By Bernard Rowan
I lived in Seoul for six months or so some years ago, and my memories of my time there remain vivid and fond. Living in a neighborhood was an educational and enjoyable experience for me, however brief. Neighborhood life buzzed and teemed most hours of the day, and the density of businesses and signs of economic and social life impressed me.
My neighborhood stands in Songpa-gu on the southeastern side of Seoul, not far from Olympic Park. Jamsil and Cheonho are the main subway stations. My stop each day was Gangdong-gu Office Station on Line 8.
As I walked from the station to the big street, Toseong-ro, on the way to my apartment, I often stopped. I looked in all manner of shops, some roasting grains, some making and selling wang (king) dumplings, fruit shops, moms and pops selling vegetables on the road, and on and on. The sheer number of businesses on one or two city blocks impressed me compared with the staid chain stores and occasional family business in an American neighborhood, even in a populous city.
I befriended a few shopkeepers through my patronage. The last time I visited, they were still there. A quiet but firm older woman runs a snack shop where I'd buy soft drinks and treats. A kind old woman in a beauty shop cut my hair, transforming my bald head into some version of a Goryeo pseudo-sage's appearance (sharp lines). I didn't own a computer and depended on the neighborhood internet cafes.
Time marches on, and I was sad to find the space at the junction of Toseong-ro and Olympic-ro had disappeared. In a meridian there stood my favorite place to have a bowl of seolleongtang (ox bone soup) and a restaurant where I first enjoyed roasted chicken after a long night.
I remember seeing what seemed like a wave of senior citizens hand-cutting grass in Pungnaptoseong as I walked toward my apartments. I lived in the Hangang Gukdong Apartment complex. I enjoyed shopping only a hundred yards from my apartment. The dry laundry hawker appeared regularly. A favorite restaurant served penghi bosut jamsik, and another good bulgogi. I battled mosquitoes in the rainy season with those trusty green coils.
I worshipped at a nearby Catholic church, Pungnap Catholic Church. The congregation was enthusiastic, and the pastor welcomed visitors warmly. I remember elections that year. It impressed me to see a full field of candidates for district and local offices. Their supporters adopted different armbands and hats and carried signs to various rallies.
What I want to emphasize is the openness, accessibility, safety and convenience of life in an urban Seoul neighborhood. I never experienced prejudice, even though I had the language ability of an idiot. Many people were patient to show me what I should've known or figured out. The curiosity and respect of my neighbors balanced. I once heard children crying and running around upstairs in my building and felt called to find out. The parents welcomed me after calming down the kids, and we had a good conversation.
When I recall images of my old neighborhood today, I know much has changed, but I think much also remains the same. My neighborhood's invaluable quality comes from community. I knew my neighbors. It makes available all the needs for daily living. It involves people we need, choose, and want to know to make life something other than a busy race up a never-ending hill. I found all of these in Pungnap 2-dong, and I can tell you they still exist there and in many, many places in South Korea. Enjoy living in Pungnap 2-dong, or in wonderful neighborhoods throughout Seoul and other Korean cities and towns!
Bernard Rowan (browan10@yahoo.com) is associate provost for contract administration and professor of political science at Chicago State University. He is a past fellow of the Korea Foundation and former visiting professor at Hanyang University.
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My neighborhood stands in Songpa-gu on the southeastern side of Seoul, not far from Olympic Park. Jamsil and Cheonho are the main subway stations. My stop each day was Gangdong-gu Office Station on Line 8.
As I walked from the station to the big street, Toseong-ro, on the way to my apartment, I often stopped. I looked in all manner of shops, some roasting grains, some making and selling wang (king) dumplings, fruit shops, moms and pops selling vegetables on the road, and on and on. The sheer number of businesses on one or two city blocks impressed me compared with the staid chain stores and occasional family business in an American neighborhood, even in a populous city.
I befriended a few shopkeepers through my patronage. The last time I visited, they were still there. A quiet but firm older woman runs a snack shop where I'd buy soft drinks and treats. A kind old woman in a beauty shop cut my hair, transforming my bald head into some version of a Goryeo pseudo-sage's appearance (sharp lines). I didn't own a computer and depended on the neighborhood internet cafes.
Time marches on, and I was sad to find the space at the junction of Toseong-ro and Olympic-ro had disappeared. In a meridian there stood my favorite place to have a bowl of seolleongtang (ox bone soup) and a restaurant where I first enjoyed roasted chicken after a long night.
I remember seeing what seemed like a wave of senior citizens hand-cutting grass in Pungnaptoseong as I walked toward my apartments. I lived in the Hangang Gukdong Apartment complex. I enjoyed shopping only a hundred yards from my apartment. The dry laundry hawker appeared regularly. A favorite restaurant served penghi bosut jamsik, and another good bulgogi. I battled mosquitoes in the rainy season with those trusty green coils.
I worshipped at a nearby Catholic church, Pungnap Catholic Church. The congregation was enthusiastic, and the pastor welcomed visitors warmly. I remember elections that year. It impressed me to see a full field of candidates for district and local offices. Their supporters adopted different armbands and hats and carried signs to various rallies.
What I want to emphasize is the openness, accessibility, safety and convenience of life in an urban Seoul neighborhood. I never experienced prejudice, even though I had the language ability of an idiot. Many people were patient to show me what I should've known or figured out. The curiosity and respect of my neighbors balanced. I once heard children crying and running around upstairs in my building and felt called to find out. The parents welcomed me after calming down the kids, and we had a good conversation.
When I recall images of my old neighborhood today, I know much has changed, but I think much also remains the same. My neighborhood's invaluable quality comes from community. I knew my neighbors. It makes available all the needs for daily living. It involves people we need, choose, and want to know to make life something other than a busy race up a never-ending hill. I found all of these in Pungnap 2-dong, and I can tell you they still exist there and in many, many places in South Korea. Enjoy living in Pungnap 2-dong, or in wonderful neighborhoods throughout Seoul and other Korean cities and towns!
Bernard Rowan (browan10@yahoo.com) is associate provost for contract administration and professor of political science at Chicago State University. He is a past fellow of the Korea Foundation and former visiting professor at Hanyang University.
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