I heard that it’s hard to cry with the sunlight in your eyes

I know: Seoul again? My autumn/birthday plans had been to come back to Osaka, but work really ramped up after June and by October I was a molotov cocktail of burnout, anxiety, and depression, and I didn’t really have the energy for the plans I’d been making. I just wanted to go somewhere cold and wear my sweaters and the super cute gilet I got on sale at Mango, and I already kind of knew my way around the city, so Seoul it was. I really went from telling friends that I didn’t really see myself going there to visiting three times in one year. 

November 10 

My first order of business was heading over to Kim’s Deli Market so I could try their adorable tomato bagel with cream cheese and pesto. It’s made with rice flour, which definitely explains this springiness and chew to it that I really liked. The color of the bagel comes from real tomatoes, and the tomato flavor shines through and complements the filling.

I hadn’t been planning on staying to eat, but it was early enough and I liked the idea of spending some of my day in the quaint little shop. I also ordered a fizzy mixed berry drink, as well as a chocolate conch bread to go. I had some of the conch for dessert that night, and finished it off for breakfast the next morning. The sweetness was deep and dark, and I liked the play on textures with the soft bread, smooth cream, and chunky chocolate piece inside.

I had trouble locating Your Mind at first. It was in a quiet neighborhood, on the second floor of a gated building with all these indie lifestyle shops, and there was a huge yard full of fallen autumn leaves. I have to admit that stepping through the gate reminded me of the houses in K-dramas. 

A major point of this trip was to collect zines and prints by local artists, and this was the shop that stood out to me the most when I was doing my research. 

I often wish I were better versed in Korean, especially when I read about j-hope lyrics, but on this trip I  felt particularly regretful that I couldn’t buy all these beautiful books because I couldn’t have understood them. 

I set a budget for this trip, but it felt good to just gather all this printed matter in my arms and pick up whatever I wanted without looking at the price tag. I finally got some TABACOBOOKS stuff, and the bookmarks I got were so sweet and cute. There was also a wall of artists’ calling cards for ₩500, and of course I was happy to find one by LEEGOC. My favorite out of this haul is Heeda Garden’s Sleeping Gypsy, a gorgeous and whimsical book of sketches, photos, and collages from trips to different cities. 

I passed a streetside samgyeopsal cart on my way to pick up dinner, and I didn’t get any, but I savored the smell of it and wanted to remember that. 

Before I went to bed I got in the tub with a bottle of Soak’s bubblegum bubble bath in warm water, and I put on “Salt” by Rainsford, which is kind of about having a bath while you’re lonely and heartbroken, but not really. 

November 11

I think the Mango straight pants I got myself last Christmas cut such a pleasant silhouette with my sweaters and the oversize sling I bought so I could stuff the art prints I was supposed to hoard at Nuunu in Kyoto into it. (Never say never—I’m kind of already planning to go ahead with the Osaka trip next May.) Olive green is truly my color of the moment. 

I went back to Anguk Station so I could buy more art prints at Object, but this branch was being renovated, so I drowned my sorrows in apple iced tea and banana split Dippin’ Dots at the 7-Eleven next door. I’d been looking in the freezers for the packaged kind and was delighted to find that they were being served scooped into cups at the counter. 

This is my favorite shot out of this entire trip, I think, and it makes me want to kick myself again that I decided to leave my Canon G9X at home. 

I’d let go of my Telfar eggplant dreams a long time ago, but I chanced upon this Fennec bag online and fell in love with it. I’d been planning to buy it when I got home, but I decided to hunt for it at the Lotte Department Store since, hello, I was already in Seoul anyway. I ended up getting it with a great discount thanks to the Black Friday sale and the tax deduction. 

The department store was in a very commercial part of the city. I could have crossed the street and explored more of Myeongdong, but I don’t think I was ready for that quite yet. It reminded me of the city center in Kuala Lumpur, and there were all these Christmas lights and decorations at the entrance with seasonal music blaring, so it opened up this whole can of emotional worms that I needed to get away from but also wanted to wrap myself in. 

I decided to take a bus—but I got on the wrong one, so I got off as soon as I saw a Lotteria and got a late lunch while I figured out my next move. 

I’d also bookmarked Storage Book & Film on Naver Maps when I was looking for places to get zines, but I didn’t prioritize it since it seemed difficult to get to. But when I went to check the map to see how I could get back to my hotel, the little yellow star marking its location was right next to where I was. So I figured I might as well go. 

The bus that passes right by it was small and green, and there was a stop right in front of the Lotteria. I tried to ride it, but it was late afternoon and each one was full. I booked a ride instead, and then I discovered that my initial plan of walking to the bookstore from the nearest train station was never going to be the right choice: it was on a very steep hill. 

Still, I’d made it, and it was well worth the detour. I got another bunch of travel zines and some bookmarks and postcards, including one for Storage itself. The checkout counter was behind a curtain, so I couldn’t immediately see who was ringing me up. They had short hair, so I assumed it was a man. But when they handed me my card back along with my paper bag, they finally looked up, and I came eye to eye with the most beautiful, soft spoken butch I’d ever seen in my pathetic gay life. I had never witnessed features this distinct and delicate in all my days. A face you could never forget, but if I’m being honest, I’m not really able to picture it clearly anymore in my mind—but I like the romance of keeping it in that moment and only then.

(But of course I’ve already scrolled down the bookstore’s Instagram feed and tags in case I could find her in the periphery of even a single photo.) 

