By Zephyria ■
“Tourist?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see… Korean?”
“Yes.”
The taxi driver, with his shaggy beard, asked briefly in a cheerful and friendly voice. Choi Hong-seo, tense, answered curtly.
The taxi, dented in various places on the exterior, was also in a sorry state inside. The seat cushions were torn in places, dust had accumulated from not being cleaned for a long time, and the seats were soaked in the smell of cigarettes. The only thing Choi Hong-seo could do against this situation was to lower the half-open window further.
The November air of Southern California, reminiscent of Korean spring and autumn, filled the interior. The sun was warm and the breeze pleasant. But the extreme tension made it impossible to enjoy them comfortably.
Without leaning back against the seat, I tightly gripped the bag strap across my chest and looked down at my phone, where Google Maps was running.
“Why didn’t you stay in the city? You don’t look like an addict holed up in a seedy hotel casino playing slots. Ah, are you visiting relatives?”
With his limited English, Choi Hong-seo couldn’t understand most of what the man, chewing gum, spat out.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak English well.”
After Choi Hong-seo’s fumbling reply, the man glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror.
“Tour, no tour?”
“No. It’s fine.”
“Hollywood, Koreatown, Universal Studios. Tour. Cheap.”
Speaking only a few words to match Choi Hong-seo’s English level, the driver kept recommending tours. While it was a recommendation, driving on a quiet, out-of-the-way road in a strange land, not a bustling area, listening to his constant requests in the taxi with just the two of us, it increasingly felt like coercion.
Uber vehicles were not allowed inside the hotel, so this taxi was called at the hotel’s request. I thought a taxi called by the hotel would be reliable, but it seemed to be the opposite. I had felt uneasy from the moment I saw the driver hand over some money to the doorman and exchange a few words after picking me up, which was probably a commission for being allowed to pick up a passenger.
“No tour? Then restaurant.”
“It’s fine. I’ll go straight back to the hotel.”
“Very nice seafood restaurant.”
After insisting on a tour for five minutes, the driver now changed direction and started recommending a restaurant. He praised a seafood restaurant, giving a thumbs-up repeatedly. It seemed he would receive some commission if he took a customer there.
It was only an 8-minute drive from the hotel to the gallery. I had never expected to go through such a stressful experience in those 8 minutes.
The taxi stopped in front of a restaurant with a blue awning.
“Restaurant. Lunch. Good. Very good.”
The driver turned around, pointed at the restaurant, and gave another thumbs-up. Choi Hong-seo pointed at the destination on his phone screen and pleaded with a desperate expression.
“No. I’m not hungry. Please go here. I beg you.”
The driver, who had long since abandoned his initial cheerful tone, now spoke in a completely menacing voice, tapping the steering wheel and getting angry.
“Hey. Why do you think people like us pay commission to hotels to pick up tourists? Bad luck. Get out! If you’re going to show me those apps, walk it yourself!”
The driver raged, demanding that I pay for the taxi fare up to this point, as well as the commission paid to the doorman. Although I thought it was unfair, I had no choice but to pay what he demanded. I didn’t want to escalate the situation further. I wanted to get rid of the driver quickly, even if it meant paying extra.
Even as he left Choi Hong-seo stranded in the middle of the road without reaching the destination, the driver rolled down his window and continued to curse until the end. But Choi Hong-seo felt relieved that he was gone.
According to Google Maps, it was about a 15-minute walk to the gallery. The route wasn’t complicated, so I felt confident I could find it.
The incident a moment ago was just bad luck. I had used a regular taxi even when traveling from the airport to the hotel, and that driver was very kind. Besides, Choi Hong-seo was too excited now to be discouraged by something like this. His mind was focused on only one thing, so everything else felt unimportant.
He started walking, relying on Google Maps.
Cars were parked along the roadside, and there were almost no pedestrians, making it feel slightly eerie. No matter where he looked on the street, it wasn’t a place tourists would frequent. It wasn’t even a shopping district, let alone a bustling area, so the street was completely devoid of life.
