STALKER

Chapter 55 12.13 pm - August 1905 Seoul

If by any chance any Korean person is reading this, I took some liberties in describing the area around  Gwanghwamun Gate.  There wouldn't have been stalls, just an open area but I needed them to be there so...

The image above is sort of what I have the place looking in my mind.

12.13 pm – August 1905  Seoul

I've given myself 40 minutes to find him. This time it will be more difficult, the environment more unpredictable. The shops and stalls will be open, so the street will be full of locals, leading their normal lives. There may be Japanese soldiers and police, they are my biggest concern.  The locals would be fine.  Realistically, I can easily escape 99 percent of trouble. However, my knowledge of the lay of the land is limited to a quick google search. And then there's my appearance which will go against me; a blonde, 6-foot tall, well-built westerner is impossible to hide among a crowd of slender, shorter Asians. All they will see and think is "filthy foreigner". Reading up a little of the state of affairs at the time I wouldn't blame them.

I find myself at one end of a narrow street, noisy and bustling with life. A cacophony of sounds and strange smells assault my sense the minute I arrive. I don't understand why I'm doing this jump... I terrifyingly unprepared.   I don't know the language, have only had a few shillings and no ID papers if I'm stopped.  

Time is ticking and I have to start moving, no time to think about what can go wrong.  I head up the street keeping out of people's way as much as I can. There are sly looks and glares aimed at me but I move on. I can't help but glance up at the brightly painted wooden facades of the buildings. The lattice-covered balconies and cloth awnings jutting out of the shop fronts into the street. I have no idea what the signage says. I'm intrigued by the reckless weaving of rickshaws and bicycles through the crowd. And the people are dressed as if two different eras and cultures collided,  Western clothes and traditional hanbok side by side. The street is claustrophobic and chaotic. It's alien and thrilling, I'm as excited as I'm terrified.  I stop in a doorway and tuck myself in the shadows and snap some shots of the street.  Weirdo will freak when he sees them.  

This jump isn't like my ones to search for Granddad. I'm here to find an earlier version of Weirdo. I have no idea if I will be able to recognise him. It's going to be interesting. If I can I will try to keep my promise to bring back at least a photograph. What would be better would be a name.

I'm walking a little hunched trying to lessen the obvious height difference between me and most of the locals. I've pulled a cap down over my blonde hair and I'm wearing sepia-colored wire circular sunglasses to cover my blue eyes. There's no hiding my pale complexion. I'm moving quickly and I can see the end of the street is just a little way ahead. If I remember rightly I then have to turn left, then right and I will be in the open forecourt area of Gyeongbokgung Palace. I don't really know what I will find there. My research was limited and the few photographs of that era, that I did find weren't much help. I just need to keep to my plan, stick close to the shadows and alleyways; and hope for the best until I can find a place to wait. My watch says I have 20 minutes left to find him. From all the images that flashed past me when I held the ring this is the only time and place that I caught. It's my only chance to find him and it's a very small one at best.

I've reached the last turn and I'm shocked at how massive and open the area is. No matter where I stand I will stick out like a sore thumb. I've tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I'm wearing a well-worn cumbersome black suit, it's held up well considering it is 80-odd years old and scruffy black patent shoes all finds on eBay.

It's hot and I'm sweating like a pig, so I'm looking pretty shabby. Granddad's old handkerchief is coming in handy, I run it over my face constantly. I bought it along for sentimental reasons. There was a small box of them in his belongs and felt I had to keep them. After all, he started all this. God knows how many times they wiped away sweat and tears in his lifetime.  

I've spotted a quiet corner of the forecourt where a few stalls have blocked off a shady section near the Gates wall. Only one of the impressive Gwanghwamun arched doors is opened and a few people are milling around, Sedan chairs go in and out. I stare in amazement as I pass the beautiful statue of a Lion Dog that still stands guard to this day, thank God for google that I know all this trivia. I  smile thinking of mum.   If she was here she would love it.  To think all those hours she made me watch historical Korean drama with her would one day end up being useful.

I am looking forward to finding a quiet spot and a cigarette. Reaching the stalls I notice one sells candied hawthorn and buy one. I've been curious about how they taste. I'm starting to think I watch too much TV. Hmmm...not disappointed. Worth the glare I got from the vendor when I tried to paid in shillings left over from a past jump. I back up against the wall and find a spot out of the sun and light a cigarette.  OMG, I needed that. Now I just have to be patient, and keep a close eye on everyone that passes. It's a long shot that I find him the first time out, considering the number of people.

12.48 pm August 1905.    I have 5 minutes left. No one has caught my eye. I haven't had that sensation of familiarity. My radar is off today. One more cigarette and then I'll leave.

Then out of the corner of my eye, I see three men approaching the stalls and for a moment I think they are coming for me. They are moving fast and then I see him. I'm sure it is him, I can feel it. He's about 5 foot 8 maybe, wearing a cheap western dark grey suit. That's when I saw the folded newspaper tucked under his arm and the partial date August, 1905. His hair is jet black, straight, cut very short on the sides; with very white skin and a thin mustache and beard.

I drop my cigarette and in my panic fumble in my coat pocket for my phone. I only have moments left. The three reach the stalls and have grabbed one of the vendors by his collar, they have some grievance against him and everyone is yelling. My man is standing back, arms folded watching his friends. That's when I see it. He is wearing the ring. It's definitely him...an earlier version of Weirdo. His face is blank, somethings never change obviously. I'm surprised to see he has almond-shaped eyes and the same intense stare. I suppose in my mind I was stereotyping him as an Asian with an oval face and monolids. In fact, he had diamond shaped face with a broad jaw and narrow chin. He is nothing like expected. Even in this life, he is handsome.

I take a few steps away from the wall so I can take some photos. I'm at the wrong angle and move closer. I finally zoom in on his profile, when he suddenly turns and looks straight at me. I snap a few quick shots, and perfect. I can't help but smile as I look at the screen. He's noticed me. I am so out of place, conspicuous, and probably incredibly suspicious looking. Suddenly, he is moving forward and I'm frozen looking at the screen at him striding towards me. Quickly, I pocket my phone and back up, lifting a hand to ward him off. Thank God he stops a couple of feet away from me. My chest tightens...the feeling of familiarity is twisting inside me.  I need to see him properly without the sepia colouring of my sunglasses. I take them off. This time it's him that takes a step back. I suspect he is surprised by my bright blue eyes. I'm transfixed...Weirdo will be impressed with himself. I never imagined I'd be this close to him and I'm staring so blatantly he must be thinking  I'm a crazy westerner. I wish I could ask him his name. All I can do is hold my hand to my chest and say "Timothy".

Then I bolted behind the stalls, at the same time calling out "HOME."