I walked downhill until I reached a bridal shop with a pride flag and the Palestine flag in the window, which made me so happy. I booked a ride from there and just watched the skies darken out the window. For dinner I got toowoomba pasta from the GS25 around the corner. 

November 12

At noon I was set to watch a screening of Hope on the Stage The Movie, and all I had to do was literally cross the street to the CGV near my hotel. I still find it so amusing how convenient this ended up being for me, and I got my ticket through an automated kiosk.

There were only two of us in the theater. When it was over and we were waiting for the elevator back down to the lobby, she turned to me and said hello, and she knew enough English that we were able to make small talk about the movie and where I was from and what I was doing in the city. I found her really nice and she helped me through the process of claiming the really cute commemorative ticket, which was most of the reason I even made time to see the movie in Seoul. (I already had plans to see it back home.) I think we both wanted to talk more, but she was pretty shy and so was I, and we never even got each other’s names. It’s a memory and interaction I treasure anyway. 

Next time I would love to catch a rare movie that I wouldn’t have gotten to watch elsewhere, but unfortunately they don’t provide subtitles for titles that are local to them. 

Since February I’ve been trying to find the most convenient and walkable way to be by the Han River, and so far it’s been Yeouido Hangang Park, which is right by Yeouinaru Station and also has a Hangang Bus dock. I didn’t have time to go on a boat ride, but it was enough for me to sit on a bench and admire the river while I listened to my current heavy rotation playlist. (“unlearning you” by Crying City is at the top.) 

When I’m back I’ll be taking the water bus, and maybe braving a stop at Euljidarak so I can try their bolognese with a pretty scoop of whipped cream. 

I did take the bus after, though. The right route, this time, a 40-minute ride back to my hotel. I got to take a seat early and admire views of the city I hadn’t gotten a chance to glimpse since I was always on the subway. It was a late Wednesday afternoon, the sun starting to dip, casting a poignant glow over the buildings and storefronts we passed. 

I turned out all the lights in my hotel room and watched the walls grow darker. I went to get dinner later, a warm bowl of tuna mayo and egg rice with extra umami from nori strips. It was a short walk from my hotel but the brightness of the lights against the night sky and the perfect temperature made me wistful. It was 8 p.m. and I had to be up by 3 a.m. to make it to my flight at seven, but I felt a pull—a yearning—to explore one last time. 

I finished my dinner and went back down so I could take a walk. It was the rightest amount of cold I’d experienced out of the entire trip, feeling like the autumn chill was just dusting my cheeks, little kisses of it here and there. I walked aimlessly down the side street behind the building with the CGV. It’s right by a university, so there were a lot of places open late and students milling about and dragging each other to neon-lit arcades and busy coffee shops. 

I stayed out for an hour, and then I crossed the street back to the hotel. I’d left the window open so I could be welcomed by the flicker of streetlights. I kept the curtains drawn apart while I finished packing, and it wasn’t long before I had to say goodbye to the view, too. 

At the airport I sat at the Hwangsaengga Kalguksu close to my gate. I ordered what I thought was going to be a quick snack of mandu, but the dumplings were massive. They were very good.  

On this trip I made a list of places I wanted to visit, but it was mostly unplanned. I made sure not to let the pressure of “making the most of it” hang over my head, and I just went with whatever I felt like doing. It was never going to be a montage of those “Seoul’s best-kept secrets” I’d been bookmarking—and it still made me happy and healed me regardless. 

I’ve been learning lately that for now, I’m kind of an escapist when I travel. I established long ago that I’ll never be a traveler or vagabond, more of a city-dwelling vacationer, but where my heart is at these days is really just getting out of my head, getting on a train, seeing what I can do and where I can go to let go and have fun for a little while. And for me, that’s not always found in bucket lists and best-ofs. 

More than anything, it’s just about having a nice day.

Since you last saw me

I've cut my own hair once 

and gotten a haircut twice

I've been to Japan in autumn

and to Seoul on days like ice 

I don't think I still have 

any of the clothes I would've worn 

to the mall when we would eat out 

despite the crowds we used to scorn 

Somehow I've doubled my paycheck

I'm even budgeting, you'd be so proud

Somehow I've made it a thousand days 

but I barely remember how

You're always crossing my mind 

when "Cherish" plays on my way home

I promise I'm taking care of myself 

and I never have to do it alone

I've perfected the sauce I ruined 

Your brownie recipe is in my Notes

I don't think I'll ever make it 

(It's just that I miss your cooking the most)

We'll always be alive to move us: A Hope on the Stage Final diary

More than anything, I prepared for the weather. 

On the day of the very last concert of the Hope on the Stage Tour, I set out for Goyang at half past four in the afternoon, wanting to get there just before it started. It took me about a couple dozen stops and an hour on the subway along with two minutes at a crosswalk to get there. The weather forecast said there was a high probability of rain, so I’d packed a couple of disposable raincoats. I hadn’t tried them before, but I was surprised that they weighed like nothing but offered full coverage (and were very cost-efficient) and they instantly became a travel must-have for me. 

But it was nearing 7 p.m. and the sun was still high up. The girls in the seats around me and I got our umbrellas out and shared them to protect ourselves not from a downpour, but from the glare—the kind of community that really makes my heart feel full on days like this. 

