The Place for Superstars

When I was a kid, growing up in Parkwood Hills, I thought everything was big. The town houses that sprawled between Chesterton Drive and Bowhill Avenue had wide streets and vast open spaces in which to play.

More than 40 years later, however, I revisited the neighbourhood to find that it had shrunk, its streets just wide enough for cars to pass each other, the open areas not much bigger than my own back yard, today.

The neighbourhood didn't shrink, of course: I grew bigger, from childhood to adulthood.

Because my return to South Korea is just over three months away, I've begun trying to remember neighbourhoods. With the help of Google Maps and its street views, I've been able to virtually wander the familiar streets. However, unlike the neighbourhood of my childhood, which seems so much smaller today, the neighbourhoods of Chŏnju seem much larger.

Granted, Chŏnju has really grown in area over the past 20 years and new neighbourhoods have sprung up. Even in the neighbourhoods with which I was familiar have changed, with new buildings stretching upward. The new skyscrapers have dwarfed the old towers.

But what I couldn't get over was that "wandering" the city, through Google street view, the roads seemed to be much longer than I remembered, that some of the familiar city landmarks seemed much farther away from one another.

Getting around Chŏnju was fairly simple: I either walked, took the bus, or hopped into a taxi. In my first year, it was fairly straightforward, in that I would walk from my flat to work (10 minutes away), walk downtown (15 to 20 minutes away), or walk to the Chŏnbuk National University district, where there were cheap restaurants, Internet cafés, and ex-pat bars (less than 30 minutes away). If I wanted to go to any of these areas, I walked it.

If I wanted to get further away, say to the train station or to the outer city limits, I would either take a bus or taxi, depending on how quickly I needed to get there. But if I was really in no rush at all, I would walk.

Perhaps it's just the way that Google street view works, but moving down the street, though it looks fast as the screen seemingly is pulled forward, may not really be that far at all. Travelling from my first-year office to city hall seemed as though I had covered several kilometers.

In my second year, teaching English at Jeonju University, my employers put the teachers into an apartment building in a small neighbourhood across the road from a sports facility that included a speed-skating rink and several gymnasiums (where DW and I would sometimes play badminton). When we lived here, there were several vacant lots and even more vacant block, upon which we expected structures to be built.

These days, the neighbourhood is totally developed and cannot be considered small.

DW's and my apartment, in red. Photo courtesy Google Maps.

Using Google Maps, I was able to locate the building in which we lived, called Shindong-ah Baek-hab Apartments. While Chŏnju seems to have become bigger than I remembered it, the streets around the apartment building seem to have shrunk, with so many buildings surrounding it. I almost didn't find it.

The construction company that built the apartment was owned by the same conglomerate of companies that owned our university, so when a newer building went up that was much closer to our university, we were moved into that brand new apartment.

Even when I lived in this neighbourhood, I found it challenging to locate the new building, with the streets being very random and meandering. But with a little patience, I was able to find it on Google Maps (I only became virtually lost once).

Our second apartment, in red. Photo courtesy Google Maps.

The new apartment was on the southern limits of the city, along the southern arm of the narrow river that forked though Chŏnju. In 1998, crossing the river, moving further south, you were into farm land, where countless rice paddies stretched to the distant mountains. Only a few tiny neighbourhoods filled this area, like islands in a sea. But surrounding one hill, a large "island" housed a high school and Jeonju University.

Using Google, I tried to travel to the university to see if I could find the building that housed the English department, where I worked. But across the river, the landscape had changed.

Instead of a long, narrow road that cut through the paddies, a whole extension of Chŏnju lay. Wide roads, shops, and skyscrapers (Sky Towers, one read). Because the roads were new, I had to pretend that I was a driver, navigating a new city, reading signs to find my bearings. Luckily, most major signs pointed the way, in Hangul, to the university.

When I reached the road that led inside the university, I didn't recognize it at all. This was a new way to get onto the campus. And, unfortunately, Google didn't let me continue inside—possibly because of some ban from keeping the Google car off campus grounds.

Photo courtesy Google Maps.

I returned from the street view to the satellite view, and re-oriented the map. Though Google would not let me drop the little walker onto the campus grounds, I was able to find a bird's-eye view of my departmental building, from where I also taught about half of my classes. I was then able to find the old entrance to the university, from where I accessed the campus.

Foreign language department, in red. Photo courtesy Google Maps.

A new building had been erected and towered high above the road. An overhead walkway bridged the road. The name of the university ran up the right-hand side of the building, in Hangul. In English, in small letters, read "The Place for Superstars."

Photo courtesy Google Maps.

In my day, Jeonju University was regarded as a last-chance place for people to gain a university education. It didn't have the prestige of Chŏnbuk National University, which was where you would go if you wanted to become a doctor or a lawyer. If you couldn't get into Jeonju University, your career options were extremely limited.

While I did have some extremely bright students, I also had my fair share of academically challenged ones.

Across from the old entrance, I recognized some buildings. In 1998, I would find a bar that sold beer, soju (a distilled grain drink, similar to Japanese sake), and mokoli (a semi-fermented drink, similar to a milky wine but much more sour and twice the punch). There was also a pool hall, where I spent several hours with students, between classes, and a print shop, where I had a book that I had written pressed (I'll rewrite it one of these days).

Photo courtesy Google Maps.

Food stands lined the sidewalks, and the road led to the main road, from which I caught buses back to my apartment. Again, at this intersection, lay another sign to Jeonju University and, again, the motto "The Place for Superstars."

Photo courtesy Google Maps.

I may have to venture out here, in May, to see which superstars I can find. Assuming, of course, that I can find my way.