It always takes me a while to get my bearings when I arrive at Express Bus Terminal Station, whether I’m there to catch a ride out of town or on my way to somewhere in the neighborhood.  Three lines merge here, one bus terminal is two terminals, there’s a department store, two shopping malls, maybe more, and jammed in between all that are shoe shops, makeup boutiques, salons, and even a sauna.  I could live here.  A couple times I’ve been so turned around that I thought I might have to.

Probably just about everyone in Seoul has been to this station before, check that, probably a solid majority of Koreans, full stop, have been here, as the Express Bus Terminal (고속터미널) is the biggest bus terminal in the country, linking the capital to pretty much everywhere on the mainland.  The terminal is divided into two separate buildings, with the original building, where the Gyeongbu and Yeongdong Lines (경부선, 영동선) depart from, sitting on the plaza where Exit 1 drops you off.  It’s also accessible directly from the station, though I’ve always had trouble doing things that way.

Inside the old terminal was a smattering of people buying tickets, lineups at the ATMs, some travelers wheeling luggage or shouldering bags, others using the coin-operated internet stalls, sailors and soldiers on break, plenty of folks getting quick pre-trip meals or buying snacks, and the less-comfortably dressed on their way to the fifth floor wedding hall.  A few regional tourism signs were up, including one for the east coast province that read ‘Gangwondo, always on my mind.’  Buses were headed to Cheongju, Daejeon, and as far as Busan.

The old terminal is by no means dingy, but looking at it and the newer building across the way back-to-back shows the different Seouls they were built in.  In the old terminal the upper floors are arranged like an indoor market, with floors dedicated to curtains and drapes, flower shops, bedding, and clothing.  Conversely, the new terminal, serving the Honam Line (호남선), is attached to a Shinsegae department store and incorporated into the Central City complex.

From Exit 8 I walked across the plaza, past the Queen’s Guards and Swiss Guard statues posted on either side of the Shinsegae entrance, to the Central City/new terminal front doors.  There’s something a bit odd about the lighting inside the station, and even in the middle of a good day it feels dim inside.  Like the original terminal there are plenty of small places to eat, but more of them are chain restaurants, and things generally feel slightly less bus terminal-y, as there are as many shoppers here as there are travelers.  Coaches bound for Gwangju or Haenam waited in their slots outside the terminal’s Lego-like red gates, but there were as many shopping bags as there were suitcases, and I spotted two guys with matching nose braces and masks, apparently just having gotten nose jobs together.  To the left of the terminal entrance were the doors to Shinsegae and access to the attached Marriott Hotel, while downstairs was Young Plaza with the usual Megabox, Uniqlo, Bandi & Luni’s lineup.

A while back we were just down the street, at Banpo Station, and crossed through the space beneath the Sinbanpo-ro (신반포로) – Jamwon-ro (잠원로) intersection, marked as Gangnam Underground Shopping Center (강남지하상가) on the local map, hoping to find something, anything that might be going on in that ‘hood.  At the time though, it was just an empty space, plywood and dim concrete halls.  Now it’s part of the bright, lively GoTo Mall, which stretches under the bus terminal all the way to the Sinbanpo-ro – Banpo-ro (반포로) intersection a couple of long Gangnam blocks to the west.  At that end, closest to Exit 8 or 8-1, was a collection of snack shops, boutiques, a bubble tea joint, and a cylindrical aquarium where a number of fish did fish things.  The other end, nearest Exit 1 or 8-2, was a small food court, a fountain pool, and several flower shops that gave the mall a sweet aroma.

On the street above, the side of Sinbanpo-ro opposite the terminal is fronted by five-story buildings filled with shops, real estate offices, and hagwons.  A disproportionate amount of the retail space is taken up by a variety of Christian shops.  There were religious bookstores, places selling wooden crosses and Christian CDs, a shop called the Korea Protestant Department Store, and one store with choir robes displayed in its window.

The blocks between these stores and the river are occupied by apartment complexes, but bypassing these it’s a quick walk to the Han River Park (한강공원) by turning right down Banpo-ro from Exit 8-1.  Newer buildings to the right, older ones in paint-flaking domino rows to the left, the sidewalk leading north is dotted with tiles pointing the way to the park and showing images of historical sites in the area.  As you near the point where the Banpo Bridge begins you can either continue along the sidewalk to a set of stairs that leads down to the park, or you can cross to the middle of the road and take the ramp that does the same, the latter route leading past graffiti of laughing kids, a smooching fish and whale, and portraits of what looked like Chinese deities.

The park was predictably empty in mid-February, the grass still two-thirds covered in snow, though a handful of expats were out playing football, two bikers were taking a break under a canopied rest area, a man on a thick-wheeled unicycle rolled by, and a woman walked a pair of bichon fries that were both spotless white from their haunches up and coated a muddy brown below that.  In warm months, however, this is one of the most popular stretches of the park, in part because of the Banpo Bridge Moonlight Rainbow Fountain (달빛무지개 분수), which is recognized by Guinness as the world’s longest bridge fountain, though just how deep that field is is not something I’ve ever heard the Korea Tourism Organization mention in the same breath.  Competition (or lack thereof) aside, the fountain is pretty impressive, with nearly 400 nozzles and 200 lights and it’s certainly a nice backdrop to an evening picnic or date, though I’m personally of the opinion that if you’ve seen it once, well, you’ve seen it.

The stretch of the park below the bridge is called Moonlight Square (달빛광장) and from there you can see the gilt wedge of the 63 Building and the red and white spire of N Seoul Tower.  In the river in front of the square are the Floating Islands (세빛둥둥섬), though the joke goes that they should really be called 세금둥둥섬, the Floating Tax Islands.

The Islands, a pet project of former mayor Oh Se-hoon (오세훈), are a trio of buildings on floating bases anchored to the river bottom, heralded as the first such constructions in the world.  They were intended to function as meeting, convention, exhibition, entertainment, and recreational space, and were officially opened in June 2011 with a Fendi fashion show.  Since then, however, they’ve done little but court controversy.  Beset by construction and maintenance problems and unable to find a subcontractor to manage them, they’ve fallen into semi-neglect.  The most recent twist in the tale came in mid-February when the Korean Bar Association requested an investigation be opened into Oh’s handling of the islands’ construction and contractual deals, as there are allegations of financial mismanagement.  Oh, for his part, has blamed current mayor Park Won-soon (박원순) for not opening the islands to the public.  And everyone is upset about what’s (not) happening with their tax dollars.

