The city had a murder a day, on the average. Your chance of being shot to death over the course of a year was about 1 in 2,000, or roughly the same as a soldier in combat. This statistic was accepted as a fact of life, like rainy weather in October. When venturing outdoors, I would look first in both directions to see if a suspicious character were lurking at the entrance. In that event, one could use an alternate exit at the loading dock behind the building.

There were times when I stopped to ask myself if it was needful to go out at all. Was a bullet waiting for me somewhere between home and the grocery store two blocks away? As if to reinforce such thoughts, I would see a stain on the sidewalk outside my apartment building and reflect that it looked very much like blood. Though Baltimore had a capacity of about 1 million, its population was only about 675,000. In other words, the city was one-third empty. One out of every three Baltimoreans had gone somewhere else. No wonder why.

So, when my job was lost to downsizing in 1993, I faced a choice. Should I stay in a crumbling America, or go abroad? 

The decision was easy.

Professionals seeking jobs in America in the early 1990s had little hope. The 1980s had been the decade of the junk bond. The 1990s were the decade of the “junk worker”: the marginally qualified employee who could be hired and fired easily, and paid next to nothing. In other words, experience not desired.

But overseas, things were different. If America didn’t want me, then plenty of other countries did, because I was a master of English, the global lingua franca. 

So, before long, I found myself on a Korean Air 747 soaring over the Arctic, on the way to teach at a private school that I had never seen or heard of before. Though it didn’t seem so at first, moving to Korea turned out to be one of the best career moves I ever made.

The 747 arrived at Seoul’s Kimpo Airport late at night. The school’s director and vice-director were there to meet me. They deposited me at a “yogwan,” or traditional Korean inn, for a night’s sleep. The next day, I was at school, getting acquainted with other teachers and the curriculum.

The teachers – all native speakers of English, plus a Japanese lady who taught her native tongue -- were a mixed lot. There was a towering beauty who was all smiles in class but growled about “those damn students” between teaching hours. Another teacher, a bubbly young blonde from California, once went into a spontaneous dance on a polished floor, slipped, and landed heavily on her rump.

The Japanese lady belonged to some religious cult with detailed teachings about torments awaiting the greedy in hell. The school fired her. I wondered if it was to save money, or to keep her from attempting conversions. Perhaps she gave management disturbing thoughts about the high tuition.

I taught advanced English conversation. Students were mostly college age and close to native fluency. They could discuss, in lucid English, everything from Korean ghost stories to computer science.  My students taught me as much as I taught them.

One thing I learned was that Korea has a vastly more literate population than the United States. Korean students can quote Caesar in the original Latin. Meanwhile, roughly half of all Americans lack the reading and comprehension skills to understand this article. Care to guess whose brainpower will be imported to keep the U.S. running?

Korean kids have their whimsical side too. Inscriptions on t-shirts seem simply to have fun with English. For example: “UFO – Meeting Next Particular Any Style or Color.” That’s nice to know, if I ever go shopping for a UFO. The message on the back of one jacket read, “Just Take Care Of.” Of what? Anything you like. What could be more user-friendly? 

These are examples of “Konglish,” the Korean-English patois that many Koreans use. They seem apologetic for it, but I love it. It’s like the scrambled-word puzzles one sees in newspapers. How, for example, would you interpret “Alram Beel”? No, it’s not Arabic for a gas station. It’s “Alarm Bell” in Konglish. Wandering in a Konglish environment for a few days, you start to think spelling and grammar are just Western preoccupations.

After a year teaching English, I moved on to consulting work and into a nice, quiet yogwan near the great gate at Kwanghwamun, downtown. My window looked out over ancient palace rooftops and beyond, to a thoroughly modern outdoor display screen. In a glance, I could take in some 600 years of Korean history. It was a delightful change from the view in Baltimore.

The yogwan was next to an outdoor market. Nothing in American retailing prepares you for this experience. Squeezed onto a single street about two blocks long were stores offering practically everything one might want or need, from apples and pears to plumbing equipment. By some exotic geometry, the shops seem bigger on the inside than the outside. 

Koreans love seafood. The fresher, the better. So, seafood restaurants are everywhere, and watching the critters in their tanks is a free and fascinating pastime. You see handsome sharks. They’re expensive, too. A dinner of shark sashimi, I’m told, might cost $80 U.S. Those things like red artichokes are sea squirts. And octopi – the most intelligent of invertebrates – soar, swirl, and even (after a fashion) dance. Watching their graceful movements, you regret that the octopi will wind up as rubbery entrees.

Coming home to the yogwan around 11 p.m., I would encounter a stream of schoolgirls, like Asiatic Madelines in their neat blue uniforms, pouring out of school. Youngsters here study late, work hard, and ultimately have something to show for it: a real education, unlike the p.c. propaganda doled out in American classrooms. 

Also, note something else about these children. They are walking down a street close to midnight, in one of the world’s biggest cities (Seoul’s population is 11 million, the same as New York’s), with no apparent fear of assault or ambush. Toto, we’re not in D.C. any more. And I, for one, don’t care to return.

