Vibrant Seoul refuge quiet after tragedy
SEOUL — Seo Hyuk-jun, 36, knelt before the white chrysanthemums as he placed a lit cigarette, incense, and a paper cup filled with Jack Daniel’s on the ground. He stood, knelt and bowed twice, performing a traditional Korean ritual for the dead.
Day after day, such tributes arrived at the makeshift memorial in Itaewon, one of Seoul’s most popular districts. Young South Koreans used to go there for its diversity and vibrant nightlife. They called it “Itaewon freedom.”
Now, the neighborhood has become a sobering monument of grief and soul-searching after more than 150 young people were killed Oct. 29 during a crowd crush while celebrating Halloween. Bars that were throbbing with K-pop music just a week ago are now silent, their doors covered with condolence messages and a notice from the local government asking people to refrain from loud music and dancing.
Like many South Koreans, Seo said he felt guilty being alive when so many young people were killed that night, their entire lives still ahead of them. “For them, it was no ordinary Halloween. They were supposed to feel freedom after three years of pandemic hell,” Seo said, choking back tears. “I hope my cigarette and liquor will ease their trip to the next world.”
Nowhere is that sense of mourning felt more acutely than near Exit No. 1 of the Itaewon subway station, once known as a bustling gateway to nightlife and fun. The alleyway where the crowd crush happened, near that exit, has remained closed all week, crisscrossed with orange police tape. Police officers stood guard on a recent evening, green light batons in hand. Pedestrians occasionally knelt and bowed in mourning.
“People are still walking down the streets, cars are still driving, but I hear no noise,” said Kim Hee-soo, 24, a shop manager in Itaewon. “It’s as if this place has stopped dead. It’s not the Itaewon that I have known.”
Built long before Seoul had city planning, Itaewon has always been something of an outlier among South Koreans. Decades ago, US service members stationed at a nearby military base would visit the neighborhood to drink and unwind. Locals usually stayed away. After a time, the area gained a reputation as a place for foreigners. It also served as a conduit of Western culture — rock ‘n’ roll and reggae music, exotic foods, and foreign fashion — at a time when South Korea was still a postwar, developing nation.
Itaewon had to reinvent itself when the US military began relocating to Camp Humphreys, a gigantic base south of Seoul, a decade ago. But even before then, by the late 1990s, young people were starting to flock to its trendy bars and restaurants squeezed into old buildings and narrow alleyways. The neighborhood earned a new reputation as a place to escape the pressures of South Korean society, bound by Confucian hierarchies and conformist views.
“When I think of Itaewon, the words that come to my mind are freedom, openness, and diversity. You see foreigners here, you can experience foods from other cultures here,” said Byun Ji-sun, 25, a photographer having dinner with friends in one of the few kebab restaurants still open on a recent evening in Itaewon. “When young people say, ‘Let’s go to Itaewon,’ we mean, ‘Let’s go clubbing and have fun.’”
Last Saturday, the first Halloween celebration since South Korea ended its pandemic rules, was to be something of a coming-out party. Throngs of young people poured out of Exit No. 1. Clubs and restaurants were ready to welcome as many customers as they could handle. The narrow alleyway where the crowd crush happened was a popular shortcut to many bars and clubs.
“I think every special-effects makeup artist in the country had set up little stalls along that street and were applying fake, bloody wounds that looked so real,” said Tami Overby, a senior adviser at a global business strategy firm who frequently visits Seoul from the United States and walked the main Itaewon street last Saturday. “My last Halloween in Itaewon was 2019, and the crowd was nowhere near that large,” she said. “Never have I seen that many people in that small of a space.”
Partygoers surged into the alleyway from both directions, creating a deadly pressure. Few police officers were there to manage the crowd, even though the city had expected a particularly large number of people in Itaewon for the Halloween weekend. Desperate calls to the police went unheeded as victims were trampled and smothered.
‘It’s as if this place has stopped dead. It’s not the Itaewon that I have known.’
KIM HEE-SOON
Shopkeeper near the site of the stampede that killed more than 150 people in Seoul