A pair of security guards was stationed in the booth at the entrance to the footbridge leading over the jade-colored river to the first island, but they had no problems with letting me walk out for a look around.  I was the only one looking to do so.  Sections of uncompleted or faulty walkway were attached to the side of the island and the first building was completely empty inside.  I couldn’t see if the situation was the same with the other two buildings because the footbridges to them were blocked off, so instead I sat down in a funnel-shaped chair and just looked at the buildings and the river for a bit.  They were pretty things, the islands, their aqueous curves graceful and well-harmonized with the river, and I hoped that they wouldn’t turn into a boondoggle.  If they reached their potential they’d undoubtedly be a welcome addition to the city, but whether that would happen or not seemed rather uncertain at the moment.

The Express Bus Terminal is penned in by large roads, and the area immediately surrounding it is more suited to vehicles than pedestrians, but short walks southwest of the station from Exit 5 lead to areas that offer a bit of respite from the noise and fumes.

Just outside the exit are the headwaters of the Banpo Stream (반포천), a quiet little waterway that empties into the Han near Dongjak Bridge.  Here there’s a walking path and some stepping stones that cross the stream.  Across Sapyeong-dae-ro (사평대로) is Sorae Park (서래공원), which is less of a park than it is a spot for the area’s businessmen to take a break on one of the benches and grab a cigarette.  Sculptures of horses gallop through a fountain pool, shaded by nearby trees.

If you pass the park and continue south along Banpo-ro, passing Catholic University (가톨릭대학교), you’ll eventually arrive at the National Library of Korea (국립중앙도서관).  The first thing you’ll see is the black glass façade of the relatively new National Digital Library of Korea, or Dibrary, which opened in 2009.  Inside, I was greeted by a little garden of digital screens displaying changing images of flowers.  A section of the wall behind them had white on black Chinese and Hangeul characters in glass, which served as a stark contrast with all the high tech gadgetry around them.  There were of course computers and laptop stations, but also kiosks where visitors could browse newspapers and a few magazines on touchscreens.  Upstairs was a huge spread of computer stations, both desktop and laptop, along with meeting rooms; multiplexes where groups could watch videos; a Digital Editing Zone for video and image editing; and video and audio studios for producing and recording.  I hadn’t been to a library in a long time, and the near-perfect silence was startling, especially in a tech-oriented space in a city as buzzing as Seoul.

The Dibrary elevator took me up to the first floor, which put me on a plaza in front of the main library.  Large green letters across the top of the building read ‘국립중앙도사관 www.nl.go.kr’ and looking out from the middle of the ‘g’ as if to survey those entering its building was a lone magpie, which had built its nest there.

To enter interior of the library I had to register for a library card, which is available to any expat with an Alien Registration Card and is a piece of cake to get.  Computers near the entrance let you register (in English) on the library’s website and after you do so the librarian on duty will give you a day pass for use that day.  The next time you come back your card will be ready to pick up.

I wandered upstairs through the different sections of the library, which, all told, holds over 7.5 million items.  Newspapers and government publications were on the third floor and material related to the sciences on the fourth.  On the fifth floor was the maps and geography room, which was one of three areas I was looking forward to checking out.  I can look at maps for hours, especially old ones, which, in the heroic endeavors that went into creating them and in their utter wrongness, strike me as both awe-inspiring and hilarious.  Unfortunately, though, I had come on a Sunday, and the maps room isn’t open on weekends.  Nor was one of the other areas I wanted to visit: the Information Center on North Korea (북한자료센터).

Thankfully, I was only 67% out of luck, because the Old and Rare collection on the sixth floor was open.  In display cases by the door were an anthology of Zen teachings from 1377 and a Dharani sutra wood block print from 751.  Inside, a half-dozen old men sat at tables flipping through even older books, and stacks of yellowed and worn books, most bound with string, lined rows of wood and glass cabinets.  In the center of the room was a temporary display of materials from the Joseon era that included answers to exam questions and study manuals for those preparing for medical, military, and astronomical tests.

Just past the library you’ll notice the pedestrian Silkworm Bridge (누에다리) crossing high above Banpo-ro.  Ten white rings provide the frame for white wiring, resulting in a structure that resembles the animal so closely associated with this part of Seoul.  Climb up the steps leading up to the bridge and you’ll find yourself in Montmartre Park (몽마르뜨 공원), a pleasant hilltop park that offers unexpectedly fine views off to the southeast and southwest.  Near the entrance was a spot that I believe is actually used as a reference point for GPS systems and making maps.  Square stones around it signaled the directions of and distances to several cities around the world, including Washington D.C., Pyongyang, Singapore and Berlin.  A number of people were walking their dogs around the path running along the hilltop, and four built or partially-built snowmen still dotted the field in its center.

Also near the Express Bus Terminal is the well-known Sorae Village (서래마을), or Sorae Maeul, which is a ten-minute walk from Exit 5.  After walking west on Sapyeong-dae-ro turn left into Sorae-ro (서래로).

Sorae Village is also commonly known as the French Village thanks to the French influence that comes with the presence of the Lycée Français de Séoul at the end of Sorae-ro (the school crossing outside of which has its sign written in French, in addition to Korean and English).  If you’re expecting a little slice of Paris when you show up, however, you might come away disappointed.  I asked my girlfriend if the area felt French to her, and she responded by saying it felt more Japanese, which I kind of got.  Japan certainly isn’t a four-week vacation, three-hour dinner kind of place like France is, but people are in less of a hurry there, more ready to savor things, and the little bit of Continental influence in the neighborhood seems able to tug Seoul about that far, if not any further.

To be sure, though, Sorae Maeul has a vibe unto itself, distinct from the rest of Seoul, and while it’s not French exactly, it seems like here, at least, people have some sort of understanding of la bon vie, of the pleasurable things in life and that sometimes what you should do is better not done in favor of what you would like to do.  In some ways, the area’s reputation for charm is self-fulfilling: its reputation is that it’s a place to catch a whiff of Europe, so people come here to eat, drink, and get away from the more hectic parts of the city, which actually creates an atmosphere that’s more European and makes it a place to eat, drink, and get away from the more hectic parts of the city.  No one comes here to conduct business.  They come here to avoid conducting business, and to indulge in the preponderance of cafes, wine bars, and international restaurants.

