Seoul seeking in South Korea

I'm 6,000 miles from one home but have returned to another, Seoul, where I was born and raised before moving to London 18 years ago. I'm back in South Korea's capital to visit family and old friends. My taxi darts through the whirring maelstrom of high-rise, neon-saturated city streets. We cross the Han river, which divides the city into 14 gu (districts) to the north and 11 to the south, to arrive at my grandparents' home in the Itaewon district, the former site of the American army base.

Those not fortunate enough to have family to stay with can still experience a slice of Korean life at a traditional guesthouse or hanok. These are built to resemble the 14th-century aristocratic homes of the Chosun dynasty. Newly renovated hanoks such as Rak-Ko-Jae in the historic Jongno district offer stylish rooms with natural jade floors, bamboo and pine decking, paper screens, even a wood-fired hot sauna known as an ondol. But if this isn't your cup of chai, there's always the W Seoul hotel near the fashionable Gangnam district, where red and white soft furnishings are juxtaposed with plenty of chrome and designer lighting and you can sip a cocktail in the lobby 'living room and DJ booth'.

I arrange to meet up with an old school friend, Ji-Hee, and we hop on the subway to Noryangjin, Seoul's largest wholesale and retail fish market. Less well known than Tokyo's famed Tsukiji market, Noryangjin certainly rivals it in size. If you can face getting there before dawn, you'll glimpse the daily fish auctions that take place between 1am and 6am for the tuna, abalone, sea cucumbers or whatever fish is in season, all of which will find their way to restaurants around the capital in time for lunch. Feeling peckish, we bargain with one of the hawkers for a sea bream and flounder, which are pulled out of the tank and gutted before our eyes. You don't get hwe (sashimi) much fresher than this. The rest of the fish is made into mae oon tang, a spicy soup, which we polish off with some local soju, Korea's delicious but dangerously strong rice alcohol, which is not dissimilar to sake and has a wonderfully numbing effect.

Driving through Seoul you realise that the city is in a state of constant reinvention. We pass ornate gardens and the Chosun-dynasty palaces Gyeongbokung and Changdeokgung, which jostle for space among the modern concrete and glass buildings. As we approach the fashionable university district of Hongdae, the horizon is dominated by architectural big-hitters: Rena Dumas's glass-encased Maison Hermès, the world's fourth largest Hermès store, with a silk-screen wall that reflects the ever-changing sky; Jean Nouvel's Leeum Samsung Museum of Art, a sleek three-tiered glass, steel and black concrete building set on the slopes of the city's Namsan mountain; and Zaha Hadid's much-anticipated Dongdaemun Design Plaza, due to be completed next summer, which will be both a historical and cultural park, complete with restored castle walls, a design gallery, history museum and a plethora of boutiques.

It's late afternoon by the time we get to Hongdae, and Seoul's club kids are already arriving for their evening fun, displaying every trend from polished tailoring to cute schoolgirl chic. On the last Friday of every month they gather for Hongik Club Day when, for 15,000 won (£8.50), you get access to 11 of the area's best clubs, including M2 and Joker Red, where we drink too many glasses of Makkoli rice wine and are assailed by thumping techno music.

The next day, a little the worse for wear, I decide that it's time to reconnect with the city I remember from my childhood. My mother and I head to Insadong in the north, the cultural heart of Seoul for 600 years. There are alleyways filled with antiques stores selling old and rare books, paintings and calligraphy brushes. Buddhist monks mingle in the fleamarkets with tourists hunting out old pottery and the traditional Korean dress, the hanbok - a beautiful two-piece outfit comprised of a silk jacket and full skirt, often in vibrant hues of red, pink or yellow.

For lunch we head to Sanchon, a restaurant opened by a Buddhist monk more than 20 years ago. It specialises in temple cooking, using fresh vegetables and herbs known for their medicinal qualities. Sharing is the rule at Korean tables, so we feast on copious small dishes known as banchan: mushroom vermicelli, fried kelp and rice with millet, and the famous national dish of kimchi, spicy fermented cabbage. As we sip plum tea, the evening draws in and we watch, spellbound, as a Korean dancer appears on the stage near our table to perform to nothing but a drum beat. As she recreates scenes from traditional folk stories, using fans for added effect, I reflect on how the city's past and present are working together to bring about Seoul's modern success. ES

GETTING THERE
- Hannah flew to Seoul with KoreanAir; fares in August start from £847 return (koreanair.com)
- Rak-Ko-Jae guesthouse from £100 per night for a patio room with dinner and breakfast (rkj.co.kr)
- W Seoul Hotel from £152 per night for a standard room without breakfast (starwoodhotels.com)