"In Korea," Jeremy Clarkson recently wrote in Top Gear magazine, "a dog is not just for Christmas. There should be some left over for Boxing Day, too." Thus spake the seraph of motoring journalism. Winging my way to South Korea's third motor show, I checked the in-flight menu with justifiable apprehension. My bigger concern, however, was whether, after Clarkson's outburst, a British car writer in Seoul might not be seen as fair game and served up for starters.
Two days later, taking a break from the media crush to test drive Daewoo's revised Nubira saloon, I edged carefully towards the crunch question. I asked my guide, Hyeon-Je Cho, whether he was familiar with Mr Clarkson's column. "Oh yes, we all know his work," he told me. "And does it hurt anyone's feelings that he doesn't seem to like Korea, or its cars?" At this point, Mr Cho seemed to indicate that he did not understand me. My attention was then rapidly diverted to the quartet of armed police who had emerged into the middle of the road, ahead of our Nubira.
This was an unusual test route for what was proving to be a highly unusual show. The road ran parallel to the heavily guarded border with communist North Korea. I guessed that western car testers, even without jeans and curly hair, might not be very welcome in this potential combat zone. A debate ensued between the policemen over my license and home address (try explaining what a cottage is in sign language); my translator told me that they claimed I was doing about 40mph more than the national speed limit, which only goes to show how quiet and smooth these new Nubiras are. My grasp of Ural-Altaic languages was far weaker than Mr Cho's English, but I guessed enough to know I had been lucky and decided to drop the questions about Clarkson, or dogs.
Up to 600,000 visitors were expected to attend Korea's third car show, 20,000 of them foreign. A word of advice, however, before you hop on the 11-hour flight: don't go unless you want to see only Korean cars. Though billed as an international event, the show is a three- horse race. On the ground floor, there were stands for Korean makers Daewoo, Hyundai and Kia and, er, that's it. Upstairs, there were several humble booths for car parts makers, but the European influence, reflecting the buying habits of Korea's motorists, amounts to zilch.
Up on the second floor, Mark Norcliffe, of the UK's society of motor manufacturers and traders, cut a lonely jib amid a sea of piston rings, exhausts and sprockets. The Korean automobile manufacturers association hired 3,142 pyong of space (a pyong is about 3.3 square metres), but Norcliffe's stand was barely a quarter of a pyong. In fact, if you subdivided his stand to show his respective responsibilities, makers like Vauxhall, Rover, Jaguar and Ford would each have to settle for a few square inches. The Korea Times, incidentally, said foreign makers had boycotted the event due to "differences", while UK car makers say they are habitually turned away because there is "no room" for them.
But then sales of cars from anywhere outside Korea aren't huge there. Out of one million cars bought in Korea last year, 1,800 were foreign. A big reason for the imbalance is import tax, which stands at 30-40%. Buying foreign is also said to excite fervent interest in your affairs from the local tax man.
There are, however, deeper reasons for Korea's home-alone philosophy. Having spent much time this century on the wrong end of Japanese and Chinese jackboots, the country has learned that it should try to do all it can for itself.
But the desire to be different does find occasional expression on the road, usually with rabid tastelessness. Try, for starters, the show's new Kia Retona-M off-roader. This retro Willys-lookalike has matt camouflage bodywork a bit out of place on the school run. Still with Kia, the latest version of the best-selling recreation vehicle, the Carnival, was also on show. Resplendent in glitter paint, this awkward lump has all the grace of a customised Transit, though it does have a drinks cabinet, cream leather and beige curtains.
Kia's stand was called Spirit Of The Earth and had two model volcanoes, complete with mock flowing lava. All of which proves that Korean makers can be just as silly and pretentious as British ones when it comes to exhibitions.
A custom car, of course, can be anything from a firm promise to an outright sham. Daewoo seems to have its heart firmly set on progressing the Mirae, a futuristic design first conceived at the maker's Worthing offices. As looks go, the Mirae was the most innovative and elegant show offering. The idea is that you can have a sports car with all the implied sport but none of the implicit squeeze. Working models showed how the seats and dashboard innards can be moved around to match any permutation of family needs. Close details, however, were a little sketchy; as yet, there are no tangible instrumentation displays and most of the illustrations are virtual.
One concept car from Hyundai which is solemnly promised for UK shores next August is the Santa Fe 4x4. It was designed in California, possibly by someone with a grudge against his bosses. Part Ford Focus, part Massey Ferguson, the Santa Fe is a big ugly brute that will certainly make many of its rivals look either effeminate or boring.
For the most part though, my appreciation of Korean cars was skewed by the language barrier. The opportunities for misunderstanding are limitless. Take, for instance, Deawoo's Damas, a small van. The design makes sense, but if you bought one and your local bobby asked you to "Kindly move your damn ass out of the way", there could be all kinds of misunderstandings. Still on the commercial front, Hyundai's small pick-up, based on the Atoz, could be handy for plumbers or lumberjacks. But will they be happy being seen in something called a Tutti?
For my money, the wisely named Matiz is still the most sensible Korean car money can buy, given the low costs, Prescott-friendly three-cylinder engine and interior acreage. Daewoo's Seoul display for the car, however, left me perplexed: "Potential power does not mean to harmonize only for smallization, but in the part of the century which standardization of great power and speed can be lasted forever, securing for thinking which moves freely should involve affection for uncertainty." My thoughts, er, precisely. Now which way was it to the airport?
