Today was one of those ice cold, brilliantly clear winter days, the kind of day that the phrase "wintry smile" is meant to evoke.
From inside your warm classroom or subway or apartment, the day looks beautiful. Beyond the skyscrapers of the city, the mountains stand out in stark contrast to the sky. There is no hint of smog. The bleary haze that usually covers Seoul has run away, to come and play another day.
Then you step outside, and you realize that the haze had the right idea, because the wind cutting through your several layers of clothing and numbing your exposed face is merciless. You actually run to the subway, regardless of the fact that you look rather silly, not to mention the 5 kilos of book rhythmically pounding against your tender lower back. You pass a woman wearing pants cut above the ankle and flats with either nylons or no socks at all, and you think, "Damn, these Koreans are hard core."
In the subway, you power walk past a mother and her little girl, both rushing along, and the little girl runs right out of her pink and white tennis shoes, which haven't been tied on properly and which have apparently been covering -- again -- bare feet. You think, "Damn, these Koreans are crazy."
You reach home after running from the subway station, and climb the five flights of stairs, which are in the building but unheated, and the unheated apartment feels like heaven. Your cheeks are stinging, your nose is running, and you throw off your coat and turn on the heat and feel grateful to be home.