Posts Tagged ‘Dongdaemun-gu’

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

January 27, 2013

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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).

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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).

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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.]

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

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)

Hoegi by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong Station (제기동역) Line 1 – Station #125

January 6, 2013

Jegidong by Meagan Mastriani

My girlfriend and I got off a mid-afternoon train at Jegi-dong Station along with about 40 other people.  From a quick scan down the platform, it looked as if we were the only ones under 50.  This may not be especially surprising, given that Line 1 runs through older parts of town popular with an older crowd, but of those Line 1 stations, Jegi-dong in particular has a close association and a long history with the elderly, the ill, and the convalescing.  This is most apparent at the neighborhood’s well-known herbal medicine market, but the tradition goes back much further.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Northwest of the station, out Exit 1, and right on Muhak-ro (무학로) is Anam Rotary (안암로터리).  Now an area packed with cheap restaurants, bars, cafes, cell phone shops, and other things betraying its proximity to Korea University (고려대학교), it was once the site of the Bojewon (보제원), the Joseon royal hospital, as a plaque on the rotary’s southeast side notes.  Located in a spot convenient to travelers approaching Dongdaemun (동대문), the city’s east gate, from 1393 to 1895 the hospital gave free accommodation to travelers and provided medicine for the sick, as well as hosting the occasional banquet for a retired statesman.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Those looking to learn more about the history of medical care and Oriental medicine in Korea can visit the Seoul Yangnyeongsi Herb Medicine Museum (서울약령시한의약박물관), a block or so down Wangsan-ro (왕산로) from Exit 3.  So you say to yourself, ‘I am not one of those’?  Well, I said that too but I went anyway, and I’m kind of glad I did.  A visit to the museum begins overdramatically, with a brief video of symbols and herbs whooshing across a wall-size screen, before the screen reveals itself to actually be a door and opens, ushering visitors into the exhibit hall.  Once inside, however, things are more modest, and better.  For starters, the museum is small.  An hour would likely be enough for an exhaustive viewing.  (There are additional facilities in the museum where you can sample herb tea, grind your own medicine and get a health checkup.)  It’s also neatly arranged and informative, while also recognizing that most visitors aren’t looking for overly exhaustive explanations.  Most, though not all, exhibits have basic English explanations.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

We were escorted into the exhibit by a smiling, grandfatherly old attendant dressed in everyday hanbok who spoke fluent Japanese and enough English to endear himself.  Inside there’s a miniature recreation of Bojewon, old tools and medical tracts, information on famous Korean physicians, and the Dongindo (동인도), an anatomical chart for acupuncture.  The most eye-catching display is the jars of all the various herbs and animal (parts) used in traditional Korean medicine, including, but not limited to, seahorses, frogs, geckos, bats, and deer penis.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Considering the inclusion of some rather unique ingredients in traditional medicine, it may behoove potential shoppers to pay the museum a visit before heading to the Seoul Herbal Medicine Market (서울약령시), just outside Exit 2.  Past the merchants clustered around the exit selling Korean sweets, fruits, and dried fish, the side streets to the north are about the closest thing to a real-life Diagon Alley you’re likely to find anywhere.  Tart-sweet odors fill the air; bundles of sticks and twigs dangle from metal grilles; foot-long dried fish bound together at their tails hang suspended upside-down, their open mouths fanning out at angles in a toothy bouquet; bags of roots, mosses, and dried flowers, the lips of the bags rolled down, sit on tiers outside of shops; elk and deer horns rest on shelves; ginseng floats suspended in bulbous glass vases full of alcohol, their tendrils drooping and splayed like the map of a river delta; and grand wood Chinese medicine chests nearly take up entire walls, segmented into dozens and dozens of identical drawers, each with one or two Chinese characters on either side of a plain knob, concealing the potions kept inside.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Formalized herbal medicine markets were first established during the reign of King Hyojong (1649-59) in Daegu, Jeonju, and Wonju, and were held twice a year, in spring and fall.  They spread and then contracted, and now there are two such markets in Korea: the one in Daegu and the one in Seoul.  The Jegi-dong market covers 265,000 square meters, has over 1,000 clinics, wholesalers, and resale shops, and deals 70% of the Oriental medicine in the country.  Most of the herbs and remedies for sale here come from China, and most things are grown on herbal medicine farms, as a worker at Songgang Oriental Clinic (송강한의원) told me as I looked at five-centimeter diameter cylinders of centipedes tied together.  There were some from China, some from North Korea, and some from South Korea, which, I was informed, are the best.  Drinking the water that they’ve been boiled in is supposed to be good for your back, rheumatism, and stomach cancer.  Or so I’m told.  I’m going to have to take that one on faith.  Things that may be rather more palatable are what Songgang’s employee told me are good for winter colds and flus: Chinese bellflower (도라지), omija (오미자), and liriope (맥문동).