As I strolled up and down the main street and along some of the back streets, a couple towheaded boys passed by babbling in French, shoppers wandered in and out of fashion and craft boutiques, people looked over the offerings at bakeries, and, perhaps most notably, nobody seemed in any particular rush to get anywhere.  Sorae Maeul may not be a ticket to de Gaulle, but it’ll do.

Express Bus Terminal (고속터미널)

Old Terminal (Gyeongbu and Yeongdong Lines (경부선, 영동선))

Exit 1

New Terminal (Honam Line (호남선))

Exit 8

GoTo Mall

Exits 1, 8, 8-1, 8-2

Han River Park (한강공원), Banpo Bridge Moonlight Rainbow Fountain (달빛무지개 분수), and Floating Islands (세빛둥둥섬)

Exit 8-1

Right on Banpo-ro (반포로)

Banpo Stream (반포천)

Exit 5

Sorae Park (서래공원)

Exit 5

South on Banpo-ro (반포로)

National Library of Korea (국립중앙도서관) and National Digital Library of Korea (Dibrary)

Exit 5

South on Banpo-ro (반포로)

Phone | 02) 590-4142

National Library of Korea: www.nl.go.kr

National Digital Library of Korea: www.dibrary.net

Hours | Digital Library: Tuesday – Sunday 9:00-18:00, Closed Mondays

Silkworm Bridge (누에다리) and Montmartre Park (몽마르뜨 공원)

Exit 5

South on Banpo-ro (반포로)

Sorae Village (서래마을)

Exit 5

West on Sapyeong-dae-ro (사평대로), Left on Sorae-ro (서래로)

Almost immediately, Hwagok produced one of the most unique, most unusual, and, least kid sister-friendly businesses we’ve turned up in the course of this project.  About a block and a half down Gangseo-ro (강서로) from Exit 5 was 곤충박물관 충우 (Insect Museum Chung-u), easily spotted by the sign outside with pictures of several different butterflies and stag beetles enlarged to the size of a rather large terrier.  Once I got past the initial B-movie shock, the creatures actually started to seem quite beautiful.  Blown up to this magnitude their elaborate features and brilliant colors became more easily visible, and they made me think of what you might get if you put a bunch of Japanese shoguns in a gay pride parade.

In the windows next to the photographs were several dozen insect specimens pinned and mounted in glass frames, including about 20 Morpho godarti butterflies a shade of blue that made them look as if a live current was running through them.  Along with the butterflies there were also stag beetles, tarantulas, and three scorpions.

Chung-u isn’t just an insect museum, though.  As its sign outside says, it’s also an insect shop selling insect goods, and lest you be tempted to think there’s no market for that sort of thing, Chung-u has been in business since 1996.  When I stepped inside, my first impression was of how remarkably clean the place was; not exactly what I’d expected at a bug business.  The two staffers working there were bent over a foam board, carefully pinning two large butterflies the color of autumn leaves in place.  In the glass counter between them were dozens and dozens of dead specimens for sale, each carefully wrapped in a small packet with a price sticker attached to it.  Stag beetles averaged between 8 and 15-thousand won, while the most expensive rhino beetle will set you back a cool 117,000.  Behind the counter were shelves of neatly arranged plastic bins of more packeted insects, each bin labeled with the species’ Latin name and a large picture.  If living things are more your bag, the store’s opposite wall had several aquariums that held beetles, tarantulas, and scorpions, and a refrigerator was stocked with food for stag beetle larva, which looks sort of like bleached couscous.  Naturally, they also sell toys and t-shirts.

I stepped through a door in the back of the shop and headed up to the museum on the second and third floors.  The second floor had dozens of varieties of butterflies, some with wings that looked like holograms, and several dozen varieties of stag and rhinoceros beetles from all over the world, including specimens from Australia, Colombia, Arizona, and Cameroon.  They ranged in size, from a thumbnail to a fist, and in color as well.  Some were all black like S.W.A.T. team vehicles; others were emerald, striped, or dotted, and some species looked as if they’d been dipped in glitter.  Also on the second floor was a display of insects of the rainforest and a photo prop like those you might see at the zoo or in a folk village, only instead of being in the face of a kangaroo or palace guard the cutouts where you stuck your head here were in the face of a stag and rhino beetle.

I then went up to the third floor (The stairs to the fourth floor, which is not part of the museum, were blocked by an old Sega arcade console for Mushiking: The King of Beetle, which looked to be a rock-paper-scissors-based stag beetle fighting game.), where there were more butterflies, including an Atlus moth (Attacus atlas) from Indonesia that was orange and brown and the size of a paperback.  There were also moths, cicadas, stick insects, leaf insects, praying mantises, locusts, fireflies, wasps, and elegant little dragonflies.  Some of the most interesting were the Fulgora laternaria (두눈악어머리꽃매미) moths from Indonesia, with their bulbous, cashew-shaped heads; the 1 ½-foot long Phobaeticus serratipes walking stick from Malaysia; and wasps from East Java the size of my pinkie finger from second knuckle to tip.  There was also a video of insect hunters in the rain forest playing on a large screen.  On the whole, there was quite a bit of information on the various species in the museum, though all of it is in Korean.

Once I left the museum I continued in the direction I’d been going, south towards the Hwagok Tunnel, before turning right on Garogongweon-ro (가로공원로).  There was major construction going on in the middle of the road, with traffic being diverted to the sides, and the sidewalks had been ripped up and temporarily replaced with stones.  Up ahead, planes were taking off from Gimpo Airport, still low enough that I could make out the airline logos painted on their sides.  I’d come this way to try to find a market that had been marked on the station’s neighborhood map, Hwagok Jungang Market (화곡중앙시장), but I couldn’t spot it, and with three other markets in the neighborhood I decided to move on.

From Garogongweon-ro I turned right onto Hwagok-ro-20-gil (화곡로20길) and followed it past small businesses and hostess bars until it put me on Hwagok-ro (화곡로).  There I turned left and then left again onto Hwagok-ro-18-gil (화곡로18길), looking for the second market on my list, Gangseo Jungang Market (강서중앙시장).  But where I thought the market would be, or maybe where it used to be, was a brand new apartment tower, appropriately named New Town, its first floor retail space still waiting to be filled.