This time around, I wanted to give out my own gifts, and I called on a hobby I hadn’t practiced in maybe a decade: shrink plastic. I had so many ring backs and other trinket supplies lying around, so I decided to make rings adorned with the butterfly confetti that falls during “On the Street.” I spent days testing for the right size, painstakingly cutting them out of thick plastic sheets, baking, and gluing them onto the rings. I also got an idea to create a charm bracelet to commemorate the tour, and it was so fun to bring it to life. 

I distributed them to the people in the seats around me, and some of them wore the rings right away. I was also excited that everyone with a ticket was given a towel with this really cool design as well as the cutest photocard of Hoseok posing with his little chipmunk doll counterpart, which I immediately slid into a toploader for safekeeping. (Always bring multiple sleeves and toploaders to events like this because you just never know!)

First show. Last show. A few others in between. Watching him rise to the stage as it pounded like a heart around him for the last time in a while, I thought about how the first time felt like holding my breath in anticipation of what would happen next, and now it felt like an exhale. I knew every pulse, every beat. Every rise, every fall. I clapped before he even asked. 

I knew it all by heart. 

I’d brought an Aquapix to the first concert and tried to take a few shots, but it had been loaded with a Himalaya 200 so you can barely make out anything in them. This time around, I made sure to bring ISO 800 film, and it worked wonderfully against the setting sun and the glittering dark. I’ll never get tired of how the sprawling gradient blue of the skies turns out on what’s essentially a toy camera.

After the concert, the stage design went viral again when people observed that the boxes spell out “j-hope” during “STOP,” which was always fun for me to see. 

At first I thought, “How could you not have noticed through the entire tour?” But then I realized that not everyone had gotten to attend and it’s not one of the common moments people would post online. It made me wonder if any of the other details I’d grown to look for and adore with every stop had flown under the radar, and I hope I always remember them when I rewatch the streams and look back.

Through it all I tried to be as present as I could. Even today I feel like I’d get so wrapped up in the moment when he would freestyle to “On the Street,” like it was something I could never quite fathom even when I was seeing it with my own eyes. Like I kept trying to get a grasp on it, convinced that if I just looked hard enough it would become part of me, but it was the kind of thing that only ever left an impression. Precious and fleeting and ephemeral and it was best that way. Not unlike the butterflies that elegantly drifted around him as he moved. 

“Remember the time in KSPO Dome?” he asked, like I could ever forget. “When I asked you to memorize the lyrics to ‘i wonder’?” You mean when I harmonized with you from my seat and I had an inkling of what heaven could be like? 

“When was that? Four months? Three months ago? I’m so happy that I was able to hear your voices. It’s beautiful to the very end, so sweet to the very end. How can I ever forget you guys? I’ve heard your voices while I performed all over the world, and it’s something I cannot express with words. It’s sweetness itself.” 

So we sang with him one more time. 

Then—and not to ruin this moment with, um, something decidedly not pure and sweet—I braced myself. 

I’d loved the previous outfit and thought he couldn’t have been more attractive. When it was time for “Killin’ It Girl”—released just the day before, so this was the second performance ever—somehow I just knew he would emerge from that wall of dancers… more creatively dressed than usual. Like his re-emergence in October and this whole entire era had been leading up to this. And yet there was no way to be ready about any of it when you’ve been here as long as I have. 

Questions raced through my mind as the entire stadium erupted into the screams of almost 30,000 individuals: Where did his shirt go? Are we being serious right now? How is this happening? Is this what our lives are going to be like from now on? Am I really here bearing firsthand witness to history?   

And the question that has plagued me for all time since: What has he done and why has he done this? To us? To me? 

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a horrifying realization dawned on me: this is literally the longest segment of the show, with over a dozen songs, and he would be (half-)dressed like this the entire. Fucking. Time. Did he not care that I was barely clinging to my sanity. 

I was so right to prioritize the very last date. I love every choice that led me here. Including pouring out my every feeling about pretty much the whole tour set list when I wrote about the Seoul concerts, because now I can just focus on being rendered at a loss for words.

An immediate thought I had was that I wished I could tell my mom, and I still so desperately do.

Looking like a whole Interpol album cover.

The final official stop of the tour had been Osaka. On the second day his voice had turned careful, pensive.

“One last thing,” he said. “I worked hard, almost to the point of breaking down, knowing that this moment would never come back. Really, every performance.” He smiled, but then he was crying.  “I really came here with all my might. Even though I was feeling unwell, I did my best, and because this performance is very meaningful and important to me, I have worked hard to get to this point.”

“I thought I wouldn’t cry,” he went on, “once I turned 30. I thought I wouldn’t cry anymore after I finished the military. As I’ve said before, the moment the performance begins, I make a vow. I really took on this with a great sense of responsibility, and every performance was a tour I took on with a vow and resolve, so I was overwhelmed with emotion.” 

And in true Aquarius fashion, he finished with, “Sorry for the long story.”

And of course, in Goyang, he was tearful once more as he launched into the ending ment that would close out not just that night, but the tour and the season that had passed as it went on. It was strange to hear it all without the full context right then, unable to access translations, only going off of the handful of words I could understand and his gestures. But being right there, crying along with him, was the only thing that mattered. 

“Everything I did today, things that were a routine to me, was the very last time today,” he began. “The soundcheck, hair, makeup, stage, sunglasses, everything was the very last time. I always used to clench my teeth and push through every stage, but today I had to perform each one with the thought of letting it go, for the last time. So it made me emotional and tear up all the way here.” 

