Traversing through the bustling – but never overbearing – crowd of Myeongdong Station felt natural. I found myself stepping through eclectic store-lined walkways and up endless staircases with a sense of familiarity. The tap of a brightly coloured transit card, a perfectly timed train, and a brisk walk later, I sat by the Han River for a day of reading and basking in the cool Autumn air. The following day, after hours of shopping through the sparkling department stores and high-end boutiques of Gangnam, it felt strangely fitting to stop by a convenience store. Grabbing a drink and a pack of cheap ramen, I slid into one of the rickety plastic chairs by the window. The humming of the microwave heating my meal and the flicker of fluorescent lighting was as welcome as the day full of luxury. A few hours later, I found the small cup of ramen had left me peckish. Walking out of my hotel into the cityscape, I became one with the colourful crowd. Families with young children, students still in their uniforms, boisterous groups of friends and couples alike – enjoying the city despite the late hour. My mission eventually led me away from them and into one of the many cafes still open. Not one of these moments lacked total comfort and peace. It felt like returning to a place you visited frequently as a child and finding it welcomes you back in the same way.
It was my first ever week in Seoul, South Korea. The connection and overwhelming sense of warmth I felt towards the city perplexed me. I wasn’t even able to properly articulate it to friends back home. After mere days in the city, it felt like a home away from home, somewhere healing I’d return to at low points of my life to feel like myself again. Of course, connecting to a city is not a concept unheard of. There are those who visit countries and never end up leaving because it just feels right, finding their home away from home across the world. Often, deep connections to a location are reserved for old haunts or places where significant events occurred; however, love at first sight isn’t completely outlandish. Anthony Bourdain once proclaimed that his first visit to Vietnam felt like meeting a future partner for the first time. Even if a trip doesn’t bring forth some sort of spontaneous soul connection, I’m sure the well-travelled can at least attest that some places feel like a lot more than a pin on the map.
Chinese-American geographer Yi-Fu Tuan dedicated a significant portion of his career to the study of places not as a study of border lines or the makeup of topographical features but instead as a study of the reaction they elicit from us. The concept of topophilia – coming from the Greek words topos: place, and philia: love of – was presented by Tuan as a completely measurable phenomenon. It means we can not only study the extent to which different environments improve our constitution but also what specific elements in that environment cause this, whether it be the natural environment, the cultural makeup, our personal history, and so forth. Further, the UK National Conservation Trust has found that an association with your formative years, your significant other, or your current sense of identity are the most common sparks of connection to a place. These sound self-explanatory, but Tuan explores the way in which these triggers aren’t always so straightforward. For example, he describes individuals who grew up near the sea being drawn to big cities due to their seeming infiniteness. We endow places with our own personal connections, here it being the comfort in feeling that both the city and the sea go on forever.
Whether it be a direct link – like where you’d go on holiday with your family when you were a child or where you met your partner- or an indirect one, as described by Tuan, these kinds of places remind us of a feeling. This isn’t always a conscious phenomenon, either. The Trust’s neurological studies in 2017 found that it is primarily the amygdala, the portion of the brain dealing with subconscious reactions to memory, which is stimulated by places we feel connected to. This is the same structure where trauma responses come from, so it is clear that these reactions may not be ones we can always grasp quickly or entirely. Tuan’s subject, as described prior, may not have connected their love of the sea when they were younger to the city had it not been a point of study. Knowing this, it may be that my draw to Seoul stems from some childhood association or tie to a partner that I cannot quite place. However, I find the third prompt listed and yet undiscussed particularly intriguing. It is one which may be easier for us to place if we have a decent perception of self.
The Trust found that some places inspire a great degree of emotion and belonging despite no personal history or tie. These places are often ones we have only ventured to recently and are overwhelmingly either in city-centres (32 per cent) or rural regions (32 per cent) – perhaps this is why the South of France and the Italian countryside inspire such adoration in particular. These places are less about who we were or our history, but instead about how we see ourselves and who we wish to be. The Trust describes various subjects and their ideal locations, inspiring anything from feelings of vigour, youth and relevance, or rest, recharge and connection to nature. It is about how these feelings align with our perceived identity and worldview. The high-powered, career-oriented individual discovering that they find comfort in feeling small against endless mountainside views. The artist who finds stunning architecture, feeling those that came before pushing them forward to create something as beautiful. The slightly eccentric woman who finds herself in an unapologetically eccentric city, where you can be on your own but are never alone. Reading by the river with dozens reading beside you, looking for cake at midnight while several others are too.
Really, there was a lot about Seoul that fit into how I see myself at this stage of life. It is a constant contrast of values and aesthetics. The height of technology against the backdrop of the natural beauty of mountains and rivers, an appreciation of luxury as well as the simple things, the forefront of fashion among tradition and history everywhere, and a celebration of pop-culture and entertainment against a custom of steadfast work – the kind which can only be found in post-colonial nations. It seems that the visit aligned with the right stage of my life to become something truly meaningful.
With that conclusion, you may beg the question: Can we reverse engineer this? Introspect to find more soul connections and predict in advance which locations may fit who we are? To an extent, of course. Tuan describes artistic spirits finding enlightenment in places where previous artists lived, and so perhaps London or Zundert may be their calling. Or those who look to feel more free, seeking vastness in the countryside and avoiding crowded, winding cities. We can also use previous travels to infer what other places may inspire us similarly. However, it can also be said that a part of the joy of travel is unexpected discovery. Whether it be a type of cuisine or a hide-out preferred by the locals, it is invigorating to stumble upon something just right. For this reason, I likely won’t find myself psychoanalysing for the sake of another Seoul moment. Instead, I look forward to the travels that lie ahead. If I’m lucky, I may find such a place again, and this time understand it a little better. If not, I’ll always have Seoul.
This feature is published in the 20th Edition of GRAZIA International. Order your copy here.
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