Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in Volume 7 of B.H. Magazine, order your copy now.
“Remember to come back to South Korea!” These are the last words Officer Eddie calls as I enter the Third Infiltration Tunnel, which crosses the Demarcation Line between North and South.
It’s a simple but gruelling task for tourists: after a 15-minute, 11-degree decline dug by South Korea (rubber mats, seating, signage), we level out and jut into the original North Korean tunnel (dim, perspiring, haphazard).
I’m at a three-quarter crouch, and it’s a quiet ten minutes to the walled-off end – punctuated by the comic tuk of helmets hitting the low ceiling. At the end, a slab of concrete, with a letter-box to see through to the next slab, sits 2 metres before the actual Line.
It’s the closest tourists can get to North Korea – and the closest North got to invading a post-armistice South. The DMZ’s original purpose is, however, a far cry from its current state: an empty theme park lies to our left as we are peddled jars of kimchi, ginseng root, and red bean ice cream. Eddie offers us discounted North Korean bank notes (uncirculated).
To many, Seoul seems ahead of the game. Aussie tourists are increasingly diverting from polished Tokyo plans to seek out this moodier hot spot – favoured for its unique cafe culture, geopolitical significance, futuristic skincare, and allure of a somewhat less-travelled road. Parasite pushed the first domino: 265,000 Aussies made the Hallyu pilgrimage in 2025.
It’s a city of visible evolution. Ribs of its past protrude in the most unexpected places: breakfasters at the palatial Four Seasons buffet eat japchae and donuts above remnants of the old wall, now besieged by dish-trawling robot waiters. You’ll walk past galleries covered in chain mail, moated cafes, and titanic sleeping dachshunds, knowing that you’re only skin-deep. But upon closer inspection, Seoul’s flashiest drawcards fall flat.
The city’s most interesting work isn’t at the end of a needle or on a State-itinerised bus, but in kitchens, workshops, and ateliers around the city. Tradition here isn’t upheld but reintegrated, proving it isn't just ahead of the game – it’s playing an entirely different one.
Where to stay
Hotel28 Myeongdong
For calm convenience, there’s no better option. This Small Luxury Hotel sits in the hub of Myeongdong – the bustling tourist district. The hotel is ostensibly film-themed: Lynchian corridors lead to open-plan rooms, charmingly stocked with striped-boxed popcorn.
With a gym, restaurant, and library, it’s a leap ahead of boutiques in the area and ideal for solo travellers or non-stop itineraries. Serving everything from traditional stews to a refined continental breakfast, the attached restaurant is a bonus, providing a necessary beat of calm before spilling onto the high-voltage Myeongdong streets.
Nostalgia Hanok Hotel
The old town of Bukchon is off-limits to tourists from 8 PM till 7 AM – posted guards ensure it. Nostalgia grants temporary residency with a collection of seven modernised hanoks.
These have all the trappings of original Korean houses – rice paper doors, gated courtyards, vaulted ceilings – while offering modern luxuries: heated floors, ultramodernist interiors, and concierge-on-call.
One lucky couple can book the Slow-Jae, which includes a pottery class. I, solo, drank the supplied ceremony-grade green tea and soaked my feet in the outdoor hot tub. Seoul’s most romantic stay, and a true gem.
Districts to explore
Jongno
Start by walking along the Cheonggyecheon Stream, heading to Thanks, Oat for a tart bowl of spoon-upside-down yoghurt and granola. Trek 15 minutes north to Four Stones – a four-story cafe with rooftop views over Gyeongbokgung Palace, then east to warm up your shopping muscles at Amomento and HatchingRoom.
Some rent hanboks for self-guided Palace tours, but I recommend a cultural infusion at the Arumjigi Culture Keepers, which stands sentinel opposite the Palace.
I sat with Director Youngsuk Jang, whose team of fifteen spends their days repainting abandoned palace rooms and incorporating century-old insulation techniques in new builds.
'Without tradition,' he told me, 'we have no direction for the future.' It’s a steadfast refusal to let centuries of design intelligence be eclipsed by today’s digital noise.
Projects range from the massive to the humble, and it’s a sibling foundation to its neighbour, Onjium, where researchers preserve cooking, crafting, and clothing techniques lost to time. Visitors can eat at Onjium restaurant year-round, and Arumjigi hosts two exhibitions per year.
Itaewon
The fashion district of Seoul – you could spend days shopping around brutalist flagships like Wooyoungmi and Nonfiction and smaller boutiques like Nohant and Tonywack. The coolest Korean you wish you knew, however, wears RECTO.
Under its ethos of genderless “classics with a twist”, you can expect structured blazers, buttery leather, drapey denim, and Cuban heels – you’ll feel underdressed just standing there.
Book a dinner at Mr Anh’s Makgeoli, an intimate den where each course of the degustation is accompanied by the traditional fermented rice drink: makgeoli.
You’ll dine with infrequent wafts of coal smoke (“shiitake bite”, course three), as you’re talked through the history and breadth of makgeoli iterations. If you can stomach more drinks, TYMM is a one-man cassette bar slinging whiskies late into the night.
Seongsu/Gangnam
Two of the trendiest areas of Seoul face each other. Seongsu is known for its conceptual shopping, including Haus Nowhere – the liminal Gentle Monster flagship, guarded by a giant dachshund.
Here, younger shoppers will revel in Shirter, LCDC, and Thisisneverthat, nestled alongside the inevitable Aesop. At RETTRE, a brain scanner analysed my “favourite scents” while I huffed pens to mix a potent and not-so-alluring blend. Grasse, here I come.
Over the river, Gangnam is better known for its skincare clinics. Millions travel to Korea for medical treatments – from the perfunctory (15-minute Botox) to the cutting-edge (AI skin scans, PDRN injections). My experience felt more like a laminated-menu-toting assembly line than a clinical El Dorado.
Plan ahead with a local derm to beat the K-beauty gold rush. Gangnam’s secret attraction, however, is its Michelin star-studded gastro scene.
With one seasonal degustation, Korea’s Best Long Wine List (2025), and a devoted team of 30 immaculate waiters, French sommeliers, fire-stokers and tweezer-wielders, tourists will be hard-pressed to find a more unique dinner than Evett.
Run by Tasmanian chef Joseph Lidgerwood, diners pluck flower-shaped entrees from ikebana-style boughs, while Crowded House plays. You’ll be served by every waiter throughout the night, including Lidgerwood himself. Evett has no mainstays – “signatures”, as Lidgerwood says, “stifle creativity”.
It is, then, a room of generous pours, easy rock, chatty polyglots, and homely bustle.
Worth a visit
Mode-Man Denim
Part saloon, part market, Mode-Man in Donggyo-dong is a temple of Americana, selling mixed vintage and new iterations of moto jackets, turquoise-encrusted belts, baseball caps, and, of course, denim. The only thing better than the clothes is the characters – blue-lensed acetate sunnies, worn fatigues, shiny loafers, half-Windsors, and wide smiles.