Contrived

When I first saw the tall apartments, spread out across the landscape, I thought the bus was coming up to Daejeon^*, a major Korean city just an hour north of Chŏnju. I had nodded off on the last half of the bus trip from Seoul and didn't know where I was as I opened my eyes and looked out the window.

But when the bus slowed and turned onto the off ramp, I realized that this was, in fact, my old city.

I recognized the gate that spans the roadway into the city, off the Honam Expressway, but the familiar buildings of Dongsan-dong were hidden by a much taller cluster of apartment towers. Near the stadium that was used for the 2002 World Cup FIFA ("World Cup MUST be held in Chŏnju!" as the posters in 1997 read througout the city), the roads have been redrawn and more development had me off my bearings.

The bus took a different route into town but soon brought me to familiar areas, just to the south of Paltal-ro. In the distance, at one intersection, I recognized the tall building of the Korean Bank, and I could even make out the performance centre of Chŏnbuk National University. And though the bus station is located where it used to be, it's been transformed from a circular structure to a long, rectangular mall.

I hopped into a taxi and said, "Chŏnju Hanok Suh-pa, ga chuseyo," and we were off. The Hanok Spa is right across the street from my Airbnb, and it's a well-known landmark. The driver seemed surprised that I would want to go there with all my luggage, but I didn't have the vocabulary to explain that the spa was not my true destination (though, after the aches of walking around Seoul, I might treat myself before I leave).

I almost didn't recognize the building that used to house my old hagwon (language institute). What was the purple Youngchin Building is now a drab grey. But as soon as we headed south, on Paltal-ro, there was a familiarity that took me back 20 years. Some buildings have come down; others have gone up. But this finally felt like the Chŏnju of my past.

The lady who runs the Airbnb was there to greet me. She's the sweetest lady, maybe a couple of years older than me. She speaks not a word of English but with my broken Korean, we got on fine. I'm just a block north of the northwest corner of the wall that surrounds Gyeonggijeon Palace, in the outer limits of the Hanok Village. The room is small but clean, and quiet.

After settling in and showering (even in May, I'm sweating like crazy here), I roamed the neighbourhood, looking for the kalguk-su (spicy noodle soup) restaurant where I had my first meal in Korea, in March of 1997. The building has been redone (the original always looked ready to fall in on itself) but the food is as good as I remember, though it now costs more than double of what I paid in '97.

Afterward, I strolled the neighbourhood to reacquaint myself with this old village. The last time I was here was in spring of 1998, when my fellow Jeonju University teachers and I took a walking tour. Back then, the houses and stores seemed original. They were old, leaning, with cracks in the foundations like wrinkles on a face. They showed their age. Now, newer structures have replaced them and the neighbourhood streets are now on a grid system. The streets are cobblestones and there are proper sidewalks—complete with manufactured brooks that meander alongside the footpaths.

It seems so contrived, and I felt a little sad. What was once an authentic, ancient residential neighbourhood was now a contrived theme park.

On one street, I saw an old house that was under reconstruction. It looked as though the builders where preserving the roof and rebuilding everything else.

I walked up a set of stairs and along a wooden path that led up above the village, and I could see that, tucked away in little walkways, away from the main streets, were some of the older, original houses. I continued up the path to where I knew Omok-dae stood. It's an old pavilion that I had visited a couple of times in the past. At least it hadn't changed a bit.

I continued on the path, which loops back down to the village, and made my way back to my Airbnb.

Over the previous two days, when I had been in Seoul, I had walked more than 33,000 steps. Typically, at home, I walk less than a third of that in as many days. While my feet have held up, my left ankle gave out as I stepped off the bus in Chŏnju. On my first evening in the Hanok Village, I was limping all over the neighbourhood. I was reminded that while I'm in my old Korean city, I should stay close to my Airbnb and do some writing.

You know, the main reason why I came here.



* I later learned, after checking Google Maps, that a new stretch of the highway avoids Daejeon altogether. I wouldn't have seen the city even if I had been awake.