When I realised Taiwan was again on the cards for 2010, I quickly had to make my mind up on any other destinations I would like to tag onto the trip.

Korea was my wildcard choice, just two hours flying time from Shanghai and wonderfully packed with mystery; being both a country I know precious little about, and somewhere I have never been before.

Once concession I must admit is that I had originally planned to split my accommodation between hotels and a traditional Hanook guesthouse experience (tea, sleeping on futons etc) but last minute panic to organise some accommodation meant that I’ve ended up in a rather glorious boutique hotel for all four nights. Substitute culture and history for modern art and ubiquitous wi-fi (not that that matters in Seoul, the most connected up city on earth, and bleeding with signal, even on the subway).

I arrived on Monday afternoon, but it barely left me time to explore the area in the evening after a long wait at customs and the bus ride from the station. Perhaps I am more out of my depth here than any other place I’ve been before, mainly on the grounds that I’m travelling alone and have no understanding of the language at all. For the life of me, I still can’t recall “annyeong hasayo” when I need it - much harder than the bi-sybalic Manderin “ni hao” or the simple Japanese “konichiwa”. And then of course, they use their own bespoke character set too, just to make things awkward.

I’m staying in the Itaewon district of Seoul (through chance rather than by planning) and it becomes instantly apparent when you arrive here that this place caters largely for the 30,000 US troops stationed just a stones throw away.

If until now, you are not at all familiar with Seoul; it’s geography, it’s history or it’s knife edge existence, you should probably know two key things. Firstly, that is that it is so close to the North Korean border that it’s within shelling distance; and secondly, for all intents and purposes, it is the key and gateway to the whole of South Korea.

This is probably why there are glass cabinets full of gas masks on the subways. Mercifully the usage instructions spare the usual anime cartoon style that is used wholesale to communicate any visual message across metropolitan Asia (I refer you to such gems as “The Ecstasy Family” - a Simpsons-esque group of cheerfully illustrated crack-addicts who hazily promote a trendy design shop in Taiwan, as just one example).

This titbit should not mislead you however. Inside this massive city, there is little noticeable paranoia - the situation has been roughly stable for some time now, and in fact Seoul has a considerable amount going for it. Impressive boulevards slice across sprawling market streets, and the various ends of the city centre are pinned down by the ancient palaces of the Josean-era kings - and this city feels every bit the modern Asian tiger that I was hoping it would be.

On my first full day, I wandered around this central area for a while before stumbling into a music video being shot on the main drag, then hooked right onto a side street for some lunch. It took about five minutes for me to establish how the restaurant worked, and similarly for the waitress to work out how to best deal with me, but I was eventually fed, and I had my first experience of gimchi - spicy fermented vegetables (cabbage or radish) which are a staple sidedish to every meal here.

The architecture is distinctly less Chinese in style than I had expected (reading up on it, there is little reason for it to have much connection) and often more handsome. I took my first full day to explore the UNESCO protected Changdeokgung temple in the super-clear but chilly four degree sunshine. This was a slight variation on my initial plan, to explore the larger and arguably more significant Gyeongbokgung temple complex, but I soon discovered it was closed on Tuesdays, much to my chagrin. But no regrets; the temple I replaced it with was thoroughly different to the others I’ve seen on this trip so far, and enhanced tenfold by the stunning autumn setting.

Everywhere here is now gold and amber in colour, as the trees are in full autumn attire. This made my trip up the slopes to Namsam even more spectacular; a glowing canopy of woodland spread out below the cable car gondola.

Standing to the south of the jumble of the city centre, this mountain and National Park rises steeply out of the neon and concrete. Atop it is the key modern attraction, the N Seoul Tower, but also the more ancient five-beacons that sit like stone beehives to the one side of the summit.

Up here is a fence covered in locked padlocks littered with lovers’ messages, and a pleasant open space, but I was really there to watch the sun go down over the city.

I took my time, then headed to the top of the tower where I got into a great spot for taking photographs, and was able to capture the quivering red disc as it dropped out of view behind the mountains. I hadn’t appreciated how quickly the city below would react. Within seconds the spread of the city below transformed from a silver-pink acropolis into a labyrinth of snaking fluorescent traffic streams and neon matchbox-buildings.