As j-hope, he continued, “I will perform for you, I’ll dance, rap, and sing for you until the last moment my body allows me to. In these past four months, thanks to you I realized how much I need to value and take care of myself. I bow my head to you once again in gratitude. Thank you so much!”

This part I definitely understood, and it still makes my heart pinch thinking about it months later: “I was happy!” he was saying, his voice climbing to an exhilarated shout. “I was so happy! I’ll come back when I get the chance again!”

We all began cheering, “Saranghae!” Over and over. So he returned it, and we gave it to him right back, just like he deserved. 

I couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of my own firsts and lasts of the tour as he spoke. Three months passed between Seoul and Goyang, and I know I’ll be able to think back on all of it as such an unprecedented, inimitable, happy time in my life. Traveling, spending time with friends I hold so dear, meeting new people, and five nights that feel like everything I needed in the moment, everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’ve ever loved and lived for. Finding out that I can do this on my own, but I didn’t have to go through it alone. 

It drained me, it caused me genuine distress, it made me feel more alive than I had in a while, it healed me. 

It had me flying to Singapore for a weekend all over again with nothing but a backpack and a ticket, blinking my eyes against a stadium ceiling that looked straight out of Stranger Things (no longer such a cool reference to make, but I wanted to point it out anyway). 

I stayed at NuVe Urbane in Lavender again, this time in a room with not just a window, but a balcony. I wish I’d had more time and energy to explore the surrounding neighborhood and take pictures, but I really only had time to fly in Friday night, go to the concert on Saturday, then fly out Sunday morning. 

I did go on a 7-Eleven run, where the old man at the register nodded knowingly at the honey lemon Fisherman’s Friend I was buying and declared with approval, “Yes, that’s new, isn’t it?” As a proponent of the lozenge brand with flu or without, I definitely found it to be one of my best interactions of the year. 

I went with Alissa, and I couldn’t believe it was their first concert ever. And what a concert to start with! With floor tickets, it was the best view I had out of the whole tour, and we gradually got closer to the stage as the night progressed. I was especially insistent on getting a good vantage point for “Mona Lisa.” 

(It hadn’t been released yet during Seoul, so I just want to add here that the day it came out, I got a 5-digit raise at work following a year of major growth and progress, according to the higher ups. “Independent check, got her own check”? So true.) 

The butterflies were falling over my head for once during “On the Street.” They came in three colors and two shapes, and with lighter material and a higher volume, while the effect wasn’t as artful or gentle, it felt to me like another kind of magic and I loved watching them come down and getting to collect more of them than I knew what to do with.

 

For the segment where they flashed some signs onscreen, they actually showed one adorned with rainbows that said Gays ♡ j-hope, and I was excited knowing he would be able to see it from backstage. 

I cried for the first time all tour (while the concert was still ongoing, that is) in Singapore. After “Neuron” ended, Alissa and I just looked at each other, tears ready to be blinked into running down our cheeks. 

A silly thought, but Hoseok is such an Aquarius in the way he admitted that he deliberately avoided moments that would induce crying on his solo tour. But the fact that he managed to make this song, as the finale, feel extra poignant and emotional anyway? That’s pure Pisces mercury at work. 

We had dinner at a Korean rice bowl place where I ordered a decadent salmon with teriyaki sauce and a creamy mentaiko topping. We’d met up in the afternoon around the stadium, but we left for a couple of hours to go to a cafe. It rained really hard while we were there, but I was once again struck by how seamless life felt in this city that is an island that is a city. How convenient it was, how connected everything is. You could while away time in good company before a concert, head back with less than an hour to spare, and be right back with minimal walking and no rush.

Alissa saw me off at the station, where I got on the last train just before it set off. It was two stops from Lavender and the walk back was almost like being carried on a cloud to the hotel despite my aching legs. I bought a paper cup of freshly squeezed cold orange juice from the machine outside. It was nice. 

In the morning I went on the balcony for a bit, and before long, it was time for me to leave. 

In Manila, there was no other person I could’ve experienced this with but Amrie. 

I still can’t believe he gave us a hometown show. The name of this city I adore on his tour poster, on the shirts and keepsakes, on the Louis Vuitton suitcase that opens up to reveal his boombox. The streets that have been part of me my whole life and for as long as I’ll live becoming a part of his own history in the most special way. 

Amrie and I stood in front of the MOA Globe for hours, the crowds thinning around us until we were the only two people left, the words and emotions—and, eventually, tears—pouring out of us like they would never stop. Mostly about what we’d just gone through that night, but also about the last several years of watching him lay down every brick that’s made up this long, difficult, but inevitable and painstakingly earned path. Getting to overcome along with him, and getting to do it together.

My first true impression of Hoseok was marked with the thought: So that’s who he is. I’d spent months reading his name from Amrie’s Twitter username, and watching the “IDOL” music video for the first time and witnessing him deliver his first verse, I felt like I finally got it. Literally bouncing into frame, almost like he could transcend the screen, sounding unlike nobody I’d ever heard before. And it says so much about him that I still feel that way whenever I listen to that song.

“I didn’t think I still loved him like that,” Amrie said, just after we both decided we didn’t care that we were full on crying in public. “But he just proved to me that I probably always will.” 

