When Seoul Surprises: The Neighborhood Near Changwon National University

People often imagine South Korea through the skylines of Seoul or the bright lights of Busan. Well, Changwon is charming and warm.

Gyeongnam Art Museum sits beside Changwon National University, and as evening descended, the neighborhood slowly filled with students wearing IDs on lanyards, walking beneath rows of trees with the mountain standing behind them. There was no rush to see the next attraction. The entire place felt lived in.

It reminded me of UP Diliman’s Area 2, except that, the texture has more “angas”.

The places do not look alike, but they share the same rhythm: affordable restaurants, students lingering over dinner, convenience stores that offer everything from medicines to Tmoney loading station, cafés waiting for conversations that stretch long after class.

We were hungry from an afternoon of wandering through galleries and discovering Arirang and Picasso’s ceramics, so we followed the path to where some students enter  into a small restaurant whose name I can no longer remember. Some places deserve to be remembered by taste rather than by name because, while we didn’t order Michelin-starred cuisine, we had a taste of every day Korean food cooked by an Ahjumma and served by an Ahjussi.

The Ahjussi welcomed us with efficiency while students came and went around us. As always, ARMY Daughter became our translator and communicator, reading the menu, asking questions, and ordering for the family. Kuya and I were all smiles watching her confidently speak. One of the quiet privileges of traveling with grown-up children is watching them lead when you once led them.

Our kimchi fried rice arrived crowned with a perfectly fried egg, its edges crisp and its yolk ready to melt into warm rice. The kimchi was exquisitely sweet at first bite, then spicy, then gently sour.

Comforting rather than challenging. Alongside it came silky tofu dressed with soy sauce and sesame, delicate rolled omelet, fish cake, and a simple clear broth. Nothing extravagant but difficult to let go of. After dinner, we wandered into Compose Coffee where the Americano fits in our budget.

The prices on the menu made me chuckle because it reminded me of the inexpensive eateries around UP Diliman where students gather over coffee and conversation while imagining and stressing over the futures waiting for them.

And suddenly I was no longer thinking only about Changwon. I was thinking about Kuya. In a few weeks, he will graduate and begin that uncertain season between university and full time work, between being someone’s student and becoming himself.

Watching the students around us, I realized that every artist, teacher, writer, musician, engineer, and dreamer once belonged to a place like this. Before recognition came ordinary evenings spent sharing inexpensive meals, drinking coffee, and wondering what kind of life awaited them beyond campus. This is why Changwon’s university neighborhood stays with me.

It’s not because of a famous landmark or a bucket-list destination. For one quiet evening, I saw my son already walking among those students: hopeful, uncertain, a little bit nervous, carrying invisible dreams beneath the trees.

And somehow, over kimchi fried rice and the smoothest tofu I have ever tasted, the future no longer felt intimidating. It simply felt warm.

#BTS_Arirang #FESTA2026 #bangtanpilgrimage2026 #SouthKoreaTour #southkorea #koreanfood

Tayo Ang Simula akda ni Kristine Canon

 

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When Seoul Surprises: Wait… Picasso is a Potter too?!

 

A week ago, at about this time, my grown-up children and I were wandering around Gyeongnam Art Museum in Changwon. It was there that Kuya found “Arirang” by Park Chan Gap. It was there, too, that we discovered another surprise: Picasso was not only a painter but also a potter. His ceramics were on display: playful, curious, and wonderfully human.

The universe truly conspired. I discovered this not in Spain or France, but in Changwon, a port city in the Gyeongsang Province of South Korea.

Looking back now, I realize that this was my kind of BTS encounter.

There is the concert stadium or through VIP access, of course, but there exist the quiet places that nurture artists: museums, sculptures, clay, mountains, streams and conversations that linger long after the galleries have closed.

This is what Namjooning has come to mean for me. To seek not only the music BTS creates, but also the art, culture, and ways of seeing that continue to shape our OT7.

And then Picasso humorously surprised me.

His ceramics are not simply vessels. They are drawings transformed into clay, printmaker’s lines becoming texture and form. He carried what he already knew from painting into a new medium and allowed it to become something entirely different.

I left the gallery thinking about my own pottery.

I found myself imagining plates that could become prints, bowls etched with stories, and clay carrying the same curiosity that first brought me to museums and books.

This is one of the greatest gift of this Bangtan pilgrimage. I am reaping memories to keep, but also opening my heart to new work waiting to be made. And maybe that is why this Festa 2026 journey still feels unfinished.

