It is my last night in Seoul, and that may be why I am so keenly attuned to the goodbyes all around me, but everyone seems to be bidding farewell. A loud group of ahjummas and ahjussis yell at each other in the middle of the street, several of them visibly tipsy. “See you soon! Watch out!” It’s a protracted ritual, they don’t seem to want to part, and the fact that they are shouting in the middle of the street adds to the comic drama.
Halfway down the block, two women in front of me are holding hands as they walk. They embrace, and one rides away on a bike, waving as she weaves adroitly through the crowd. A crescendo of cicadas provides the soundtrack. It feels like I am in a movie.
Around the corner, I walk past three men bowing. One of them, the obvious junior, holds the door of a taxi open for the two older gents, who give him an approving pat on the shoulder as they enter the backseat. The man on the sidewalk gives one more deep bow as the car drives away.
