FOOTLOOSE IN SEOUL

 

Preconceptions

 

Over the years I had heard many reactions from those who had visited or lived in Seoul, and they were not enthusiastic, for the most part.   American expatriates who had corporate postings there seemed not to have enjoyed the time that they spent there.  Not only did they find the language barrier formidable, they also found Seoul less open and convenient than Hong Kong, and less sophisticated and fashionable than Tokyo.  Among short-term visitors, some of my Chinese colleagues tended to see it as an unimpressive amalgam of Chinese and Japanese cultural and architectural features and felt that the Korean capital had neither the magnificent monumental palaces of Beijing nor the sleek, high-tech modernity of Tokyo.  All of this piqued my curiosity, so when I had the opportunity in April 1999 to route my flight through Seoul on my way back to New York from my Bangkok assignment, I decided to stay 2 days.

 

Re-entering the Developed World

 

Arriving on a flight from Bangkok at Seoul airport and emerging from the terminal, I suddenly felt that I was back again in the developed world.  That does not mean to say that other Asian countries like Thailand or China had not made tremendous economic strides in recent years.  But getting into the city itself was something pleasant, comfortable and altogether safe.  There was an airport bus that took passengers to major downtown hotels following 4 or 5 different routes (that reminds one of Tokyo airport, but the price here is only $5 versus $20 in Tokyo.)   In Vientiane, I had  to be picked up by the hotel in an SUV and driven to my hotel over unpaved roads.  In Bangkok,  I took a metered taxi from the airport but the driver, as soon as he got on the highway, turned off the meter and offered me a flat rate, which I had to accept, because I had no way of getting other transportation on the highway.  So I was grateful this time for this convenient, modern touch.  The bus, after stopping at a number of hotels on the way, eventually dropped me off at the Sofitel Ambassador Hotel in the heart of downtown Seoul.  I was glad to be finally arriving,  and after settling into my cozy and pleasingly-appointed room, I threw open one of the windows,  drank in the cool evening breeze and looked down at the teeming, neon-lit city below, busy with traffic still.    

 

The Allure of Seoul’s Palaces

 

There’s no doubt that for any visitor to the Korean capital, its palaces are the main attraction.  So bright and early the next morning, after a hearty breakfast, I headed straight for the guest relations manager’s desk in the lobby to get some help on how to reach the palaces.  She very helpfully wrote down the name of Kyongbokkung Palace in Korean on the hotel’s business card, on the reverse side of which was printed the name of the Sofitel Ambassador in Korean and a small road map indicating its location.   Armed with this card, I felt invincible and ran out of the hotel entrance to the taxi stand, where a row of polished black taxis was in attendance.  I handed the card to the driver, and said “Kyongbokkung Palace, please!”  He smiled, repeated the same words approvingly and opened the door for me.  It was a beautiful spring day.  The car glided through busy downtown, but all around us were trees with tender-green leaves and hosts and hosts of flowers in bloom and ablaze with color.  I was elated and luxuriated in the comfortable upholstered seats. 

 

On entering Kyongbokkung Palace, I was delighted to see about 14 young Korean women with beautifully-coiffed jet-black hair and  in traditional Korean dress, the Hanbok, in this case white blouses and long dark green skirts and red belts, making their way in groups of 2 or 5 across the courtyard of the main palace building.  I had thought that the Hanbok was worn only on important ceremonial occasions such as weddings and birthdays and formal parties, and wondered what event was about to take place in the palace.

 

Viewing Korean palaces invites comparisons with Chinese palaces.  The layout of Kyongbokkung palace is on a north-south axis, much like the Forbidden Palace in Beijing.  The word “kung” in Korean is exactly the same word as in Chinese, meaning simply “palace” and is even written and pronounced the same way in the two languages.  So it would make more sense to say Kyongbok Palace and omit the “kung” or simply say Kyongbokkung when referring to the palace.

 

 

 

 Once inside the palace grounds, there is much that is reminiscent of the Forbidden City, whether it is the basic architectural style or the stone animals on the balustrades and the detailed and fine carvings on the ceremonial ramps leading into the entrances or the names given, in Chinese characters, to the palace buildings, evincing time-honored Confucian precepts, e.g. “The Hall of Diligent Administration,” (see photo on left) or the intricate and varied patterns of palace windows.  One distinct feature which seems to set the Kyongbokkung apart from the Forbidden City is the presence of stone markers in the ground in front of the main palace building, designating the precise rank of the official, thereby specifying his precise location in the pecking order for being received by the Emperor.  The military officials are arrayed on one side of the courtyard, while civilian officials are arranged on the other.  One is struck by how close the palace is to the hills that surround the city of Seoul, and also by the fact that during these beautiful spring days, the palaces are favorite haunts of schoolchildren, who come, immaculate in their uniforms, and in groups supervised by their teachers to see these proud symbols of their nation’s culture, but also to relax and run around, enjoy the flowers and bask in the warmth of the sun.

