Seoul, December 16th
As experienced on December 15th
The two main streets leading into our town both happen to start at the exit of different metro stations: Dongdaemun Station and Dongmyo Station. The former named after the gate in the city wall standing atop the crossroads above the station, the latter simply named after the crossroads above the station. Even though only 200 meters apart, both stations facilitate different metro lines of the spider web that is Seoul’s metro system. Lines 1 and 4 for Dongdaemun, lines 1 and 6 for Dongmyo. Metro stations in the inner parts of the city, the majority of these underground, commonly boast at least 10 different exits to street level. Choosing the right exit is a crucial part of the metro journey leading up to the station. Walking distances, crowded side walks, extensive traffic light waits, the wrong exit can cost one a good ten minutes of the day. My walking route through the town differs per exit and has different benefits along the route. This route avoids most of the crowds and the market, that one has the twisted donut joint halfway. Here I have to climb the crazy stairs up the hill, there is our favourite restaurant for lunch or we could eat delicious cold noodles here? What I’m trying to get at is that much of my life in the town is determined already at the location from where I travel home and everything that follows. Different friends and occasions have the potential of different choices and coincidences to them as I’m arriving home on a different flow.
Off from exit 9 of Dongmyo Station is the main street entering Changsin-dong from the east. This place is usually crowded, there is a large flea market nearby. But it’s the sounds that confuse the newcomer: Loud K-Pop beats blaring from the drugstore on the corner, the butcher promoting meats on one side, and the old guy selling vegetables on the other side of the street. Arriving at street level after the quiet vacuum of metro tunnels, I always need to find my balance. Shrugging of the anonymous metro mode, from the dark into the light, off we go.
There is the bakery that sells Inyoung’s favourite cookies on the corner. On the second floor one of the Chinese restaurants we go to for the infamous blackbean sauce jjajang noodles. I take a left, here’s the town’s community center that is forever tainted by the intense nose swaps we had done here upon arriving in Korea for our mandatory covid quarantine. The kids playground on the left, the first of many sewing factories on the right. Than the dead-stop blind corner taking us right, deeper into the town. A mirror is supposed to help traffic but the corner is simply to tight for two cars passing, let alone the scooter bikes aiming to save time cutting corners. Pedestrians are low on the food chain that is Changsin street traffic, I abide my time patiently before heading on. I could take a left now, up the alley. It’s steep and it’s narrow and therefore quiet. But it’s not for today, I continue with the cars and the bikes. A little further the street follows a natural left turn, just before the huge rock wall that was laid bare when this part of the city was built back in the days. A small buddhist temple complex is build in this corner, shielded on one side by the rock wall. It’s a beautiful location that I often enter for a minute of contemplation. Or to take a picture. Or both. The complex has four or five traditional Korean buddhist buildings, made of wood and colourfully painted, all somewhat surrounding a garden area. There are steps to go to the buildings higher up, like rice terraces. The complex only separated from the street by a low, old, wooden gate, it’s fascinating how it seems several levels quieter here. A mere five steps from that noisy street. As if years of prayers, chanting and bowing have settled in the rock wall, in the ground, in the air even, to function as sound absorbing material like in music studios. Are you the traveller type who visits places of devotion Jack?
Continuing my way, the street leads uphill, surrounded by sewing factories, convenience stores, a barber shop. In summer time all doors are open, the chattering of workers everywhere. It’s too cold for that now, people are hiding inside on the floor heating. The ever present center of the city, Namsan Tower, can be seen through the chaos of electricity lines dangling above me. At the highest point of the street I avoid the alley on the right where the stairs snake further up towards the peak of the hill. I walk down towards the market to buy Inyoung the milk she likes to drink after breakfast. At the entrance of the market awaits our town’s Yakult lady (named after the Japanese sweet milky drink) and her cart, selling different types of milks and yoghurts with specific nutritional benefits. They’re a common street sight in Korea, you find them everywhere. Centrally organised, all dressed in similar beige uniforms, color-matching the electrical cart that keeps the drinks cold. They occupy central spots, usually crossroads, near traffic lights, and they drive around doing home deliveries, and fulfilling an important social role by checking in on housebound elderly. ‘Our’ lady always advices specific drinks based on whether we look tired, or cold, or stressed. Much to Inyoung’s annoyance who walks away growling that she is just a milk seller, not a doctor. Oh it’s the little things that make me smile Jack! It’s very common in Korea to get comments about one’s physical appearance (“you look so skinny and tired”), to give advice (“eat X, drink Y, it’s good for your skin”), or to bring food/drinks as present (“enjoy this ginseng and these probiotics”).
The milk pocketed I take the shortcut alley on the right, home is close now. The entire Changsin-town is quite dark and grimy, like soot around chimneys, and there is smoke escaping from buildings everywhere. Its car and bike fumes, overdue renovations, summer rains and winter snow, the town is just a bit old. It’s about labor here, not about aesthetics! But here in the alley they recently converted a dusty hardware store to a hip and cute coffee place, lots of wood and milky white walls. Gentrification seeping in; great coffee and rice cakes, but a little out of place. The canary in the coal mine! Did you know miners often used to take canaries with them into the mines because the birds are more sensitive to gases and could therefore warn their owners of upcoming disaster? Today I notice the owners hung a giant santa on the building, wall-faced, pretending to climb up to the roof. Funny. Another canary. Christmas’ importance is growing in Korea, especially the commercial side to it, but here for the people of Changsin-dong – typically a little older and a little more traditional-Korean – it holds no importance yet. Here people still follow the lunar calendar, celebrate the important harvest days and find comfort in shamanism and ginseng roots. Beware Santa, tread carefully!
From here it’s onwards until the end of the alley, cross the road, past the eggs store and the convenience store and I’m home. Time for a heavy lunch. It’s cold outside and the first real snow is expected. Time to get the woollen underwear ready and hopefully take the camera for a snowy stroll this afternoon! If so, I’ll send you an impression. No book talk today, no football either. I finished Herzog, it’s brilliant! I didn’t watch the semi-finals and won’t watch this weekend’s games. I’m sure you don’t mind.
Be well!
[https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/14/world/asia/south-korea-yogurt-yakult-ajumma.html]