Koreans love to wax lyrically and emotionally about their 5,000-year-old history and proud nation, but when push really comes
to shove, this is a country in which money trumps tradition almost every time. I include the local governments in my indictment,
for they are the only bodies that can hope to stop development's money-mad destruction of historic neighborhoods and
buildings, but more often than not they seem clueless and to hardly give a toss. The standard m.o. seems to be to designate
a few token neighborhoods like Samch'ong-dong or Kahoe-dong as "folk villages" or "cultural villages" or whatever the cheesy
official term is (purely for PR purposes, of course), and then look the other way when the remaining 95% of the city is
steamrollered and flattened and turned into a cold ugly urban wasteland of cheap concrete, glass and steel (call it the
Kangnamification of Korea, if you like). Just in the last year, three lovely old hanoks or tile-roofed Korean houses near my place
in Chongno have been demolished, only to be replaced by tacky modern structures that won't last ten years, I'll bet. There's only
one hanok left now by the alleyway in front of my place, and I'm sure its days are numbered as well, as soon as the right price
comes up.
The picture you see here is entitled "The Rape of P'imat-gol." P'imat-gol is an historic alleyway that theoretically runs from
Chongno-1-ga in downtown Seoul (starting at the back entrance of Kyobo Bookstore) all the way to Chongno-4-ga or so, where
it feeds into the great plaza in front of Chongmyo, the Royal Shrine of the Choson Dynasty (a favorite public gathering place
for old-timers, the homeless and other merry, soju-swilling idlers). P'imat-gol (lit., "Fleeing the Horses Alley") was created
during early Choson (1392-1910) because commoners got tired of having to stop and bow all the time to the dignitaries passing
by on the main thoroughfare of Chongno (lit., "Bell Street"), so they were able to save time walking and go about their business
unimpeded by such silly, bothersome formalities. Over time, countless eateries, makkolli-jips (Korean-style taverns or grog
shops) and other hole-in-the-wall establishments catering to the Choson-era hoi polloi sprung up along this long winding back
alley, and it acquired a rustic, boisterous and distinctively charming character of its own. There used to be a similar-style back
alleyway called Nakchi Golmok ("Octopus Alley," so-named in honor of its many restaurants specializing in broiled octopus)
stretching along the south side of Chongno-1-ga, but that was removed in the mid-seventies in order to make room for the many
bland, charmless high-rises you see there now (see Bug Vol. 5 for a tribute to Nakchi Golmok eloquently penned by Old Korea
Hand Ken Kaliher). As the old saying goes, history does indeed tend to repeat itself, for the same process is now under way
across the street from where Nakchi Golmok once stood.
Up until last summer, you used to be able to walk from the back of Kyobo all the way to Chonggak Subway Station along P'imat-gol,
which was great because the main sidewalk on Chongno is always overcrowded with pedestrians who apparently don't know how
to look where they're going and are constantly bumping into each other like so many frantic, headless chickens. I've lived in
the area since '96 and that routine gets tiresome pretty quickly. Over the years, I've come to know a number of the shopkeepers on
P'imat-gol, like Mrs. Sok, who runs a famous 30-year-old grilled fish shop called Daerim near Kyobo, and who is always tending
her fish on the outside grill and says "Hello!" or "Happy New Year!" to me in cheery English whenever I pass by. My friends
Sarah, Lisa and I first ate there on Christmas Eve of 1996, and even if I've left the country for a year or more, Mrs. Sok always
remembers my face whenever I return.
As I write, however, half of the second block of P'imat-gol is no more. All the great little inexpensive, unpretentious and
delicious restaurants it once contained are gone. A company called, rather pretentiously, Le Meilleur ("The Best") Construction Co.,
Ltd., has bought up and demolished an entire massive section of the neighborhood there, so that it can build a hulking office and
yuppie residential tower called "Chongno Town." There were dozens of historic old hanoks and other funky buildings there, but
soon it will look like just another sterile cookie-cutter clone of Kangnam. Apparently not all of the proprietors of establishments
there sold their land willingly, for a number of them had parked themselves in front of the nearby Chongno District Office protesting
the loss of their livelihoods. They were there 24 hours a day, even through the cold of winter, but I don't recall seeing much fuss
made about it in the local English-language newspapers.
I was able to take this picture of the last restaurant in the area, "Kwanghwamun Manna Hoe-gwan," being forcibly closed down
last December. As soon as I got off one shot, a security guard rushed over and immediately tried to grab my camera from me. There
are a couple dozen of these flunky, overweight gangsters-in-training protecting the site day and night, and they've turned the area
into a rather grim, even scary place; whenever I pass by, they make snotty comments without thinking that I might actually
understand what they're saying, so now I just try to avoid them. Anyway, I told the guard you see in the above picture that I was
a journalist and that since I was standing in the street, it was a public area and I could take pictures regardless of whether
he liked it or not. To this, he responded by nearly getting physical with me, before he was restrained by several other men
in suits who apparently were representatives of the construction company. I was livid and promptly went to the nearby police
box to explain the situation. The policeman came back with me to the restaurant, and after conferring with the men in suits, told
me that I couldn't take any pictures at the moment, but that it would be no problem if I wanted to take pictures after the restaurant
owner was done moving out and the building was torn down. When I asked why I couldn't take pictures now, he spouted
some mumbo jumbo about having to follow "proper legal procedures," which roughly translates as "This big important company
is not going to tolerate bad publicity from some meddling foreigner such as yourself." When I mentioned "freedom of speech"
and asked, "Isn't this a democracy?" officer Kim Krupke just laughed and sent me on my way.
According to a sales rep in front of the construction site I spoke with today, the building will be finished in 2007, and a "new" or
"replacement" P'imat-gol of restaurants and the like will be housed in the basement of "Chongno Town." So much for "history" --
buried "underground" where it belongs, and where it is much less "inconvenient." On the ground floor, there will be a shopping
arcade of sorts, with convenience stores, jewelry shops and whatnot. I rather doubt the young "arbeiters" or part-timers
working there will attend customers with the same warmth and friendliness of the old shopkeepers and proprietors of P'imat-gol.
Speaking of which, I just went to the Chongno District Office and noticed that the anti-Chongno Town demonstrators are now
all gone. I guess they finally gave up after 6 months, or like me were simply "sent on their way."
Shortly after I took this picture, I ran into Benjamin Joinau, the owner of Le Saint-Ex in It'aewon and a prominent cultural ambassador
of sorts, in front of the headquarters of the Korea National Tourism Organization (just a block away from where Chongno Tower will
soon rise). He said that the KNTO had invited him to participate in a conference organized around the subject of "how to attract foreign
visitors to South Korea and increase tourism here." Of course, I could only reply, "The best way for South Korea to attract foreign
tourists is to destroy historic landmarks like P'imat-gol and replace them with soulless, modern high rises that look exactly like
they do in the West. That's certain to bring them in droves!"
The picture you see on this page is a reminder that history cannot simply be "buried underground" and forgotten in the name of profit
and convenience. This picture is Korea's past, as well as its present and its future. As far as I'm concerned, it's not a pretty sight.
|
|
The Rape of P'imat-gol (a.k.a., The Kangnamification of Chongno) 
[re] The Rape of P'imat-gol 