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

The Herbal Medicine Market is a vital piece of tradition in the modern city, probably one of the few places where you’ll still sometimes see men strolling about in hanbok, but it’s just one part of an entire neighborhood of markets.  The sidewalk in front of the Herbal Medicine Market is a riot of butchers, grain sellers, octopus tentacles on ice, and spillover medicinal goods, like the jagged aloe leaves laid out at one stall.  Following the sidewalk and then crossing Gosanja-ro (고산자로) brings you to Gyeongdong Market (경동시장), an enormous place that, much like Jungang Market (중앙시장) at Sindang Station had, stunned me simply by virtue of its existence.  It was huge, but I’d never ever heard of it, likely because this too is a locals-only place – northeast Seoulites getting groceries and that’s it.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Dusk and a light rain were falling when I arrived, and bare light bulbs in market stalls were flicking on, giving the streets and interior aisles a sheen.  A string of ginseng sellers had roots piled up on tables, as did the chicken seller with dozens of whole raw birds.  Ears of corn were half shucked, displaying the purple kernels to passers-by; beans sat in big mesh bags and ruby red apples in cardboard boxes.  Chopped-off heads and tails filled a white bag at a fishmonger’s stall, and someone else sold brown arrowroot (생칡즙) and camouflage-green motherwort juice (익모초즙) from the same type of plastic containers that dispense slushees at 7-11.  My girlfriend, a born-and-raised Seoulite, said the market felt more like China to her than Korea, and I had to agree.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Gyeongdong runs into Cheongnyangni Wholesale Market (청량리 청과물 도매시장), so that it’s hard to tell where one ends and one begins, but the latter seemed to be a bit closer to Cheongnyangni Station, so we’ll save it for when we visit that stop.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

As perhaps is to be expected, much of the neighborhood has a pretty old school vibe, and we first noticed this before we even left the station, where an old 차타는곳 sign hung by Exit 5.  Just outside the exit is the Jeongneung Stream (정릉천), lined by old, rundown three-story apartments.  We visited its lower stretch when we were at Yongdu Station, and as we’d noticed then, the part near Jegi-dong had a very low water level, trickling through mud and the space between stepping stones.  Further upstream it was stagnant and algal.  Some older neighborhood residents were using the streamside exercise equipment or reading the paper under a bridge.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Paralleling the watercourse north along Muhak-ro, a block down Wangsan-ro from Exit 1, I first came to Yongdu Market (용두시장), near the corner of the two streets.  At Muhak-ro-37-gil (무학로37길) we noticed a little stand holding a baby pine tree that had been painted with an advertisement: 이발 컷트 4,000 (Haircut 4,000 won).  The barbershop in question was located in a decrepit-looking building – gray paint peeling everywhere, revealing concrete just a shade darker underneath it like a blotchy rash – that also housed a tiny restaurant and the small Yongdu Market.  In addition to 4,000 won cuts, the barbershop offered a 1,000 won discount if you were over 80 and coloring for 5,000.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Surrounding the market were machinists and smithies scattered about in equally old buildings.  A group of old men was playing Go Stop inside one doorway and a separate group of old women was doing the same as they cleaned vegetables.  Other machine shops were on Muhak-ro on the way north to Anam Rotary, including one where the smooth croon of Frank Sinatra was pouring out of the stereo.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

