Itaewon falls silent after deadly crowd crush in Seoul, South Korea

Itaewon was popular for its diversity and nightlife. A week after a disaster killed more than 150 young people, the neighborhood is a monument to grief.
SEOUL — Seo Hyuk-jun, 36, has kneeling in front of the white chrysanthemums as he placed a lit cigarette, incense and a paper cup filled with Jack Daniels on the floor. He stood, knelt, and bowed twice, performing a traditional Korean ritual for the dead.
Day after day such tributes came at the makeshift Itaewon Memorial, one of the most famous in Seoul. popular neighborhoods. Young South Koreans traveled there for its diversity and vibrant nightlife. They called it "Itaewon's freedom".
Now the neighborhood has become a sobering monument to grief and soul-searching after more 150 youths were killed in a mob. crush during the Halloween celebration last Saturday. Bars that buzzed with K-pop music just a week ago are now silent, their doors covered in condolence messages and a local government notice asking people to refrain from loud music and dancing. /p>
Like many South Koreans, Mr. Seo said he did not feel guilty for being alive when so many young people were killed that night , their whole life ahead of them. “For them, it was no ordinary Halloween. They were supposed to feel freedom after three years of pandemic hell,” Mr. Seo said, choking back tears. “I hope my cigarette and alcohol will ease their journey to the other world."
ImageOn a popular restaurant street in Itaewon, a notice of temporary closure for mourning.
ImageAn offering for the dead near the site of the wave known as a bustling gateway to nightlife and fun The alley where the crowd crush happened, near this exit, has remained closed all week, criss-crossed with tape orange police. Police officers stood guard one recent evening, green batons in hand. Pedestrians sometimes knelt and bowed in mourning. /p>
"People are still walking on the streets, cars are still driving, but I don't hear any noise," said 24-year-old Kim Hee-soo , manager of a store in Itaewon. "It's like this place has stopped dead. It's not the Itaewon I've known."
Since the disaster, a strange sadness reigns in the neighborhood. Its streets and alleys, which usually never sleep, darken early in the evening. Many stores were closed and restaurants were empty.
In front of a pork belly restaurant, a mourner placed a lunch box of rice and kimchi , along with a bouquet of chrysanthemums - a traditional mourning flower in Korea - and a handwritten note: "My friend, I hope you will be in heaven, be happy and enjoy your youth, which ended so soon in this world."

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Itaewon falls silent after deadly crowd crush in Seoul, South Korea

Itaewon was popular for its diversity and nightlife. A week after a disaster killed more than 150 young people, the neighborhood is a monument to grief.

SEOUL — Seo Hyuk-jun, 36, has kneeling in front of the white chrysanthemums as he placed a lit cigarette, incense and a paper cup filled with Jack Daniels on the floor. He stood, knelt, and bowed twice, performing a traditional Korean ritual for the dead.

Day after day such tributes came at the makeshift Itaewon Memorial, one of the most famous in Seoul. popular neighborhoods. Young South Koreans traveled there for its diversity and vibrant nightlife. They called it "Itaewon's freedom".

Now the neighborhood has become a sobering monument to grief and soul-searching after more 150 youths were killed in a mob. crush during the Halloween celebration last Saturday. Bars that buzzed with K-pop music just a week ago are now silent, their doors covered in condolence messages and a local government notice asking people to refrain from loud music and dancing. /p>

Like many South Koreans, Mr. Seo said he did not feel guilty for being alive when so many young people were killed that night , their whole life ahead of them. “For them, it was no ordinary Halloween. They were supposed to feel freedom after three years of pandemic hell,” Mr. Seo said, choking back tears. “I hope my cigarette and alcohol will ease their journey to the other world."

ImageOn a popular restaurant street in Itaewon, a notice of temporary closure for mourning.

ImageAn offering for the dead near the site of the wave known as a bustling gateway to nightlife and fun The alley where the crowd crush happened, near this exit, has remained closed all week, criss-crossed with tape orange police. Police officers stood guard one recent evening, green batons in hand. Pedestrians sometimes knelt and bowed in mourning. /p>

"People are still walking on the streets, cars are still driving, but I don't hear any noise," said 24-year-old Kim Hee-soo , manager of a store in Itaewon. "It's like this place has stopped dead. It's not the Itaewon I've known."

Since the disaster, a strange sadness reigns in the neighborhood. Its streets and alleys, which usually never sleep, darken early in the evening. Many stores were closed and restaurants were empty.

In front of a pork belly restaurant, a mourner placed a lunch box of rice and kimchi , along with a bouquet of chrysanthemums - a traditional mourning flower in Korea - and a handwritten note: "My friend, I hope you will be in heaven, be happy and enjoy your youth, which ended so soon in this world."