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Gaehwa Station (개화역) Line 9 – Station #901

February 10, 2013

I had expected Gaehwa to be one of the dullest stations in the entire course of this project, a visit that I’d finish up in under an hour and have written in less than that. Its most prominent feature is, after all, the fact that it’s the headquarters of the Seoul Metro Line 9 Corporation, an organization that is nothing if not clearheaded about its mission. I thought that I could peek out the doors of Exit 2, scan across the rail yards and the Gangseo bus terminal, and then wander through the little neighborhood of Naechon (내촌) across Gaehwa-dong-ro (개화동로) for a few minutes before capping my pen and calling it a job well done. Right on the former, totally wrong on the latter.

Out Exit 1, beyond a man selling big bags of puffed rice snacks on one corner and a pojangmacha truck selling toast and ramen on the other, I could see the treed slope of Gaehwa Mountain. Most of the trees were winter bare, but a crown of twenty or so evergreens ran along the top. Just past an overhead highway was a small nameless stream. I followed its walking path north, alongside water that flowed slowly in a thin channel between iced-up edges, and about thirty meters from where I’d started there were two dozen small bones sitting on the side of the path. They looked like they had come from some small mammal – a cat or a dog maybe – and they were clean and white, bare of any flesh or tendon that had clung to them.

Slightly further north, the little channel met the Daeduduk Stream (대두둑천). It was covered in snow and crisscrossed by footprints, but I couldn’t tell if the stream had frozen solid or if it was emptied of water, though it seemed like the latter. The area around the stream felt more like the Korean countryside than Seoul – just off the highway where intercity buses ran back and forth, backhoes and dump trucks were parked and signs advertised plastics, springs, steel, and a strawberry farm.

Across Gaehwa-dong-ro was Naechon, a petite neighborhood of mostly small homes, many with blue, orange, or green tile roofs, though there were also some rather expensive looking houses (one with a Mercedes and BMW parked outside) whose owners had likely taken advantage of the cheaper land to build places they couldn’t have in Gangnam. After crossing the road I turned left onto Gaehwa-dong-ro-11-gil (개화동로11길). There were some simple beauty salons and grocers, and a man was shoveling snow off of a pile and tossing it into the street so it would melt in the above-average temperatures.

I was following a pair of signs pointing to Mata Temple and the Gangseo Trail, and at the end of Gaehwa-dong-ro-11-gi they directed me to the left and then quickly to the right. At the end of an inclined drive that ran past some small fields where garden sheds sat, their metal frames exposed under ripped plastic, was Mata Temple (마타사). The temple itself isn’t much to look at – white panel siding under a black shingle roof – but it is home to a standing stone Buddha (석불입상) that is Seoul Tangible Cultural Property No. 249. The information on the temple proper available at the site was a little fuzzy – it’s presumed to date from the late Goryeo period and in 1924 a new temple was built here, but what happened in the meantime was left unsaid. As for the statue, which now stands outside the temple, the 3.2-meter high figure was sculpted in the Joseon period, in a style popular in Gyeonggi-do and Chungcheong-do. A disc-shaped canopy sits on its head above long ears and a wide nose, and its hands are gathered over its heart in what the informational sign said seemed to be Dharmachakra mudra. The sign also claimed that at some point the statue was buried higher up Gaehwa Mountain, though why and when also went unexplained.

In front of the statue eight bricks of soybean paste were hanging in slings made from straw rope, drying in the sun, and behind it was a bare rock slope dotted with several smaller Buddhas and, at the top, a larger seated one, all of them gazing out over the runways, the taxiing planes, and air traffic control tower of Gimpo Airport.

To the right of the standing Buddha, a path curled around to the entrance to the Gangseo Trail (강서둘레길), which was marked by a handsome wood gate and sign. The trails run up and around Gaehwa Mountian (개화산), but this particular entrance also bore a bit of historical significance, as it’s where you’ll find a Memorial to the Loyal Dead (호국충혼위령비) of the 11^th, 12^th, and 15^th regiments of Korea’s 1^st Army Division, as the metal plaque at the trailhead announces. For the four days after the North’s invasion of the South on June 25, 1950 that triggered the Korean War, the 1,100-plus troops of those three regiments held the North’s troops at bay after retreating to Gaehwa Mountain from their original positions. All of the men perished, but their sacrifices are honored in a memorial service held every June by the Association of Gaehwasan Battle Bereaved Families and the 1^st Army Division (개화산전투전사자유족회).

After you pass through the trailhead gate and go up a flight of stairs you’ll come to the memorial for the men of the 11^th, 12^th, and 15^th, which sits in a small grass clearing with thick slabs of black stone bearing the names of the soldiers on either side. It was very quiet. To the left a Korean flag hung from a short pole, and on the small altar in front of the memorial someone had left an opened bottle of Chamiseul and a bag of Coco Mong Milk Balls.

Daeduduk Stream (대두둑천)

Exit 1

Left on Gaehwa-dong-ro (개화동로)

Mata Temple (마타사), Gangseo Trail (강서둘레길), Gaehwa Mountian (개화산), and Memorial to the Loyal Dead (호국충혼위령비)

Exit 1

Cross and turn right on Gaehwa-dong-ro (개화동로), Left on Gaehwa-dong-ro-11-gil (개화동로11길), Follow signs to Mata Temple and Gangseo Trail

Tags:annual events, Gangseo-gu, Guro-gu, history, Line 9, monument, park, temple, transportation
Posted in Gangseo-gu, Line 9 | 1 Comment »

Hoegi Station (회기역) Line 1 – Station # 123, Jungang Line – Station # K118

January 27, 2013

On the north side of Heogi Station, maeul buses were pulling up and people in suits and fancy dresses were piling out, heading to the several wedding halls nearby. Most of them crossed through the station to Exit 2, where, past a row of pojangmachas, guys in red jackets waved batons to direct cars out of a buffet parking garage. Other invitees made their way into a particularly grotesque wedding hall where golden onion domes were paired with conical tower roofs dotted in square specks of color and capped with metal pennants, like a 64-bit version of a castle made real.

I walked to the end of the street, past a trio of girls singing along with the K-pop song coming out of one of their phones, and then hung a right onto Mang-u-ro (망우로), walking past a crafts shop where several chunks of wood had been carved into penis shapes and put in the window display. In front of other shops, their keepers swept yellow ginkgo leaves off the sidewalk.

I walked down the street for a bit before doubling back and heading east, to Jungnang Bridge (중랑교) and the Jungnang Stream (중랑천). Partway across the bridge a small set of stairs led down to the water. There’s not much here, and the Jungnang, at least here, is barren compared to other streams in the capital. The watercourse flows briskly, but there’s little separating it from the adjacent highway and little in the way of amenities. Bike paths flank either side, and a short ways to the north is an inline skating oval, its lanes faded out, but the extent of facilities was a snack stall under the bridge where a woman sold ramen, chips, and beer to resting bicyclists.

Also on the south side of the station, about equidistant from Hoegi and Cheongnyangni Stations, is the University of Seoul (서울시립대학교), whose test for admissions may simply be finding the place. Coming from the station, at the corner of Mang-u-ro-21-gil (망우로21길) and Mang-u-ro, cross the street, turn right, and take Mang-u-ro-16-gil (망우로16길), the diagonal street leading past several small restaurants. At the small three-way intersection, next to a shop called Beauty Avenue, turn left (still Mang-u-ro-16-gil). Walk to the end, where you’ll come up to a school. Turn right, then an immediate left onto Mang-u-ro-18-ra-gil (망우로18라길). Follow it uphill and around to the right. At its end, the rear gate to the university is on your left. Alternatively, after turning left at Beauty Avenue, turn right at Café Brown and Cocopop boutique. Naver maps tells me this is Mang-u-ro-18-ga-gil (망우로18가길). Follow this for a while until you see 한우 장터 and the bakery케익 이벤트 (Cake Event), where you should turn left, onto Mang-u-ro-18-na-gil (망우로18나길), before taking your first right, putting you back on Mang-u-ro-18-ga-gil. Take that straight up to the rear gate.

Got that? Didn’t think so.