An aspect of the tour that I’ve loved getting to see was Hoseok’s resolve to experience and enjoy the local cuisine of every city he visited. He really embraced his inner Anthony Bourdain and expressed the importance of not just eating well but eating as an act of joy and indulgence. It was evident in his variety show appearances, his social posts, his livestreams. I also realized in those months that I barely knew how far his sweet tooth really went. 

In Manila, he fell in love with halo-halo and savored his dinner from Manam: crispy pata, garlic rice, crispy sisig (his favorite, he says), and sinigang na baboy sa sampaloc—which people ordered as a set so often that it became an unofficial “j-hope Meal” for a time.

On a show, talking about his enlistment period and why he stayed at the camp where he trained, he shared, 

“I was eating meals after training and the food there was just so delicious. They served things like mala tteokbokki, and I thought, ‘I have to stay here.’ Then I started thinking, ‘What do I have to do to stay here?’ and I realized I needed to become a teaching assistant. So I studied and studied for a month, and if you pass the evaluation, you become a TA. I had to study six subjects within a set time. I thought, ‘If I had studied English like this, I would’ve [excelled].” 

Drive-thru burgers, home-cooked steak, his signature Hope Toast with eggs and bacon and strawberry jam, his ultimate comfort food bibimmyeon. It’s made me so happy getting to see him enjoy his life full and nourished. As he said on Chef & My Fridge, “I began to want to eat something delicious if I’m going to eat something.”

Even his gifts for fans during his “Killin’ It Girl” promotions have been so wonderful and hearty: tomato-shaped bagels with cream cheese and pesto, acorn cookies, frozen yogurt with chocolate shells and fruit toppings.  

And I know I’ve been talking about him revealing his abs like it’s a psychological torture experiment designed for my personal torment, but I swear from an art appreciation perspective and as someone who cares about his well-being, it has allowed me to map out how his body really ripples and moves when he’s performing, and seeing all these facets of it I never considered keeps reminding me of this excerpt from a fic Amrie and I have loved: 

He goes in for a hug, and she accepts it though she doesn’t really want to. But, for such a skinny guy, there’s a surprising amount of him, and for someone so sharp, he’s gentle with her.

And it goes hand in hand with this philosophy he’s been putting into action with food. This body, there truly is a surprising amount of him, strong and soft in equal measure. I love how healthy it is and how its topography is traced by his life of dance. 

 It’s so nice to me how the memory spreads from each city are so different. People have been showcasing their own memory boxes for Hope on the Stage that they can display, but I’m pretty content with my choice of storing them all in an opaque black box so they’re protected from light damage. I also enjoy the process of laying them out on my scanner and seeing the results. 

The Manila spread includes some super cute Hobi x Snoopy pins, two of my favorite dolls that I brought along in the ita bag I’d gotten just for the occasion, a sticker designed to look like jeepney signages, freebies such as a bracelet from the girl next to me, a squirrel mask that had been part of a fan project, a Hope World tamagotchi earring from Aya whom I met for the first time that night, and a peso bill confetti from the “Hope World” performance. It means so, so much to me that I actually caught one all the way from lower box! I watched it wide-eyed as it flew through the air and scrambled to catch it just as it landed in my seat. Amrie caught one just a few minutes later, and we screamed together as we clutched them to our chests and hugged. 

The Singapore spread includes an MRT pass, my plane ticket, a receipt from our dinner, an adorable glittered NFC-powered mini CD with an even tinier random photocard, a Snoopy “Mona Lisa” art print, and the butterfly confetti I’d collected. I love the effect of the other mementos peeking through their sheer material. So pretty. 

Finally, for the Goyang spread, I put together stuff from the concert, LEEGOC’s exhibit, and of course, And What?

The week after the final concerts, he posted a letter that made me cry harder than I ever did when I was actually there. “Looks like I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about it all,” he began. He wrote about having a deep sense of resonance from the last several months, of being immersed in and accomplishing his work with great love, affection, and care. Of coming to believe in himself and becoming more strong and secure and unshakeable. 

“I really learnt a lot, felt a lot, and I think that the attitude I’ve gained is going to make me consider and approach my next steps with even more care… Since I set out on my solo journey in 2022, I’ve experienced being sick, and tried healing myself, and felt a great sense of accomplishment, and developed confidence.”

 A translator used the words “tremendous fulfillment” to describe what he had felt, which was what did it for me. 

Some excerpts from another translation that helped me understand how beautiful the feelings he was trying to express were: 

“I can’t seem to get over the lingering feelings,” highlighting his use of “여운” which the translator says indicates “a feeling or image that remains even after the experience is over.” 

“I must have considered it all precious as I did it, right? I tried not to miss out on any part of it. I acted with painstaking consideration… Since 2022, I’ve been working as a solo artist, tried running into things to see if it hurts, and then tried healing myself, and I felt a huge sense of accomplishment.” 

When the lights came down after “Neuron” I just had this feeling, this strong sense that it wasn’t over yet. 

All tour long I’d been a little sad that “Safety Zone,” which some days I would call my favorite out of all j-hope tracks, had been left out of the set list. I hadn’t even sat back down yet, hadn’t even made a decision about what I was going to do now that it was all over just like that, before the lights flashed back on and the intro that made my chest ache in the best way from the first time I heard it was suddenly washing over the stadium. It sounded so much more poignant and whole with the live band, and with his raw, emotional delivery. Just him, just his mic, just the stage. And just us, the sea of people who loved him. 

