
For all the modernity South Korea has advanced into, there are some very traditional mannerisms that seem quaint even to someone from another society that values tradition.
Respect for the elderly is always emphasised; there are special seats on the subway and on buses and lines at the ticket counter. And nobody abuses that. Except yours truly, who once sat in a reserved seat on the subway.
True to form, there were no protests, no angry shouts; just a momentary 8212; but noticeable 8211; raising of the eyebrows before people went on with life.
Zen and the art of motorcar mechanics
There are a zillion cars, buses, bikes and other vehicles on the streets of Seoul but you rarely hear a horn. People wait patiently, knowing with that Zen-like calm that the traffic will eventually move.
The politeness doesn8217;t stop there; the bowing of heads is a must in any form of communication. On the train to Ulsan a five-hour ride through some very pretty countryside in an ordinary train that would put our best to shame the guard patrolling the coaches would turn around every time he reached the door, bow stiffly, turn back and march out.
He did this about ten times but never once appeared that he didn8217;t mean it.
A bow for elders
Even the youth, who have widened the generation gap to something resembling the border at Panmunjon, change tack visibly when dealing with elders.
A very pretty young girl, petite and dressed in fashionable black, was having a lengthy mobile conversation with presumably her boyfriend when she accidentally bumped into a senior citizen. She blushed a deep red, bowed several times, apologised profusely before continuing.
No small talk
While on the topic of mobiles, most of us journalists have rented out these palm-size fliptop white phones from Korea telecom. They really are small: not much bigger than a matchbox.
But, true to the old adage, size isn8217;t everything. For one, these phones operate on CDMA technology, which means no SMS and so higher phone bills. Second, they come with the most weird rings. The first time my phone rang, in the Seoul Media Centre, I thought someone was shouting.
It went on for a minute or so before I realised it was my phone. I looked to change options but the only suitable one I8217;ve found rings twice before telling the caller to try again.
Phony tunes
But that8217;s still better than some of the phone rings I8217;ve heard. Koreans seem to have an obsession with strange noises; the tinnier the better.
At metro stations, a train8217;s arrival is heralde by a 13-note I counted them tune and then the announcer8217;s voice, to the background of birds chirping. Most mobiles have tunes akin to a synthesiser gone loco; not for them the subtlety of The Entertainer or a fugue or even Auld Lang Syne. Ringing bells, bird calls, machine-gun fire and, as mentioned, human voices in full cry. I want my Nokia!