by Curious Compass
Dedicated to my Mother, who always encouraged me to write.
There are journeys we spend months planning.
And then there are journeys that begin with a simple act of kindness.
Mine started somewhere over the Atlantic on a flight home from Rio.
An elderly Korean couple was seated beside me. During the flight, they offered me crackers—a gesture so ordinary, yet so familiar. It reminded me of home, where sharing food is simply what you do. We spent the rest of the flight talking about life, family, and their beautiful country.
By the time we landed, South Korea had quietly found its way onto my travel list.
Little did they know that a simple conversation would inspire an entire journey.
Ironically, getting there wasn’t easy.
Our flights were cancelled.
Then cancelled again.
We eventually abandoned our April plans, wondering if the universe was trying to tell us something.
But some places keep calling you back.
So we booked everything again for July.
Looking back, those delays only made arriving in Seoul feel even sweeter.
Before leaving, I prepared the best way I knew how.
I learned a few Korean phrases.
“No gogi.”
“Gamsahamnida.”
“Aniyo.”
Friends introduced me to the HappyCow app, which quickly became my guide to vegetarian meals, while my husband couldn’t wait to explore South Korea’s famous seafood and barbecue.
Then we landed.
With no itinerary.
Just curiosity.
⸻
Discovering South Korea
Stepping into Seoul, I wasn’t arriving with a long checklist of places to tick off. I had done enough research to understand the culture, learn a few useful phrases and make sure finding vegetarian food wouldn’t be a challenge. Beyond that, I wanted South Korea to unfold naturally.
Gyeongbokgung Palace was an obvious place to begin. Its grand architecture and colourful details reflected centuries of history, while the Changing of the Guard ceremony brought the palace to life. As impressive as it was, I found myself just as interested in the atmosphere around me—the families watching together, visitors dressed in traditional hanbok and the quiet moments between the ceremony and the crowds moving on.
Some of my favourite memories of Seoul came from having no destination at all.
We wandered through neighbourhoods, turning down streets simply because they looked interesting. Small cafés sat beside independent shops, and before long I realised Korean bakeries were impossible to resist. One bakery we found ourselves returning to was Paris Baguette. I’d seen it countless times in Chicago and had always assumed it was French because of the name. It wasn’t until we visited South Korea that I discovered it was actually a South Korean bakery chain. Funny how travel can make you see something familiar in a completely new way.
From N Seoul Tower, the city stretched endlessly in every direction. Looking out over the skyline, it was hard to believe that beneath the modern buildings and busy streets was a country with such a complex and painful history.
That history became impossible to ignore when we visited the Korean Demilitarized Zone.
The Third Infiltration Tunnel is one of several tunnels secretly dug by North Korea beneath the DMZ. It is believed to have been built to move large numbers of soldiers into South Korea in the event of an invasion. Today, visitors can walk through part of the tunnel, offering a sobering glimpse into the tensions that have shaped the Korean Peninsula.
Walking through the Third Infiltration Tunnel was unlike anything I had experienced before. Before entering, we were given hard hats. It didn’t take long to understand why. The ceiling was low enough that I was constantly aware of it, and I was grateful for the helmet more than once. Water trickled alongside the narrow walkway as we made our way deeper underground.
As someone who is claustrophobic, I found it incredibly challenging. Once you started, there was really only one option—to keep going. Reaching the end wasn’t the difficult part. The walk back was even harder because much of it was uphill, and with the ceiling so low, we had to climb at an angle. By then, I was counting down the minutes until we reached daylight again. Stepping back into the fresh air was an enormous relief, but I’m still glad I experienced it.
Standing above ground, I looked across what is known as No Man’s Land.
It struck me as an unusual name.
Does any land really belong to us?
Nature didn’t seem to think so.
One thing my husband was especially excited about was the opportunity to look into North Korea through the observation binoculars. He couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse across the border. I was curious, but nowhere near as excited. You could make out distant buildings and the enormous North Korean flag. Cameras weren’t allowed, making it feel like a rare glimpse into one of the world’s most isolated countries.
I looked.
Then I stepped away.
If I’m honest, seeing North Korea wasn’t what stayed with me.
What stayed with me were the people whose lives had been shaped by the border itself.
Those were the stories I found myself thinking about as we left the DMZ.
The Stories That Stayed With Me
The DMZ was one of the places I had most wanted to visit in South Korea. I expected it to be fascinating from a historical perspective, but I hadn’t expected it to stay with me for such personal reasons.
As our guide shared stories about families separated by the Korean War, I found myself thinking less about politics and more about people. Parents separated from children. Brothers and sisters growing old without ever seeing each other again. Lives divided by a line that neither side had chosen.
It reminded me of conversations my husband and I have had about the Partition of India in 1947. Different countries. Different histories. Yet the human cost felt heartbreakingly familiar.
Borders may be drawn in a moment, but families live with the consequences for generations.
Later, I learned about Finding Dispersed Families, a South Korean television programme that was originally intended to run for just 45 minutes. Instead, it continued for 138 days, broadcasting over 453 hours live as thousands of people searched for relatives they hadn’t seen in decades. More than 10,000 people were reunited with their families.
I tried to imagine what that must have been like.
Families sitting in front of their televisions every day, hoping to hear a familiar name. Wondering if a parent, a sibling or a child they thought they had lost forever might still be alive.
It’s difficult to comprehend that kind of hope.
Another moment that stopped me in my tracks came when we visited the Comfort Women Memorial.
At first, I didn’t understand what the name meant. I assumed it was simply another memorial, and I asked my husband what it was for.
When he explained the history, I was stunned.
Thousands of women and girls across Asia had been forced into sexual slavery by the Imperial Japanese military during the Second World War. The term “Comfort Women” was the euphemism used at the time.
To me, there was nothing comforting about it.
The words felt as though they softened something that should never be softened.
We stood there quietly for a while before talking about it together. Neither of us had much to say immediately. Some stories don’t leave room for easy conversation.
Long after we left the memorial, we found ourselves returning to the subject. We talked about how history is often remembered through dates, wars and political decisions, yet behind every one of those events are ordinary people whose lives were changed forever.
When I think back on South Korea, I remember the beautiful palaces, the lively streets, the incredible food and the kindness that first inspired the journey.
But it is these stories—the ones that revealed both unimaginable loss and extraordinary resilience—that have stayed with me the longest.
There was one place we never quite made it to.
Busan.
We simply ran out of time.
Rather than feeling disappointed, I left feeling grateful.
After all, every memorable journey deserves a reason to return.
For us, that reason is Busan.
Curious Compass Captures
🧭 Most Memorable Place
The DMZ
❤️ A Moment of Kindness
Sharing crackers with an elderly Korean couple before we had even arrived.
🥐 Favourite Discovery
Paris Baguette—and discovering that the bakery I’d walked past so many times in Chicago was actually South Korean.
💬 A Conversation That Stayed With Me
How borders can separate families for generations.
✈️ Reason to Return
Busan. We simply ran out of time.
Curious Compass
Traveling with curiosity, one story at a time.
I don’t travel to collect countries.
I travel to collect stories.
Every destination leaves me with memories.
The best ones leave me with questions.
Those are the journeys you’ll find here.
— Curious Compass