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If you work for Samsung or LG ― or are the kind of entrepreneurial fellow clever enough to create a true killer app ― please read on, for I am about to give you (free!) the inspiration for a truly groundbreaking product.
But first: some background.
It is 5:30 p.m., Sunday afternoon. I am in one of my favorite spots in Seoul ― indeed, one of my favorite spots anywhere: A lovely little park carved into the forested slopes of Mt. Inwang. It lies just uphill from the funky village of Buam-dong, and overhangs the fortified medieval gate guarding Jahamun Pass.
At this heady elevation, the air tastes like champagne and the views steal your breath. To the south, the metropolis sprawls at my feet; countless glass towers crowd around the distant Mt. Nam. To the north, beyond the city fortress wall, the great mountains of the Mt. Bukhan range loom, etched against the sky.
I am here to escape work, friends and family; to practice some Tai Chi; to unwind in this zone that merges dramatic views with calm and tranquility.
I limber up, enjoying the zest of the cool alpine air, savoring the darkening vault of the sky and ― above all ― the silence.
Then it begins.
A crowd of hikers, garishly dressed for an assault on Everest in expedition-quality boots and eye-stabbing outfits of orange and purple Gore-tex, appears. Ominously, their leader carries a loudspeaker. And even though his hikers are thronged just meters away, he cranks it up to full volume for his address.
First, he congratulates them for summiting this (modest) peak. Then ― brandishing his alpenstock ― he harangues them, ensuring they realize what a tremendous destination they have reached under his leadership. After this, the energized party breaks into several minutes of rah-rah-rahing. Then they (mercifully) depart.
As silence descends once again upon the stately mountainside, I think to myself how lucky it is that they are not in the Himalayas: Their hullabaloo would cause an avalanche. I am appreciating the solitude when "Yahoo!" another group of hikers appears. Apparently, it is not sufficient for them to exercise their lungs; they feel compelled to exercise vocal chords too. Ye gods, don't they realize people come up here for peace and quiet? (At least, this person does.) After considerable yelling, this group, too, disappears.
At last, peace! As I begin to exercise, dusk falls. Below, the great city lights up, winking like a furnace of crystals. Ah, this is it, I think, then ― "Twang!" A trio of acoustic musicians has arrived, and is tuning their instruments on the park's wooden lookout stage. Are there not enough locations to busk in downtown Seoul? Apparently not: Passing walkers stop to watch, and a hubbub soon rises.
I sigh, give up and head downhill.
Why this preoccupation with noise ― either making it or listening to it? To me, "stress relief" is about calmness, silence and solitude. My Korean friends, however, decompress by yelling on hiking trails or screeching in karaoke rooms ― the more companions they do it with, the better.
Perhaps I am in the wrong country? After all, much traditional Korean culture revolves around group appreciation of noise. Shamanistic rituals, masked dances, farmers' percussion ― not to mention their modern equivalents: Protests, raucous drinking sessions and noraebang (karaoke room).
But a code of silence used to be embedded in Korean culture. The quiet needed for Buddhist meditation, the spaces between the notes in a gayageum performance, the calm introspection of the scholar and the artist.
Alas, it is difficult to find their 21st century equivalents. Jaunty muzak is piped along the trails leading to temples. Today's music is about style and flash. And scholars and artists are urban hipsters, rather than rural recluses.
Moreover, the concept of "noise pollution" is unknown. City center protesters make as much racket as they damn well please, disturbing everyone, yet nobody complains. Perhaps, because nobody goes anywhere without their electronic gadgets constantly humming and beeping. On the roads, drivers use their horns as often as their brakes. And so on.
When I complain about this state of affairs, friends laugh and advise me to get a set of earphones. Actually, I own a set, thank you, and find it very useful for listening to music. But this does not solve my problem, for my problem is not noise customization, but noise evasion.
And when it comes to noise evasion, nobody, as far as I know, has yet invented an earphone that plays high-decibel silence.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.
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