Is Seoul dull?

Answer: sort of. 

To be clear, Seoul is cool. Tasty food. Delightful, welcoming people. Comfortable climate. Neat culture. Efficient transportation. Lots of greenery. Er …

I’m running out of tepid superlatives.

When you go someplace faraway that turns out to be a partial disappointment, there’s not much you can do but shrug and eat the money you spent, doing it with a wincing grin and a strained bulwark around regret. 

I just returned from a week in Seoul, South Korea, and while I had a fine time, ate well and overall enjoyed the novelty of an uncharted capital city, it was lacking the electricity, neon bang and enveloping fizz I was hoping for, and indeed feel I was promised in my exhaustive research for the trip.

Things that stood out: Korean fried chicken, which cheekily goes by the initials KFC but ably kicks that franchise’s ass as far as creativity and salivating edibility. Also Korean BBQ, which requires guests to grill slabs of raw pork or beef and veggies on a grill in the middle of their table, and is served with an array of traditional Korean sides, including, of course, kimchi, love it or hate it (I kinda like that spicy pickled cabbage). 

A table mate cooking up Korean BBQ at the same place Anthony Bourdain ate his first K-BBQ.

What else? A clutch of world-class museums, like the Leeum Museum of Art, hosting riveting contemporary and traditional Korean art, and the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, where the first major Asian exhibition of British provocateur Damien Hirst (genius or charlatan?) was being showcased. Squirming with live octopuses, crabs and lobsters, and perfumed with tongue-tickling eons of Korean street food, the bustling Gwangjang Market offered excellent vittles — if you factor out the misbegotten “gelato” I dumbly bought.         

And yet for all that, plus its plush verdancy — trees are abundant, parks plentiful — Seoul is far from the most handsome city I’ve visited. A hazy, pale brown sameness dominates and the skyline is crowded with towering forests of depressingly uniform apartment buildings that resemble the subsidized urban housing found in, say, New York.  

I was underwhelmed. Maybe I set my sights too high. What I ask when I journey half-way round the globe is astonish me. I’ve been to adequate places before. The beaut that is Budapest, for one, didn’t knock my socks off. And Bologna, despite its undeniable gothic charm, failed to make my head spin. Arles: same. Buenos Aires: ditto.

In no particular order, I can rattle off twenty major cities that are more exciting, more charismatic, than Seoul, places I would gladly return to and have: Paris, Istanbul, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Rome, San Francisco, Barcelona, Lisbon, Madrid, Sevilla, Mexico City, Berlin, Naples, Ho Chi Minh City, Shanghai, Krakow, London, Florence, Mumbai, Bangkok.

What specifically let me down in Seoul? I won’t dwell on the negative — nothing was actually bad — though I will point out two areas of the city that are oversold. 

First, Gyeongbokgung Palace. It actually is a magnificent spread of ancient royalty and spiritual significance. Until you learn that the palace was built in the 1500s but was destroyed over decades and partially rebuilt in 1960. What stands now comes from a long-term restoration project that began in the 1990s and is still ongoing.

Oh. One of those. It’s like looking at a museum model, so removed from the original structure that it seems fake, a Lego model kit. And this is considered the top site to visit in Seoul. Hit the snooze button.

The latest version of Gyeongbokgung Palace, where you stroll while your mind wanders to lunch plans.

Then there’s Seongsu-dong, Seoul’s premier “newtro” hotspot, often called the “Brooklyn of Seoul” for its blend of repurposed industrial factories, trendy cafes and fashion pop-ups. A huge draw is the gaudy Dior store, in front of which girls and women snap mortifying selfies for reasons unfathomable. 

I actually paid a guide to shuttle me through this consumer orgasm on a tour he curated. He showed me sunglasses stores, phone and K-beauty stores. I would smile and nod, wondering, wha? He led me into pretty cafes and eateries, where we did not drink or eat. I would nod again, impressed, but not really.

On a happier note, my hotel was a dazzling oasis in the lively Itaewon district, stacked with elegant bars and restaurants and even featured one of Korea’s ever-reliable convenience stores (as in Japan and Hong Kong, 7-Eleven is ubiquitous). The impeccable staff at the hotel couldn’t have been more gracious and helpful. I’ve never said thank you so many times, so genuinely, in such a short period. 

Still, in Seoul, Korea, the epicenter of all things high-tech, futuristic and culturally forward, and from whence sparkling K-pop was born and unleashed like lightning across the world, I couldn’t help but wonder … Where’s the pop?

Chewing through Charleston

I did it right, I nailed it. During my quick foodie tour through Charleston, South Carolina, I sidled up to the bars at five restaurants I urgently wanted to hit, the places that songs are written about, that journalists spill fragrant ink over, that Uber drivers gasp in amazement, “You got into (restaurant name here)?”

I researched and read. The internet was my friend. I watched Anthony Bourdain and “Chef’s Table” and “The Mind of a Chef.” I emailed eateries for the tricks and maneuvers that would guarantee I’d get in without a dinner reservation. (Simple: Arrive well before 5 p.m. Wait outside. When the doors open, nab a seat at the bar. Eat. Drink. Rejoice.)

Charleston is a powerhouse food destination, cutting-edge and farm fresh, and not one thing I ate was less than exemplary. Vittles vaulted me to that pleasure zone, a kind of palate paradise, where you sigh and go, Yeah.

Where and what I ate:

(Assume I loved every dish, passionately, and click the restaurant name for more info.)

  • HUSK, 76 Queen Street:

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Wood Fired White Stone Oysters, Green Garlic Butter, Lemon Vinegar, Fermented Chilies, served on a bed of rock salt

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Confit Duck “Cassoulet,” Heirloom Peas, Lowland Farms Brassicas, Pot Likker Broth, Pan Fried Farm Egg

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  • FIG, 232 Meeting Street:

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Ricotta Gnocchi alla Bolognese Parmesan, Mint

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A dazzling Chicken Confit with Brussels Sprouts and Fig (and lots of other complex goodness I can’t remember) over Polenta

A little about FIG: “The name is an acronym for ‘Food Is Good,'” writes Bon Appetite, “a simple epithet that doesn’t do justice to the level of cooking set forth by Mike Lata, the godfather of Charleston restaurants (he also owns The Ordinary).” 

Speaking of The Ordinary …

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A quartet of immaculate, sweet and salty raw oysters, hand-chosen by the suave server/bartender. The orange beverage to the right is the zesty House Daiquiri: Plantation Old-Fashioned Traditional Dark Rum, Plantation 5-year Rum, Cane, Lime.

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Crispy Oyster Slider with a whisper of jalapeño (unbelievable)

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New England Style Fish Chowder with Oyster Crackers — better than you think. A knockout loaded with generous chunks of white fish and potatoes.

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Spicy Two-Piece Dark Meat Fried Chicken with Cole Slaw: Buttermilk Dressing, Currants, Seeds 

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Second visit: Four Raw Oysters (only one shown here), Signature “Old School” Scalloped Potatoes (divine) and a Gin & Tonic

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The famous Tavern Burger, a 4-ounce Patty Topped with American Cheese, Tangy Tavern Sauce, Griddled Onion on a Sesame Bun, with House Salad. This glorious, glorified slider goes for a mean $15, and it’s worth it. So hypnotic I couldn’t even focus the camera. My eyes were crossed.