 

                                   

 

 Another interesting and possibly unique feature of Kyongbok Palace is the Terrace for Measuring the Wind.  This is an ornately carved raised stone terrace with a hole drilled into it, in which is inserted a flag-pole, and the flag was used to determine both the direction and the intensity of the wind.  These devices apparently go back several centuries, and I don’t remember seeing them in China or Japan or anywhere else in the world.

 

The Elegant Simplicity of Changdokkung 

 

Changdokkung is located east of Kyongbokkung.  It is on the list of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites and can only be visited by guided tour.  For me, it was a tour within a tour, since I had joined a half-day city tour run by a commercial operator which included visiting the Blue House (Presidential Mansion), various city sights and the highlight - Changdok Palace.  Changdok boasts an impressive array of palace buildings, differing little from the other major palace.   But an intriguing piece of information emerged from the guided tour, which was that, as far back as 400 years ago; Korean palaces were heated by subterranean coal furnaces which warmed the stone floors evenly and admirably.  Moreover, the smoke from the burning coal was conducted by pipes from underneath the floors out of the buildings and expelled into the air through free-standing chimneys constructed outside the main buildings (see left).  The chimney was not an integral part of the building itself, but was often an imposing brick structure standing alone as a separate architectural feature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The other charming aspect of Changdok was that one of the Korean kings who lived there wanted the experience of living, not like royalty, but like an ordinary person.  So he arranged to have built, in one corner of the palace grounds, an unostentatious but beautiful nobleman’s house, made out of wood and paper.  The nobleman’s “humble” abode had wooden beams, elegant windows in circular, rectangular and octagonal shapes with delicate lattice-work, very much in the Chinese tradition.  Across the top of the front gate to the mansion was a sign saying, in Chinese characters, “Gate of Eternal Happiness.”  And on the wooden pillars of the house supporting the roof was a delightful series of Chinese couplets, extolling the virtues of the Confucian gentleman living in quiet and idyllic seclusion.   We peered into the intriguing rooms (see above left), separated now by a rectangular door, now by a Chinese moon-gate, with the inside of doors and the interior lined with beautiful white paper, giving the effect of regal simplicity.  In addition, the mansion is set in enchanting grounds, on the edge of a pond, and luxuriant with trees and shrubbery and flowers galore.  The overall effect was of one of painstaking and meticulous landscaping, reminiscent of Japanese gardens.  I should not fail to mention the entrance to the estate - a quaint stone archway which has carved onto the horizontal part of it three Chinese characters saying “Bu Lao Mun” meaning “Gate of Eternal Youth.”

 

 

But it is impossible to speak of the Changdok Palace without any reference to the Piwon, or “Secret Garden.”  This is a walled garden adjacent to the Palace covering an area of 32-hectares studded with ponds and pavilions.  The Palace side of the wall had intricate designs on it, and with peonies and apple blossoms in bloom at this time of year, it was positively delightful (see left).   Inside the Piwon, it was all peacefulness and tranquility, and one felt far removed from the clamor and hectic pace of a large city.  We saw an endearing little plum tree which turned out to be 400 years old and a gift from one of the Ming emperors.  Another totally awesome sight was a 700-year- old cypress tree which was twisted and gnarled in such a way as to resemble a dragon rising, which is in fact what it is called.  One could see how this might have been the playground of the care-free royalty.  As we followed our guide and penetrated through the layers of mysteries of the garden (my Korean friend in New York says that the word “Piwon” in Korean also means “mysterious garden”), suddenly we came upon a whole group of men and women in traditional Korean attire.  The women looked very much like those we had seen earlier in the Kyongbok Palace and they now carried large vertical fans, as if they were ladies-in-waiting at court.  In addition, there were footmen in navy carrying huge yellow parasols and guards in peach-colored costumes wearing swords in their belts.  Eventually, the king emerged, resplendent in full royal regalia.  It turned out that Korean National Television was making a film about one of the Korean kings.  It was my good fortune to have been present on this rare occasion.

 

 

 Royal scene being filmed in Changdok Palace

 

 

 

Insadong

 

Our tour guide put it this way, “During the colonial period ( Japanese occupation of Korea, 1910-1945), noblemen could not make a living, so they started selling their art objects and precious possessions, and they did so in this district of Insadong, which eventually evolved to become Seoul’s antique district.”  It has a whole street lined with art galleries and shops mostly selling ceramics, paintings, calligraphy and different kinds of souvenirs.  Some shops also sell furniture such as Korean clothes chests and medicine cabinets made out of wood with metal fixtures.  Authenticity and pricing could be problematic in such a touristy neighborhood.  There are also shops which specialize in brushes, brush-pots, ink-wells and paper for calligraphy and painting. 