On the southwest side of the Muhak-ro – Wangsan-ro intersection is the Korea Aviation College (한국항공전문학교) and on the street outside, sitting on a wheeled frame was a used turbofan engine, rather banged up, but oddly impressive in a I’ve never actually seen a turbofan engine, let alone just sitting on the streets of Seoul kind of way.

Before you get to that, however, coming from the station (Exit 6) you’ll notice another piece of sidewalk art: a gold-colored statue of a saluting baby squid marking, as is noted on the statue’s base, 용두동쭈꾸미특화거리, Yongdu-dong Jjukkumi Specialty Street.  The area around this side of the intersection is known for having a number of restaurants that serve jjukkumi, and my girlfriend and I went to one, 나정순할매쭈꾸미(Na Jeong-sun Halmae Jukkumi) for dinner.  As we took our shoes off one of the workers asked us how many were in our party, and before we even sat down the jjukkumi in its blood red sauce was on our table’s burner, cooking away.

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

The jjukkumi came with sesame leaves (깻잎), and each table had bins of garlic, pickled garlic, chopped carrots, ssamjang (쌈장), and a wasabi and soy sauce.  I went through a lot of carrots.  I love spicy food, and have a pretty high heat tolerance, but the jjukkumi, like nakji bokkeum (낙지볶음), was one of the spicier things I’ve had in Korea, with a heat that accumulated so that the first bite wasn’t particularly potent but each subsequent one built a little bit on the heat from the last one so that by the end of the meal I was grateful for the bokkeumbap (볶음밥) that used up the rest of the sauce and neutralized much of its heat.  And I’d happily submit myself to it all over again tomorrow, a submission I’d hardly be alone in.  We arrived just before 6 p.m. and got the second to last table, and the place was ceaselessly full until we left, 나정순 herself steadily turning people away with a brisk ‘No tables!’

Bojewon Site (보제원)

Exit 1

Right on Muhak-ro (무학로) to Anam Rotary (안암로터리)

Seoul Yangnyeongsi Herb Medicine Museum (서울약령시한의약박물관)

Exit 3

Straight on Wangsan-ro (왕산로)

Hours | March – October: 10:00 – 18:00; November – February: 10:00 – 17:00; Closed Mondays

Admission | Free

museum.ddm.go.kr

Phone: 02) 3293-4900~3

Fax: 02) 3293-4905

Seoul Herbal Medicine Market (서울약령시)

Exit 2

Gyeongdong Market (경동시장)

Exit 2

Straight on Wangsan-ro (왕산로)

Jeongneung Stream (정릉천)

Exit 5

Yongdu Market (용두시장)

Exit 1

Straight on Wangsan-ro (왕산로), right on Muhak-ro (무학로), left on Hanbit-ro (한빛로)

Yongdu-dong Jjukkumi Specialty Street (용두동주꾸미특화거리)

Exit 6

Straight on Wangsan-ro (왕산로)

나정순할매쭈꾸미(Na Jeong-sun Halmae Jukkumi)

Exit 6

Straight on Wangsan-ro (왕산로), left on Muhak-ro (무학로)

Phone: 용두 Branch – 02) 928-0231, 제기 Branch – 02) 957-3310

Jegi-dong by Meagan Mastriani

Yongdu Station (용두역) Line 2 – Station #211-3

August 19, 2012

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As we’ve traipsed all about Seoul in the course of this project, one of the things that’s struck me most, that I was totally wrong about before we began, is how many waterways there are.  Seoul will never be confused with Bangkok or Venice, but if you walk around or simply take a good look at a map, you’ll notice all the streams that crisscross the capital, adding a fluid dimension to this solid city.