I went back down Hwagok-ro toward the station.  The commercial avenue wasn’t terribly busy on a Friday afternoon, but there were a few things going on: A woman pulled her dog along in a shopping basket, a guy smooshed his face up against a tree as he reached around it to tape a sign to its trunk, and hanging on a rack outside of a clothing store was a sweatshirt of the Peanuts characters that read ‘FRESH OUT OF THE HOOD’.

At the corner I turned left, and from Exit 8 followed Gangseo-ro north, heading for Daewon Market (대원시장).  On Gangseo-ro-39-gil (강서로39길) I swung a left, and on a corner up ahead was a fruit and vegetable stand, but nothing I’d call a market.  I circled the triangular block, and it was only after I got back to where I’d started that I noticed two red and white banners reading ‘대원시장,’ indicating the building I’d just walked around was the market.  It was nothing I’d call a market, though, just a few stores in a building, and not even of the market variety: a clothes shop, a place selling electric supplies, a PC bang, and a design business.  Hwagok was starting to seem like the land of the markets that aren’t there.

Walking around, I’d noticed a surfeit of photocopied ads for apartments taped up to bus stops and light poles in the neighborhood, and sure enough there was plenty of construction going on.  On the east side of Gangseo-ro a couple blocks down from Exit 1 and behind a huge pink sign that read ‘New & More,’ fields of gray apartment towers were springing up, some just the earliest frames, some nearly completed.  In front of these a huge church was going in, setting up an inter-denominational showdown with the other huge church going in on the opposite corner.

After having struck out on three of the supposed markets in the neighborhood, I set out from Exit 3 to try my luck with the last one.  Heading east on Hwagok-ro I passed a supermarket that had just been gutted, a few ajeosshis standing around the barren registers and loading debris into trucks.  Broken glass was scattered across the floor, and Schick and Nivea display stands were empty but still there, pricing tags still attached.  Several meters past the store an ajumma was selling cotton swabs, bandages, and other basic health supplies from a stall set up on the sidewalk outside of a hospital.

A couple blocks from the station I reached the market, which was actually there this time.  A large sign in blue lettering marked the entrance to Hwagok Market (화곡시장).  I passed fruit sellers with boxes of perfect-looking strawberries and passed into the covered market, where matching circular signs above each stall bore the name of the shop and a picture of what was sold there.  The market followed the curve of the side street that it was on, and with spring temperatures rising a slightly fishy smell was returning to the market air.  There were abstract piles of octopus, steaming yellow and maroon corn, an ajumma shucking clams, vaguely obscene tubes of intestine, and enormous cauldrons of soups.

Not far from the other end of the market was Byeotgol Park (볏골공원), most easily accessed by going out Exit 4, turning left on Kkachisan-ro (까치산로), and then right on Kkachisan-ro-4-gil (까치산로4길).  The park has a rather unusual setup, as it sits on a rise with a parking garage directly underneath.  It wasn’t a bad little place, though, with a grassy knoll spotted with trees, what looked to be a splash fountain (not yet turned on), and a dozen or so kids running around the playground equipment.  Another one, off by himself, was busy trying to break a branch off from one of the shrubs, for which he was yelled at by an ajeosshi on a park bench.  The kid didn’t pay the old man any mind, however, and eventually the ajeosshi gave up.

If instead of turning left on Kkachisan-ro you continue straight you’ll arrive at Kkachisan (까치산) proper, a small hill through which Hwagok Tunnel passes.  If you hike up the stairs to the top you’ll find a small park area with benches and a gazebo, but there’s not much of a view in this part of town, so you might not find it worth the effort.  You might, however, notice the apartment building on the west side of the tunnel that for God knows what reason was named Popcorn House (팝콘 하우스).

곤충박물관 충우 (Insect Museum Chung-u)

Exit 5

Straight on Gangseo-ro (강서로)

www.stagbeetles.com

Phone: 02) 2601-3998

Museum Hours | March – October: 9:30 – 18:00, November – February: 10:00 – 17:00; Closed holidays and the 2^nd and 4^th Sunday and 1^st and 3^rd Thursday of every month

Admission | Adults – 3,000, Groups of 15 or more – 2,500, Kids under 4 and Handicapped – Free

Hwagok Market (화곡시장)

Exit 3

Byeotgol Park (볏골공원)

Exit 4

Left on Kkachisan-ro (까치산로), Right on Kkachisan-ro-4-gil (까치산로4길)

Kkachisan (까치산)

Exit 4

Straight on Gangseo-ro (강서로)

[A short hello! from me, the newest photographer of the Sub→urban team. This is the first post for which I photographed and I really hope you enjoy what you see here as much as you enjoyed looking at Liz's and Meagan's shots. I would love to receive any feedback you may have on the photos you see here and in upcoming posts so please feel free to comment away. Cheers, Merissa]

The on-ramp leading from Hwarang-ro (화랑로) to the Bukbu Expressway (북부간선도로) rose directly above Sangwolgok Station’s Exit 4, and as I walked up the stairs it looked so low that I might bump my head on it.  It’s a weird bit of road design, and on the narrow sidewalk outside the exit I could almost lean over the rail and slap the hubcaps of cars as they rolled up the incline.

Just a few steps down the street was the Wounded Veterans Memorial Hall (성북구 보훈회관) and I thought it might have some interesting displays, but it was closed on the Sunday that I was in the neighborhood so I couldn’t find out.

The next left led to the main entrance of the Korean Institute of Science and Technology (KIST) (한국과학기술연구원), the campus of which spreads all the way down to near Wolgok Station.  Boxy gray buildings with large windows stood quietly behind the rolling gates of a stately black metal fence.

KIST took up the better part of that side of the neighborhood, so there wasn’t much to explore, and I was quickly coming up on Wolgok, so I swung a U-turn and retraced my steps, heading northeast.  On the sidewalk between Exits 3 and 4 I came across an easy to overlook plaque marking the former site of Mareundaemi Hill – Seonghwangdang Tree – Puseok Mountain (마른대미고개 – 성황당나무 – 푸석산).  According to the plaque, atop the hill that crossed from Sangwolgok-dong to Jangwi-dong (formerly called Daemi Hill (대미고개)) there once stood a pine tree that represented a guardian god.  The tree ‘would protect the village from calamity and give birth to a boy if people wished.’