Once darked-out, I headed back to Itaewon. I’ve mentioned the subway already, but for the sake of slightly more detail, it’s very simple to use and navigate. Most fares are around £0.75, of which £0.25 is refundable on the basis that you return your travel card at the end of your journey. I’ve been flitting around on it with no problem, and like most other transport systems in the world, I’m inclined to compare it to the Tube, which is tiny and less-phone riddled by comparison.

However, I didn’t need it this morning.

I was called at 7:43am by the front desk of the hotel. “Good morning Mr Higgs, your guide is waiting in reception.”

Setting aside that I had been called a full seven minutes before the planned meeting time, I was pleased to discover that I wasn’t late, and Kelly (our tour guide) was running a little early (lest I remind you last time I was called by hotel reception in Asia to tell me that if I wasn’t checked-out in 15 minutes, I’d be charged for another night).

Today was to be the highlight of my trip to Korea so far, and all likelihood, in totality. Today I got right up-close to North Korea.

Another confession to make here is that this wasn’t the trip I had wanted. There are two parts to a visit to the De-militarised Zone (DMZ), and unfortunately, the best of the two had sold out by the time I was able to book.

This second, more-exciting part actually involves stepping inside the blue UN building right in the middle of the no man’s land and taking a step over into the chilly communist half of the Korean Peninsular. For those able to do it, you must dress smartly, keep a straight face, forgo photographs, and sign a waiver to agree that you won’t get angry in the event that you get shot if things turn sour. Apart from these minor caveats, it’s a opportunity that should be seized with both hands if you are presented with the option.

Ultimately however, I was left only with the first part of the tour, which turned out to be really good anyway. The rules are a lot less strict, and not being from a country on a list of banned citizens, we were loaded onto a coach for the great schlep to the world’s frostiest border.

As you might expect, the decor is mostly barbed wire, fortifications and landmine warning tags along the edge of the great Han river which separates North from South in places. In 1953, when an armistice was signed after three years of almost forgotten bloodshed (a shame because the UK lost the second most troops out of the supporting nations) and a rough line was drawn across the 38th parallel, along which the two countries still remain divided.

Not that this suited either side particularly. Both still long for re-unification, but when the ideologies differ so greatly, 60 years on it still seems a distant possibility. North Korea had a plan to speed it all up though, and between the mid-1970s and 1990, South Korea discovered four manmade tunnels below the DMZ, stretching out in the direction of Seoul.

North Korea decried them as something the South had fabricated to sully their good name, but also claimed some were coal mines. This was all well and good, except for the distinct lack of coal, something which became apparent when the black paint began to peel off the walls. Nice try though.

We got to descend the Third Tunnel (as it known); the whole experience is quite eerie, from the exploratory bore-holes right up to the CCTV-watched “final blockage” (they installed three between this point and the border). Everything you are told is of course very South-centric, especially the wonderful seven minute video you get treated to, but the highlight is definitely getting the opportunity to observe Kim Jong-il’s realm first hand.

They are quite strict about photography here, but the observatory has been built sufficiently high to get a good view over the border, and the young South Korean conscripts are far more willing to pose for a photo with the tourists than perhaps you might expect.

If you want to understand how absurd the whole standoff is, there are a number of great examples of the level of one-up-manship these two nations practice.

A good one is the size of the flag poles in the two closest villages to the respective borders, which lie just 1800m apart. For a protracted period, each flag pole and flag was replaced with an alarming regularity and with ever increasing size until the South realised it was all getting a bit silly and just gave up. For the record, the two flag poles are now mounted on top of what could now only reasonably be compared in size and structure to super-sized electricity pylons.

One of the reasons you are required to dress up for access to the Joint Security Area (alas the bit I missed out on) is so that the North is not fed any material to use as propaganda. Not that they needed to wait for a Westerner to turn up in a mini-skirt - Koreans aren’t allowed on the tours anyway - but when those north of the border realised the closest Southern village was a model of respectability, they setup their own ‘propaganda village’ and so every morning before the tourists arrive at the observatory, they bus in a load of fresh-faced comrade kiddywinks to play outside for the duration, then bus them all back out at the end of the day once the last of the coaches have departed.