The University of Seoul, founded in 1918 as Kyung Sung Public Agricultural College (경성공립농업학교), is one of the country’s highest-rated schools and, not surprisingly, has close ties to the city government. Unlike many city campuses, U of S is surrounded by residential areas. A cluster of cafes, cheap eateries, and convenience stores sit outside its main gate, but there’s relatively little to tip one off to the presence of a college of 15,000-plus students.

Inside the front gate is a stylized sculpture of the university’s logo, looking a bit like piano keys, and a bit further in the bronze figure of a hawk, the school’s mascot, perches atop a high pedestal. The leafy campus is particularly pretty in fall, and several senior citizens were taking their exercise by strolling along the pathways. At the very rear of campus is Sky Pond (하늘못), filled with small fish and the occasional carp, which swim around the pond’s little island and loiter underneath the footbridge.

While the U of S can be found on the south side of Hoegi Station, on the north side, via Exit 1, is Kyung Hee University (경희대학교). Getting there is much simpler. Turn left out of the exit, follow Hoegi-ro (회기로) to Kyung Hee-dae-ro (경희대로); turn right and walk up to the main gate.

The stretch from the station to the university is much more typical of a college neighborhood than the U of Seoul’s is, filled with the usual assortments of bars, restaurants, cafes, clothing boutiques, shoe shops, smoothie joints, accessory stores, nail salons, and the like. Students crowd the sidewalks and you’re likely to hear snippets of Chinese interspersed with Korean. Along with all the more usual university neighborhood businesses, you’ll likely notice an uncommonly high number of pharmacies here, particularly near the front gate. The Kyung Hee grounds are also home to the Kyung Hee Medical Center (경희의료원), and the school is particularly well-known for its oriental medicine program, which, among other achievements, in 1972 successfully performed the world’s first drug-free anesthesia, using only acupuncture.

Past the handsome gray stone arch that marks the main entrance, the layout of Kyung Hee is similar to many other Korean universities, with a central drive leading up to a monument – in this case the University Motto Tower (교시탑), a white pillar topped by a world map and laurel wreath – and continuing to the university’s main building (본관). Kyung Hee’s is a massive four-story structure with a large central pediment flanked by two smaller ones, each decorated with friezes and hanging over columned porticos.

On either side of the stairs leading up to the door are stone lions, the university’s mascot. In front of the building is a circular pool with a central statue of three figures holding up a globe, beneath which a trio of thinkers study and contemplate. Immediately behind the main building is a lovely and quiet pond, the surface of which was starred with crimson leaves from the trees on the surrounding hillside when I visited.

East of the main building is the Central Library and Central Museum (중앙도서관/중앙박물관), another imposing gray stone structure with arched windows on the fourth floor and a battlement along its top like on an English castle.

Perhaps the most noticeable building on campus is the Grand Peace Hall (평화의 전당), north of the museum and occupying one of the campus’ highest points. It cops a fair bit of its design from French Gothic styles but also has stained glass windows depicting Boticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’ and what I think was a detail from his ‘Primavera,’ though I could be wrong on that one. There’s also a window with the school’s lion mascot. The whole thing’s a bit of a mess, but it does offer some great views, and you can make out N Seoul Tower far away to the southwest.

The bulk of the school’s facilities are east of these buildings. Students played baseball on a large dirt athletic field ringed by crude concrete bleachers. Tennis courts occupied the basin of an amphitheater that looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time. Between the stage and the courts a small garden was walled off, holding almost as many mishit tennis balls as vegetables. Surrounding these are many of the college’s class buildings, the most distinct of these being the Crown Concert Hall (크라운관), designed to look like, yes, a crown. On a wall in front of it are depicted the Seven Wonders of the World, along with the Seven Wonders of Korea, which, according to…someone, include the Kyung Hee Diamond Garden and Cheomseongdae Observatory (첨성대).

The area south and west of Kyung Hee has a contemplative, heady atmosphere, thanks to the proximity of the university, two of the country’s most highly esteemed institutes of higher learning – Korea University and KAIST – and several research institutes and think tanks. If, instead of turning onto Kyung Hee-dae-ro, you follow Hoegi-ro as it snakes around to the left, you’ll pass some of these, as well as more independent cafes and clothing boutiques ranging from vintage to toddler.

After a ways you’ll come to Hoegi-ro-10-gil (회기로10길), and if you turn left here the street will eventually bring you to an entrance to Hongneung Park (홍릉공원). The park is rather large, but there’s actually not all that much that’s accessible to visitors, as most of it is covered by woods that spread out over a number of ravines. While there may not be all that much to do as a result, it makes for an excellent place to escape from the city and stroll along its shady walking paths.

The park grounds are also home to a little-known historical site, though this is only accessible from a separate entrance. To reach it, continue on Hoegi-ro until you come to Hongneung-ro (홍릉로). Turn left there, continue past the Korean Film Council (KOFIK) (영화진흥위원회), and after a block the entrance to Yeonghwiwon and Sunginwon (영휘원과 숭인원) will be on your left.

Historical Site No. 361, these two tombs are the burial sites of Lady Eom (1854-1911) and Yi Jin, respectively. Lady Eom, or Soonheon Hwang-Gwibi (순헌황귀비) was a favored concubine of Emperor Gojong. She entered the palace when she was only five, eventually becoming a lady of the royal guard to Queen Myeongseong. She remained in the palace until she was 32, when the queen, in a fit of rage, threw her out after ‘she had a chance to serve King Gojong at night,’ as the Cultural Heritage Administration of Korea’s website preciously phrases it. Nine years on, however, Empress Myeongseong was murdered by Japanese assassins, and a mere five days later Lady Eom returned to the palace. (Incidentally, the tomb of the empress was originally located near here, before being moved to Namyangju in 1919.) She made good by helping Gojong escape to the Russian legation. Following this, and prior to official Japanese annexation of Korea, Lady Eom acted on her interest in Western education by founding the Yangjeong School (양정의숙) in 1905 and the Jinmyeong Girls’ School (진명여학교) the following year. She also later donated a large sum of money to found Sookmyung Girls’ School (숙명여학교).

Sadly, there’s far less to say about Yi Jin, Lady Eom’s grandson by her son Uimin, who was the last Joseon imperial crown prince. Uimin was taken hostage and sent to Japan at the age of 11 under the pretext of ‘studying abroad,’ which has to be some of the greatest political spin of all time. In 1920, in an arranged marriage he wedded Japanese Princess Masako Nashimoto, who gave birth to Jin the following year. Nine months later, however, during a visit to Korea, their first-born died under what are often referred to as suspicious circumstances. King Sunjong, Uimin’s elder brother, declared that Sunginwon should be built as a resting place for the deceased infant.

After entering and passing a handy display of the Joseon Dynasty royal family tree, Sunginwon is the first of the tombs you come to. A wooden gate frames a stone path leading up to a squat wood memorial hall. Half-moon-shaped wooden aprons hang down from the roof on the front and sides, the one on the north side the only one that still retained much of its vivid burgundy paint. Nothing was inside the hall, only washed-out roof beams and black stone tiles on the floor like those leading up to the structure. A pavilion south of the hall held a stele. Behind the two structures was a mound, which flattened out at the top. On this flat area was a smaller burial mound surrounded by stone lanterns, stone animal and human guardians, and a brick wall. The steepness of the hill meant that the only way to get even a partial view was to back way up.

The area between Sunginwon and Yeonghwiwon was filled with Korean honey locusts and other trees, including a red hawthorn that is Natural Monument No. 506. Estimated to be 150 years old, its twisted branches twine around each other, dozens of berries still clinging to them in the late autumn cold.

Yeonghwiwon had a similar setup to Sunginwon, but was slightly bigger and in better shape, its paint sharper and less faded, and with a wider and less steep hill. Like Sunginwon, there was a pavilion holding a stele to the south, its outer edge also serving as a hangout for seven old women, bundled up against the cold, and a lone man in a wheelchair who was resolutely not paying attention to the women’s gossip. Unlike the other memorial, however, this hall was not empty, instead having several tables inside. A sign noted that a memorial ceremony (기신제) is held here every April 13.

