South Korea: Travel Guide

The inexhaustible energy of a country in transition

South Korea is not a country that lets itself be understood at first glance. It didn’t strike me immediately, but the more I moved through its streets, the more I began to feel a sort of slow, almost subterranean attraction. It is a place crossed by an explosion of energy that reflects in its people and cities.

It is a hyper-modern country, suspended between tradition and global influence. What has always fascinated me is the discreet presence of historical places and a daily life that maintains its own proud identity, despite being heavily permeated by Western cultural models. In this context, the human element emerges strongly: Koreans often work for many hours in extremely competitive environments, yet they always seem to keep a reserve of energy to go out at night, share a drink, and transform stress into shared lightness.

A casual arrival and an unexpected stay

I have spent a lot of time here, enough to consider South Korea one of the places I feel as home. I arrived almost by chance, following that somewhat nomadic logic that prefers to let things happen. I remember a guy I met in a hostel in Taipei who told me he had just arrived from Seoul. Intrigued by his stories, and seeing that my Taiwanese visa was expiring, I bought a one-way ticket.

I thought I would stay for a short time. Instead, Korea turned into another one of those lands I always return to. I had the opportunity to explore it deeply: the east coast, the south, the beautiful volcanic island of Jeju, and the mountains around Seoul, where hiking trails allow you to leave the noise of the city behind and observe from above the urban expanse that continues to live far away.

Steamy nights, street food, and Euljiro 3

I can’t talk about Korea without mentioning the local food, a universe of flavors that was entirely new to me at the time: I had never even heard of kimchi, for example. The night street food is one of my most vivid memories: small tables pulled up in neon-lit alleys, steam rising from the pots, and the scent of broth cutting through the cold evening air. The restaurants also tell of a world of social relationships, often discovered by following a local and letting yourself be guided by their idea of conviviality.

The evenings in Euljiro 3 remain etched in my memory: beers drunk outside venues hidden among industrial alleys, transformed over the years into spaces of nocturnal social life. Slow chats, glasses being refilled, and continuous toasts to chase away the fatigue of the day.

The four seasons and the memory of a journey

South Korea was also the first country in Asia where I truly lived the full cycle of the four seasons. The cold winters, with air that catches your breath and snow that changes the rhythm of the cities. The scorching and humid summers, dense with light and movement. The spring of cherry blossoms exploding suddenly along the avenues. The autumn that colors every tree with deeper and more melancholic tones. It was a simple but significant discovery, a new dimension of experiencing Asia.

I will always remember a woman I met while traveling on a bus in the countryside in the center of the country. Before getting off, she turned to me and simply said: “Make beautiful memories“, as if she were pointing out an invisible path for me to follow.

Korea remains a modern and extremely comfortable country to travel through, yet complex to fully decipher. The more you travel it, the more a stratification of contrasts and small daily wonders emerges. And perhaps it is precisely this continuous discovery, this imperfect balance between the frenzy of the future and ancient rhythms, that makes this place so magnetic.