Because art, much like BTS, keeps inviting us to look again, make again, and begin again.

Apobangpo! Purple and true!

#Namjooning #travelog_southkorea #festa2026 #bangtanpilgrimage2026 #BTS_ARIRANG

Presenting at the 5th BTS: A Global Interdisciplinary Conference, Jeonju, South Korea.

 

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When Seoul Surprises a.k.a May SEPANX pa kami 😂💜😂

It was Kuya who found Arirang, a sculpture by Park Chan Gap in the courtyard of the Gyeongnam Art Museum.

Pauwi na kami noon, pero ang ganda kasi ng sunset kaya nagtagal kami. Gyeongnam Art Museum sits on top of a hill, with a mountain rising behind it. Emerald green in broad daylight, it had turned a deep blue in the fading light.

ARMY Daughter and I were seated beneath pine trees beside a bed of daisies when Kuya returned from wandering around the museum grounds.

“May nakita akong Arirang,” he said.

Curious, I asked him to take me there. At ayun na nga.

Rendered in black and white granite, the sculpture stood before us like a memorial to love lost and grief that refuses to leave. Yet it was never defeated by sorrow. It remained dignified, austere, and quietly resolute.

At its center, the white granite seemed to cradle something I could not quite name. A bell. A hill. A mountain. An absence.

Tinitigan ko lang ang sculpture na may pagkamangha. I did not dare touch it to find out. To do so felt almost sacrilegious. So Kuya and I simply stood there.

In that silence, I thought of Ouie and Mama, who had both passed on, and of Papa, whose dementia has slowly carried him to a place where he no longer remembers who I am. I thought, too, of friendships that quietly faded and communities I once believed would endure. May kirot pa din ng slight, but, somewhere beneath those memories, a song of resolve began to hum.

Perhaps that is why I lingered before Arirang longer than I expected.

The sculpture did not ask me to explain grief or overcome it. It simply held space for contradictions: black and white, weight and openness, permanence and emptiness.

Standing beside my eldest child, I remembered the many times we had stood together as seasons changed.

What do we carry from one season into the next? What do we leave behind?

Memory, I realized, is a curious inheritance. Some memories are taken from us against our will. Others return unexpectedly, summoned by stone, by silence, or by the simple act of standing still with someone we love.

I have spent much of the past few years caring for endings and tending the wounds of missing years.

Yet there I was in Changwon, South Korea, during FESTA 2026. While thousands gathered in Busan to celebrate music and joy, I found myself listening to another kind of song beside my eldest—the music teacher in our family.

Perhaps Arirang is not only about longing or separation. Perhaps it is also about remaining. Remaining faithful to memory, open to beauty, present for those who still walk beside us, even as we grieve those who no longer can.

We left the museum without touching the granite. But somehow, Arirang had already touched me.

#heartandseoul2026 #BTS_ARIRANG #Festa2026 #bangtanpilgrimage2026 #travelog_southkorea #Namjooning

Heart and Seoul Travel Log 2026: The Aftermath

We are officially back from South Korea. SEPANX is real. 😂😭😂 I have never visited so many beaches in my life: Haeundae, Gangmun, Anmok, and Jumunjin. Four beaches in seven days! Each one gave me something to remember and carry home. 🌊💜

@titazeeh7 Haeundae = Joy Jumunjin = Companionship Anmok = Wonder Gangmun = Imagination #BTS_Arirang #festa2026 #bangtanpilgrimage2026 ♬ SWIM - BTS

Heart and Seoul Travel Log Day 7: Your heart’s desire is the world’s greatest need.

My spiritual director once told me:

“Your heart’s desire is the world’s greatest need.”

As we visited four beaches in South Korea: Haeundae, Gangmun, Anmok, and Jumunjin, I found myself naming the desires of my heart and releasing them into the expanse of sea and sky.

Some were prayers. Some were dreams. Grief, yes. Some were wounds still healing. Others were hopes yet to be fulfilled.

The waves received them all. And perhaps that is why I came home carrying grace and gratitude 💜🙏💜

#BTS_ARIRANG #bangtanpilgrimage2026 #Festa2026 #southkoreatravel

Heart and Seoul Travel Log Day 7: Who’s the king?! Who’s the boss?!🔥💜🔥

 

@titazeeh7

Heart and Seoul Travel Log Day 7: Who’s the king?! Who’s the boss?!🔥💜🔥 Visiting the filming site of Daechwita completes our Bangtan Pilgrimage to celebrate and honor the genius of Min Yoongi 😺

♬ 대취타 - Agust D

Heart and Seoul 2026 Day 6: Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Some of the best moments of traveling with a group tour are never part of the itinerary. Yesterday reminded me that discovery often happens when we allow ourselves to wander. Free days are the best!