 

In the evening, the neighborhood comes to life with many restaurants, bars, tea-houses and coffee-shops doing a roaring trade.  My local friend took me to an old restaurant (dating back 100 years) housed in a charming wooden structure, containing many private rooms and serving authentic and traditional Korean cuisine.  But most of the establishments here have a trendy and cosmopolitan appearance and ambience and most Westerners would feel quite at home here - I also have the impression that more English is spoken here than in many other parts of Seoul.  After a very fine dinner and a strong cup of coffee in a cafe, my friend, always brimming with energy, suggested taking a taxi across town to south of the Han river to meet a friend in a karaoke bar.  She told me that the area she wanted to take me to was more heavily expatriate, with accommodation, entertainment and other facilities catering to foreigners - I don’t suppose there would be any kind of a language problem there.  Would that be the Seoul equivalent of Lan Kwai Fong in Hong Kong, I wondered?  I was too weary to find out, since, by that time, my jet-lag was beginning to catch up with me, and I offered my apologies.

           

Namdaemun

 

Another well-traveled tourist destination is Namdaemun Gate, the southern gate to the city of Seoul. It dates back to the late 14^th Century, but like many structures in this city, has been damaged more than once, most recently during the Korean War of the 1950's, and subsequently rebuilt. It remains an impressive sight till this day, with its solid and formidable stone base and its two-tiered roof supported by numerous beams rising to quite a height above street level.   Alas, the massive glass-and metal high-rises of corporate Korea now tower over and dwarf this structure, and endless streams of cars swirl round and round the Namdaemun almost without abatement.  We should all, however, be glad that it has been preserved and still stands proudly in its original site.   The headlong drive toward modernization and development in Asia has taken a tremendous toll on the cultural and architectural heritage of its cities.  The Koreans, however, having known centuries of invasion, war and destruction, have learnt to treasure their national heritage and worked tirelessly to restore and preserve the relics from their proud past, whether it is one of their many palaces, the statue of their national hero Admiral Yi, or Namdaemun.

 

 Does Seoul have its distinctive character?

 

There is no getting away from the fact that invasion and occupation by the Japanese have left their mark on Korea’s capital city.  The City Hall, situated right in the heart of downtown, is a copy of the Diet Building in Tokyo, a product of the Japanese occupation between 1910 and 1945.  Seoul Station appears to be a building along the same lines.  Just wandering around in the affluent and modern downtown area, say, along the premier shopping street, Myongdong, one senses in the layout of the streets, the design of the street signs and subway stations, and in the overall conception and appearance of the urban environment, something powerfully reminiscent of central Tokyo.  Equally, the subway system is extensive, clean and well-run, and a pleasure to use.  And one cannot help thinking that the Japanese influence has something to do with this.  The department store culture so totally embraced by the Japanese in the tradition of Mitsukoshi or Matsuya has found faithful expression in Seoul - in the Lotte Department Store with its full range of services as well as products, and several restaurants offering cheap food.  In a more subtle way, the care and meticulousness with which, say, the restaurant staff in my hotel wrap a lunch box , certainly suggest a Japanese kind of perfectionism.  On entering Seoul’s Shilla Hotel, reputed to be the biggest and the best, I heard someone speaking through a loud-speaker issuing what seemed to be directions to motorists to make sure they took the correct driveway into the hotel.  That is Japanese-style efficiency and organization - relatively rare in Asia.         

 

For a Chinese visiting the palaces and major cultural sights in Seoul, there is a palpable sense of cultural kinship with things Korean.  Seoul’s palaces have derived much of their layout  and design concepts from Chinese palaces.  Moreover, since the ancient Korean writing system was in fact Chinese, the names of palace buildings and the inscriptions and couplets are all in Chinese as well, not to mention the fact that the words evoke the same Confucian concepts of good governance and  moral rectitude shared by East Asian countries for many centuries.     

 

But that is as far as it goes.  Kyongbok Palace has several features that seem to have no antecedents or parallels in China.  Changdok Palace’s free-standing chimneys are indeed unique

and the Korean king’s idea of building a non-royal mansion to experience life as an ordinary person, is not one that appears to have caught on at any time among emperors in China.  Korean food is certainly  distinct from both Chinese and Japanese food, and one cannot help noticing that in the streets of Seoul, almost all the cars are made in Korea, and foreign imports are almost not to be seen, particularly not Japanese ones,  in sharp contrast to the situation in many other countries in Asia.  As for the writing system, a Korean script, known as Hangul, was introduced by King Sejong in the 15^th Century, and gradually evolved and took root in Korea to become the modern Korean writing system used today.  One of the most striking and poignant examples of Korean ingenuity and national resolve was of course the “turtle ships” invented by Admiral Yi Sun-shin of the 16^th Century who encased his wooden warships in sheets of armor and won important sea battles against the otherwise militarily superior armadas of Japan’s Hideyoshi.  A bronze statue of Admiral Yi stands on a major downtown thoroughfare as eloquent testimony to the patriotism and courage of the Korean people. 

 

In fact, Seoul, as the heart and soul of the Korean nation, is where we can see most clearly and unmistakably, the centuries-old struggle by this great people to preserve and assert their uniqueness and cultural individuality in the face of strong influences from China and outright aggression by Japan.

 

 

 

 

J.T.

 

   November 1999