Two boys, who looked about middle school age, were leaning against the window of a closed shop, talking. They looked up at Choi Hong-seo with curious eyes and stared. Then, they started laughing loudly amongst themselves, talking about something. He quickened his pace, just hoping they wouldn’t talk to him or follow him.
He turned the corner in front of a relatively bright-looking chicken restaurant chain. From there, it was a straight shot to the gallery. Even though it was November, the back of his t-shirt became damp as he walked under the midday sun. He kept walking, looking straight ahead.
Finally, familiar scenery began to appear.
Since the days he lived as Choi Hong-seo, he had looked up this place countless times on Google Maps, so much so that the buildings within a block of the gallery felt familiar. His steps quickened, almost to a run.
He stopped at the last traffic light, with a fast-food restaurant on his right. Beyond the Mexican restaurant’s parking lot, the small, two-story building with red-ochre plastered walls finally came into view.
His heart began to pound. It wasn’t just pounding; it was surging. His heart felt so full it was rising up, threatening to burst out of his throat. It was a miraculous feeling, like seeing a place from a movie or animation, a place that shouldn’t actually exist, with his own eyes.
Tension, fatigue, and anxiety all vanished in that moment.
Following the traffic light, he crossed the crosswalk and slowly approached the gallery.
He passed in front of the Mexican restaurant, whose windows were all covered with frosted film so the interior couldn’t be seen, and then a laundromat with iron bars covering every window. In front of the charming two-story building, reminiscent of southern Spain or Italy, a stark contrast to the desolate atmosphere of the street, he finally stopped. How many times had he imagined this moment, himself walking down this very street?
“……”
The arched gallery windows also had iron bars. And a single poster on the window caught Choi Hong-seo’s eye.
COMEBACK.
It was a simple poster announcing the exhibition schedule for Rampas. Usually, an exhibition poster would include a representative work, but this was more like an announcement of the schedule. However, it didn’t matter to Choi Hong-seo.
That poster was like a stamp of confirmation that he had found the right place. He could finally fulfill a promise, a promise he couldn’t keep in his previous life.
With trembling hands, he took a picture of the poster with his phone camera. He felt a gaze from inside the window and suddenly looked up. An elderly woman was watching him with a smile. He bowed his head briefly to her, then opened the white-painted iron door and stepped inside.
She greeted him with a gentle smile from behind her reading glasses perched on her nose.
“Welcome.”
“Hello.”
Her appearance was exactly as he had seen in the photos visitors had uploaded to Google Maps. Unlike the desolate exterior, the interior of the gallery, decorated with charming details, felt like a fairy tale. He looked around and slowly walked towards the counter.
“I came to see Rampas’s photo exhibition.”
“You don’t seem like a casual visitor…”
She immediately continued, taking off her glasses and placing them on the counter.
“Well, it would be stranger for someone to just stumble upon our gallery.”
Her clear gray eyes, now free of glasses, smiled as she looked deeply at Choi Hong-seo. Then, with the hand holding her glasses, she pointed upstairs and said,
“The exhibition is on the second floor. Please go up and take your time.”
“Um, is there an entrance fee or anything…”
“There’s no charge. Please, look around as much as you like.”
“Thank you.”
He withdrew his hand, which had been reaching for his wallet, and bowed his head. He began to slowly ascend the narrow, steep stairs leading to the second floor. It was a staircase with no railing, enclosed by walls on both sides.
It felt like he had found a secret staircase leading to heaven, a place inaccessible to a living human body. The feeling was almost sacred. He gripped the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles turned white. Slowly, the second-floor hall began to reveal itself. Sunlight poured abundantly through a large window at the end of the hall, which resembled a narrow, long corridor. The light reflected off the all-white walls, dazzling his eyes.
Even after reaching the top of the stairs, Choi Hong-seo couldn’t immediately focus on the artworks. He looked down at the old, gray tiles, far out of fashion, and slowly walked to the center of the hall.
One, two, three, four… five.
He had prepared himself. He had even prepared himself for the fact that he wouldn’t be able to hold back tears. But all his preparations were in vain.
He could only exhale the breath he had been holding back, his voice barely pushing out through trembling lips.
“How… how did you get here…”