Just past the stone marker and also between the two exits, a bright green and brown sign traced the course of Straw Basket Health Village (삼태기 건강마을), a series of vegetable gardens and wall murals dotted among the neighborhood streets.  Just a few steps down the street was the first mural: a picnicking family enjoying themselves near a pond filled with ducks and frogs, while nearby neighbors leaned out of their windows or over balconies and an extremely well-mustachioed ice cream truck driver passed by.  In between murals, little strips of garden sat separated from the street by miniature white picket fences.  Of course the gardens were barren in mid-winter, but if the pictures painted on small signs weren’t merely decoration, in the summer carrots and lettuce were grown there.

I hadn’t seen anything quite like this elsewhere in Seoul, but with urban farming gaining both adherents and a bit of respect in other countries it’s not unreasonable to think that we’ll start seeing more of it.  At least I hope so.  And why not?  With so many Seoulites suffering from too much stress it might provide some with a bit of catharsis, a chance to forget about the office for a bit and feel the earth between their fingers.

The chain of gardens eventually brought me past the offices of the Seoul National Forest Station (서울국유림관리소),  a handsome modern structure of dark gray stone and reflective glass, behind which the land was dotted with Korean pines of a deep army green.

Just beyond the forest station  was Eoreushin Health Garden and Cheonjang Mountain Walking Path (어르신 건강마당, 천장산 산책로).  Like many other parks, Eoreushin had several pieces of exercise equipment, but in an interesting twist some of the machines here were modeled on traditional village apparatuses, like one resembling a mortar for pounding rice or grain and another that looked like a wooden waterwheel you were supposed to turn with your feet.  I think.  That latter one I couldn’t quite figure out.  Beyond the exercise equipment stairs led up into the mountain for a quiet walk between denuded trees and a thin layer of snow.

From the park I wandered through the backstreets for a bit and then headed back down to the main street.  As I was nearing it a trio of elementary school kids, two boys and one girl, were passing in the other direction, chatting, before one of the boys decided to slip into a rendition of ‘Arirang,’ trying, without success, to get his friends to join him.

I emerged back on Hwarang-ro near a decrepit old building that sat, mostly abandoned, between a new church and a new apartment complex.  One indication of how deeply it had fallen into disregard was the sign advertising no longer used 016, 018, and 019 cell phone codes that hung in the window of a shop selling cheap, ugly shoes.  Apparently the shoe shop owner hadn’t felt it was worth his trouble to take down.

The building the shop was in had once housed the New Seokgwan Market (새석관시장), and there was still a sign above the central entrance announcing this, but from the looks of things the market had disappeared some time ago.  Now there was only trash piled up inside, though this, peculiarly, was organized in orderly rows – piles of refuse arranged in square sections between aisles as the market stalls must have been at one point.  The scene was lit by a single fluorescent light bulb tube and by the sunlight sneaking in from the doors and through the holes in the roof where the metal had rusted through.  On the edge of the trash piles, next to a couple shops fronting the street that were still open, was an old man sitting in the semi-dark, alone at what appeared to be a makeshift tea shop.

On the opposite side of Hwarang-ro and at the end of Hwarang-ro-25-gil (화랑로25길) was Jangwi Traditional Market (장위통시장).  Despite this market having the word ‘traditional’ in its name and Seokgwan modifying itself with the word ‘new,’ the reality couldn’t have been more reversed.  Jangwi sported a brand new sign above its entrance, and the market was covered in a brand new green canopy.  The shop signs along the walkway were all uniform and everything was remarkably clean and orderly; even the whole pigs hanging in one of the market’s butcher shops were wrapped in plastic.  No doubt Jangwi had seen some considerable recent investment, perhaps from the city or national government as part of the public campaign to update and increase interest in Korea’s traditional markets.  The result was a market for people who don’t like markets – (almost) all of the charm, (almost) none of the grime.

The market more or less occupied just the one long, very long aisle, and anything one could expect to find in a less polished market one could also find here, including the largest vats of yukgaejang and chueotang that I’d ever seen.

After several minutes of walking, the new green canopy ended, there was a short open section, and then I entered into an older part of the market that either had not been renovated yet or was simply being left alone.  This section was more akin to the majority of Seoul neighborhood markets, with rusty beams holding up a corrugated metal roof, and a mish-mash of styles on the signs hanging above businesses.  When I finally emerged at the market’s far end I was met with the sight of an ajeosshi selling big bunches of green onion from the back of a truck.  Apparently quite popular, he had a dozen people gathered around, looking to buy.

Also on the north side of the neighborhood is a large park, which, on the station map is called Aegineungteo Park (애기능터공원), on a sign near the entrance, Wolgok Mountain Park (월곡산공원), and on Naver Maps, Odong Park (오동공원).  Take your pick I guess.  Because it’s the first one I saw and it’s the most fun to say, I’m going to stick with Aegineungteo.  To reach it from the station, first go out Exit 1, U-turn, and hang the first left onto Hwarang-ro-17-gil (화랑로17길)/Jangwol-ro (장월로).  To the left is a huge yellow wall with paintings of trees, butterflies, and a giant flower.  Surrounding the painted butterflies, several dozen smaller butterflies, made of fabric, were attached to the wall, but because they were all black they seemed more pestilential that beautiful.

Not far past the wall I took the soft left onto Jangwol-ro-3-gil (장월로3길) where it and another street meet Hwarang-ro-17-gil in a V.  I passed another wall mural, this one much brighter and depicting a starry-eyed Snoopy-like pooch and his adventures climbing a piano tree, with a digging mole, and with a flying pink whale.  The inclined road eventually came to an elementary school, and I kept following it along the school’s left side as it continued, more steeply, uphill to one of the park’s entrances.

Within the park were a number of athletic and exercise facilities, as well as separate halmeoni and harabeoji resting spots, but the park’s marquee attraction is the actual Aegineungteo (애기능터) or Wide Rock (넓은 바위) (Naming things twice (or more) seemingly the thing to do around Sangwolgok.), a large rock face that juts out from the hillside, creating a natural lookout point.  Accentuating things was a wooden pavilion built on top of the protruding rock.  There was a small book café under the pavilion – basically a shelf with some books that park-goers could read – and some stairs that led up to its main platform, which two ajummas yelled at me for starting to go up with my shoes on.