The name of the tour transforming into Hope on the Safety Zone behind him, letting us all know where he had found solace. 

I feel heavy typing this, like I’m about to cry. I couldn’t imagine a better way to close out this whole chapter than with this song, and I feel so lucky I was there. I never wanted it to end, so of course it was over much too soon. 

The girl next to me was called Jessica. I can’t remember if she was originally from Hong Kong and now she lived in Australia or the other way around, but she had a wonderfully friendly Aussie accent and all the same, it meant that she had traveled far to be here, just like me. She’d given me one of those charming clip-on koalas that I recently remembered from childhood and wondered where they’d gone. 

And when “Safety Zone” ended, she pulled out a packet of scented tissues with Mang on the packaging and handed one to me, no questions asked. Because of course we both had tears streaming down our faces. It’s still probably buried in my bag somewhere.

 

I’d bought a ticket to a shuttle that would let me off at Hapjeong Station, just two stops from Sinchon. It was a fifteen-minute walk from the stadium to the parking lot where the buses were and it was an extra expense that wasn’t all that cheap, but I think I chose well. The subway would’ve been a crowded nightmare, and on the bus I could sit and lean my head against the window watching the certainty of the night sky against the whirling scenery. Thinking about my favorite line from the song still lingering in my head: The world changes fast, and at every moment, a different feeling of loneliness hits me.

And I may have been lonely. But I found that I don’t mind. 

The trains were dangerously close to ending their run for the day when I got off in Hapjeong and rushed to the platform. Just like the night I arrived, the streets in Sinchon were hardly empty when I exited the station. My dinner was microwave carbonara from 7-Eleven—the noodles perfectly al dente, the sauce the kind of bland I found comforting, buttery and soupy and just what I needed while sitting cross-legged in front of the TV. 

Just like the Seoul stop, I’d once again gone within the space of an hour from seeing j-hope live to watching him on cable television. Yet another layer that’s made the experience so much fuller, so much more fun than I ever thought possible. Perfect timing, perfect planning down to the tiniest detail. 

When I got home, the first thing I did was finally draw the other eye on the Daruma doll I’d used to make a wish: to take the most I can get out of this tour, to experience it to the fullest. I’ve used a total of two Daruma dolls in my life, and in my experience, they’re quite powerful, hopeful little things. 

Back in Seoul I’d set off for the airport at 4 a.m. Everything was dark and still. The weather was moody, pouring over the bridges and bodies of water we crossed as we drove. It’s so silly and a little melodramatic, but it was a sweet and soothing thought, the idea that we were in the same city while it was raining.

Just for a little while longer, anyway.

I held onto this thought, this feeling, as the plane took off and my life went on.

I've got a new kind of lonesome, a new kind of longing: A Seoul diary

It was 10 p.m. by the time I got to my hotel in Seoul. In the three months since I was last here, winter had given way to spring, but I had missed it entirely and walked right into the beginnings of what was already a moody summer. 

I had chosen to stay in Sinchon, at a boutique hotel opened just last year called Mayven. The hotel was on a steep slope of road: uphill when you’re coming, downhill when you’re going. It was close to midnight, but when I left my room after checking in and getting settled, the neighborhood still bustled with laughter and neon lights, the crowds young and resolute. I thought I could get used to it. 

Back at the hotel I had a burger for dinner. (Lunch on the plane was lemon garlic butter fish with fried rice.) And over the next few days I would come to swear by the Mayven. They had a collaboration with photographer Koo Sung-soo, which I had thought would be a little gallery like at the Orosie Hotel, but his work adorned the elevators, the hallways, even the rooms. There was also a welcome gift on my bed consisting of a set of prints and postcards.

The room I’d gotten was more of a suite, and the TV was in front of not the bed but a lounge area with traditional floor seating, including soft mats all over, floor cushions, and a little table. As someone who has refined my packing style from what I’ve learned as I travel, I found it so thoughtful that the bathroom had rubber slippers and a disposable shower towel for the body wash. 

I unpacked, hung up my clothes, and read a little in bed before falling asleep. 

Of course I was my usual tailspinny self, obsessively checking and updating my planner to make sure this sojourn would be the best, least disastrous it could be. I still wasn’t doing it from the mindset of a tourist and deliberately avoided creating an itinerary; now that I had a multiple-entry visa, there would be time for me to focus on travel eventually. This was a trip, one with a specific purpose and I only had enough energy to deal with that. 

But about a week before my flight, I learned that both Lee Haesun and LEEGOC, two Korean visual artists I adore, would be holding exhibitions that coincided with my dates in the city. There was even a RIIZE exhibition at a cafe. I only had enough time to visit one of them, though, so I chose LEEGOC’s solo show “Sweet Home” at Chung M Art Company in Jongno. 

Seeing where the Sinchon Station entrance was the night before—just two minutes from my hotel—left me with less jitters about figuring out the subway system. I was confused about why there were seemingly two end-of-the-line destinations trains were bound for on Naver Maps, but I quickly figured out that the other one was the next station from your origin. 

I’ve always been good with directions, something I got from my dad. I’m hardly ever lost. Not in a physical sense, anyway. So I walked, and I kept going, trusting my instincts (and, okay, the signs) to guide me. I got to the turnstiles and found the correct platform, quickly hopping on the next train. I used the Hope on the Stage Seoul commemorative Namane card I’d bought as a souvenir, never imagining it would actually serve its function for me. I pre-loaded it using the app on my cousin’s phone since mine doesn’t have an NFC reader, and I found the process so convenient and cool. 