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Apart from the obvious, the Han, the one that springs most readily to mind is the Cheonggye Stream (청계천), a narrow ribbon that, to a remarkable degree, seems to run not just through the city’s northern half, but through her modern history, serving as a barometer of what Seoul was and what it’s wanted to be.  Once a pristine creek, the destitution of the postwar years turned it into an open-air sewer, as the refuse and excretions of a burlap and tin population seeped into the waters from the scrap and shamble shacks piled up along its banks.  Breakneck modernization and neckbreak dictatorships brought eviction notices and orders to drain the water and erect a flyway, as livelihoods and livability were sacrificed for the need to build a country, no questions asked.  By the mid-2000s, thanks to past sacrifices, no one could doubt that Korea had made it, and when the country finally took its foot off the gas and looked around it realized that the way forward meant undoing some of the past.  Authoritarian governments had been replaced with democracy, popular culture continued to wax like an ever-inflating moon, green and design were ubiquitous buzzwords, and the very same man, Lee Myung-Bak, who filled it in ordered that the highway be dismantled and the Cheonggye-cheon restored.  And what the city has now is a waterway whose characteristics couldn’t be more modern Korean: an artificially engineered version of something natural, a second chance that came about through trial and error and sheer force of will, and that, in spite of everything it’s been through, has become one of the best, most loved things about the city.

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We’ve been all up and down the length of the Cheonggye in the course of this project, but to get to know the stream and its history there probably isn’t a better place than the stretch near Yongdu Station.  Here you’ll find aspects of both the highly designed western end and the more natural eastern end, as well as a stream-related exhibition and the Cheong Gye Cheon Museum (청계천문화관).

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The Cheonggye Stream (청계천) is just a short walk south from either Exit 4 or 5, part of it situated below a flyover that curves around high above.  Walking paths and bunches of reeds line either bank, and for anyone whose only experience with the stream is the touristy end near City Hall, its unfussiness and the extent to which it’s localized at this point may come as a bit of a shock.  Just to the west the even smaller Jeongneung Stream (정릉천) empties into the Cheonggye, forming an apparently popular meeting spot for the local duck population.  I counted at least six.

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Cross to the stream’s south bank, and just a few steps to your right is the Cheonggye Stream Shack (청계천판잣집), a model of the wooden shacks that the area’s poor lived in in the 1960s and 70s.  The first thing you’ll likely notice, and there’s no point trying to pretend otherwise, is that the Shack does not capture the squalor of the actual river shacks at all.  The real stream neighborhoods, as any photograph will attest, were little better than refugee camps, comparable to any slums you’d see in contemporary Lagos or Mumbai.  Instead it’s a purely Rockwellian version that will leave you not gaping at the awfulness of postwar Korean life and awestruck by the country’s progress, but, as I was, dreaming about throwing out your phone and laptop and moving into one of these rustically romantic huts with nothing but a typewriter and fully stocked library.

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That said, the shack is still a fun, interesting, and, yes, even educational place to visit.  Composed of unvarnished wooden boards, it’s the only place I know of in Seoul where you’re able to walk through a recreation of this part of the city’s history, and the attention to detail is impressive.  Old movie posters (바보 (The Idiot) and 저 하늘에도 슬픔이 (There’s Sadness Also in the Sky)) advertise the era’s silver screen offerings, wooden carts are propped up against the wall underneath old-fashioned, hand-painted wooden shop signs, and there’s even a government notice (on aged yellow paper) tacked up encouraging citizens to eat other grains and more flour due to a rice shortage.

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The shack condenses a charcoal briquette store, comic book shop, grocery, public water works, and school room into a rather small space, which left me with the feeling that I was walking through a Fisher Price play set come to life, and the heavy coating of nostalgia and myriad knickknacks on show put the finishing touches on the feeling that the step back in time was not so much to the Seoul of forty years ago, but to some alternative version of my own childhood.