It’s all quite surreal.

As you might guess, I’ve become somewhat fascinated by it all. Another interesting thing indelibly marked into my memory today will be the relieved expressions of the three stranded Americans who were reunited with our tour party after the coach left without them. Only after the military policeman pointed out there were less passports shown to him than the manifest indicated did the tour guide have a quick panic attack, turn the bus around, and make a hasty and highly apologetic beeline back to the compound to pick them up.

In someways this was a bit of a shame, as some of the comments these strandees decided to share later in the day would have been better kept to themselves.

The final stop of the day was Dorasan train station. A bizarrely empty terminus branded “the first stop towards the North”, it was opened by President Bush in 2002 with much fanfare and the expectation that it might aggravate regular train travel into the mysterious North, into the continent and beyond. However, the plug was pulled almost immediately after it opened, and to date, only one passenger train has ever departed it.

As a consequence, it may now well represent the largest ratio of empty public space to gift shop in the country.

And for the moment, that is all. I have another day here, but unless the DPRK (Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea) decides to popup another tunnel surprise in the next 24 hours, I think the best of my Korea trip has passed. It’s been really good though, and I certainly will be doing some more reading up on it all when I get back. 

Update:

I didn’t manage to post the above yesterday, so have tacked on this addendum. This morning I took it easy, but headed out at 11am to explore the markets and sunken river that flows through the city centre.

A few years ago this was just a dirty stream, but a clean up operation saw it sunken a few metres below street level, lined with cream stone to create a walkway, and planted with rushes and grasses.

It was great, much better than I had expected, and is remarkably quiet considering two major roads flank it at building level. Cleverly, they have installed a number of stones and artworks to the centre of this flowing body of water, and the sound of it rushing into these obstacles breaks up the city noise much further still.

On a number of occasions people have engaged me in conversations as I’ve walked through the city since I’ve been here. One guy stopped me to point out two large fish he had spotted in the stream (he walks along it every day during his lunch break), and an immaculately dressed elderly gentlemen started a conversation with me on the subway, amongst various other encounters I’ve had. People are very friendly and obliging here on the whole, something which the guidebook had already stressed would be an impression that I would struggle to evade.

I was also glad to dive out of the path of the stream at one point. It had been an effort to see what was going on in the streets I was passing, and by sheer coincidence I ended up at one of the markets I had been hoping to explore.

I’ve previously done markets in Malaysia, Singapore, Taiwan, China and Nepal, but nowhere have I had so much fun browsing as here. I only wish I had had more time and a budget to burn on clothes, as the choice here is both refreshing and of a really good quality. I’m also glad I checked this place out because the much hyped Insadong-gil part of the city was somewhat of a letdown for me.

I can’t really convey what makes the shopping here better than elsewhere - perhaps the stall owners give you more room to breathe than at other markets I have experienced, whilst the quality remains extremely high and the selection unimaginably vast. My only concern was the lack of changing rooms, as I’ve already discovered that my UK size here fits my collar, but practically nothing else - Asians seem to be somewhat more slightly built than me!

Tomorrow I start my return home. I will have fond memories of this trip, and most definitely Korea which has really warmed on me in the past couple of days, apart from the food, of which I still can’t say I’m a great fan of. One brief rule of thumb; if it smells sweet and looks sweet, it probably isn’t sweet. I’ve tried enough street food to understand it probably has fish in it. Likewise, with one “western” dish, I was served olive oil, balsamic vinegar and bread, but the latter was so sugary it could have been a cake. Tip: expect anything.

I wonder where I will end up next year.

Quite unbelievably, what strikes you most about Shanghai simply didn’t exist in any form 30 years ago.

The incredible skyline that has gone up here in the past couple of decades is pure eye candy if you have any interest in architecture, and by night, it must rank as one of the most beautiful city views there are,

I was spending this leg of the journey with my aunt and uncle who had also come over from the UK for Nick and Maxine’s wedding. They had already booked flights and a tour by the time that I signed up for the trip, so the itinerary was already pretty much set, and of all the parts of this trip, this was always going to be the most expensive pro rata.