In case you want to investigate Korea as a home, the first lesson to learn is this: IT’S NOT JAPAN! There is a world of difference between the group-minded Japanese and the more individualistic Koreans. Also, “Japan” is a foul word in Korea, because Korea was a colony of imperial Japan from 1910 to 1945. Koreans hated Japanese during those decades of occupation. 

Have feelings improved since then? Hardly. More than fifty years after Japan’s empire crumbled, Japan and Korea are still at it, hammer and tongs, squabbling over trivial issues which the U.S. and Mexico could resolve without raising their voices. Korean college students born more than 30 years after Japan’s surrender fulminate against “the Japs” as if Hirohito’s hordes were still an imminent threat.

Korea also has … well, cultural quirks. One of them involves bodily contact between men. It is nothing unusual to see two young Korean men walking down the street with their arms around each other. It is merely an expression of friendship, not sexual attraction. Homosexuality does exist here but is still clandestine, and there is widespread prejudice against it in Korea. Seoul has no Greenwich Village!

Seoul does have tourist attractions. The most visible of them is Seoul Tower, with its spectacular view, perched atop Namsan (South Mountain). There are palaces and gardens, parks, and sightseeing cruises on the Han River. 

You see things here that no other city on earth can claim. At the Kwanghwamun gate, you walk past giant statues of two fire-eating monsters, the “haitai.” They were placed here to guard the palace against burning. They appear to be half seal and half lion. They also have big toothy grins. One expects them to giggle.

But the best things in Seoul are less conspicuous. 

For example, on a cold day, stop at a Seoul coffee shop. You won’t have to look far. There is a coffee shop on almost every corner. And the shops are magnificent. Unlike a U.S. coffee shop, with its bleak counter, hard seats, and “Move it, Mac!” attitude, a Seoul coffee shop has a relaxing ambiance, with soft music, enormous padded chairs, and a menu as long as Interstate 95. A cup of excellent coffee costs only about $3 US, and no one tries to push you out the door as soon as the saucer touches the table.

Then there are Internet cafes. I’m writing this article in one. They’re all over Seoul. At some Internet cafes, you can get a monthly membership for about $30 US. That gives you easy Internet access for only pennies a day. One of my favorite Internet cafes is the Net House (tel. 82-2-725-4418, fax 82-2-725-4419, in the Anguk neighborhood, near the U.S. embassy and those aforementioned grinning haitai. The Net House has a modestly priced guest house called “The Nest” right down the street. A friend of mine actually lives there. I’ve stayed there often, and met interesting travelers from around the world.

Just a random walk in Seoul can be entertaining. Stroll along the side streets. You may discover anything from a delightful noodle shop to a New York-style street café. What’s that big plastic tub doing outside the corner restaurant? How about that … it’s full of eels!

You may want to spend about a month in Seoul checking out employment opportunities. There are plenty, in fields ranging from consulting to teaching. Schools and companies need the services of native speakers of English. Just be careful of the hagwans, or private English “academies.” Some are reputable, but others are rip-off operations. If a hagwan owner pushes a contract at you and urges you to sign on the spot, then run, don’t walk, out the door. Get a university position if you can. Benefits and pay are better than at hagwans. A friend of mine from Canada got tired of the hagwan racket and wound up with a university job here. He loves it. Maybe you will find a good position too.

A one-month visit to Seoul need not be expensive. Thirty nights at a yogwan might cost $600 or so. Let the manager know you’re staying several weeks, and you may get a discount. For $25 a day, you can eat well in Seoul (a much less expensive city than Tokyo) and have money left over for whatever else suits you.

On a visit to Korea, your best friend will be the Korea National Tourism Organization, at www.knto.or.kr. KNTO’s fact-filled website tells you almost anything you might want to know about Korea. For an English-language take on Korean news, check out the website of the Korea Herald, at www.koreaherald.co.kr, or the Korea Times, at www.koreatimes.co.kr.  The Korea Herald and the Korea Times are Seoul’s two big English-language dailies. The Korea Times building is a landmark downtown, with its green-and-white tower. 

Seoulscope, the city’s monthly entertainment magazine, is a cornucopia of useful information, including addresses and phone numbers of foreign embassies, and a map of the far-flung subway system. 

The Seoul subway is an attraction in itself. Individual stations have distinctive and whimsical decorations. The subway stop at Tongdaemun Stadium is adorned with mosaics of Hodori, the smiling cartoon tiger who served as mascot of the 1988 Olympics. Thought you’d never see public artwork depicting a tiger riding a bicycle? Well, you’ll find it here! 

Seoul’s subway is also full of aquaria. It’s relaxing to stop and watch those big ornamental carp for a minute or two.  One station even has an aviary filled with parakeets and cockatoos and I forget what else. Somebody on the subway staff must like birds. Certain trains announce station stops with the sound of a cuckoo clock!

