I didn’t have to explain to Paul why I cried.
I think he understood as he gave me a few minutes to gather myself. It was at the very moment we’d finally reached the end of our long walk, on the dock next to a bustling fish market in central Busan, when my father called on the phone. His voice was more animated than usual.
“Hey, how’s the walk going, you must be close by now?” “Do let me know when you’re here.”
“It’s done,” I said.
I realized then that it was him that I had been walking to the entire journey. He was Busan. He was my home. He’d never left the city, unlike the rest of the family, and I now thank him for that. I thank him for letting me stay rooted in Busan. (Dad had a few too many happy drinks that night as his talkative son rambled on about his epic journey.) It suddenly felt that during my couple of months of walking with Paul, I had just rewound the decades I’d been away.
The Korean port of Busan—Junseok Lee's hometown and the last stop on his trek across the country with Paul Salopek.
Photograph by Junseok Lee
How did those 650 kilometers on foot feel equivalent to my long absence? I guess the walk was somewhat like life itself. There were pains, surprises, joys, and frustrations—often mundane but at times extraordinary. Luckily, I have a record of them.
Junseok Lee's souvenir map of his trek through South Korea with Paul Salopek.
Map by Junseok Lee
I kept a visual diary of the walk in the form of a map. I wouldn’t have done this just for myself, but I thought that because Paul might not come back, it would make a nice souvenir.
Looking at the map, we really were two little snails wriggling and giggling across a small leaf of a country. I remember one day our giggle was abruptly interrupted. As we happily trod along a riverfront, a desperate shout from behind stopped us in our tracks. It was the old man from the love motel we’d just checked out of, and he was pedaling toward us at full speed.
“Where is it?” The man was breathless.“Sorry, what?” I said, transitioning from conversational English to argumentative Korean.“ The remote! The remote to control the AC.”
Junseok Lee's souvenir map of his trek through South Korea with Paul Salopek.
Map by Junseok Lee
I kept a visual diary of the walk in the form of a map. I wouldn’t have done this just for myself, but I thought that because Paul might not come back, it would make a nice souvenir.
Looking at the map, we really were two little snails wriggling and giggling across a small leaf of a country. I remember one day our giggle was abruptly interrupted. As we happily trod along a riverfront, a desperate shout from behind stopped us in our tracks. It was the old man from the love motel we’d just checked out of, and he was pedaling toward us at full speed.
“Where is it?” The man was breathless.“Sorry, what?” I said, transitioning from conversational English to argumentative Korean.“ The remote! The remote to control the AC.”
I had never been accused of thievery in my life, so I got a little upset.
“Look, sir. We’re traveling far on foot and don’t even carry a water bottle because it adds weight to our backpacks.”
It took us a few minutes to convince him of our innocence. I can laugh about it now—but I’m sorry, old man, for raising my voice.
There were more such chase scenes:
Paul’s backpack was very heavy. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was. It was understandable for he really does carry his house on his back like a snail. But I believed he could have trimmed it down if he only had the will to let go of some of the stuff. The problem is, Paul meets too many friendly people along the way.
A curious young couple pull over on a blisteringly hot day and give Junseok Lee (right) and Paul Salopek ice cream treats.
Photograph courtesy Junseok Lee
One afternoon, my phone ran out of juice, and I asked Paul if he had a portable charger. He stopped, bent over, and pulled out a brick of an electronic device from the very bottom of his pack.“You’ve been carrying this?” I said.“Yeah, it doesn’t work very well, but a dear friend in China gave it to me.” We took a break at a convenience store, where Paul shared the history of the thing before finally deciding to let it go. But where to? The rubbish bin was not an option: Paul wanted to “liberate” not desecrate it. I understood. After he gently placed the charger on a corner of our table, we sneaked out of the store, gaining pace like Kevin Spacey in the last scene of The Usual Suspects. Mission accomplished! Unfortunately, our sigh of relief was short-lived.
A curious young couple pull over on a blisteringly hot day and give Junseok Lee (right) and Paul Salopek ice cream treats.
Photograph courtesy Junseok Lee
One afternoon, my phone ran out of juice, and I asked Paul if he had a portable charger. He stopped, bent over, and pulled out a brick of an electronic device from the very bottom of his pack.“You’ve been carrying this?” I said.“Yeah, it doesn’t work very well, but a dear friend in China gave it to me.” We took a break at a convenience store, where Paul shared the history of the thing before finally deciding to let it go. But where to? The rubbish bin was not an option: Paul wanted to “liberate” not desecrate it. I understood. After he gently placed the charger on a corner of our table, we sneaked out of the store, gaining pace like Kevin Spacey in the last scene of The Usual Suspects. Mission accomplished! Unfortunately, our sigh of relief was short-lived.
“Hello! Hello! Hello!” a déjà vu, the voice of desperation. Oh, no… I knew what it was this time: The convenience store clerk was galloping after us, waving the charger overhead to return it. It took us another few days for Paul to offload the nemesis, though I’m not quite sure what he did with it.
Another, but happier, encounter:
Korea is a small country—technically an island too—so you can only go so far unspotted.
It was another 38-degree Celsius afternoon, and we were walking with our heads down when a black car pulled over beside us. Were Chinese authorities stopping to arrest my American charger-ditching friend? I was relieved to see a young couple stepping out, shy but obviously very excited.
“Hello, are you guys doing the cross-peninsula walk?” asked the young woman.
“Well, it’s more like a cross-planet walk, but yes, we are,” I replied.
Her boyfriend explained how they’d met on a group hike and that we reminded them of that experience. He then handed us a plastic bag full of ice cream bars.
“We know how hot it can get, so we just wanted to cheer you up a bit.”
Heads high, we were smiling the rest of our way that afternoon. What a cute love story accompanied by a sweet gift!
Joyous reunion: A smiling Junseok Lee greets his father, Hongyoung Lee, in Busan, the port city where he was born.
Photograph by Junseok Lee
Junseok Lee is a writer and educator who publishes the magazine Manolin for teenagers in South Korea. When not walking across Korea, Junseok also manages a family park, Vista Valley, outside Seoul.