The old still remains underneath, behind and between the new as architecture tells the country’s story in the shadows of skyscrapers.

Monuments are signposts to the past. King Sejong the Great’s brazen bust is one of the most impressive. He was a Confucian, the far east's humanism before humanism was invented. He brought power to the people and recognized intellectual merit over social class.

He also had a huge respect of nature and what it could provide. He crystallized these thoughts in his “Farmer’s Almanac” and it is maybe this that keeps the people of South Korea and a mega-city like Seoul connected to their outlying landscapes. Hiking is one of the population's favourite past times. Cycling has followed suit. Rapidly.

For the upwardly mobile Seoul cyclist, the de rigueur set-up is Aston Martin, Jaguar or Maserati topped with Stork carbon, Passoni titanium or Speedvagen steel (other brands are available…..).

The rule that the bikes on top of the car must be worth more than the car itself does not apply in Seoul.

Swap your driving gloves for your mesh-backed mitts, change your flappy paddle trip-tronic gears for your Campag EPS, switch your Gucci loafers for your shiny Giro Empires.

Shaven legs and the latest cycling fashion. Seoul has style.

But for these Seoul cyclists, it is hard to find space. This is a city of 9.85m people, or 25m if you count the entire Seoul Capital Area with its commuter belt. Twenty five. Million. That's why they call it a mega city - not the place you expect to find some top grade parcours.

But, as a wise cyclist once said, all you need is a map and an imagination.

Taking a ride up to the steep hills of Bukchon Hanok Village with its small back streets and traditional hanok houses is one of the unknown ways to find some quiet time. Especially if you go before sunrise.

Hanok was a term invented to help westerners describe the style of architecture that locals, like locals tend to do, take for granted. In a city which has had two mayors nicknamed “Bulldozer” in the past 60 years, it is no mean feat that an inner-city village such as Bukchon still stands.

It’s alleycat riding. It’s history. It’s like nothing you’ve ridden before.

Traditional Korean architecture places considerable importance on the location and positioning of a house. This practice, known as baesanimsu, dictates that the ideal house should be situated facing a river with mountains to its rear and hanok usually conformed.

It’s a recognition of the importance of correctly placing human endeavour in nature. Maybe the Korean architects of old were cyclists.

Descending back to the city in search of breakfast provides a return to the more familiar urban cycling scene. Traffic, red lights, thick air, less action. But nature, or at least recognition of its importance, is still here.

The Cheonggyecheon stream was covered by a raised highway back in the 1950s only to be re-opened, redeveloped and reinvigorated six decades later by another vote-seeking, ambitious “bulldozer” of a mayor.

There are many different viewpoints on the project (and its cost) but it seems to be in keeping with the great King Sejong’s respect for what mother earth provides. In a mega-city, it’s a mega-contrast to modern development that allowed the place to thrive.

Breakfast time in Seoul. There is only one destination – Gwangjang market, the oldest in town, possibly the entire country.

It is a complex matrix of fruit, meat, seafood, textiles and household goods. Hustle, bustle, steamed rice and ground mung beans. On the menu: soondae (Korean blood sausage), japchae (glass noodle stir-fry), gimbap (seaweed rice rolls) and dwaeji-ggeopdegi (barbequed pig skin).

Market life is pleasing and a reminder of the trade on which this city was partly built.

But having done the street performance, it’s time to get back to nature. Properly.

Seoul is surrounded by mountains. Whilst they don’t reach the heights of others, they are crucially within riding distance of the city. Here, in July, it is humid, hot and sticky.

An enthusiastic local ajeossi provides light relief by singing John Denver classics. A unlikely hint of western influence.

The recent explosion of micro and craft breweries turning out craft beer is also an indication of changing times in Seoul.

So bikes are rested against walls at a German brewery housed in a hanok called Dokil Jutaek and a day’s riding is capped off in the best way possible.