Each return to my birthplace brings a bittersweet mix of excitement and an invisible weight—both belonging and estrangement. It’s a constant dance between feeling like an insider and an outsider.

This time, a few friends from Switzerland timed their visit to coincide with mine. My longtime friend W, a local with a knack for discovering hidden gems, guided us off the beaten path. Our goal was simple: share a good moment together.

We found ourselves in a district known to a small niche for its trendy bars. Once a printing hub, the buildings still carried old signs—‘so-and-so printer’—ghostly remnants of a past era. Among these faded signs, new life peeked through, much like spring shoots breaking through winter’s chill. The coexistence of old and new felt surprisingly harmonious in its unharmonious way, much like the South Korean identity itself—rooted in heritage but constantly evolving.

From the outside, you wouldn’t have guessed what lay inside. We entered an old building, climbed its narrow, grimy staircase to the top floor, and stepped into a dark, neon-lit world. The raw, unfiltered charm, juxtaposed with neon lights and cool beats. From there, we went up to the rooftop, catching a unique view of Namsan Tower in the distance.

I felt like Chihiro in Spirited Away, immersed in an invisible world unfolding around me.

Next, we ventured into an underground Japanese bar, where we sipped highballs—whiskey mixed with soda, light yet flavorful. Once again, it seemed like we were the only customers. Perhaps it was too early for the Seoulites.

It was like a night of treasure hunting. These businesses didn’t fight for visibility—they stayed hidden, accessible only to those who know where to look. It reminded me of Bulgaria’s historical cities, where the plain exteriors were designed to hide from the Ottomans, but the interiors revealed unexpected layers, offering a hidden depth.

Our final stop was Itaewon. We took a cab there and spent our last moments together, listening to vinyl records spun by a DJ and letting ourselves immerse in the emotions of the moment. The night was far from ending, but jet lag was creeping in.

Seoul is full of layers. The old and new, the mainstream and the underground, the flashy and the raw. These layers, these contradictions, are what make Seoul so unique. The layers speak to resilience, to blending the past with the present, to carving out spaces where old memories and new experiences can coexist. And in these layers, I found a deeper connection to the city I call home, no matter how far away I may be.