I can’t describe it, how good it feels to find my way and get to know a new place independently. To take up space on public transportation and be just another person in the city with somewhere to go and something to do. 

It was also great practice for my commute to Goyang the next day, since this was the same line transfer I would need to make.

When I emerged onto the street in Jongno, the air was cool and crisp, carrying leftover traces of spring. It was a nine-minute walk to the gallery, everything a lot to take in in the best way: plenty of chic white storefronts with the occasional oddity lining sloping roads, the solid, clean lines of modern architecture coexisting with modular wood finishes and stone details. Galleries wherever I turned my head. Pure and elegant, but it also had that Cubao Expo hidden-gem charm about it. Like Karrivin on steroids. All flanked by greenery and mountains. All that contrast was dizzying, but instead of birds flying around my head, there would be hearts. 

I fell in love instantly. 

I steeled myself before coming into the gallery, admiring its all-black brick exterior that really made the colors and starkly soft shapes of LEEGOC’s work stand out. The exhibit reminded me of this game my parents would play with me (and my sister and cousin, if they were with us) when I would come with them to inspect clients’ houses. They often lived in upscale villages we knew we could never afford or belong in, so we did the next best thing and played pretend, pointing out these beautiful homes as we passed and daydreaming about what it would be like if they were ours, what they would look like inside. Swimming in that pool, taking that Benz out for a road trip, ruminating on that terrace.  

My favorite piece is the one in the window, which is also the one on the poster: a yellow house with a mauve roof and a mint green garage door, clear blue skies giving way to the night with fading pinks and oranges from the final moments of sunset, and a young woman who has just arrived home with her dog.  

Upstairs there was a sketchbook left on the coffee table that detailed her process for this body of work. While flipping through it, I ran my fingers along the edges of the pages and the physical indents her markings had left, suddenly emotional with the humanity of it washing over me. Something made by her hands, touched by the hands that have visited here previously, that I was now holding in my own hands. 

Next to it was a guestbook. I turned the pages until I could find a fresh one and wrote: I traveled here from Manila and I feel so lucky to have experienced your work. 

“This is a series about homes,” she wrote in the sketchbook in both Korean and English, right at the beginning, over much simpler childlike drawings of the paintings downstairs. “Not just as buildings, but as places where memories and emotions gather.” 

The day after the concert I took a two-minute, one-stop train ride to visit the j-hope “And What?” exhibit in Hongdae. I was very excited about actually getting to experience something like this for once, when they would always feel so exclusive and so far away. 

I got a “Killin’ It Girl” gift photocard that I’m absolutely obsessed with and a hard plastic ticket photocard. The latter had a number of random options and mine was from the “On the Street” era (and the one I wanted the most out of the bunch!). The first activity was getting to press a button that would deposit another random card with one of Hoseok’s titles (i.e. the different sections of the exhibit), and I got “Dancer.” 

Coming from an editorial and content background, I know that “And What?” is a nightmare for SEO, but I don’t care, I love it. It’s silly and tongue-in-cheek, it’s cocky and cool, it’s succinct and it raises intrigue. Like of course an exhibition all about his career so far would be all about capturing his versatility, his boundless talent and potential, his ability to adapt and inhabit all these identities and show off all these facets of him.  

The first section, “Pioneer,” focuses primarily on how he was the first to officially debut solo in his group, but to me it’s also an apt modifier for how he has consistently created and broken records and set the standard for promotion and performance in the industry, earning him the nickname Jung “First Korean soloist to” Hoseok among fans. From reinventing what listening parties could be, to raising the bar for tour merch, to posting a homemade encore for a music show win that he can’t personally receive, he’s always defying expectations by being one step ahead. 

I’m probably misremembering some of it, but the infinity box that greets you upon entry was so moving: peer down and you’ll see his endless potential, take it in from another angle and you’ll see that there’s so much more to him than meets the eye. 

The “Dancer” and “Performer” sections show off his work on and off the stage in a lot of fun, interactive ways: a display case with his iconic red microphone, listening and viewing stations for his rehearsals, Hope on the Street lives, and street dance performances, even a room with just a massive projection of snippets from his tour. 

Obviously, me being a writer, I found the “Storyteller” room so endearing. It celebrates not just his work as a songwriter and lyricist, but also this rich lore he’s created around his artistry and persona as j-hope. I would even go as far as to call it worldbuilding. (His mixtape was called Hope World, after all.) 

His own style as a writer will always be so dreamy and romantic in my eyes: balancing moments of mirth and melancholy, observational but introspective, grounded but bright and brilliant and unafraid to get lost in imagination and fantasy. 

The ball pit that took up most of the room was full of fun pastel spheres printed with words associated with Hoseok, from song titles, to the classic adventure stories he wove into his lyrics, to his many, many nicknames. I had half a mind to stuff the “Blue Side” ball into my pocket and walk out of there a thief, but of course I knew better. (That, and the CCTV camera was pointed right at me, and there were also staff members in the room.) 

Before moving on to the next room, there was another activity where you could pick out a paper keyring with a surprise lyric. My first try gave me “Mona Lisa,” and while I love that song, I wanted something that better represented the full extent of what he can do. So I chose again—and got scolded for it by staff, because apparently you only get the one try, oops—and ended up with “Arson” this time. Perhaps the most experimental of his music, a song about leaning into risk and putting it all on the line that sounds like it. 