Finally, any visit to Hoegi, and particularly one in winter, should culminate with a trip to Pajeon Alley (파전골목), back near the station. Just before Hoegi-ro’s intersection with Imun-ro (이문로) is Hoegi-ro-28-gil (회기로28길), to your left. The alley runs past eleven pajeon restaurants before turning into a low tunnel running under the train tracks. I had to duck as I walked, but I watched two moped deliverymen who knew their height exactly zip through, their helmets not more than an inch or two from the ceiling.

A friend and I picked one of the restaurants more or less at random, trying out 이모네 왕 파전, which is open 24 hours. The place was already busy at 5:00 on a Saturday evening, slightly raucous and full of students from the nearby universities. We were ushered into its warren-like interior, one of the ajummas literally pushing me in my back (in a not unfriendly way) to guide me to where she wanted us to sit. The floor was hot from the ondol, and I stripped down to just my t-shirt, which felt wonderful after coming in from the cold. The walls of the restaurant were covered in a plain cream wallpaper that had been turned into a public sketch pad. Graffiti and doodles – caricatures of people, drawings of bunnies and scheming pandas, birthday wishes declarations of love or of what menu item someone ordered – covered the walls. [Disclaimer: Meagan's photos were taken at another restaurant, 낙서 파전.]

Feeling hungry and, it turned out, too optimistic, my friend and I ordered Set B – pajeon, fried meatballs (동그랑땡), gochu twigim (고추튀김), tteokbokki, and corn (옥수수콘) – along with a bottle of makkeolli. When the pajeon came it was deep and stuffed to excess with green onions and octopus, the pajeon equivalent of a Chicago deep dish. The other fried foods were crisp, hot, satisfying, and plentiful, and the lesson we learned was that a set for just two people is a mistake. Best bring at least three. I wound up having leftovers for dinner for the next two days. While over-ordering may pain your stomach, it most definitely won’t pain your wallet. For the set and makkeolli, we paid only 25,000 won; a pajeon alone is only 7,000, much cheaper than you’ll get it for at most other places. The prices mean you don’t need to worry about passing a long while here, and as Seoul loiters in its deep winter chill there are few better ways to wait for spring than sitting on a hot floor with heavy, satisfying food and the kindling of warm friends and warm conversation.

Jungnang Stream (중랑천)

Exit 2

Straight on Mang-u-ro-21-gil (망우로21길), Left on Mang-u-ro (망우로)

University of Seoul (서울시립대학교)

Exit 2

Straight on Mang-u-ro-21-gil (망우로21길), Right on Mang-u-ro (망우로), Left on Mang-u-ro-16-gil (망우로16길), Keep Left onto Mang-u-ro-16-gil, Right on Mang-u-ro-18-ga-gil (망우로18가길), Left on Mang-u-ro-18-na-gil (망우로18나길), Right on Mang-u-ro-18-ga-gil

Kyung Hee University (경희대학교) and Kyung Hee Medical Center (경희의료원)

Exit 1

Left onto Hoegi-ro (회기로), Right on Kyung Hee-dae-ro (경희대로)

Hongneung Park (홍릉공원)

Exit 1

Left onto Hoegi-ro (회기로), Left on Hoegi-ro-10-gil (회기로10길)

Yeonghwiwon and Sunginwon (영휘원과 숭인원)

Exit 1

Left onto Hoegi-ro (회기로), Left on Hongneung-ro (홍릉로)

Hours | February – May 9:00 – 18:00, June – August 9:00 – 18:30, September – October 9:00 – 18:00, November – January 9:00 – 17:30; Closed Mondays

Admission | Adults 1,000원, Children 7-18 500원

Phone | 02) 962-0556

Website | eureung.cha.go.kr

Pajeon Alley (파전골목)

Exit 1

Left on Hoegi-ro (회기로), Left on Hoegi-ro-28-gil (회기로28길)

Tags:annual events, Dongdaemun-gu, history, Jungang Line, Line 1, monument, park, restaurant, school
Posted in Dongdaemun-gu, Jungang Line, Line 1 | 5 Comments »

National Assembly Station (국회의사당역) Line 9 – Station #914

July 8, 2012

The prevailing ethos of Yeouido is that size matters. There may not be a single one-story building on the entire island, and crossing some of the intersections have to qualify you for some sort of mileage rewards, but nowhere is this lopsided sense of scale more pronounced than on the island’s northwest tip, which is dominated by a trio of behemoths: the National Assembly complex, the headquarters of KBS, and the Yoido Full Gospel Church. Go big or go home.

Anyone who’s driven along one of Seoul’s riverside expressways has no doubt gazed out at the minty dome of the National Assembly (국회의사당) building, one of the city’s most recognizable. It squats at Yeouido’s western tip, the short, stout foil to its odd couple partner at the opposite end, the tall, sleek 63 Building.

Exit 6 will drop you off right next to the front gate to the National Assembly complex, and although there are large white gates across the entrance and several police guards perpetually on hand, the grounds are open to the public and you’re free to walk in. These grounds, surrounding the actual Assembly Building, are expansive and take up the better part of Yeouido’s very tip, and include everything from a newly built hanok to the National Assembly Greenhouse (국회온실). As one would expect at a national capitol, the path up to the building proceeds down the middle of a sprawling lawn, passing between a pair of guardian haetae at the outset before curving around a large fountain. Devoted as it is to business, Yeouido can feel rather barren on the weekends, and this sensation goes double at the Assembly. A friend and I were the only non-employees there on the Saturday we went (granted, it was February and blistering cold), and as we walked toward the enormous structure I kept flipping back and forth between feeling very small and slightly illicit, given the scope and location of my surroundings, and goofy and excitable, for the same reasons. In short, I felt like a tourist.

It is possible to view the inside of the National Assembly Building, but only on certain terms. For one thing, you can’t just stroll up and try to walk in the front door, as I did. The officers patrolling will very kindly (and maybe even in English) direct you to the back door. There you can enter the rear lobby, but that’s as far as you’ll go unless you’ve made a reservation for a tour three days in advance. Tours can be booked through the National Assembly’s website. Alternatively, you could get a job as a delivery boy for a local fried chicken place, as the helmeted youngster getting waved through security had.

A couple of curiosities make popping into the rear lobby worthwhile even if you haven’t booked a tour. One, visible beyond the security check, is a wall decorated with cartoon reliefs of suit-wearing guys laughing and striking funny poses, like actors in an old vaudeville show. I don’t know if this was slyly self-referential, a way for the artist or the Assemblymen to poke fun at themselves and keep their egos in check, but I’d like to think so. Would every national capitol have something similar. The other, prior to security and thus accessible to anybody and everybody, was a live feed of Dokdo (독도) on the channel KBS Live: Dokdo. And that’s it, just a single camera recording Dokdo, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. C-SPAN looks like Spike TV in comparison, though for an ambient background visual it’s not half bad.

*Unfortunately the Dokdo feed was not streaming through when Liz went to check it out.*

Back outside, I wandered through the grounds for a bit, which on weekends may be the quietest in the entire city. There was barely any sound save for the occasional squawk of the resident magpies. From the main building I made my way to the complex’s east corner, where you’ll find the National Assembly Visitor Center inside the Memorial Hall, which is open to the public without appointment.

A large section of the Memorial Hall is dedicated to the patriot Yoon Bong Gil (윤봉길), whom we talked about when we visited Yangjae Station. The rest explains the Assembly’s functions (though not so much its dysfunctions) and history. Gifts given to various parliamentarians are on display, as is the wreath that was presented to marathoner and Seoul Sub→urban favorite Sohn Kee-Chung (손기정) after winning the gold medal in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Several sections of the Hall are geared especially towards kids, and in fact, aside from my friend and me, small school groups were the only visitors present. Unfortunately for foreign visitors, almost no information at the Hall is presented in English.

Exiting the Assembly grounds to the rear, I stepped onto Yeouiseo-ro (여의서로), which is one of the best places in the city to take in Seoul’s cherry blossoms come spring. When in bloom, the trees form a low canopy of pink and white overhead, as if a city’s daydreams had slipped their mental confines for a couple of weeks. The annual spectacle of course draws immense crowds, but with the trees on one side of you and views of the Han River on the other, you might not mind for once.

