We began in the Myeongdong neighborhood, described on our schedule as "Shopping (Trendy!)". It was. Enormous buildings towered over narrow pedestrian-only streets, with signs in both Korean and English advertising brands from all over in the world in buzzing neon. Alongside several Korean names which I've come to recognize, nearly every popular Western brand you can think of also had stores here: Nike, Gap, Nine West, Adidas, Forever 21. At one point we saw Apple Stores across the street from each other; neither was "officially" licensed but both copied the clean, white walls / birch table look of those I've seen in the States.
Walking through the area, packed with people even on a weekday, is a dizzying experience. "On weekends, you can barely move," said Sang In, squeezing his way through a group of women examining scarves at a street display. Elderly couples, foreign tourists, students still in their uniforms, store employees pitching sales through megaphones, off-duty police officers -- it felt like the entirety of Seoul had descended upon Myeongdong, looking for a bargain.
We stopped in Migliore, one of the massive department stores which stacks several stories high, each floor a different department. As opposed to an American department store which is owned by a single corporation that runs the entire building, Migliore leased out individual stalls to retailers who would select the nature of what they wanted to sell.
The offerings were, in a word, eclectic. Russian jeans, European jackets, and shirts which were meant to look American but usually had phrases like "Please! We must love for Freedom! Only way" and "Everybody People Live Right With God, Take me to the golden stair". Koreans are generally pretty good with their English, but it was clear that the people who made their clothing were not.
We moved on to Insadong, located nearby. In contrast to the flashy, modern offerings of Myeongdong, Insadong dealt in traditional goods: artwork, pottery, cultural clothing, tea, books. We browsed through the narrow aisles of relics from the Chosun kingdom and visited galleries exhibiting the work of both local and foreign artists.
Sang In led us to Ssamzie, a four-story building in the center of Insadong that hosts some of the better known stores. Still coughing after wearing out my voice from karaoke the previous night, we stopped into a tea shop, where a lady helped us narrow down their selection to a handcrafted blend that promoted "breathing help". On the way out, we passed by a massive, seventy-foot tall metal and plastic rosebush that wound its way through a stairwell to the top of the building. Noting that locals had written their names on the walls by the stairs, I asked Sang In if he wanted to add ours in. "Let's not get too Korean," he said.
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