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Inside you can indulge the feeling.  There are old-fashioned school uniforms you can put on if you want to sel-ca yourself as a ‘60s school kid (in the days before you could sel-ca), and dated equipment and toys.  It’s tempting, but the sign that says ‘Please don’t take stuff,’ reminds you better.  These items are found in the 전시-체험관 (Display Experience Center), the first room you step into, followed by the 공부방 (study room), where a low study desk with books and pencils is accompanied by tin bowls and pots on a heater.  A stack of newspapers sits at the base of one wall, photos of Park Chung-hee (박정희) and Kim Il-sung (김일성) gracing page one.

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In the 구멍가게 (corner shop) some things provided a rare sense of continuity – Samyang ramen, OB beer – but most reinforced the wide gap between then and now – Crown beer, wooden toy guns, chintzy plastic toys that today’s kids wouldn’t know what to do with.  The next room, the 만화방 (comics shop), had shelves lined with faded copies of old comics and, on a table, several women’s magazines for mothers to peruse while Junior checked out his favorite superhero’s exploits.  The last room is the 추억의 교실 (Memory Classroom) where some old bags and textbooks sat around (some not old enough to fit with the rest of the things in the Shack) along with award certificates, lunchboxes, and class photos.

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A stone’s toss west of the Shack is a point in the stream billed the ‘Wall of Propose’ (청혼의), a rather tacky little spot ostensibly targeted at couples that’s best avoided, particularly if you have any inclination of actually proposing.  There’s a big metal heart sculpture on the wall, hearts on the bridge, heart-shaped seats by the stream, and three hearts saying ‘Love in Seoul’ attached to the bridge’s central pillar.

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On the south bank a park bench has been transformed into an impossibly cheesy gold carriage where couples can get their photos taken, provided that an obliging passerby can keep his gag reflex in check long enough to click the shutter.  Meanwhile, on the north side of the stream you’ll also find a lock wall where you could take part in the by now rather clichéd ritual of attaching a padlock together with your partner to signify your unbreakable bond.  The one here was rather sparsely used, making it seem a bit forlorn.  I did like, however, the couple that had chosen to express their love in the form of industrial size locks bearing the Cass beer logo.

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Across the street from the Shack you can fully immerse yourself in the stream’s history at the Cheong Gye Cheon Museum (청계천문화관), easily recognizable by the long glass wall imitating the stream’s watercourse that runs the length of its façade.  Also on the building’s exterior are two enormous panoramic photos that show the capital city in 1929 and 2009, the encircling mountains being just about the only thing convincing you it’s the same city.

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The first part of the museum focuses on the postwar Cheonggyecheon, particularly the restoration project that began in 2003, and if it comes off a mite bit pleased with itself it’s not without good reason.  Restoration required two years, the removal of 5.4 kilometers of covering road and 5.9 of expressway, 16.8 kilometers of sewer maintenance, and the construction of 22 bridges, resulting in 10.9 kilometers of waterway being excavated.  Yes, that’s 39 kilometers of work that could have been avoided, but let’s not get too cynical; the end result is pretty marvelous.  Displays chart the stream’s degradation, covering, and restoration before moving on to a section that highlights the Cheonggye’s flora and fauna.

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Downstairs holds what I found to be the most interesting part of the museum, an informative look at the stream’s history and its relation to the city and its people, from the time that Seoul was founded (as Hanyang (한양)) to its temporary elimination.  Maps from the 17th to 19th centuries are on display, along with models of the five major bridges that crossed the water during the Joseon Dynasty.  The issue of how to use the stream has been a perpetual dilemma, stretching from when Joseon monarchs declared, much to the objection of feng shui experts who feared it would damage the city’s chi, that an increasing population necessitated it be made available for waste disposal, to the postwar years when factories that re-dyed military supplies and uniforms for civilian use set up shop on its banks, curdling its waters into a sludge of dark gray muck.

