It was that time again. Another trip up to Seoul for a dose of chaos, caffeine, and neon. My wife came along this round, which meant less weight on my shoulders and a second set of eyes to keep me sharp. Two brains, one city, and a mission to wrestle something real out of the madness.
We rolled into Seoul by lunchtime. The place was on fire. Liberation Day and a presidential inauguration collided, and the streets were choking with people. Cops barking orders, tourists clogging sidewalks, flags waving, everyone with a phone glued to their hand. It felt like a mosh pit that stretched across the city.
The main event was Euljiro after dark, so daylight hours were spent scouting. We dropped bags at the hotel and refueled at Coffee Hanyakbang. That place is a cathedral for coffee junkies. Dim light, old wood, and hand-drip coffee that hits you in the chest like a prizefighter. Pro tip: in places like this, ditch the wide angle. A 50mm or even a 35mm pulls the vibe tight, keeps the intimacy without killing it with distortion.
Night fell and it was time to work. First stop was the dried pollack and beer street known by locals as “Nogari Alley”. Iconic, sure, but not my scene. Snapped the frames I needed, kept my shutter speed just high enough to freeze the neon glow on sweaty faces, and moved on. Golden hour at Cheonggyecheon was the real deal. The light poured down like honey and made the water sing.
Don’t just point and shoot at the stream. Drop your ISO, drag the shutter a little, and let the reflections stretch. Seoul turns cinematic when you let time bleed into the frame.
Dinner was Oldies Tacos. Neon, retro, tacos stacked like bricks of gold. The staff were slammed but still smiling, which almost never happens in Seoul when the line is out the door. I shot the neon sign before I even tasted the food. Always shoot signs before you eat. After, the grease on your lens cloth reminds you you’re human.
Then came Hipjiro. The real beast. Crowds spilling through alleys like they were poured straight out of a keg. Neon bouncing off metal shutters, music thumping, everyone lit like extras in a Wong Kar-wai film. We zigzagged through until I found the alley I wanted: Euljiro Brewing’s neon-soaked artery. Photographers circle this spot like vultures and for good reason.
Here, you need to think like a predator. Everyone’s shooting the obvious neon. Don’t. Tilt up, find the grime, catch the sweat dripping off a beer glass, frame the human chaos against the industrial bones of the place. Seoul gives you layers. The job is digging past the postcard shot.
We ducked into Euljiro Brewing for a few rounds, then laughed when we realized the whole scene was basically across the street from our hotel. Seoul’s like that. A labyrinth where the best shots hide right under your nose.
We crashed hard and woke up to “experience day.” Visit Seoul wanted me to not just shoot but do. First stop was jewelry-making. Soldier, metal, hands trying not to shake. It tied into Euljiro’s industrial DNA. Then perfume-making, which I thought would be a five-minute gimmick. Wrong. A full hour of blending and testing. Walked out smelling less like a damp bus seat and more like someone who owns a closet full of ironed shirts.
By the end we were fried. Grabbed lunch, mainlined more coffee, and wandered Gwanghwamun one last time before catching Seoul Station. Memory cards were loaded, feet were destroyed, and my brain was buzzing.
Euljiro gave me the frames I’ve been chasing for years. Neon, sweat, grit, and chaos all shoved into narrow alleys. If you want to shoot it right, don’t just stand there gawking at the lights. Push into the crowd, find the angles nobody else sees, and let Seoul bleed into your lens.