For riders’ entertainment, individual stations play anything and everything from Bach to U.S. pop tunes from the 1950s on their sound systems. It’s nostalgic to wait for your train and hear “Fascination” in the background. (That gives you some idea how old I am.)

If you think Seoulites are all blue-suited salarymen and neatly dressed office ladies, think again. Some colorful characters roam the city. Among them is the “Sign Man,” an elderly gentleman who wears hand-lettered signs pinned all over his clothing and delivers a lively harangue to passengers on the subway. They ignore him, yet he never seems discouraged. Then there is the thirtyish man with an enormous mane of black hair who wanders through downtown Seoul. As far as I can tell, he never says a word. Once he pointed to a bag of fried potatoes I had just bought from a street stand, as if he wanted a few. I did not offer him any, because I had just found they were as hard as roofing nails. 

About street-stand food: DON’T. In many cases, you have no idea how it’s been prepared. You may not even have the courage to touch it. I’ve never worked up the fortitude to taste the stewed silkworm pupae, or whatever those brown things are, bubbling away in big steel vats. 

Whatever you do, never buy prepared “kimpap,” a ubiquitous rice-and-seaweed roll, at convenience stores. Kimpap can be Salmonella City. Trust me. Tainted kimpap laid me low for an entire weekend once.

But don’t let these warnings turn you off to Korean food. Cuisine is Korea’s glory, and most Korean cooking is perfectly safe for Westerners, unless you overindulge in spicy stuff. As a rule, if it’s bright red, go easy. Even Koreans overdo the hot foods now and then. 

What’s tasty and not too fiery? “Bibimpap,” a rice-and-vegetable dish, is popular. So are “mandu,” Korea’s stuffed dumplings, whether steamed or fried. And if you really need a fried-chicken or hamburger fix, Western fast-food outlets are well represented in Seoul. Koreans make a mean pizza, too. Just don’t be surprised to see bottles of hot sauce at your booth in a pizza parlor. Koreans can’t resist hot spices even when going Italian. 

So there you have it. Seoul offers, by far, a more pleasant urban environment than any city I know in the United States. Common wisdom says that if you jam 11 million people together into a small patch of land, you will wind up with an urban jungle. Yet Seoul is nothing of the sort. Here at least, common wisdom is wrong. 

Granted, Seoul has greed and gangsterism. There are a few rough neighborhoods, in one of which, the joke goes, people are so tough that they eat their rice straight out of the bag, uncooked. Moreover, Koreans go so far to avoid open disagreement that their behavior sometimes strikes Westerners as deceitful and cowardly.

Contracts with Koreans also may hold surprises for Westerners. A Korean may simply disregard what a Westerner considered a binding agreement. “Circumstances have changed,” the Korean will explain. “Things are different now.” 

Is this crookedness? To the Western mind, perhaps. But if you suspect chicanery, it’s usually best to keep such thinking to oneself, or at least get advice before making an issue of it. The Korean in such a case may think he or she is doing nothing wrong to ignore an agreement when a situation changes. So, open confrontation may merely make matters worse. 

Maybe the most reasonable view of Korean character and culture is this. Koreans in general are a decent bunch as long as you don’t expect too much. Just remember that they tend to interpret the rules to their own advantage!

Anyhow, don’t let these few cautions deter you. Seoul on the whole is a great place to live. Violent crime is rare, if you ignore the occasional, less-than-serious alley brawl after a few rounds of drinks. Graffiti do not cover every surface in sight. Streets are clean. If you cannot find something in Seoul, then probably either you do not need it, or it does not exist. I cannot recall ever seeing a vandalized subway car or public phone. It is possible to live in comfort here on a modest income. And best of all, the pervasive air of fear and insecurity that characterizes American cities is absent from Seoul.

Why? As far as I can tell, it is simply a matter of culture. From their earliest years, Koreans are taught respect for elders, the importance of civil behavior, and the need to defer gratification when necessary. One may argue the pros and cons of “Asian values,” but one cannot argue with desirable results, of which Seoul is a showcase. 

Americans may object: “You live just a few seconds’ missile flight from North Korea, the only remaining Stalinist tyranny. Doesn’t that worry you?”

Not much. I lived for some 40 years in America with Soviet missiles pointed at my head. I spent almost 10 years in Baltimore and D.C. in constant danger from muggers and drive-by shootings. So I don’t lose any sleep here. Visit Seoul and check it out for yourself, before you stop a bullet on a street corner in America.

SEOUL LINKS: Besides the Korean National Tourism Organization (above), you may want to check out the Seoul Information Center in L.A., a one-stop information center, and a Seoul City website (www.metro.seoul.kr) that offers tourist information, essays by Seoul residents, and even a “Virtual Seoul” computer game. 

David Ritchie lives and works in Seoul. He writes the “SeoulTalk” column for Seoulscope, the city’s entertainment magazine. His 16 published books include Will America Survive? (Cambridge India, 2000).