Those river views, as pointed out on a guideboard at an overlook, take in Jeoldusan Martyr’s Shrine and the World Cup Stadium Park, and you can also watch trains on the 2 Line crossing from Hapjeong to Dangsan, looking like model toys as they do. Just below the overlook is the blue glass circle of the Seoul Marina (서울 마리나) where yachts and sailboats moored, waiting for warmer weather.

I followed Yeouiseo-ro around the tip of the island before it curved back down toward the south and led me past the headquarters of KBS, which takes up several square blocks. Slugging it out with the National Assembly for Yeouido real estate supremacy, the headquarters are easily distinguished by their many broadcast towers and the several story-tall banners advertising KBS shows draped on the sides of several buildings. If getting to KBS is your goal you can do so by going out Exit 4 and swinging your first right. The street opposite the studios and several side streets are lined with restaurants, and if you’re a serious fan of K-pop or K-dramas it’s a fun area to grab a bite, as restaurants display autographs of celebrities that have noshed between recordings.

On the other side of Uisadang-ro (의사당로), via Exits 1, 2, and 3 is a small grid of backstreets filled with the familiar collection of restaurants, bars, and noraebangs, only in generally more upscale versions. A large banner advertising the newly christened New Frontier Party (새누리당) was another tipoff that the guys tipping back pints here aren’t just your normal customers.

Exit 3 or Exit 4 will also quickly get you to the terrific Yeouido Park (여의도 공원), a long block-wide strip running the width of the island, that we mentioned when we visited Yeouinaru and covered more extensively in our post on Yeouido, so I’ll kindly direct you to those posts for info on the park.

Walking southwest from Exit 4 or Exit 6 to the island’s edge brings you to the Yeouido Ecology Park (여의도 생태공원), a strip of land between Yeouiseo-ro and the narrow channel separating the island from the mainland. While engineered, it’s been engineered to be as natural as possible. There’s little to do here but stroll past banks of reeds, and there’s nothing wrong with that. If you prefer your parks to have a bit more to do, go out Exit 1 and walk straight to the Hangang Park (한강 공원), or take the scenic route through Yeouido Park.

If you head to the park from Exit 1 you’ll no doubt notice what looks like a college basketball arena on your right side, just before the river. The enormous cross out front, however, makes it clear that hoops are not the object of worship here. Taking up a full city block, the Yoido Full Gospel Church (여의도순복음교회) is the world’s largest in terms of congregation, numbering approximately 800,000 nationwide. And no, that’s not a typo. Started by Pastor Cho Yonggi (조용기) in a friend’s home in 1958 it has grown to include not only a metropolis’ worth of congregants, but also 527 pastors, a church that accommodates 25,000, a university in Korea, another in the U.S., a TV channel, and ownership of the Kookmin Ilbo newspaper.

I grew up Catholic, and despite the fact that I no longer am, I continue to have a deep fascination with religion, and Christianity in particular, and witnessing a service at the world’s biggest church had been on my to-do list for some time. So with no excuse to postpone it any longer, a friend and I went to the 1 p.m. service (one of seven that day) to witness Church XL.

We arrived shortly after 12:30 and the scene on the surrounding streets wasn’t actually all that dissimilar from that outside a major sporting event, if I can go back to the basketball comparison for a moment. Hawkers had set up sidewalk stalls to sell puffed rice snacks and tteokbokki; others offered religious books and even clothing. The moneychangers may not have been in the temple, but they were certainly right outside.

I could hear music coming from inside as I walked up the long flight of stairs to the main entrance, which, for me at least, was a mildly intimidating experience. I’ve always preferred my churches small and intimate, but the enormous scale of the steps and the building and the long climb to the top felt exactly the opposite – like an assertion of the church’s authority over me, rather than a welcoming into it.

This feeling of being overwhelmed continued after I stepped inside. The pews were already almost completely full and the pre-service warm-up was in full swing, the sound system blaring gospel hymns at arena-decibel levels. A pastor at a small dais was leading the songs, swaying, snapping his fingers, and waving his arms in the air. Backing him up was a line of 12 singers, including eight pretty girls in modest navy and pewter skirts. These featured singers were backed up, in turn, by a choir that must have numbered close to 100, its members decked out in impeccable white robes with ruby red scoops around the necks. Providing the music was a grand piano, the biggest organ I’ve ever seen, and a full orchestra in an honest-to-god orchestra pit being directed by a conductor in full white tie and tails. Meanwhile, most of the congregation was clapping along and at least half were singing as well, following the lyrics that ran across the bottom of the dozens of flat-screen TVs mounted throughout the church, as if we were in the world’s largest karaoke bar. Above the lyrics, the images on the TVs flipped between the action occurring on the altar and shots of the crowd waving their hands in the air and adding their voices to the din. It was so loud that I had to raise my voice just to be heard by the person next to me.

My friend and I made a beeline for the very last row of seats, where we’d be less conspicuous and could gaze out over the scene. Everything was enormous. 15 minutes before the service the church was packed to the brim. As more parishioners came in, the ushers – the women in blue and white hanbok, the men in white jackets like waiters at a dinner club – set out woven mats in the main aisles for them to sit on. Still others just sat on the steps. Cameramen with professional grade equipment on their shoulder wandered around in front of the pulpit, and other cameras, mounted to booms, pivoted around to get aerial views. In the middle of the building two sound engineers sat at a banquet table-size mixing board, the kind you normally see at major concert venues. It felt less like an actual Mass than some movie producer’s idea of a Mass, and I half expected that at any moment Michael Bay would walk out yelling, ‘Cut! Cut! Can we get some blood dripping down the cross? And I need more intensity out of your sermon. The Antichrist is about to crash through the roof and I need the right build-up people!’

It all might seem over the top, and it did to me, but there’s no denying that the end product is gorgeous. The music and singing were, simply, perfect, far and away the most impressive I’ve ever witnessed. The conductor got into it as if he were conducting the Vienna Philharmonic, sweat dripping off his forehead (Clearly visible on the 12 TVs I could observe from where I was seated.), an ecstatic look on his face. The church’s acoustics and sound system are top rate too, and carried the music to us in the very back as crisply and as clearly as if we were sitting in the front row. If you’re a fan of classical or gospel music, service here isn’t a bad idea for a free concert.

The centerpiece of the service was a (long) sermon by Pastor Cho himself, who, I have to admit, has a certain gentle gravitas. His delivery has been honed to a honeyed smoothness by decades in the pulpit, punctuated every so often by a laugh line or a firm knock on the altar when he wanted to make a point. Three-quarters of the way through, Cho paused to lead a couple songs and then break for a few minutes while congregants went into their own private reveries. Not everyone, but many of those present began to rock back and forth or lift their hands above their head, all the while chanting. I tried to make out if they were speaking in tongues, as some American Pentecostals do (Which raises an interesting question: Do Korean speakers speak in tongues differently than English speakers do?), but the thousands of voices were too many, blurring together in one loud murmur like water over stones in a brook. Then Cho struck a chime and everything stopped.

When the sermon ended the ushers fanned out to collect donations, the orchestra struck up, and, in what had me shaking my head in two different ways – ‘Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,’ and ‘Wow. Wow.’ – an opera tenor took the stage and, if I can use the term in church, absolutely killed it. I mean, Sixth Commandment pounded into dust killed it.

The experience as a whole was a disorienting affair. For everything that was inspiring or beautiful – the music, the parishioners’ enthusiasm – there was also something that I found deeply weird or unsettling. In the middle of Mass the service paused so that FGTV (The church’s television channel.) could air a commercial-documentary (commermentary?) on Cho’s recent trip to hold a service in an Abu Dhabi cricket stadium. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s even something commendable about bringing Mass to the Christians of a country where it’s difficult to practice, but the video opened with a purposefully sinister vibe: shadowy images of mosques, Islamic flags, and women in burqas, followed by barren desert and sand blowing across the road, which the video tried to play up into a sandstorm (which, it was mentioned, just so happened to stop an hour before Cho’s Mass). This was all backed by ominous music, the clear implication being that Islam is inherently hostile and that Cho’s trip was both brave and crusading. On top of this, miracles were professed, one of which was a South Asian man testifying that before the service his shoulder was sore and now it wasn’t. Not to be a wet blanket, but Tylenol will do that.