You don’t actually need to climb the pavilion stairs to enjoy the view, though.  Simply walking out onto the big stone face of Aegineungteo’s top provides views of Yongma Mountain (용마산), Cheonggye Mountain (청계산), Gwanak Mountain (관악산), and N Seoul Tower.  Closer, the backs of Daehanbulgyo Jingakjong and the Dongduk Women’s University sign were clearly visible, as were hundreds of apartment rooftops and cars moving along the highway in miniature.

Wounded Veterans Memorial Hall (성북구 보훈회관)

Exit 4

Korean Institute of Science and Technology (KIST) (한국과학기술연구원)

Exit 4

Left on Hwarang-ro-14-gil (화랑로14길)

Mareundaemi Hill – Seonghwangdang Tree – Puseok Mountain Plaque (마른대미고개 – 성황당나무 – 푸석산)

Exit 4

U-turn

Straw Basket Health Village (삼태기 건강마을)

Exit 4

U-turn, Right on Hwarang-ro-18-gil (화랑로18길), Right on Hwarang-ro-18-ga-gil (화랑로18가길)

Seoul National Forest Station (서울국유림관리소)

Exit 4

U-turn, Right on Hwarang-ro-18-gil (화랑로18길), Right on Hwarang-ro-18-ga-gil (화랑로18가길)

New Seokgwan Market (새석관시장)

Exit 3

Straight on Hwarang-ro (화랑로)

Jangwi Traditional Market (장위통시장)

Exit 2

Straight on Hwarang-ro (화랑로), Left on Hwarang-ro-25-gil (화랑로25길)

Aegineungteo Park (애기능터공원)

Exit 1

U-turn, Left on Hwarang-ro-17-gil (화랑로17길)/Jangwol-ro (장월로), Left onto Kkumnamu-gil (꿈나무길)

Dongmyo Station takes its name from the nearby shrine, built to honor the Chinese general and deity Guan Yu (162-219).  Near-ubiquitous on the other side of the Yellow Sea, shrines like these are rare in Korea where, despite its long history as an on-again off-again vassal state to China, the strong Confucian tradition prevented worship of Guan Yu from ever really taking root.  So it was probably rather reluctantly that Dongmyo (동묘) was built, from 1599 to 1601, under the reign of King Seonjo (선조), at the behest of the suzerain Ming Dynasty.  A decade or so earlier, Ming forces had helped Joseon soldiers repel Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s invading Japanese during the Imjin War, a success that the Chinese attributed to the guiding influence of Guan Yu’s spirit.  Accordingly, acknowledgement was expected.

Several of these Munmyo, as shrines to Guan Yu are known, were built in Seoul, but the one just outside of Exit 3 is the only one remaining and is recognized as Designated Treasure No. 142.  Also known as Donggwanwangmyo (동관왕묘), the main shrine is formed by two attached buildings: the front section, or jeonsil (전실), is to be used for sacrificial rites, while the rear section, or bohnsil (본실) houses the statue of Guan Yu and some subordinate generals.  Distinct from similar buildings in the capital, Dongmyo’s design and decoration, predictably, incorporate many Chinese characteristics, including the intricate brickwork and its narrower width relative to its depth.  Though the main shrine building is closed to visitors, you can peer in through the wooden slats to view the large, gilt, seated statue of Guan Yu, his right hand raised and his beard reaching down to his knees.  To his sides are aides and retainers.

On either side of the main shrine is a long wooden building, empty except for a large stone stele.  Forming the fourth side of the complex’s inner courtyard is an inner gate, the walls of which bear paintings of musicians and perhaps servants.  The paintings are badly faded, and it was only on the third time I walked through the gate that I noticed the faint outlines of human figures on what had at first appeared to be only slightly yellowed wood boards.  Looking closely, however, I could make out some of the details: the folds in a pair of pants, horns held up by two men, another with what looked like a pair of small cymbals.

Surrounding Dongmyo is the Hwanghak-dong Flea Market (황학동 벼룩시장), which you’ll practically stumble into the moment you step out of Exit 3.  Vendors line the sides of streets between Jongno (종로) and the Cheonggye Stream, particularly Jongno-58-gil (종로58길), where the deep burgundy sides and handsome black tile roofs of the adjacent shrine peek up from behind brick walls.

The median age of both vendors and buyers is somewhere north of 50, and interested parties stroll through the spillover from the larger area of flea market near Sindang Station: cleaning supplies, power cords, remote controls, artwork, comic books, portable cassette players, bass guitars, and just about whatever else you could throw on a pile, which, in some cases, is exactly how things are organized.  Not everything here is junk – a few antique shops can be found in the back alleys nearer the stream, and even some decent vintage pickups are available; the shop just outside of Exit 3 sold L.L. Bean flannels, which I haven’t seen anywhere else in the city.  And even if you aren’t looking to buy anything, simply wandering through and taking a close look at what’s there is sport enough.  My favorite spotting was a sheet of stamps from Sierra Leone featuring the Disney characters, including one that pictured the head mouse himself operating a backhoe underneath the tag, ‘Mickey mining bauxite.’

So close to Dongdaemun, you know that the flea market isn’t the end of the idiosyncratic shopping opportunities available here.  Dongmyo also provides quick access to a pair of specialty shopping areas we already visited via Dongdaemun Station.

Walking west from Dongmyo Station, Dongdaemun’s unmistakable vibe, that cocktail of ceaseless commerce and age, became more and more pronounced, and as I headed toward the old eastern gate from Exit 7 the sidewalk quickly got more and more filled up with street vendors.  The streets and alleys south of Jongno between Dongmyo and Dongdaemun Stations are where you’ll find the Stationary and Toy Wholesale Market (문구, 완구 도매시장), Toys ‘R Us’ wild, chaotic cousin, where playthings both authentic and fake fill the area.  Pink cellophane and cardboard box towers of Barbie and Barbie knockoffs stood alongside toy guns, English learning games, mountains of stuffed Brownie dogs, and Angry Bird pencil cases saying, ‘That’s the bomb!’  A string of plain white animal masks created a slightly eerie contrast with the otherwise cheery color palette dominated by bright blues, pinks, and yellows, and with the soundtrack of electronic chirps and squeals and recordings of kids singing bouncy, upbeat songs.

