I wake up this past Saturday in the land of "fresh morning", with the certainty that South Korea is the perfect product of tradition and modernity. A simple stretch of road in my friend's electric KIA projects me into a George Lucas film. Outside music emanates from the backing vehicle, a sort of whistling melody straight out of science fiction films. It can travel over five hundred kilometers on a single thirty-minute charge. You do not need as much autonomy to reach the village of Bukchon Hanok. Over six hundred years old, these beautiful little houses pile up on top of one of the countless hills, right in the center of Seoul. Thanks to the total absence of tourists, I am the only one to wander through the narrow streets, applauded by the pointed roofs and the massive heavy doors that protect their inhabitants from the curious.
Well aligned and in tune with my immediate surroundings, I am confident and continue to walk aimlessly. Just flirt with this masked city. I plan to take pictures of Seoul in the snow. While the sky is a beautiful deep blue, I dream of grays and snowflakes. I smell his scent, I feel his presence. The light flickers and fades but I can already feel the flakes caress my face, enter my eyes to make me cry, with joy. I hear the crunch of snow under my feet. But for now the sky is desperately blue. I suggest stopping at the Museum of Modern Art. I must not have put enough energy into this intention because I had a magnificent refusal. The Korean health pass is mandatory. Nothing else. It will be for another time. As Heraclitus said, “the cultivation of the mind is another sun for educated people”.
The sun was still there, shining in a bare sky. I decide to go back in time a little more by going to the Palace of “Resplendent Happiness”. Whose story is fascinating but it is above all the feeling of plenitude that pierced me the first. This palace, Gyeongbokgung, was not spared by the Japanese invasions which saw fit to destroy all the palaces in Seoul. These buildings were rebuilt at the start of the 20th century, but the place, the land, has erased and repaired the horrors of the past.
This small mountain to the left of the entrance to the Palace captivated me and will attract my attention throughout the long visit of the more than forty thousand square meters of the site. Still aligned, accepting the absence of glitter, I still felt them on me. It is repetition that reinforces the intention, without clinging to it, by accepting not to receive while being certain to be heard. It is the subtlety of intention.
My friends the guards are still there, watching the past. To continue the tradition still well anchored like an assumed folklore. Many young people rent period costumes and come to photograph themselves in the palace, or are they looking for Prince Charming? I weave my way through the meshes of royal buildings in search of a place of peace to meditate. I feel it very close. The body acts like a radar and begins to vibrate. Time doesn't really exist anymore, it's the pleasure of walking alone. No schedule, no constraints, just feel and capture the envious looks of the many photographers by spotting the red dot.
My heart thought to stop when I reached one of the gardens where a majestic building is inked in the middle of a frozen pond. The proud and protective mountain calls out to me with all its might. I put my butt on the ice bench but eyes closed, the incredible happens. In a few seconds, the sky hides, united with the little humans who try to protect themselves from the infinitely small. The wind picks up and I can feel it on my cheeks. The drop, the flake. It is starting to snow, as I expected. Clusters of cottons descend silently before our amazed eyes. Contrary to the agitation of visitors in costumes, I have a moment to thank. Never forget to thank. When I opened my eyes, the imagined image was there. Ready to be picked.
Simply, effortlessly, you just have to be patient, and be grateful to Nature in front of such beauty. I contemplate this marvelous view conducive to meditation, balance is King and Peace its queen. I am pushed towards the exit by a desire to contemplate the tumult of the city suffocated by the white powder which accumulates on the ground. The magic does not stop there and just before leaving the Palace, two young girls take "selfies" in "traditional" outfits. Their excitement is proportional to the size of the huge flakes.
Hardly returned to the arena of the city, punctuated by the horns of people in a hurry, than I advance in an unusual tumult. A man seems to be cursing the crowd with his microphone and a good "sound system". As I approached, I was amazed to see a woman, in the middle of the crowd without a mask! It's a surreal scene. She dares to sit there, alone, without a mask, in the middle of a crowd of police officers who were trying to make pedestrian traffic more fluid.
I continued my urban exploration among these apprentice "yellow vests" to find myself on an interesting crossroads as the storm hit the city. I still don't know the reasons for these protests, but a source familiar with the matter told me that many of these rebels were in fact paid to be there and protest!
The snow continued to fall, making Seoul look like New York. A little more and I thought I was Saul Leiter! The proud warrior faced the elements. All the cities are beautiful in the snow. Everything is beautiful under the snow. Its immaculate design, the mathematical perfection of its structure exudes airs of the absolute.
The inhabitants walk more slowly, so as not to slip, and they stop to take a picture of themselves while, like all children in the world, roll snowballs to make snowmen or smash them on their heads.
Hands numb with the metal of my Leica, I look for a local cafe, where I can find good tea and a pastry. I walk into Starbucks. The cozy armchairs, the cozy atmosphere, the warmth and the free Wi-Fi got the better of my quest. Faced with the impossibility of finding a cooperative taxi, I have an irrepressible desire to return to my hotel after more than seventeen kilometers of walking. As the day draws near to take her bow, I am that lady who repeatedly fails to slip. The atmosphere is such that I can not help but capture this moment containing the entire Universe. The hunters of the “Four Seasons” offer to help me order my coach and return to the castle before midnight. T
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