The other day, I was walking back to my apartment when a familiar sight caught my eye. A woman was quietly gliding down the sidewalk in a small electric cart. Without thinking, I smiled and motioned for her to stop. As she came closer, my mind drifted back to the winter of 1991, when I was a young foreigner discovering Korea one small surprise at a time. During my first few weeks in Seoul, I became convinced I kept seeing the same woman. She was everywhere. I saw her near my apartment in Jamsil. A day or two later, I spotted her several blocks away. Then there she was again outside the subway station. At least, I thought it was her. She always looked the same — a light beige winter jacket, a matching cap, her breath hanging in the cold morning air as she pushed a small cart from one apartment building to the next. Was I seeing the same woman? Was it déjà vu? Everywhere I went, there she was. Or so I thought. Back then, almost everything about Korea still seemed new to me. I could read Hangeul by then, even if I didn't always understand what I was reading, and I wandered through the city w