A Gyopo In Korea: Traveling With An Instrument

I’m Dylan, a 3rd generation Korean-American, and I’ll be living in Seoul for three months. In that time, I hope to improve my near non-existent Korean skills and experience the culture that I’ve been removed from. In this series, I’ll be detailing those experiences. If you’re not caught up, you can find the other chapters here.

When living in Seoul, I knew that I wanted to have my guitar with me. It’s become a large part of my identity, and I don’t think I could get by if I were to part from it for so long. Moreover, I wanted to continue writing and recording music, and possibly upload more of my stuff on social media, though it’s looking like the latter may have to wait for until I get back home; my job takes up too much of my day, and I can’t spend the rest of it cooped up in my room recording and editing video if I want to learn any Korean at all.

I also entertained the possibility of finding some people to jam with. It would be a good way to make friends and experience the city a bit more.

The only problem with bringing my guitar was the flight. In the US, domestic flights usually allow you to gate-check any instruments (if they are adamant that you cannot bring them into the main cabin). This means that you leave it outside the door to the plane and the airline will load it last among the rest of the luggage. Thus, when you get off the plane, it is also among the first to be taken out, and it’s waiting for you at the gate when you deplane. This process means that it’s a lot safer for your instrument; personally, I’ve never had any problems.

International airlines will also let you gate check your instrument, but the difference is that there’s, supposedly, no “special care” taken. They load the instrument along with all the other luggage on the plane.

I did not want to do this, and I also did not have a flight case for my guitar. The solution I found was dismantling my guitar into its neck and body (which I could do because I have a Fender, guitars of which are manufactured with bolt-on necks). I could then safely secure the separate parts in my main luggage, protected by all the clothes surrounding it. This is a strategy used by the likes of Julian Lage, a renowned modern-day jazz guitarist. The only problem with this strategy is that I would be without a gig bag for my guitar once I landed, so we would have to buy one.

My parents are well aware of how hard it was for me to travel with my guitar while I was attending boarding school, so they’re always reluctant to let me take it anywhere. But they know how important it is to me, so of course they let me bring it, and I informed them of this whole process, and they were okay with looking for a bag to buy in Korea.

Now, what I didn’t tell them about was that I brought my bass with me too, using the same method. I knew I would have to tell them eventually, but I figured, better to look for forgiveness later on then try to convince them before leaving, since that was a discussion I would not win. Even if I somehow did, I knew that I wouldn’t hear the end of it.

And I know it seems like a lot, but I figured, if I want to be recording and producing music while in Seoul, I kind of need to have my bass with me. (I think this is another prime example of my fussiness getting the better of me; once I have it set in my mind that I need something in order for any of my plans to work out, damn near nothing can convince me otherwise.)

I ended up telling them when they helped me move into my new house. And I did it with a smile and a laugh, in a “what’s done is done” sort of attitude. They were both like “Oh my God,” with a face palm, but this way, they thought it was funny more than anything. I then gave them my reasoning, and I think they were mostly fine with it. But they did “joke” that they “aren’t able to trust me in the same way again,”

Finding a nice bag was a bit of a challenge, for three reasons. Firstly, there were no guitar stores near our hotel (despite me writing this after I’ve moved in, this happened before when I was still with my family in the hotel), so my dad and I had to walk a few kilometers to get to one. Secondly, it was during the weekend of Seollal, so the only shop that was open was a small one that specialized in acoustic guitars. But the staff were very friendly. When we stepped in, we were greeted by an older mister who asked what we were looking for. My dad is pretty fluent in Korean, but not at the same level my mom is, and specialized vocabulary is particularly tough. Thankfully, there was a younger staff member that the shop owner called over who was very proficient in English, and he told us he’d go in the back and find something for us.

See, the hope was to find a cheap sleeve-type gig bag that could be easily a) folded and packed into a luggage or b) given away to someone for my return trip. It turns out, though, that the only electric gig bags available were more expensive than the nicer ones I use at home. There were two main options: a sleeve-type bag that was super padded and soft, or a more structured one that was more akin to what I usually use. I couldn’t help but be captivated by the beauty of the latter option. They were both black, but this one was incredibly pleasing to the eye. It had one long, thin pocket that would be able to fit picks, extra strings, a screwdriver set, and other maintenance items, and it had one large pocket that would fit my multi-effects pedal. This much was standard among these types of bags, but the design was just beautiful.

“와, 예쁘네요,” I said. Uah, yeppeuneyo. Wow, it’s pretty.

“예쁘지?” he replied. Yeppeuji? It is, isn’t it?

I knew I couldn’t go with that option though. It wasn’t what we were looking for; it wouldn’t be able to be folded like the other, and both were too expensive to just use for three months then part with.

So, it was set. The one concern I had with the sleeve, though, was if it would fit my guitar. See, I have a Jazzmaster, which, if you know anything about, you’d know has not only an enlarged headstock, but an odd body shape. It’s called an “offset” body because of the way the indents at the hips are misaligned.

So, I asked him. “Would this fit any kind of solid-body electric guitar?”

“Well,” he replied, “which one do you have?”

“A Jazzmaster.”

“Oh, a Jazzmaster?” His nostrils flared as he gave a firm thumbs up. “Hrmph! It’ll fit.”

It did not fit. Reason number 3. We realized when we got back to the hotel room; obviously, I couldn’t check there because I couldn’t bring my guitar to the shop itself, because I didn’t have a case to carry it in. The oblong shape meant that the body couldn’t sit nicely into the bottom of the bag, forcing the neck out at an angle. It could zip up halfway, but it left the headstock hanging out the top of the bag. We called back and he was very apologetic, telling us to come back on Sunday in a couple of days so we could exchange the bag. “And bring the guitar, just in case,” he added.

I walked all the way back with the headstock literally sticking out like a sore thumb. I was so worried that the cold would cause a string to snap that I made sure to detune everything before we left.

When we got there, he brought out the other bag. It was now a blueish grey. Damn. Before I could ask what happened, he explained that a lady came in to buy a guitar after we left that first day, and she bought the black bag with it. No matter; it’s still pretty, and it did fit, so we bought it. The current plan is to pack my guitar for the return trip like I did when I arrived, and to stuff the guitar bag with clothes and whatnot and gate-check it.

The latest challenge is finding some people to play with. I have no idea how to do it. I guess I’ll give an update on this in a bit.