The “Musician” section was like taking a walk through his eras, complete with costumes from his music videos. 

I couldn’t wait to see these tiny “Daydream” sets for myself and I’d made sure to bring a doll for it. A kitty Hobi doll instead of the usual chipmunk or squirrel, but it really is just my favorite. I can’t stop thinking about the brainstorming sessions for this exhibition and the absolute genius who must’ve been like, “People love bringing their little 10cm babies places, let’s give them chairs and a bed to rest on and take the cutest photos to remember it by.” 

They need to collaborate with Takara Tomy and make this toy CNS car available to the public, like, yesterday. 

I’m gonna stop myself from saying anything about Jack in the Box and how much it means to me (and to culture) before I cry or I’m unable to shut up. So I’ll just say that it’s been divisive, but personally I really love how whimsical and silly and cute, how totally j-hope, the “Mona Lisa” cover is.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t really stop for the listening stations since the lines were long and I had this attitude of, I listen to them all the time, probably more than most of you ever will. So I almost missed this chance to hear the full version of “Blue Side”—a.k.a. “Blue Side (Self-Actualized Ver.)” as I’d called it when it was dropped without warning four years ago—a cappella, and I’m so glad I happened to read the sign. 

I fell in line and waited about five minutes before my turn. I didn’t know what to expect, but I quickly learned what “solely through his voice” meant: the audio included not just the main vocal track, but also his harmonies and his ad libs. The vocals are honey-smooth, but the rap parts are more raw, like they’re recordings he did in the moment while writing them. I have to stress here that there is no other credited vocalist on this song, and it was overwhelming to hear layers and layers of Hoseok’s gorgeous falsetto. The only reason I kept it together and managed to avoid crying was the threat of vulnerability in this crowd. Sometimes I think it’s only right that this experience be a once-in-a-lifetime one you can’t find anywhere else—I didn’t even stay to listen a second time since it felt like disturbing a holy grail—but of course I’d do anything to be able to hear it everyday. 

The room where you could leave messages on the walls had no more space, but I made do. I didn’t know if it would ever reach him, if it would even be decipherable, but I needed to let him know anyway: You’re the artist of my life.

My last meals on this trip: a saucy, creamy, crunchy, onion-y bulgogi burger paired with sweet onion shaker fries for dinner with banana split Dippin’ Dots for dessert, and a fluffy little omelette with breakfast sausages and tomato sauce (no rice, sadly) on the plane. 

Another detail I appreciated about the Mayven was how fuss-free it was, a relief for my social anxiety. I’d been looking for a “Do Not Disturb” sign to avoid housekeeping and learned that they didn’t actually offer it for days-long stays unless requested. Reception was on the second floor, so you could skip straight to the ground floor and slink away without seeing anyone. Nobody was at the desk when I checked out at 4 a.m., so I just left my key card with the automatic checkout machine. 

I had a surprisingly blasé, almost anxious going-through-the-motions attitude about going on this trip. I know it’s an incredibly privileged take and so many people would’ve loved to be in my place, but it’s been quite a whirlwind six months for me and I wanted to document it and write through my feelings a little. 

Work has been hectic with the other writers on the team moving on to different pursuits, leaving me scrambling to juggle productions, scripting, and daily programming. Finding their replacements has been taking some time. I’ve been pretty much burnt out and stressed since April and it hasn’t subsided. And it’s been so comforting to focus the rest of my energy on this tour and experience as much of it as I can, but that was the thing—with the rest of my energy used up like this, it left me drained, this supposed fluffy escapism ending up contributing to my burnout even further.

 

I still loved every second of it, don’t get me wrong, but it was such a strange feeling to grapple with. A kind of happiness that became all-consuming. I tried to make sense of it with Alissa as early as April when I flew to see him in Singapore. How I was so tired that a tiny voice in the back of my mind would say: I just want to lay in this hotel room and sleep and not go out. How I was so lucky to have seen him enough times—the fourth by then—that the smallest part of me could ever consider taking a j-hope concert (a fucking j-hope concert! me!) for granted like that. 

And then I was gearing up to go back to Seoul, and some days it felt like I was on autopilot, doing everything because I knew I had to. Because I still knew this was all I ever wanted. Endless logistics, too many hours at the airport, going on a flight all over again. There was almost a sense of dread to it, like let’s just get this over with. Part of it was definitely the depression talking. 

The crash that follows the euphoric sensation of a concert is a well-documented thing, but this is the first time I’ve experienced something like this, and it made me curious if anyone would know exactly what I’m talking about. 

Or maybe this is yet another symptom of growing older, simple as.

By the end of it I swore I would never get on another plane until October.

All I know is, all of this spiraling, it doesn’t negate the beautiful memories I left with, the only ones that will matter in the end. The hard parts were easier than I thought they would be, and this concert was one thing I never could have lived with missing out on. Because it was all worth it: Getting a ticket at all. Finally getting a visa that lets me come back whenever I want. Exploring on my own terms. The sweet onion fries I’m still thinking about. Seeing him. Seeing him. Seeing him. Then seeing him two more times. What I’ve held on long enough to be there for. Every little thing that’s led me here. Every little thing I almost took for granted but never could and never, ever would. 

I miss it all already. And I can only look forward to what’s next. 

(Just let me recover financially first.)