Living in Seoul

In a city of soaring skyscrapers and cutting-edge technology racing toward the future, can you still feel the beauty of its history and traditions?

I arrived in Seoul expecting a city of steel and neon—a futuristic metropolis moving at relentless speed, where history lay hidden, overshadowed by glass towers and digital screens. But it didn’t take long to realize that history isn’t tucked away—it’s everywhere, woven into the fabric of daily life.

Seoul isn’t just shimmering skyscrapers and a dazzling skyline. Its beauty lies in the grandeur of ancient palaces, the quiet charm of hanok villages, the warmth of shared meals, and the subtle gestures of respect that echo centuries-old traditions. Here, the past and present don’t merely collide—they stand side by side, seamlessly intertwined. There’s something captivating about witnessing old and new exist in perfect harmony, much like the way Koreans live—rooted in deep values that guide them through modern life with balance and grace.

Moving to Seoul felt like stepping into Wonderland—I was both exhilarated and overwhelmed. Everywhere I looked, there was something new, something fascinating, pulling me in different directions. Caught in the whirlwind of sights and sounds, I didn’t know where to go next.

At first, everything felt too fast, too loud, too much. I instinctively measured Seoul’s energy against cities it could never be—comparing its restless buzz to the quiet romance of Prague’s cobbled streets, the grandeur of London, the charm of Paris, the history of Rome, or the dreamlike canals of Venice.

Beauty here isn’t just something you see; it’s something you feel. It’s something to be in, to move with. You don’t just witness it—you are in it, you are it.

As the days pass, hesitation fades. Fear dissolves into fascination. The once-chaotic streets find a rhythm, and I begin to move with it. Three weeks in, I realize that what I had been searching for—history, nature, community, a sense of something deeper—had been here all along, waiting for me to truly see. To open my mind, my heart, my eyes—to immerse myself completely and to experience it fully.

For the next few weeks, we’ll be staying in a hotel in Insadong, a neighbourhood nestled in the heart of Jongno. Tucked between Seoul’s majestic palaces and the political heartbeat of Gwanghwamun Square, Insadong is a place where history and culture blend effortlessly.

One of Seoul’s most famous cultural districts, Insadong blends tradition with modern creativity. It doesn’t just inspire—it pulls you in, urging you to create, whether or not you’ve ever painted a canvas or played an instrument. Maybe that’s why I find myself longing for my piano and guitar, currently packed away on a ship Korea-bound.

Insadong isn’t just a place—it’s an experience.

Insadong-gil, the cultural street, is lined with galleries, tea houses, craft stores, and restaurants. But the real magic lies in the side streets, where hidden gems—indie art studios, tiny hanok cafés, and tucked-away workshops—await.

Here, history lingers—a fusion of old and new Seoul, vibrant yet peaceful. Traditional tea houses sit beside modern galleries, antique shops next to trendy boutiques. Every turn reveals something unexpected—handmade crafts, street artists, vinyl record stores steeped in nostalgia.

Insadong slows you down, making you look up—where rooftop cafés serve matcha, jazz bars offer moody retreats, and restaurants dish out sizzling BBQ and colourful bibimbap.

By day, Insadong awakens your creativity. One moment, you’re painting pottery in a sunlit studio; the next, you’re wrapped in a hanbok, strolling past palaces. Some days are for browsing elegant boutiques, others for treasure hunting in markets of handcrafted jewellery and hanji paper crafts. Café-hopping is an art, each spot offering a fresh aesthetic, a different roast, a new perspective.

And when the energy of the streets feels too much, Insadong offers an easy retreat. Slip into Jogyesa Temple, where rows of colourful lanterns sway in the breeze, monks move with quiet purpose, and the scent of incense wraps around you in stillness. Suddenly, you’re drawn into a moment of zen.

Or follow the gentle path of Cheonggyecheon Stream, once a motorway, now a serene escape where the city slows down and nature quietly takes over. Even the fish in the water seem to pause, savouring the tranquillity.

Beyond Insadong’s winding alleys, Seoul’s royal past stands in quiet defiance of the city’s restless energy. Gyeongbokgung, the largest of the Five Grand Palaces, serves as a sentinel of history, its sweeping tiled roofs and towering gates reminding visitors of Korea’s royal heritage. On crisp mornings, I pass its stone walls, catching glimpses of hanbok-clad visitors beneath wooden eaves, their vibrant silk skirts billowing like petals in the breeze.

A short walk away, Changdeokgung offers something softer—its Secret Garden a serene oasis where nature and architecture blend in perfect harmony. Then, there’s Deoksugung, where modernity creeps in, blending traditional pavilions with unexpected neoclassical buildings, reflecting Korea’s transition into modernity.

Just a short walk away, Gwanghwamun Square is a historical and political hub, home to the statue of King Sejong, creator of Hangul, the Korean alphabet. The plaza pulses with life—tourists, families, and occasional protests, all echoing the city's resilience and calls for justice and democracy, as the future still unfolds.

Speaking of energy, Myeongdong is the neon-lit heartbeat of Seoul. This party district pulses with life—dinner, drinks, street food, and shopping all collide in a vibrant whirlwind. From designer boutiques to street stalls, you could build an entire wardrobe in just one trip. And when night falls, the biggest challenge isn’t finding something to eat, but deciding where to start. Maybe everything, all at once!

The restaurants and bars exude an effortless invitation, reminiscent of a holiday atmosphere in Turkey—alive with excitement, yet without the pressure to buy. The options feel endless, enough to last a year. And the street food? Every stall tempts you with sizzling, mouthwatering choices, leaving your taste buds deliciously confused.

Myeongdong isn’t just about food and fashion—it’s a place where entertainment thrives. Even the coffee culture is strong, with cafés on every corner. And for a unique twist, you can catch a show—like Nanta, a wildly entertaining drumming and cooking performance that had us laughing the whole night.

Beyond this electric buzz, a short walk away, a stroll through Bukchon Hanok Village reveals another layer of the city’s past. Rows of Korean traditional wooden hanok houses stand proudly against the backdrop of glass towers and neon lights, preserving history in a city that’s always moving forward.

Adjusting to a place like this is about more than finding cafés or mastering the underground. It’s about small routines, embracing discomfort, and letting curiosity lead the way.

Insadong makes you feel like you belong, even as you find your footing. It sparks creativity, invites exploration, and urges you to linger. I’m no longer a tourist—I live here now. Home isn’t just a place; it’s presence, patience, and the willingness to get a little lost.

As I grow more rooted in Insadong, I know it’s temporary. Living in a hotel feels like an extended holiday—convenient, effortless, but not quite permanent. Soon, we’ll settle into a home in the French Village, a neighbourhood with a different rhythm. But for now, I savour every moment in the heart of old Seoul.

Insadong isn’t just a place to visit—it’s a place to live, to breathe, to discover. It doesn’t just welcome you; it absorbs you, shaping your rhythm, your daily routine, your sense of belonging. And before you know it, you’re not just passing through—you’re part of it, as much as the city is part of you.

© 2025 Lefitko. All Rights Reserved. Article written by Lenka Morgan-Warren