Day two in Seoul. Nicholas is still limping. The knee is “fine.” He needs it to be fine because there’s a big hike planned at the end of this trip, and if he can’t bend his leg by then, that hike isn’t happening.
Also, Korean elections were happening.
We walked out of the hotel and immediately found ourselves in the middle of some kind of political rally situation. Barricades everywhere. Police vehicles. Campaign displays on the sidewalks with robots draped in American flags. The vibe was intense and very familiar in a way that was hard to place at first, and then very easy to place. Nicholas said it felt like watching a rally back home, just in Korean.
I can’t comment. I’m a bear. They don’t let me vote.
A lot of streets were barricaded off because of protests, which meant our walking route kept getting rerouted. More walking for peg leg. Great.
But walking in Seoul does have its perks.
Gwanghwamun. The main gate of Gyeongbokgung Palace. Built in 1395, burned down, rebuilt, burned down again, rebuilt again. Seoul’s whole deal, honestly. Everything here has been destroyed and rebuilt at least twice. Resilient city.
Visitors were dressed in hanbok, the traditional Korean clothing, which apparently gets you free entry to the palace. Smart move by the tourism board. Pokin considered renting one. Nicholas considered the state of his knee and opted out.
The palace grounds are beautiful. Painted eaves, dark tile roofs, courtyards that stretch on forever. I could get used to this. Someone build me one.
Now. Let me tell you about the Labubu situation.
Pop Mart is this toy company that makes designer collectible figures. The hot item at the time was Labubu, this little gremlin-looking thing that comes in blind boxes. You don’t know which one you’re getting. It’s a loot box. A physical, $15, stand-in-line-for-an-hour loot box.
A friend’s wife wanted one. So naturally, the entire trip became a Labubu reconnaissance mission.
Every day, part of our Seoul itinerary became: find Pop Mart, check stock, no Labubus, move on.
We went to this Pop Mart. Out of stock. We went to another one. Out of stock. We went to a third. Out of stock.
They were just never in stock. Anywhere. In the entire city of Seoul. Every single day.
Eventually Pokin had a revelation. Pop Mart is originally from Hong Kong. Pokin is from Hong Kong. She called her cousins and asked them to just get one there. Which they did.
Spoiler: we never got a single Labubu in Korea.
In between the Labubu hunt, we actually saw some beautiful things.
Queen’s Bakery in the Anguk neighborhood had a life-sized teddy bear sitting outside in an apron. Finally, a café that understands customer service.
The pastries inside were absurd. Strawberry croissants piled with cream. Chocolate muffins with gold leaf. Canelés. Grand Marnier on the shelf behind the counter. This is what a bakery should be.
We wandered through Bukchon and found a capsule machine shop sorted by MBTI personality types. Korea is obsessed with MBTI. People ask your type the way Americans ask your sign. Nicholas is INTJ, which according to the internet means “strategic mastermind.” According to me, it means “overthinks everything and hates small talk.” He didn’t disagree.
We ended up at Jogyesa Temple, Seoul’s main Buddhist temple. Hundreds of lotus lanterns strung overhead in every color, radiating out like a rainbow ceiling. They do this for Buddha’s Birthday, but the setup was already in full display.
Every lantern has a little tag with a name and a wish written in Korean. Hundreds of them clustered around the stone pagoda. It was quiet in there. Peaceful. A nice break from the election noise and the Pop Mart lines.
End of day two. Nicholas’s knee survived. No Labubus were acquired. Several pastries were consumed.
Seoul, we’re just getting started.