Finding the Romantic Soul of Seoul

I have said to many people many times in the past, and I will say it again, "every spot in Korea, if not specifically designated as another function, can be and is a dating spot." Strolling through malls, parks, and random streets, the sights of couples with locked hands and loving conversations are something that cannot be avoided by any means. As if to declare to the entire world that they are in love and with complete disregard for the (supposedly) Confucian tradition of toning things a bit down in public spaces, the young couples have made the streets of the metropolis dissipate invisible pink hearts at any corner and at any time of the day.

Pardon the completely overused and cliched "soul=Seoul" pun, but for the past days, I have been trying to track down exactly where all these energy for romance are generated...and gets dissipated. In a society known for social conservatism based a strong sense of different social groupings, it is always a wonder how people get past the stage of just putting on an awkward polite face to complete strangers to, a couple of months, throwing away all social prohibitions out in the public, all in the name of love.

The search, as a matter of fact, should begin in the college student neighborhoods, home of the social group most responsible for filling the city's atmosphere with scents of romance. Just another 9pm, and another night of drinking in a different student neighborhood from the one last weekend. The comparatively shabby, yet much cheaper and commoner-oriented neighborhood was filled with young crowds, girls with short shorts showing their beautiful legs, and guys, well, too busy looking at those beautiful legs.

Another night of Korean-style "hunting" and "being hunted" begins. Not in sight are the Western staples of dance clubs and European pubs for random people to hook up, but plenty of Korean-style watering holes, offering up Korean beers and crowd-favorite soju (20% potato liquor), for a crowd eager to line up in front of their door for their turns to get in. Why the lines? Well, the "special" drinking places offers an orderly way for the guys to try their hands without the background noises of clubs. Buy the girl you like a drink, and see what goes down tonight....

The Observer (yours truly) unfortunately did not have enough of a Korean language background to make such an (rather expensive, if more chances are wanted) experience actually worthwhile. But walking through the truly domestic youth neighborhood of the town with relatively little Western influences, the Observer and his friend are still getting a few "I-want-to-talk-to-this-guy" (sort of) eyes from passerby (guys and girls) as we walked down the streets speaking (honestly, screaming) completely drunken yet highly fluent English...

Contrary to the common perception of the sensitive Korean guys and girls, I am actually courageous enough to start thinking that all that intimate-looking conversations couples are having on the streets may be just so much empty words and hot air, at least in the beginning stages. Perhaps the ability to keep a flurry of loving words back-and-forth keep the couples happy (at least by outer appearances seen on the streets), but those words are definitely not what initially generate the "romance."

Walking down the streets of the increasingly shady college neighborhood, there was just too little talking and too much staring across the sexes. The "romantic soul" within each person seems to be burning, fueled by the cheap alcohol of the "meet-your-significant-other" bars. At some point, for everyone still not falling on the sidewalks and sleeping on the benches in the subway stations, it was no longer the soul that was chasing after love, it was entirely something else.

The soul, meanwhile, either burned or drowned to death by the non-stop liquid input of all-night binge drinking. As the Observer watched a movie in the nearby DVD room as he waited for the first train in the morning to go home, he can hear light moaning in the room next door, followed by incessant banging by body parts on the shared wall of the two rooms. Yep, as vulgar and XXX as it may really be, in this sketchy yet dirt-cheap "personal movie theater" on the 4th floor of a crumbling office building, the Romantic Soul of the metropolis is somehow, unwillingly and unwittingly, emm, found...

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