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Although it’s the neighborhood’s dominant feature, the Cheonggye Stream isn’t all the neighborhood holds, nor is it even the only stream in the area.  As I mentioned before, you can also find the lower reaches of the Jeongneung Stream (정릉천) and the Jeongneung Stream Levee Park (정릉천제방공원) here, a short walk past the new 20-story apartment towers outside Exit 1.

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This little stream was still and half-frozen when I visited, a scrim of ice on its surface in some places, the water more like slush in others, and here too were a couple of ducks paddling about in a section where there was still open water.  Stepping stones ran across the stream and bike and walking paths ran alongside, all in the partial shadow of an overhead flyover.  Never very wide, the further north I walked the less water there was and the more sandbars appeared, until it was just a thin ribbon as I neared Jegi-dong Station (제기동역).  It was around there, underneath a bridge, where I watched an old man climb down the banks and, in a very generous interpretation, engage with the stream in a way that recalled its more humble past.  To put it more bluntly, he urinated in it.  Stay classy, ajeosshi, stay classy.

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Lastly, if you come out Exit 4 en route to the Cheonggye, you’ll find yourself in the triangular plot that is Yongdu Park (용두공원), a compact but very pleasant little oasis between major roads.  There’s an outdoor stage and a pair of fountains linked by a stone channel, though these were both turned off for the winter.  Stone pillars inscribed with poems flanked a walkway, and in a whimsical touch there was a wall of ceramic tiles with children’s handprints and convex mirrors like halved pinballs jutting out, offering a skewed reflection of the surroundings.  A trio of old men were making use of the exercise equipment, while nearby a much younger version had somehow found the space to play a bit of baseball.  It struck me as mildly ironic, this scene: the old men, who had grown up when the neighborhood was little more than an improvised slum, utilizing the benefits of a modern society wealthy enough to spend money on things like public exercise equipment, and the young kids, who have known nothing but prosperity, fashioning their entertainment out of nothing more than a bat and ball and some improvised space.

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Cheonggye Stream (청계천)

Exit 4 or 5

South on Gosanja-ro (고산자로)

 

Cheonggye Stream Shack (청계천판잣집)

Exit 5

South on Gosanja-ro (고산자로), right after crossing the stream

Hours Tue – Thu, Sun 10:00 – 19:00, Fri – Sat 10:00 – 20:00, Closed Mondays

02) 2290-6807

www.cheonggyecheon.or.kr

‘Wall of Propose’ (청혼의)

Exit 5

South on Gosanja-ro (고산자로), right after crossing the stream

propose.sisul.or.kr

Cheong Gye Cheon Museum (청계천문화관)

Exit 5

South on Gosanja-ro (고산자로)

Hours March – October: Tue – Fri 9:00 – 21:00, Sat – Sun, Holidays 9:00 – 19:00; November – February: Tue – Fri 9:00 – 21:00, Sat – Sun 9:00 – 18:00; Closed Mondays and New Year’s Day

02) 2286-3410

www.cgcm.go.kr

Jeongneung Stream (정릉천) and Jeongneung Stream Levee Park (정릉천제방공원)

Exit 1

Yongdu Park (용두공원)

Exit 4

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Sindap Station (신답역) Line 2 – Station #211-2

February 26, 2012

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Given that my visit to Sindap coincided with Seollal, coming out of the station’s one exit reminded me a bit of the scene in Westerns when the protagonist steps out of the saloon onto an empty street, the only things a’stirrin’ bein’ tumbleweeds an’ dust. And, OK, my imagination is getting away with me and I exaggerate, but it was awfully quiet. There was a normal-seeming flow of traffic – likely families on the way to and from relatives’ homes and gravesites – but the pedestrian traffic was thin to the point of almost not being there at all. There was one guy doing some stretching in Yongdap Neighborhood Park (용답 근린 공원), the small space just outside Exit 1. More of a plaza than a park, really, it did have a packed dirt basketball court, some exercise equipment, and a few benches.

