Getting off the Train

When you move to a place like Seoul, where peak times in traffic cause major stress factors, you have to develope some kind of defense mechanism. If you don't have a scooter that allows you to break some traffic rules, or your own car inside which you can freak out or listen to Beethoven, riding buses and the subway is the only way to get places. For example to work and back. 

That's why you find people on the subway super tensed up during crunch time hours in the morning and evening. At these times, nobody can focus on their phone, their paper, their work. Nobody just sits there listening to music, reading books. People in a packed subway train are pure drama. They keep to themselves, but everyone is on alert. One awkward move and boom, that's it.

The other day I was riding from somewhere to somewhere else, it's not important. I was on line number five and had to transfer to line number one. The mob of people was too much, the pressure, the overload of the senses, it was unbearable. That's why I chose the exit, any exit. I wanted out. I needed real air, and buildings, and the sky. I got out, and then I started walking. Finding peace with every step.

Sometimes that's what it takes, things as simple as going for a walk. I had my bag shouldered, my hands in my pockets and my earphones plugged in. I put my player on shuffle and the first song was I'm Walking by Perquisite, sampling Benjamin Herman. And to listen to that mellow tune and groove through the Jong-no district with all its tall office buildings, pure amazement. Pure, amazement.