It was a morning of gentle beauty and random kindness. The sun lent the streets a milky warmth, and my jacket relaxed around my shoulders. With a smile , I stepped on the uncrowded subway.
It swung me to Sindorim. At Exit 2, I rang my lost cellphone. It was answered by Ewha, who'd found my phone after I'd left it in a taxi.
'I'm just coming,' she spoke English well, with a bright, near American accent, ' I can see you from here.'
Ewha must have been nearing forty. But her boots bounced with a symmetric energy. With the phone, she handed me a genuine smile.
'Thank you so much. That's helped me loads. Would you like a coffee or bottle of coke?' I pointed at a snack stall.
'No that's ok. It's my pleasure. Last month I lost my phone and I couldn't get it back. It caused me so much trouble. It's my pleasure.'
'Thank you.'
'No problem,' she turned and walked , her head in line with tower blocks along the horizon.
Back in Sinchon, drums distracted me from my route home. I turned right, and saw the gathering in Lesbian Park.
Too often , Lesbian Park is a place that doesn't live up to its' name. For a start, it doesn't have any grass. Due to the Korean government's assertion that grass is expensive, Lesbian Park is a tiled pavilion. In England, it would never be called a park. But in Seoul, it's the closest thing there is.
Seemingly at least, the place is also lesbian free. Rumours circulate that it is a late night meeting point. But activities there appear in line with a culture unfamiliar to open homosexuality.
This morning, though, the park was a festival. Men crouched over board games, while women dressed in traditional hanboks gathered outside, beating drums and dancing. Then they entered and circled through the melee, their loose, exotic clothes flapping lightly in the breeze.
I entered and filmed the gathering on my phone. To them, it might have been a normal Sunday. To me, it was a step into Korea before Samsung, Christianity and cosmetic surgery changed the face of this curious land.
In an adjacent foodstore I bought cheese and porridge. The shopkeeper was watching the park through the window. For no reason, he handed me a free satsuma along with my bought goods.
Walking back under the sun, I bounced the satsuma from hand to hand, in time with the beat of the drums.