We were staying at the four star Courtyard Marriot in Pu-Dong, the financial district of the city. My arrival in the city was my first visit to mainland China properly, as although in the past I have spent time in Taiwan, Hong Kong and Tibet - each one of these regions has some degree of claim to autonomy (or at least individuality). Anyway, what i am trying to say is that this was the first time I needed an proper visa to visit.

It was evening by the time we had settled in, and we took a cab into the heart of the new part of the city which sits to the east of the river. The lights were spectacular, although I’m unsure how much was a consequence of the World Expo (which finished after six months on the day that we left), but it really demonstrates how a city can show off their streets and urban furniture when the town planners put their mind to it.

We’d come to the Super Brand Mall - a colossal food hall on the main traffic roundabout in the city. Sensibly they have ditched pedestrian crossings and light signals in favour of a overhead pedestrian walkway that hovers above the whole island, and you get on and off it via a series of escalators.

Our first stop here was coincidental, but the taxi dropped us off outside a huge cylindrical glass tube, with a glowing white Apple floating in the middle.

This made life very easy for me, as I already had planned to purchase a camera connection kit while I was here (I’d run out of space on my memory cards and wanted to get my photos onto my iPad). This store is fairly new if I recall correctly, and very impressive inside (below ground level), as is the exclusive mall next door, which contains a Selfridges-esque food hall that was far too expensive, but great to browse.

The next day was our city tour of the old town on the other side of the river. Mr Yin, our nominated guide, led us around the various temples, often giving us some history and often little insights into the life of his son as a surgeon in Australia. It was very thorough, and I came away feeling fully educated on both topics.

The tea sampling was particularly interesting. Lodged high up above most of the old town, a girl dressed in scarlet poured out six or seven different drinks to try, then after all the formalities - tried to sell us a load of Chinese speciality tea (as you might expect would happen). The same sort of thing went for the silk manufacturing tour too, but I resisted the pressures until we finally ended up with three tickets to see a performance that Mr Yin personally recommended.

He was very good at his job, Mr Yin was.

By evening we had spent a good time exploring the shops on Nanjing Road (the main shopping district) and after G&Ts at the hotel bar, we went to see our show.

It was a ramshackle mix of acrobatics, dance, magic and performance - some bits better than others, but overall enjoyable. The highlight by far was the motorcyclists riding around the inside of a steel ball. The name of this act escapes me, but they managed to get six bikers in there and it was genuinely awe inspiring. It made up for one or two of the earlier weaker acts.

The final act of the day was to get food. Mr Yin couldn’t turn down the offer of a free meal once he’d found us a suitable restaurant (a very trendy mock-communist joint serving good food and beer, called Kommune) but it was a really good place to dine and we were grateful for his assistance during the day.

Our final full day was taken at a leisurely pace, exploring the Bund - a series of colonial style buildings that line the west bank of the river and looking up at their modern cousins on the eastern shore. A river cruise later and some lunch at the quirky signalling tower overlooking the water.

In the afternoon we retraced our steps back to the place where we had eaten the night before, and discovered that the area was far more of a rabbit warren of boutiques, art galleries, trinket shops, cafes and eateries than we had first realised. It was quite easy to get lost in these packed streets, but we eventually escaped as the city turned dark, and made our way over to the observatory on the umpteenth floor of the glittering Hyatt hotel.

This building pitches in near the top when it comes to height on the Shanghai skyline, but is not the tallest, and probably not the most beautiful of all the megaliths here.

My thinking was however that from this building we should get the best view of the city as a whole - being able to view both the extremely famous Pearl TV Tower (that orb like structure they always use as the backdrop during news reports) and the new soaring Shanghai Financial Centre, which looks like the result of something from Tron mating with a bottle opener.

The view was predictably spectacular, and not only over the city. One major feature of the Hyatt is that the hotel lobby ceiling rises 157m from the ground upwards to the viewing platform. With each floor of the building on a ring-like floorplan, it means that you can see directly down the heart of the building to where the guests are checking in several hundred feet below you. It’s understandably impressive.