The other moment that reminded me why I find megachurches like this to be discomfiting and borderline manipulative – more about the cult of personality around the leader than about Jesus – was the declaration by Cho in his sermon that he had been visited in a dream by angels, and that these angels had told him the day, but not the year, that he would die and go to meet God: March 16, a date about which there’s something more than just vaguely messianic.

Anyone who’s studied their Bible, or simply gone to a professional sporting event in the U.S. will know John 3:16: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ By proclaiming this date as the prophesied date of return to the Lord, one draws a parallel between themselves and that begotten Son that’s none too subtle. Or humble. Cho’s achievements with his church may be beyond doubt, but there are other aspects of his life that are not. In March of last year he was criticized for suggesting that the devastating Tohoku tsunami was divine punishment for Japan’s materialistic ways, and in September federal prosecutors opened an investigation into allegations that he had embezzled 23 billion won in donations to help his son recoup stock losses and to purchase property in the U.S. Considering this, Cho might do well do double check with his divine messengers to see if perhaps he had gotten the dates switched, and his return ticket was actually stamped June 31 instead. Which, incidentally, could hint at a much more modest and undeniable message, Luke 6:31 – ‘And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.’

National Assembly (국회의사당)

Exit 6

02) 788-2114

www.assembly.go.kr

Visitor Center

Hours | M-F 9:00 – 18:00, Weekends 9:00 – 17:00, Closed on holidays

Yeouiseo-ro (여의서로)

Exit 6

Seoul Marina (서울 마리나)

Exit 6

Yeouido Park (여의도 공원)

Exit 3 or 4

Yeouido Ecology Park (여의도 생태공원)

Exit 4

Straight, Right on Yeoui Park-ro (여의공원로)

Exit 6

Straight on Gukhoe-daero (국회대로)

Hangang Park (한강 공원)

Exit 1

Straight on Gukhoe-daero (국회대로)

Yoido Full Gospel Church (여의도순복음교회)

Exit 1

Straight on Gukhoe-daero (국회대로)

http://www.yfgc.org

Tags:annual events, history, Line 9, monument, museum, park, sports, temple, Yeongdeungpo-gu
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Jongno-3-ga Station (종로3가역) Line 1 – Station #130, Line 3 – Station #329, Line 5 – Station #534

January 1, 2012

If there’s one station that can be said to be the center of Seoul’s subway system, the nexus from which everything expands and to which it returns, it’s Jongno-3-ga. One of the system’s oldest stations, it’s also one of the few that connect more than two lines, and it sits right in the heart of the city, steps from tourist attractions, historical sites, and a smuggler’s den assortment of markets and specialty shopping areas. There’s an immense amount of things to see and do here, so without further ado…

Let’s start at Exit 1, where you can join the tourists streaming down Jongno (종로) on their way to Insadong. You’ll first pass by Tapgol Park (탑골공원), Seoul’s very first modern public park, opened in 1920 and built around Wongaksa Pagoda, a 10-story stone pagoda that’s listed as National Treasure No. 2.

Tapgol Park also played an important role in the history of Korea’s independence struggle, as it was here that Korea’s Declaration of Independence was publicly read for the first time, by a college student named Chung Jae-yong on March 1, 1919. A number of monuments within the park commemorate this heritage.

On the sidewalk outside the park’s western wall a dozen or so fortune tellers line up one after the other, offering saju or tarot card readings for 3,000 won, as well as face and palm readings. The fortune tellers each sit in a small tent. As the sun goes down and dusk arrives, bare fluorescent bulbs light the shacks from within, the glow spilling onto the darkened sidewalk as from lanterns, but the drawn plastic curtains maintain a veil of secrecy about the fates being divulged on their other sides.

Cross the intersection to the sidewalk opposite the fortune tellers and turn right to head up Insadong-gil (인사동길). Almost immediately there will be an alley on your left below a sign reading 피맛골 주점촌 (Pimatgol Pub Town). This is, or, rather, what’s left of Pimatgol (피맛골). Most people know the story behind the creation of Pimatgol, but it bears a brief repeating since it’s one of the most enduring, and winning, stories in Korean popular history.

As it is now, during the Joseon Dynasty Jongno was Seoul’s main street and was where the nobility and government officials would pass, requiring any commoners on the street to prostrate themselves when they did. To avoid this inconvenience citizens would use Pimatgol (‘avoiding horses alley’) to move back and forth unharassed.

Alas, like so many other places, the alley fell victim to urban development, beginning in the 1980s. Further west it’s essentially been eviscerated, replaced with high rise towers, but even here, although it’s still a narrow alley and there are a number of small restaurants and drinking establishments, as the sign notes, much of the character is gone.

On one side street, opposite the large 인사동코리아 gift shop and just a stone’s toss north of Pimatgol, is an easy to miss brown sign that points the way to Seungdong Church (승동교회), one of Korea’s earliest Presbyterian churches. Significant for its role in Christianity’s development in the country, this red brick Romanesque church is even more notable for the role it played in the development of the country’s independence. The night before the March 1^st reading in Tapgol Park, it was here, in the basement meeting hall, that student leaders met to discuss the next day’s actions.

The sidewalks at the lower end of Insadong (인사동) are crowded with carts selling everything from yeot to incense to clothes, from beondaeggi to jade jewelry to handmade journals. You’ll even find one stall where you can buy North Korean won as a souvenir.

Insadong-gil (인사동길) and the neighborhood surrounding it is filled with galleries, cafes, tea shops, and places for tourists to buy souvenirs, which run the gamut from schlocky t-shirts and trinkets to fine pieces of pottery and lacquerware. Despite Insadong being tourist central, it’s one of few such places where I don’t find the mass of visitors bothersome and the neighborhood best avoided. I actually like going there, and from conversations I’ve had with locals their general feeling is similar. Why is this so? Some of it stems, I believe, from the fact that Seoul just isn’t a tourist town the way other capital cities are, and so the tourists it does get are fewer in number and generally not of the rush-around-with-a-camera-and-act-obnoxious variety. Another key factor is that Insadong’s current character isn’t much of a departure from how it was in the past, with its long history as a center of the antique trade and its postwar status as the focal point of Korea’s artistic and café culture.

But the main reason I think that Insadong has weathered its emergence as a tourist district remarkably well is that it doesn’t cater to tourists at the exclusion of locals. Despite some pretty pathetic stabs at tradition, like hangeulized Starbucks and Olive Young signs, and the commercialization of tradition (Show me a culture that doesn’t do that, though, or a part of Seoul that isn’t commercialized.) it doesn’t feel like authenticity has been sacrificed too much in the process (though the thought occurs to me that it may feel this way because traditional Seoul has been so thoroughly sacrificed nearly everywhere else). The alleys just off Insadong-gil are filled with tea shops and restaurants that recall an earlier Korea in their wood-beamed architecture, devotion to traditional food and drink, and ambience that recalls a time before the country’s economic and tech boom. And unlike in so many tourist districts the food and drink here are actually quite good, which is why you’ll often find them crowded with locals while the tourist surge carries on just a few feet away. It’s also in some ways still just a local neighborhood, the kind of place where the convenience stores advertise cigarettes and trash bags on their signs, and workers sort through cardboard in a huge recycling yard.

The other major attraction near Jongno-3-ga is Jongmyo (종묘), a short walk from Exit 11. Constructed in 1395 under the direction of King Taejo, founder of the Joseon Dynasty, Jongmyo was built to house the memorial tablets of the dynasty’s deceased kings and queens. (The original structure, though not the memorial tablets, was destroyed by Japanese invaders in 1592. The current structure dates from 1608.) In 1995, its 600^th anniversary, it was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Six years later this honor was augmented by the listing of the Jongmyo Jerye (종묘제례), a rite for honoring the spirits of the deceased royalty, and the Jongmyo Jeryeak (종묘제례악), the accompanying court music, as Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO. The Jongmyo Jerye is performed annually on the first Sunday in May and is open to the public.