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Sindap sits on one corner of a large intersection where Cheonho-daero (천호대로) and Majang-ro (마장로)/Sagajeong-ro (사가정로) intersect, and a cold January wind was whipping across the open space, past the low, 3-4-story older brick commercial buildings in brown, carnation, and burnt sienna.

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Behind the station is the Cheonggye Stream (청계천) and my aim was to get at it, but the tracks seemed to cut off access so I turned left out of the exit to see if I could find a way to it. I walked northwest several hundred meters, on the way making note of the bright cream, orange, yellow, and red Seoul Sindap Elementary School (서울신답초등학교), which had three large solar panels perched on the roof.

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Finally, just after the rail overpass where Line 1 trains rumbled north towards Cheongnyangni, I noticed a set of wood stairs, and these led up to a path down to the stream. Here, near where the stream starts its southward turn towards the Han, the waterway has almost none of the engineered character that typifies its more popular western end. It’s much wider, maybe four times what it is in Jongno, and lined on either side with thick beds of reeds, brown and crisp in the winter, that in some stretches were as tall as I was, blocking completely my view of the stream. The only thing in the stream that indicated an artificial touch were the stepping stone bridges leading from one bank to another, though it appeared as if, temporarily at least, the freezing over of the stream in spots had rendered them superfluous. This wasn’t a theory I was ready to put to the test, however.

As I got back near the station I came to see that I had taken the long way round by turning left out of the station instead of right. If I had done that and then followed it by another right onto Majang-ro at the intersection I would have noticed the path leading down to the stream just behind the car park.

The rest of the neighborhood seemed rather unremarkable, though pleasant enough. East of the station an (on this day at least) extremely quiet neighborhood sat squeezed between Cheonho-daero and the tall metal walls shielding it from the train tracks running parallel to the Cheonggye.

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The story was similar north of Cheonho-daero, though here at least there were some people grabbing some holiday exercise at the square block Gandeme Park (간데메공원). No one was using the badminton or basketball courts, but a few singles and couples were circumambulating the walking path or using the exercise equipment. The park seemed relatively new, with good playground equipment, and a couple features that would make it nicer in the warmer months: a rose arch, that for now was denuded, and an octagonal pavilion above a pond, which had been drained for the winter.

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Lastly, if you head to the corner of the intersection diagonal from the station, you can pretty quickly reach the west end of Dapsimni Antiques Town, which sits just one block back from Cheonho-daero. Of course everything was shuttered up due to the Lunar New Year holiday, but you can get an idea of what the Antiques Town is all about by checking out the post from our visit to Dapsimni Station.

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Yongdap Neighborhood Park (용답 근린 공원)

Exit 1

Cheonggye Stream (청계천)

Exit 1

Right out of exit, right on Majang-ro (마장로), Right on path after car park

Gandeme Park (간데메공원)

Exit 1

Northeast on Sagajeong-ro (사가정로), Left on Hwangmul-ro (황물로), Right on Dapsimni-ro-38-gil (답십리로38길)

Dapsimni Antiques Town

Exit 1

East on Cheonho-daero (천호대로), first or second Left

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Dapsimni Station (답십리역) Line 5 – Station #542

March 1, 2010

http://www.flickr.com/photos/48017739@N03/5114153448/

Tucked between Cheonhodae-ro (천호대로) and Cheonggyecheon (청계천) on the southwest side of Dapsimni Station is the little neighborhood of Yongdapdong (용답동).  Before getting to the moderately well-known antique markets on the opposite side of the avenue, Liz and I decided to pop in to this area for a look-see.  It was pleasantly busy on a Saturday afternoon, people out and about doing weekend neighborhood things: buying groceries, doing a bit of shopping, or just strolling about.

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Down one street outside Exit 5 a modified truck was delivering live seafood to a restaurant.  A man in gumboots was standing in the bed, scooping fish out of large coolers and depositing them in the display aquariums outside the eatery.  His partner was running hoses built in to the truck to the curbside storm drain, getting rid of unnecessary water now that their merchandise had been unloaded.  Neither Liz nor I had seen this draining process before and both thought it was pretty neat – one of those little bits of ingenuity that you never think of but that when you see it seems both obvious and modestly remarkable.

