Why has walking on a Seoul sidewalk become so complicated?

Lately, one thing about life in Korea has surprised me: walking on a sidewalk no longer feels as straightforward as it once did.

I notice it most in the crowded parts of Seoul.

Around Gwanghwamun, office workers hurry between buildings while tourists stop mid-stride to take a photo.

Gangnam-daero is busy in a different way — workers, shoppers, students and tourists all moving through some of the widest pavement in the city.

Even there, I find myself glancing left, then right, then over my shoulder, out of habit now more than choice.

A bicycle appears from the side without warning.

An electric scooter cuts toward the crowd and slips through whatever gap opens up.

A delivery motorcycle rolls onto the pavement and, more often than not, stops exactly where people are trying to walk.

The rider can see me.

I usually can’t see the rider until it’s too late to do much about it.

That gap in awareness is what makes these moments unsettling — there may be just enough room to avoid a collision, but “enough room” and “felt safe” are not the same thing.

It isn’t only the busy avenue