illness. It was very dry and dusty with pollen everywhere, and about 15-20 degrees cooler than in China. They were clearly worn out from all the travel. I was glad that while two members of the family were “out of commission,” we could still find plenty to do right in our neighborhood.

Summary

I left Korea with mixed feelings. Some things I really liked, and others I found off-putting. But it definitely didn’t end up in the same category as the UAE or Bali—places I never want to visit again.

And since I complained about the Chinese being on their phones in a previous article, I have to mention that Koreans are also constantly glued to their screens. In the metro, no one saw or heard anything; they were all just staring at their devices. The only ones not looking were the ones who had fallen asleep from exhaustion—but even they were still clutching their phones.