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A bit further back in the neighborhood we stopped for a snack of tteokbokki, and while we ate we watched an ajjeosshi make a duplicate key for a customer at his corner shop: just a machine set up on the street, a stool, a small rack of uncut keys, and an electronic buffer and some other shoe repair and polishing equipment.  A truck was selling 대파, enormous green onions, that looked to be dying, their tops brownish and crisp, and a bit further down a fishmonger had stopped his cart of frozen fish.  When we walked past he was slicing flakes from one for a pair of ajummas, the slivers coming off in pieces about the size of a thick poker chip.

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Back at the station we headed for Dapsimni Antique Town from Exit 1.  The area’s antique market coalesced here between the 1960s and 1980s, many of the shops moving from areas near Cheonggyecheon and Ahyeon-dong.

The Antique Town consists of three buildings, Dapsimni Antique Town 2-dong, 5-dong, and 6-dong; and further east, near Janganpyeong Station (장안펑) is Janganpyeong Antique Town, which we didn’t visit.  Each of the three buildings in the group is a long brick structure with one or two floors divided into a few dozen shops.  We started at 5-dong, which was incredibly sleepy, with no sign of any actual business taking place anywhere.  About the only sign of life was a group of antique sellers playing cards in one of the shops.

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We were looking at an enormous metal mask with horsehair eyebrows and moustache leaning up against a hallway wall when the proprietor of Taehyeon (태현) came out and invited us into his shop.  Neither one of us knows the first thing about antiques and didn’t have any sort of idea about the authenticity or value or quality of the things in the shop (or anywhere else in Dapsimni), but it was fun to poke around nevertheless.  There were small wooden fish, drums, jewel boxes with mother-of-pearl inlay, and a pair of wedding gowns that the owner said were 100 years old.

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The next shop we stopped in was Song Juk Dang (송죽당), run by 김기순.  It was larger than Taehyeon and rather more eclectic.  To be found inside are: old radios and record players, a Southeast Asian xylophone, a small ceramic of a reclining nude, combs, pins, and several colorful perfume bottles, one of which depicts two lovers on a riverbank, mid-coitus, proving that the Joseon era wasn’t all just Hangeul-inventing and Japanese-repelling.

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My favorite find in the store, however, was far less titillating: a little yellow hand-held radio, exactly like one that my family had and that I used to listen to the local Oldies station back in the early Nineties.  Not exactly an antique but, for this visitor at least, the most nostalgia-inducing item in the store.

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The hallways between shops are lined with antiques to and between 2-, 5-, and 6-dong we came across wooden bird cages, metal Buddhas of all different sizes, a large wooden statue of Guan Yu, a ship’s wheel, several Chinese medicine chests, and a set of stocks complete with chains.

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Probably our favorite sighting, however, came when we left.  Outside, with its back to us, a 1.5 meter tall bronze Buddha was sitting in the back of a truck parked on the side of the street, waiting to be brought into one of the shops, every bit the picture of Zen calm perched on his movable throne.  As we were admiring the curious juxtaposition a couple of the building’s security guards and another ajjeosshi came out and very skillfully maneuvered the fat man onto a rolling platform, then took him inside where he’d sit with the same serene calm.  A good thing too, because, judging by the lack of business actually occurring at the Antique Town, he’d be there for a long time.

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Dapsimni Antique Town 2-, 5-, and 6-dong

Exit 1 or 2

Walk one block northeast; the market buildings are between the first and second streets running parallel to Cheonhodae-ro (천호대로).

Song Juk Dang (송죽당)

In Dapsimni Antique Town 5-dong

#103, Samhee Sangga-5-dong, 530-9

Dapsimni 5-dong, Dongdaemun-gu

동대문구 답십리5동 530-9

삼희상가5동 103호

(02) 2245-3967

H.P.: 010-6727-1205

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