To wrap it all up, we finished the trip with a meal at the Shangri-la on the recommendation of a friend of my aunt and uncle. Budget-friendly it was not (however I wasn’t footing the bill on this occasion) but the food was excellent.

Overall, Shanghai has a fantastic energy, and a totally different feel to Hong Kong, which I wasn’t expecting. I could probably do with more time here, as I certainly didn’t feel like I’d experienced everything this place could offer (how can you in three days?), but I think I could feasibly end up back here in the future.

Leaving from Heathrow always means more hassle than you actually ever imagine there possibly could be. Where you say things like “I’ll travel down and catch the plane,” what you actually mean is “I’ll prepare to leave a full day early, carry unwieldy luggage across London and back, Kip on someone’s sofa, take public transport an ungodly hour to ensure being at the airport in time, and then hang around aimlessly looking at expensive goods and lamenting the lack of wi-fi until boarding time”

It sort of takes the magic out of flying.

Thankfully the destination nearly always makes up for this.

I arrived at Taipei despite the incoming monsoon, and quickly bumped into two Canadian friends of my cousin who were on the same flight. It turns out they were the people in front of me at the ATM cursing at it blindly in the same way that I was soon to do also.

Nick’s wedding was to be the following day, and I’d furiously tried to avoid jet lag, but any idea of catching up on sleep was quickly scuppered by the first activity after lunch - golf.

It’s been a while since I last picked up a club, but I played surprisingly well considering. That said, you do reach a point where you can’t tell if the alcohol is making your game better, or if you have simply lost the ability to correctly judge your own performance.

The whole experience was made even more bizarre by our caddies; a squad of bright pink tracksuit-clad ladies, all of pensionable age, and not a word of English between them. What they lacked in communication, they made up in eyesight, and could seemingly spot balls that seemed like they had been irrevocably lost. Hawkeye style.

These pink beekeepers (on account of their huge sunshade hats) kept us chauffeured around the course at high speed until all the beer had gone.

The next day was the wedding, and as we were staying at the golf club hotel, it was a pretty laid back morning. A key thing to understand about this event was that it was a case of east meets west - Maxine is half Chinese, half Taiwanese, and Nick is Cannuk. There were likely to be some interesting twists.

This resulted in a colourful mix of clothing and styles, as well as what may well have been the briefest marriage ceremony in the history of weddings (conducted by my aunt, as far as I could work out). I kid you not, the whole thing was over in about one minute thirty seconds, just before the combined paparazzi descended upon the newly weds for the best part of half an hour.

It quickly became apparent that main focus of oriental weddings is the meal. A twelve course affair, we were plied with a huge range of cuisines, that in some cases managed to bemuse both Westerners and Asians at exactly the same time.

Of note, jellyfish - much like the tentacle of an octopus in shape, but with a gelatinous translucent brown colour, and a delightful crunch inside - it was probably was my favourite new experience. Less so what became known on our table as “burnt bird soup”, but on the whole it was a great feast.

The whole event was well-lubricated with the local Taiwan Beer (aka Taiwaneken, due to certain brand similarities to a well known European beer). It wasn’t until significantly far into the meal that it was noted that some of the girls might like a drink too, and a small quota of wine appeared, but by this stage most of them had resorted to the hoppy stuff anyway.

The after-party was in a room upstairs, and this is something of a novelty for Taiwanese weddings as the meal usually marks the end of the affair. The bar was very well stocked, however for a period when fellow English-expat Marcus got behind it, I found that with alarming regularity that the drinks I were ordering were being consumed by him before they got anywhere near my hands. After six attempts I finally got my order, but Marcus was a little worse for wear, as were a few others once all the tequila had gone.

I met many of my cousin’s friends on visits across The Pond when I was younger, but this was the opportunity to get to know the entire contingent of Canadians who had made it over, as well as one or two of the locals. During the evening there was music, and dancing, and one stage even some golf lessons - all in all a very enjoyable night.

Once the shattered glass had been swept away from the pool area in the morning, and the hangovers had been sedated to a bearable level, we boarded the karaoke bus for a six hour exodus.

This luxurious coach was oddly devoid of karaoke (on account of the PA being broken I think) and took us directly downwards to the resort town of Kenting, which resides very closely to the most southerly point of Taiwan.

