Symbiosis in Seoul

Gaskell, J (2006) ‘Symbiosis in Seoul’, The Korea Herald, August
Symbiosis in Seoul

By Jason Gaskell

It was autumn, some say the best season to be in the Republic of Korea. The trees lining the wide streets of Seoul had already painted the canvas of the city with a gloriously vivid spectrum of oranges, reds and browns. It was a perfect day for being outdoors.

I went to see Kyongbok Palace in downtown Seoul. As I was strolling in the crisp October air, admiring the six hundred-year-old temple complex; suddenly, I became distracted. A huge LCD television screen mounted atop a commercial building outside the perimeter of the palace grounds was streaming a relentless series of advertisements. My first emotion was repulsion, and I wondered, 'how can they build such an abomination next to such a beautiful palace?’ But then I began to question this phenomenon more deeply. Is it that Korean customs and traditions are being slowly eaten away by spiralling westernisation, or is a harmonious cultural symbiosis of the old and the new at the very heart of South Korean prosperity? I decided to find out more.

I went north of the Han River to Insadong; an ancient cobbled street lined with art galleries, antique shops, and teahouses. Only a few minutes away, in contrast to the tranquillity of Insadong, is the modern centre of Chongno Street, an urban metropolis, which bustles with business and activity among a constant stream of pedestrians. I wondered if this geographical marriage of tradition and modernity would carry over on to a more individual level.

As I was walking along the promenade in Insadong, I noticed a Buddhist monk standing alone in an alleyway. There was nothing immediately remarkable about this sighting, as it is quite common to see Buddhist monks walking along the bazaars in Insadong due to the close proximity of Chogesa temple. But the monk I saw was talking on a mobile phone and I immediately thought back to the LCD screen towering behind Kyongbok Palace. Here was yet more evidence of a comfortable amalgamation between the old and the new. A Buddhist monk on a cellular telephone; I almost laughed out aloud!

There are various tearooms in Insadong that serve a variety of traditional teas and local snacks. I sat in one of these tearooms for a while, drinking some pomegranate tea and eating rice cake, watching the gentle activity of people in the street below. I started a conversation with a Korean woman who had been living in Seoul for over five years. She explained that; ‘it is common in Korea for the higher-ranking monks to use devices such as mobile phones and computers, as it is essential for the management of temples and religious events.’ In hindsight, it is not much of a surprise to learn of this information in such a technological and business oriented society.


I returned to thoughts of the geography of Seoul and began considering how natural and urban landscapes interact in the city, and whether a culture ‘clash’ factor is similarly evident. I went to the Han River Park and hired a bicycle to peruse the surrounding area. The park is quite a wide open space, covered with fields, gardens and sporting areas, all running along the side of the Han River. Although one does feel among nature once inside the park, one can never really escape from the looming skyscrapers and apartment complexes of the city. As I sat in a garden looking at the concrete city blocks beyond, I did begin to see some beauty in what I had previously considered to be an eyesore.

Thinking back to my conversation in the Insadong teahouse, the Korean resident told me that the Seoul City planners had purposefully moulded the landscape of the city to create this balance between the old and the new. What you see here then are not the random effects of progress, but that of years of careful planning. This is utilitarianism at its most extreme, and the approach does seem to make the best of an increasingly multifaceted culture.

Having got some answers to my earlier questions, I returned my rented bicycle and was about to go home when I heard the beating of drums and the voice of native song. I went to investigate and found a party of Korean people dressed in traditional clothes, dancing and singing along to the beat of the drums. The event was in the middle of a field next to the Han River and the concrete blocks loomed, ever present, behind us. But for once, I did not try to avert my eyes. This time, the nature, the cityscape, the traditional dancing and the neon lights, all began to merge together into something far more comfortable and familiar.

Amidst the affluence of the South, I often forget that Korea is a nation divided. A trip to the demilitarised zone, which runs along the 38th parallel just north of Seoul, provides a stark reminder of this fact. But while the North tries to cope with economic crisis, South Korea is prospering. This prosperity, I am learning, is fuelled by a society that embraces technology and fosters a strong work ethic, and is simultaneously stabilised by a consideration and the preservation of heritage and traditions.

South Korea is in so many ways a changing nation and its capital city is the archetypal model. On my way home that evening, I drove next to the Han River with a new found admiration for the balance of the urban landscape of Seoul. It is something of a cultural chimera; but somehow, after a while, it does work.

 

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