South of the toy market, is the Aquarium and Pet Market (애완동물 거리), most easily reached by heading straight from Exit 6.  After passing a cell phone shop with a big sign that read ‘no visa ok!’ I reached the Cheonggye, across the street from which is the strip of stores that make up the market.  Shimmering goldfish in tanks and the rocks and fake plants used to decorate their abodes were for sale, but so too were more exotic water dwellers like tiny aquatic frogs and water beetles (물방개).  Land-based pets ranged from hedgehogs to mice to bunnies who slept huddled up together against the cold.  The sound of the market was a nervous prattle raised by all the birds – common pet species like parakeets and cockatiels, but also chickens, roosters, doves, pigeons, and even a brilliant gold, brown, and ochre pheasant the color of autumn.

On the other side of the one-lane road, the Cheonggye Stream (청계천) continued its course toward the Han.  A group of rocks created a small cascade, and upstream of this the stream’s surface was frozen.  Water pouring out from underneath the firm shell tumbled over the rocks, leaving them wearing a fuzzy crown of ice and the water on the downstream side of the cascade unfrozen.

South of Dongmyo Station may be full of idiosyncratic shopping areas, but to the north it’s largely residential, though it hardly lacks for things of interest; they’re just a bit harder to turn up.

Out of Exit 9, I passed a corner market with fresh produce and big bowls of shiny black mussels set out on the sidewalk and turned left on Jibong-ro-5-gil (지봉로5길).  Just a few steps up on the right is Naksan Naengmyeon (낙산냉면).  I first discovered this place when we visited Changsin Station, though it’s actually closer to Dongmyo.  I said it then and I’ll say it again: best naengmyeon in Seoul.  Purists might take issue with it, as the one and only thing they serve here isn’t true mul-naengmyeon (물냉면) nor is it true bibim-naengmyeon (비빔냉면), but something of a mash-up between the two, the only choice being how spicy you want it.  Perfectly chewy noodles; copious amounts of garlic, cucumber, and pears…I could go on.  Simply put, this place is the business.  Come any time even remotely around lunch or dinner and be prepared to wait.  Lines often go out the door.

For no reason other than simple curiosity I followed Jibong-ro-5-gil past Naksan Naengmyeon, as it wound through the neighborhood, turning into a street lined with delivery motorcycles and mopeds, many with bars welded on behind the seat to provide a frame for goods loaded on the back.  After a couple 90-degree turns I stumbled onto Anyang Hermitage (안양암).  It looked small and rather anonymous, but it was there and I was intrigued by the huge rock slope that formed its southwestern boundary, so I decided to pop in for a quick look.

Instead of the usual fierce-looking door guardians, the pair on Anyang’s gates bore vaguely passive expressions.  They held their hands folded in front of them and rode fantastical animals, the one on the left astride a six-tusked elephant, the one on the right atop a blue lion.  The lack of aggression on their countenances seemed to validate the expectation that there really wouldn’t be anything special inside to protect, that this was the kind of temple neither human nor demon would bother with.  Once I stepped through the gate, however, I discovered that Anyang did indeed hold something special, the Rock-carved Seated Guanyin of Anyang Hermitage (안양암 마애관음보살좌상), Seoul Tangible Cultural Property No. 122.

Carved onto that sheer rock face that had attracted me in the first place, the Guanyin is not particularly old, dating only to 1909, but it’s significant in that it was the last rock-carved Buddhist statue from the Joseon period.  The plaque inside Anyang explained that the hermitage was slightly older, having been established by Monk Yi Seongwol (이성월 스님) in 1889.  Among the structures there was the wood and brick Gwaneumjeon Hall (관음전), which had been built directly onto the rock slope to protect and enclose the Guanyin sculpture.  Its doors were closed and I couldn’t see the sculpture itself, but visible outside the hall was an inscription that had also been carved into the rock: over 100 Chinese characters explaining the statue’s carving by a skilled mason.

I wasn’t sure if the Guanyin sculpture was off limits to the public, but no one was around and so I decided to give a tug on Gwaneumjeon’s doors.  They stuck a bit but opened, revealing a figure seated in the lotus position within a shallow recess in the rock, a small altar and some unlit candles in front of him.  Unlike many Buddhist statues, this Guanyin looked distinctly Korean, with narrow eyes, rounded cheeks, and a wide nose, underneath which was a thin moustache and goatee.  On his lips there seemed to be a faintly pink hue, as if a small flicker of life existed within the carving.

The hermitage had a slightly mystical feel to it, created by its unexpected Guanyin image, its unusual rock formation, and its obscure location where I reckoned very few other foreigners had ever been.  The surrounding neighborhood too was vaguely mysterious in the way that very old Seoul neighborhoods sometimes are, full of tiny little alleyways that were often nothing more than poured concrete slopes and staircases running through the narrow spaces between homes.  Its agedness gave things a somewhat glum feel, which someone else had noticed and tried to ameliorate, as the area was spotted with bright, cartoon-y murals painted on the walls: a man blowing snot out of his nose, two girls flying atop a honeybee, another girl and her polar bear friend holding umbrellas.

One other mural, dotted with hearts, simply read ‘꿈 꾸는 학교길’ (Dreaming School Street), but directly behind it was a derelict home that looked like a haunted house straight out of central casting.  A Western-style house, it had long been abandoned, and its façade was covered in dead ivy that also climbed up a crooked chimney.  Windows were missing glass, and beneath the ivy, the house’s plaster was peeling off everywhere, so badly that in some spots it had disappeared completely, revealing sections of rotting wood.

Anyang Hermitage isn’t the area’s only Buddhist spot of note.  Northeast of the station is Myogak Temple (묘각사), part of Korea’s Templestay program.  The temple isn’t far from the station, and it’s well signposted so isn’t too hard to find.  From Exit 2 turn left onto Jongno, then left again onto Jongno-63-gil (종로63길) and take the first right onto Jongno-63-ga-gil (종로63가길).  Follow this as it curves uphill until you come around a bend and spot the colorful temple façade.