This was my first trip to this part of the island, and I was once again thoroughly impressed. This isn’t some over developed westerners’ haven (like the rest of of Taiwan also, there is practically zero western tourism), but instead an unspoilt beachside view on to the Pacific.

The highlight of this place is the night market, a shining example of one even by Chinese and Korean standards apparently. On several of the evenings we ended up here trying out the local delicacies: “cho doe-fu”, accurately translated as stinky tofu; “frying milk” - cubes of milk (don’t ask me how) on a spike and fried in milk and batter that taste like marshmallow fritters, and “Ni Hao on a stick”, a phrase which means nothing to anyone else, but essentially a whole squid, BBQ’d until the tentacles are crisp and mounted like a lollipop on a wooden skewer. Remarkably tasty if not a little strange to look at.

The string village is packed with trinket shops, neon lights and little seafood eateries. Aside from spending time here, we also took a while at the beach bars soaking up the 30 degree sun, riding scooters and exploring the area.

One trip we made was out to the hot springs not too far up the road. The sulphur-infused waters are kept in pools of varying temperatures from bloody boiling to fricking freezing. However, the star attraction split opinion down the middle; why spend your time with your feet dipped in a pool of ordinary water when you can fill that pond with goldfish-sized, skin-eating fish that swarm at your extremities and chew off any detritus they can get their mouths onto? It’s a bit of a funny feeling at first, and one that freaked out a few people initially, but after a while you become quite accustomed to their nibbling, and its actually oddly pleasant.

On one day we took some time to snorkel around the large space-odyssey style rock directly opposite our sea-facing hotel. The water was a bit choppy, but there was some colourful sealife around, and it was really quite pleasant to get a chance to swim in mild waters, albeit in fairly close proximity to the nuclear plant round the corner (a seaside tradition in Taiwan, I have discovered - Feng Shuei or something?).

We also had the opportunity to swim at a sandy beach; one that hurled up huge waves that could upend even the sturdiest of American football players. There is nothing more amusing than watching a six foot Canadian being flipped head-over-heals in a spectacular bicycle kick, then being dragged 10 metres out to sea against his will. We all emerged scraped and bruised (turns out these big waves throw up quite a bit of rock too), but I haven’t laughed harder all holiday.

If exposing ourselves to waterborne hazards wasn’t enough, the trip to the “breezy coast” was a way to ensure that any open wounds would pale to insignificance to the almighty sand-blasting we endured at this popular cliff top spot.

Driving scooters in the wind was interesting enough, but it became apparent quite quickly that the “breezy” bit in the area name had been thought up by some marketing department and a more apt word they might have appropriated would have be “typhonic”.

For some bizarre reason, a TV company had decided to film an advert up here, and I watched with much glee as they attempted to lash down a tarpaulin roof to their set in the force twelve gale.

Less windy was the southern-most tip of the island, where Jeff spotted a giant millipede but which I unfortunately missed. If you are not aware, these beasts can kill a small child with their bite, which is something to bear in mind before you pick one up.

After a week of beer, whisky and beach life, we finally made our way back up to Taipei. There had been significant deliberation on where we would spend our final night, but we were eventually dropped at the door of a rather downbeat looking brick building in the middle of a rather downbeat looking street.

It turns out that looks are deceptive. The rooms here cost a mere £30 a night, but take heed Travelodge, they were nothing short of palatial. My room was probably 5 metres square, with a stone-clad bathroom two thirds that size again. In here was a hot tub, a wall that turned into a waterfall, a second TV, a full-on wooden sauna and a wet room style shower. And that included breakfast too.

Between us we had hired out at least six rooms, and each was individually designed and styled. Dutch, next door to me, had a full on swimming pool of a tub resplendent with disco lighting, and the whole place left me smiling from ear to ear.

By 8am everyone had departed except me, my uncle and aunt (we were to head on to Shanghai together) and unfortunately in the mad scramble to wake up, try and locate both the light switch and some clothing, I managed to miss saying farewell to the other travellers. Needless to say though, the whole week was thoroughly enjoyable and great respite. Taiwan fails to disappoint once more.

Next up, Shanghai.