The shrine and surrounding grounds are remarkably peaceful compared to their contemporary surroundings. Dirt paths wind between patches of trees and small ponds, and you can hear birds chirping in the treetops. The atmosphere is matched by the lovely but austere buildings, which have none of the colorful and intricate ornamentation found on other royal structures. Buildings here are simple in structure and hew to a consistent burgundy and mint color scheme, a nod to the solemnity of their purpose. On Jongmyo’s main paths runs a raised, three-part stone walkway, the outer lanes reserved for the king and crown prince, the central one for the spirits.

Tablets of kings at Jongmyo (only two kings’ tablets are not enshrined here), are grouped together with their wife (or wives). An auxiliary hall called Yeongnyeongjeon (영녕전) (Hall of Eternal Comfort) holds the memorial tablets of Taejo’s ancestors and some lesser Joseon kings and queens, but the majority reside in Jeongjeon (정전), the main hall, a long one-story wooden building with a sloped black tile roof as tall as the story below it. Jeongjeon is divided into 19 rooms, one for each king enshrined there. Memorial tablets of 30 Joseon queens can also be found in Jeongjeon, together with the king they were married to. When a king or queen died the mourning period would continue for three years. The exterior of each room is absolutely identical – a door of vertical wooden slats punctuated by circular iron bolts – with the single exception of the central door, which bears a heavy metal lock on its frame. King Sejong’s room is the third from the left.

A wide stone plaza extends in front of Jeongjeon, surrounded by trees. Standing in it the only things you are able to see are the top of N Seoul Tower and the upper reaches of the Boryeong Tower in Jongno-5-ga. These, of course, were not around when the shrine was actively being used and the visual quarantine was meant to prevent worldly matters from intruding on the king’s thoughts as he performed ancestral rites and to preserve the tranquility of the memorial.

To visit Jongmyo you must join a one-hour guided tour – in Korean, English, Chinese, or Japanese – except on Saturdays, when the shrine is open to explore at your leisure.

The park areas on either side of the entrance to Jongmyo are serious oldboy hangouts where dozens of ajeosshis gather to kill time and do ajeosshi things together. West of the entrance hosts a huge congregation of games of, mostly, Go (baduk (바둑) in Korean) but also jangi (장기), Korean chess. It’s a bit like New York’s Washington Square Park’s chess corner on steroids – the day I visited there must have been close to 100 games going on, providing a background clicking as stones are set down so constantly it practically becomes some sort of mantra. As many men as there are playing (and it is exclusively men), there are an equal number watching, some of the more intense games pulling in crowds of ten or twenty.

Other ajeosshis were napping, chatting, or just sitting around. One group had drawn a small target on the pavement in chalk and was taking turns tossing coins at the bull’s-eye like school kids. Still others were practicing calligraphy or speechifying to crowds of fellow oldboys at loudspeakers that had been set up on either side of the park.

Also in the park, near the Jongmyo ticket booth is a statue of 이상재, a religious leader and independence fighter born in 1850.

Walking to Jongmyo from the subway station, your eye will likely be caught by the gleam emitted from the string of jewelry shops that cluster along Jongno, part of the Jongno Jewelry District, which, according to the Korea Tourism Organization encompasses over 1,000 stores in the area. The stores here are popular with locals and tourists alike, and generally offer prices below what you’ll find in other parts of town.

The district also extends into the backstreets, most easily accessible from Exit 8, where there are more jewelers, particularly wholesalers, and a number of gem cutters. All kinds of different stones sit in little trays in the windows, and in their unset state the colorful tabs look like small pieces of rock candy that have been polished to brilliance. Also in the area are a number of shops selling gift boxes, should you be looking for a special package to hold what used to be your paycheck.

One of the most noticeable aspects of the Jongno-3-ga area is that it has approximately the same median age as the shuffleboard courts in Boca Raton. Walking around you’ll frequently hear decades-old songs coming from shops and carts selling CDs and cassettes. That’s a whole lot of antiquatedness, but given the populace it seems oddly right. Just about everyone walking around seems to be over 50, and the vast majority of these are men. What does this mean? Well, it means that Jongno is the best place in Seoul for going tragic outfit-spotting. If Jongno had a coat of arms it would be plaids over stripes and studded with rhinestones. The single worst (or best, depending on your point of view) offender that I spotted was wearing a metallic silver shirt that had a red checked collar with blue and pink teddy bears on it.

This particular party animal, and others of his ilk, was out enjoying himself in the area around Exits 1, 2, and 2-1, which is full of old dudes getting their kicks at the local restaurants, bars, noraebangs, and, yes, love motels. On the left a short walk from Exit 2-1 a number of food stalls are set up in a small plaza that serves more or less as the center of the action. One side of the plaza is bordered by Tapgol Park’s eastern wall, and along this wall dozens of guys eat and drink, often heavily, at the plastic tables and stools that have been set up. Walking around, something about the scene felt a bit off to me, and it wasn’t until I’d been there a while that I realized I’d had similar sensations before, in Cairo and Tangiers. There were virtually no women around; the only ones I could see being those working in the restaurants serving up food and drinks.

Which brings me to my next point. I hereby petition to have Jongno-2-ga (종로2가) officially renamed the Barney Gumbel District, as the rates of alcoholism in this area must be some of the highest in the country. Retired and with nothing better to do, a lot of old men seem to simply spend their time here getting drunk. Several were slumped over those plastic tables or up against the park’s brick wall, empty makkeolli and soju bottles around them. There isn’t the menace in the air that can hang over a large collection of drunk young men, but there is a tinge of aggression; I witnessed one loud argument that nearly devolved into a fistfight. More than anything, I felt the neighborhood gave off a sour, abject air, a picture of how not to grow old.

Perhaps coincidentally, or perhaps not, the homeless are much more visible in the Jongno-3-ga area, and it’s not uncommon to see them sleeping on benches or pieces of cardboard, or shuffling down the sidewalk begging or pushing shopping carts. Seoul’s homelessness problem is insignificant compared to what American or British cities are used to, but that dearth makes their increased presence here, in the heart of the city, all the more jarring.

Just north of the Barney Gumbel District and Tapgol Park is the Nakwon Arcade (낙원상가), a large gray building on columns like stilts so that the traffic on Samil-daero (삼일대로) can pass where its ground floor would otherwise be. You can reach it via Exit 1 by turning right after Tapgol Park and walking past the fortune tellers or more simply by using Exit 5 and taking an immediate right.

Walking in the nearest door, the wail of a soprano drifted down the stairwell from somewhere up above. Covering two floors, the majority of Nakwon is devoted to the Instrument Arcade (낙원악기상가). If you can play it, you can almost certainly find it here, everything from electric guitars to trombones to harps. Some of the shops in the building are jumbled fish-and-finds; others are well-organized with instruments lined up in orderly rows, their wood and brass immaculately polished.

As I wandered through the arcade I caught snippets of people testing out violins, guitars, flutes, and drums. The effect was a bit like walking through a radio dial set to ‘scan.’ Moving through the streets of Seoul isn’t all that different, and as I passed from someone drawing a bow across the strings of a cello to someone else peeling off some riffs on an electric guitar I realized just how rare it is that one isn’t exposed to ambient music in this city, whether it’s music pumping out of a noraebang or cell phone shop or muffled beats seeping out of a subway rider’s headphones.

Besides instruments, there are of course also cases, amplifiers, mic stands, and any other accessory you might need at Nakwon. Rather oddly, however, the one thing it looks like you can’t find here are traditional Korean instruments – no gayageum, no janggu, no piri. It’s certainly possible that I simply missed the stores selling them, but I spent a good while in the arcade and didn’t see a single non-Western instrument. The surrounding streets, however, are home to a number of stores selling these things.

Make your way up to the fourth floor of the arcade and you’ll find Seoul Art Cinema (서울아트시네마). Decorated with lots of old movie posters, the cinema was quite quiet when I happened by, the guy working the snack bar eating dinner and watching TV.

While not as buzzing as your nearest CGV multiplex, Seoul Art Cinema screens movies you won’t be able to see anywhere else, ranging from global cinema to Korean indie flicks to periodic director retrospectives. There’s little English information at the website, but most films are screened with English subtitles. Look for the little circled ‘e’ next to film titles in the ‘Programs’ section.