According to the Korea Tourism Organization, Myogaksa was established by Monk Taeheo Hongseon in 1930 in a spot where it was said the building of a temple would bring peace to Seoul’s citizens.  That’s a pretty tall order for any one temple, but it does its best to offer it for at least a day or two with its one day or overnight Templestays, part of the popular Korea-wide program.  For details on program specifics see the link above.

The temple is separated from the road and the world outside by a sturdy stone wall, but just through its doors a set of stairs to the left lead up to the temple’s courtyard.  The courtyard is backed by a cliff where a stone Buddha is carved (much more typical looking than Anyang’s Guanyin figure), flanked by hundreds of tiny Buddha figurines lined up inside glass cases, each containing a tiny electric light that was lit up.  In the rock wall above was a tiny gold-painted niche where a small Buddha, maybe 20 centimeters tall, sat, and further up and to the left another gold Buddha, this one standing on a rooftop, looked out over the neighborhood to the south.

On the courtyard’s left-hand side was a handsome building of wood and cream and clay-colored plaster, and on the right was a brilliantly painted hall, its main door covered in blue, red, white, and orange lotus carvings.  I climbed the stairs to the hall’s second floor and peeked in an open door where an enormous drum occupied one corner of the room and hanging lotus lanterns covered the ceiling from wall to wall.

If instead of turning right onto Jongno-63-ga-gil you continue straight on Jongno-63-gil after leaving Jongno you can reach Sung-in Neighborhood Park (숭인근린공원).  At the end of Jongno-63-gil, on your right will be Mirin Temple (밀인사) with its unusual façade and large white ball on the roof.  Turn left onto Jongno-63-ma-gil (종로63마길).  After a couple dozen meters you’ll go up a small flight of concrete steps, after which you should immediately turn right onto a tiny brick alley (not the second right up more steps).  At the end of the alley will be a black metal fence with a small gate to the left – the entrance to the park.

Once inside, walking to the right took me right up behind the Buddha that stands on Myogaksa’s rooftop and then to a rough stone staircase running up alongside an empty stone water channel and into the main area of the park, a long plateau running along the top of the ridge the park sits on.

Like any other park in Seoul, Sung-in has plenty of exercise equipment, mostly of the lightweight variety aimed at senior citizens who just need to get a little movement in, but in the northernmost section of the park (also accessible from Changsin Station) there was some more serious equipment, an outdoor weight room essentially, and four ajeosshis were taking advantage of it, getting in a workout in the brisk cold.  Sung-in is quite large, with quite a few badminton and basketball courts, a watercourse, and lots of trees.  It also has a very charming touch that I hadn’t ever seen in a Seoul park: a little shelter with a small bookshelf labeled Dongmang Peak Open Book Café (동망봉 열린 북 카페) where visitors – primarily kids, from the look of what was on offer – could borrow something to read while hanging out in the park.

At the park’s southern end, near where the stone steps had dropped me off, was a lookout platform, and the views from the spot were long and clear.  Just below me was Myogaksa.  And there was Dongmyo.  A bit to the right was Dongdaemun Fashion Town.  And I was pretty sure that I could even pick out the bald rock face abutting Anyang Hermitage.  The city continued well away to the west, but to my left, to the east, it ended, and beyond was a ring of mountains, some of them still capped in a crown of snow.

Dongmyo (동묘)

Exit 3

U-turn, Right on Jongno-58-gil (종로58길), Left on Nangye-ro-27-gil (난계로27길)

Hwanghak-dong Flea Market (황학동 벼룩시장)

Exit 3

Stationary and Toy Wholesale Market (문구, 완구 도매시장)

Exit 7

Left on Jongno-54-gil (종로54길)

Aquarium and Pet Market (애완동물 거리)

Exit 6

Straight on Dasan-ro (다산로), Right on Cheonggyecheon-ro (청계천로)

Cheonggye Stream (청계천)

Exit 5 or 6

Straight on Dasan-ro (다산로)

Naksan Naengmyeon (낙산냉면)

Exit 9

Left on Jibong-ro-5-gil (지봉로5길)

Anyang Hermitage (안양암)

Exit 9

Left on Jibong-ro-5-gil (지봉로5길)

Myogak Temple (묘각사)

Exit 2

Left onto Jongno (종로), Left on Jongno-63-gil (종로63길), Right on Jongno-63-ga-gil (종로63가길)

www.myogaksa.net

Phone: 02) 763-3345, 763-3109

E-mail: yeodiamond@naver.com

Sung-in Neighborhood Park (숭인근린공원)

Exit 2

Left onto Jongno (종로), Left on Jongno-63-gil (종로63길), Left onto Jongno-63-ma-gil (종로63마길), Right after first set of stairs

So what is The Encyclopedia Show exactly?  I’ll let the inimitable (and show organizer) Lauren Bedard explain:

In its mission to obfuscate fact and fallacy, the Encyclopedia Show-Seoul is back! To refresh your memory, the Encyclopedia Show-Seoul, brings some of the most talented poets, painters, and performance artists in the Seoul community to create an artist’s interpretation of an encyclopedia installment.

In the past, this show has taught you about the polar bears and tooth paste, werewolves, bathtub moonshine and the dangers of sex in hot air balloons. This time around, The Encyclopedia Show-Seoul ret

urns with a vengeance and a freight truck full of crayons to illustrate the wonders and mysteries of color.

Did you ever wonder why it’s not easy being green? Why you should be incredibly jealous of mantis shrimp? Why the song “I Can Sing A Rainbow” is completely lost on dogs? or why Isaac Newton enjoyed poking himself in the eye with cutlery on rainy days during the plague? If your answer is yes(or no) to any of these questions, I beseech you to join us!

The Essentials

Time: Sunday, March 31, 6-9 p.m.

Place: Club Flow in Itaewon

Directions: Walk straight out of Exit 3 of Itaewon subway station.  Take your first right after Mr. Kebab.  Flow is on the left side of the street above Club Zion. Look for their random Ghostbusters logo.

Cover: 8,000 won, which includes a Visible Spectrum of Color, coloring book designed by artists Michael Roy, Julia Chiplis, Sarah Mccauley, Adam Palmeter, Ripley Torres, and Wilfred Lee and Kim Ri Ah.  Proceeds go to to Friends International, an NGO aiding marginalized children and families in South East Asia.