Our day began at the National Museum of Modern Contemporary Art in Seoul, just beside Gyeongbokgung Palace, where we encountered Damien Hirst’s famous shark, “The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living”. Suspended in its tank, the work was at once unsettling and fascinating. I understood why it continues to provoke conversation decades after it was first exhibited. It was larger than life. It attempts to go beyond the precipice of death. Like much contemporary art, it demanded attention and refused easy answers.

Kuya was especially ecstatic since the shark had only been a topic of conversation in his humanities class. Seeing it in real life, in all its enormity, was, for me, life-affirming. I can relate to Hirst’s vision of the life-death-life cycle.

From there, we made our way to Cafe Homie for coffee and a much-needed respite from the summer heat. What we did not expect to discover was that Namjoon had once spent time there. As it turned out, I was sitting in the very corner where he had taken a photograph years before. Sometimes the universe has a sense of humor.

The surprises continued in Insadong, where we stumbled upon a free gallery displaying pottery, ceramics, and tri-colored paintings. We entered out of curiosity and left reminded that art does not always reside in major museums. Sometimes it waits behind an unassuming doorway, ready to reward those willing to step inside.

The day ended at Yeouido Hangang Park. We rented bicycles and joined families, couples, and friends making the most of a summer evening along the Han River. The greatest surprise awaited us there: a shallow stream where people removed their shoes and waded through cool water. We did the same. After days of walking, traveling, and exploring, the simple pleasure of cooling our feet felt luxurious.

Looking back on it today, none of these experiences had been carefully planned. Yet they make up the moments I will remember most. This is supreme Namjooning.

Perhaps travel is not only about reaching destinations. Perhaps it is also about remaining open to pleasant surprises, trusting that some discoveries are meant to find us.

We did not find BTS in a concert stadium. We found them in museums, on streets lined with art and food, in the quiet presence of elderly couples sitting on benches by the Hangang, and in families listening to the lilting laughter of their children wading in a pool at sundown.

We found them in the place and country they call home.

#BTS_ARIRANG #bangtanpilgrimage2026 #Festa2026 #southkoreatravel Savedbythebest Travel and Tours

Heart and Seoul 2026 Day 5: Kimbap Making Day

When Kuya was in Grade 5, his friend Tom invited him over for a playdate. Being Korean, Tom’s mother prepared a snack for the boys: kimbap. It was our first time to eat and enjoy this Korean dish. Many years later, I realized that kimbap is more than a snack. It is a food wrapped in Korea’s hard work, ingenuity, and cultural treasure, the seaweed that has nourished generations and become an important part of Korean cuisine.

Yesterday, we had the opportunity to make kimbap ourselves. The rice and ingredients: Spam, carrots, egg roll, crab stick, and cucumber, had already been prepared. All we needed to do was arrange them neatly on a sheet of seaweed and roll everything together using a bamboo mat. Voila! We had baon for the rest of the day’s tour.

What made the experience even more fascinating was that we learned it from a Filipino museum worker, whom I shall call Ms. A, from Pampanga. Through her demonstration, a distinctly Korean cultural practice became something I could bring home to my own family in the Philippines.

The experience reminded me of Roland Robertson’s concept of glocalization, where global cultural influences are adapted and given meaning within local contexts (Robertson, 1995). Kimbap remains recognizably Korean, yet once prepared in a Filipino home, it acquires new meanings and associations. Culture travels, but it is never simply transplanted. It is interpreted, adapted, and woven into everyday life.

The process is not one-way, either. Ms. A herself is part of that story. A Filipina working in South Korea, she introduces Korean culture to international visitors, including fellow Filipinos. In many ways, she serves as a cultural bridge, helping people like us appreciate Korean traditions while discovering how they might take root in our own communities.

As I rolled my kimbap and packed it for the road, I realized that cultural exchange often happens through the simplest of experiences: sharing food, learning recipes, telling stories, and passing them on. Perhaps that is one of the quiet gifts of travel, not merely seeing another culture, but finding meaningful ways to bring a part of it home.

#BTS_ARIRANG #bangtanpilgrimage2026 #Festa2026 #southkoreatrip Savedbythebest Travel and Tours