Finally, in the basement of the Nakwon Arcade, below the Samil-daero traffic, is the Nakwon Market (낙원시장). Everything you’d expect to find in a market is here, but being underground the market experience comes in a more highly concentrated form. Stuffy, dimly lit, and slightly claustrophobic, stalls and merchandise are jammed even closer together, with stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes containing bulk produce sitting behind the stuff for sale, and the minimal ventilation rendered the usual market smells especially pungent.

North of Jongno is where all of the Jongno-3-ga neighborhood’s most well-known sights are, but the south side also offers plenty of interest, and that’s where we’ll be heading next, moving west to east.

Via Exit 15, the intersection around Insadong and and Tapgol Park is full of international chain stores, and yet more line Samil-daero as you follow it south. You’ll also come across the Cine Core building, in front of which are the bronzed handprints of several celebrities set in the sidewalk at the Star’s Handprint Plaza (스타의 광장 핸드프린팅). I didn’t recognize any of the names, but my celebrity IQ is pretty low, so if anyone is familiar with any of them please feel free to leave a note in the comments.

Just a few steps further and you arrive at the Cheonggye Stream (청계천). Not too far from its heavily engineered headwaters near City Hall, its banks are remarkably lush at this point, and willow trees droop over the water. There are of course walking paths on either side, as well as benches and stepping stones that cross the olive-hued water.

Across Cheonggyecheon-ro (청계천로), the street running along the stream’s north side, is a string of small shops, and all around men wearing construction helmets and driving mopeds buzz past, picking up or dropping off merchandise. Typical of the area’s tendency to clump similar businesses together in one area, many of the stores here occupy the same niche – you might call it Disaster Management Street – selling traffic cones, fire extinguishers, alarm bells, emergency exit signs, and flashing red lights.

Strolling up Donhwamun-ro (돈화문로), just before I reached Exit 14 I passed the Seoul Theater (서울극장), one of the oldest movie theaters in town, around since 1964.

When I reached Jongno again I turned east and noticed a pair of science supply shops flanking a small alley between Exits 12 and 13. Their windows were full of beakers, droppers, dials, scales, mortars, pestles, microscopes, and corkscrew tubes. Heading into the alley revealed nearly a dozen more similar stores, on this alley and one running parallel to Jongno – a high school chemistry teacher’s dream. Among the science supply shops were also a number of simple restaurants, which the sign above the ally, reading 종로 먹거리 골목 (Jongno Food Alley), tips you off to. Unsurprisingly, all of the clientele looked to be over 50.

After wandering about in the back alleys and recalling my high school days under the chemistry tutelage of Ms. Swiecki (just about the last time I was any good at anything science-related), I emerged back on Jongno. There, across from Jongmyo was a small plaza called Seun Greenway Park (세운초록띠공원). Not so far from Exit 12, this curious little spot looked like a patch of Jeolla-do farmland had been scooped up and airlifted to downtown Seoul. Along the sidewalk was a swath of gold-green dry rice (벼), the stalks’ heavy tops all bowed over like question marks, and when a breeze blew it would shake them and produce a barely perceptible rattle. Other crops – including broomcorn (기장), millet (조), and sorghum (수수) – were planted in adjacent sections, and between them were a couple scarecrows and an earthen sculpture of two peasants and their ox.

I strolled down the walkway between the crops, brushing my hand against their dried leaves as dozens of dragonflies flitted above, and tried to make up my mind about what I thought of this quixotic little place, tucked between the city’s main avenue and the huge and rather rundown Seun Arcade (세운상가) behind it. What was it doing here and what was the point?

A few signboards at the edge of the park answered those questions. From 2008 to 2009 a few dilapidated old buildings that had previously stood there had been torn down and the park put in their place, with the aim that it would be the first part of a greenbelt that would connect Namsan to Jongmyo. Who was behind this plan? Why, hara-kiri mayor Oh Se-hoon, which means that the greenbelt thing probably ain’t happening, at least not anytime soon.

From the park I continued east to the corner of Changgyeonggun-ro (창경군로) where I swung a right into the watch and clock market that takes shape in the alleys near where Changgyeonggun-ro and the Cheonggye Stream meet. I went past a few small, greasy booths where men doing repairs poked at the innards of watches with tiny little tools, small selections of new watches for sale laid out before them just in case the patient died on the operating table.

Shop walls in the alleys were practically wallpapered with clocks – analog clocks of every shape and design, digital clocks with glowing red numbers (always red), intricately carved cuckoo clocks – like some sort of German rail conductor’s fever dream. I pitied the man who worked here who was ever late for dinner with his wife.

The area between the watch and clock market, the stream, Jongno, and the station is jammed chock-full of electronic shops and walking through it feels as if you’ve been shrunk down and are walking through the innards of some giant machine.

There are of course things identifiable to the lay person – TVs, CD players, microphones, walkie-talkies – but there was also a huge amount of things that I had no clue what they were. All of these oddly shaped pieces with wires and dials…like little plastic and metal magic charms. They had to do amazing and sophisticated things, the sort of things that if I stopped writing to pause and consider how a small bit of pressure from my finger translates into a digital symbol on a glowing screen I would marvel at. Or maybe they just helped make my toast. It was like seeing a thousand puzzle pieces but having no clue what the puzzle looks like or even if they all belonged to the same puzzle or to entirely different ones.

After several minutes of this confusion, I stepped out of the electronic wilderness and back out onto Jongno. Jongmyo’s leafy enclave continued to hold the spirits of Korea’s past in repose, customers walked out of the jewelry stores with shiny new purchases in pretty velvet boxes, and across the street I could see a homeless man napping on a bench. I was left with only one question for myself: Was this city one puzzle, or a thousand?

Tapgol Park (탑골공원)

Exit 1

Straight on Jongno (종로)

Fortune Tellers

Turn right immediately after park

Insadong-gil (인사동길)

Exit 1

Straight on Jongno (종로), cross Samil-daero (삼일대로), right on Insadong-gil (인사동길)

Pimatgol (피맛골)

Exit 1

First alley on left after turning right on Insadong-gil (인사동길)

Seungdong Church (승동교회)

Exit 1

Left at sign on Insadong-gil (인사동길)

Jongmyo (종묘)

Exit 11

Straight on Jongno (종로)

02) 765-0195

Entrance

Age 7 – 18: 500 won, 19 and up: 1,000 won

Hours

Mar – Sep: 9 – 18:00 (last entry 17:00), Oct – Feb: 9 – 17:30 (last entry 16:30); closed Tuesdays

For tour times see website

Jongno Jewelry District

Exit 11 and 12

Nakwon Instrument Arcade (낙원악기상가) and Nakwon Market (낙원시장)

Exit 5

Take an immediate right

www.enakwon.co.kr

Seoul Art Cinema (서울아트시네마)

Exit 5

4^th floor of Nakwon Arcade

www.cinematheque.seoul.kr

Nakwon Market (낙원시장)

Exit 5

Basement of Nakwon Arcade

Cheonggye Stream (청계천)

Exit 13 and 14

South on Donhwamun-ro (동화문로)

Seoul Theater (서울극장)

Exit 14

Turn right out of exit

Science supply shops and Jongno Food Alley (종로 먹거리 골목)

Exit 12 and 13

Turn down the small alley between the exits

Seun Greenway Park (세운초록띠공원)

Exit 12

Straight on Jongno (종로)

Watch and Clock Market

Exit 12

Straight on Jongno (종로), right on Changgyeonggun-ro (창경군로), right into alleys

Electronic Shops

Exit 12

Straight on Jongno (종로), right after Seun Greenway Park

Tags:annual events, art, history, Jongno-gu, Line 1, Line 3, Line 5, market, monument, nightlife, park, restaurant, shopping, temple
Posted in Jongno-gu, Line 1, Line 3, Line 5 | 3 Comments »

Nakseongdae Station (낙성대역) Line 2 – Station #227

September 11, 2011

Nakseongdae is a classical Chinese name meaning ‘the place where a star has fallen.’ It was here, in 948, that the great Goryeo General Kang Gam-chan (강감찬) was born. Depending on which version of the legend you prefer, either his mother gave birth to him after dreaming that a star had fallen to her breast or said star fell when he was born. Either way, that’s some good juju.

So who was Mr. Kang? Good question, as I’d never heard of him before visiting the place either, despite nearly four years living in Korea.

Gang was a scholar and government official and, later, military commander during the early days of the Goryeo Dynasty (918–1392). It’s the last of those roles that he’s most famous for, having secured his legacy by overcoming significant disadvantages to lead Goryeo troops to major victories over Khitan forces during the Third Goryeo-Khitan War, thus saving the kingdom.

To commemorate the great leader a shrine was commissioned in 1974 by President Park Chung-hee. The shrine now sits in Nakseongdae Park (낙성대공원), Seoul Tangible Cultural Property No. 4, a lovely spot south of the station off Nakseongdae-ro (낙성대로). The park’s northern corner has a small dirt plaza for recreation, exercise machines, a convenience store in a traditional-style building, and a pair of very modern bright red park libraries. There is also a traditional outdoor theater (전통야외소극장), though it was closed when I visited.

The southern part of the exercise area connects to the main plaza, the primary entrance to which is situated several meters further down the road. The large open plaza is centered around a decidedly bad-ass statue of the general, charging north toward the Khitan on his horse, sword drawn and trailing behind him.

Beyond the statue the park takes a much more peaceful and contemplative tone. At the far end of the plaza is a small lily pad pond, after which you pass through a large red wooden gate to a grassy area where a three-story stone pagoda and stele on the back of a tortoise sit opposite each other.

The pagoda was erected by Goryeo people in (according to Wikipedia) the 13^th century at Kang’s birthplace, damaged by the invading Japanese (naturally), restored in 1964, designated a cultural property in 1972, and moved to its current site when the shrine was constructed.

After this area you pass through a smaller red wooden gate and arrive at the walkway leading up to Kang’s shrine, Anguksa (안국사). A monsoon season downpour had just passed, leaving the foliage a brilliant shade of green and coating the stone and tile in a wet gloss. The rain had washed any impurities out of the air, and as I neared the shrine, cutting through the crisp scent of the rain, I could clearly smell the incense drifting out from four joss sticks burning inside a bronze urn set on a low table just inside the shrine’s door. The smoke drifted out of the temple towards the stairs in ghostly ribbons, and with no one else around I sat and watched it spin around itself, its effect otherworldly, like feelers sent out into our misty world from the beyond.

Inside the shrine, a large portrait of the general glares out at you. He’s standing on a tiger rug as if to insist, centuries after his death, that he still is not to be messed with. Below the portrait a simple wooden tablet rests on a wooden chair, and the walls in the shrine interior are covered with scenes related to the general: the falling star, Kang leading his troops into battle, the dedication of the stone pagoda.

The weather no doubt had something to do with the paucity of visitors to the park, but as it’s located in a relatively out of the way spot you’ll likely find it a relaxing getaway any time of the year. The one exception may be October, when the Nakseongdae Inheonjae, a memorial ceremony to commemorate Kang, is held. There’s a reenactment of one of his famous victories, the requisite speeches, and hands-on activities like archery practice. And though it’s on the edge of town, Nakseongdae Park is not difficult to get to. Simply go out Exit 4, walk west down Nambusunhwan-ro (남부순환로) before taking a left on Nakseongdae-ro, and walking until you arrive at the park. It’s a 10-15-minute walk, or you can take one of the number 02 village buses to the Nakseongdae Park stop. Once you’re there, if you’re in a hiking mood you can hook up with the Gwanak-san Perimeter Trail (관악산 둘레길), which loops for approximately seven kilometers through the park and around Seoul National University.

An easier hike can be found north of the station. After a quick swing through the area outside Exit 5 – a pretty typical neighborhood of businesses (bakeries, real estate offices, eyeglass shops) on the main street and 4-5-story red brick and stone apartments on the backstreets – I went north on Solbat-ro (솔밭로) (also labeled Gwandong-gil (관동길) on the station map). Solbat-ro runs flat for a bit before taking a slight curve and going uphill, the sidewalk climbing up above the street past a craggy stone outcropping with grasses growing out the side. After passing under a bridge a small set of wooden steps leads up to the Seoul Citizens’ Good Walking Course (서울 시민이 추천한 걷기좋은코스). This dirt course runs through a wooded area where the trees are thick enough to nearly drown out the sound of traffic and offer sporadic sensations of being in a real forest. Pensioners and dog walkers passed by the occasional pavilion or piece of exercise equipment before rounding a bend and disappearing from sight. You can also cross the aforementioned footbridge to continue following the trail to the west.

En route back to the station I was caught in a summer downpour, but this had the serendipitous benefit of forcing me to duck into Gabean Coffee Roasters just a few steps from Exit 8.

This inviting place is decorated in a scheme of light and dark wood and cream-colored walls, and the tables are surrounded by unpretentiously mismatched chairs. A roasting room sits just inside the entrance, opposite which is a tiny outdoor terrace. Towards the rear you’ll find bookshelves and cushioned benches, as well as a small tree. The bar offers hand-drips and the usual espresso variations. I opted for a cappuccino, and was more than pleased with the result. My one knock on the place was the sometimes too smooth R&B playing on the stereo – not my thing, but maybe it’s yours.

A bit further down the road a left-hand turn on Nambusunhwan-ro-247-gil (남부순환로247길) leads to Seoul Arts High School (서울미술고교). Out front is a row of four garage doors with paintings – high schooler takes on a Picasso-esque cubist style – and on the ledge above is a pair of statues, one of which, a naked woman, must have been on the receiving end of lord knows how many snickering teenage photo ops.

Across the street and down Nambusunhwan-ro-248-gil (남부순환로248길), reached via Exit 1, is Wondang Market (원당시장). If you make the turn here directly in front of you you’ll see a strip of bright umbrellas crowding the small street. Boxes of red and yellow bell peppers were nearly psychedelically bright against the day’s gray backdrop.

The peaches, plums, and chamwoe that were in season jumped out as well, proving the point that the best days to visit neighborhood markets are rainy ones, when everything seems that much more vivid.

The market is a small one, running only for about two blocks along the one street, but it packs in everything you’d want to find, including platters of fresh seafood, patties of greasy ddeok-galbi, and a butcher chopping up raw chicken on an outdoor cutting board.

If you start your exploration of Nakseongdae here you can take a slight shortcut to Nambusunhwan-ro and Nakseongdae Park by walking west down Nakseongdae-geori (낙성대거리) / Bongcheon-ro (봉천로) (again, depending on if you go by station map or street sign name). Here I passed a cigarette-smoking, tank-topped ajeosshi using a hammer to break up a toilet that was sitting in the back of a truck. It looked like a lot of fun, though not something I’d do without goggles, as he so insouciantly was. This walk would also give you a chance to get a caffeine buzz at a take-out coffee place called Coffee Coke (커피코크), whose slogan is ‘Drug your mind!!!’ Well, don’t mind if I do.

Nakseongdae Park (낙성대공원) and Gwanak-san Perimeter Trail (관악산 둘레길)

Exit 4

West on Nambusunhwan-ro (남부순환로), south on Nakseongdae-ro (낙성대로); or take village bus no. 2

Seoul Citizens’ Good Walking Course (서울 시민이 추천한 걷기좋은코스)

Exit 5

West on Nambusunhwan-ro (남부순환로), north on Solbat-ro (솔밭로), up the stairs immediately after pedestrian bridge

Gabean Coffee Roasters

Exit 8

Hours: 8 a.m. to Midnight

Phone: 02) 871-7139

Seoul Arts High School (서울미술고교)

Exit 8

East on Nambusunhwan-ro (남부순환로), north on Nambusunhwan-ro-247-gil (남부순환로247길)

Wondang Market (원당시장)

Exit 1

South on Nambusunhwan-ro-248-gil (남부순환로248길)

Tags:annual events, Gwanak-gu, history, Line 2, market, monument, park, school
Posted in Gwanak-gu, Line 2 | Leave a Comment »

Seoul Sub→urban

Posts Tagged ‘annual events’

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National Assembly Station (국회의사당역) Line 9 – Station #914

Jongno-3-ga Station (종로3가역) Line 1 – Station #130, Line 3 – Station #329, Line 5 – Station #534

Nakseongdae Station (낙성대역) Line 2 – Station #227

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