nanoomi

Change is a constant theme on this blog, one that’s unavoidable when you talk about Seoul, but there are few places in the city that have undergone it quite so dramatically as Yeouido.  In the Joseon era, this island, whose name literally translates to ‘Useless,’ served as a sheep and goat pasture, and that’s pretty much how it stayed until the Japanese built the country’s first airport here in the early 1900s.  Still, it wasn’t until the ‘70s and Korea’s major industrialization that the island began its transformation into the financial and political center it is today.

This focus on finance and power has led Yeouido to sometimes be referred to as the ‘Manhattan of Seoul,’ in keeping with the unfortunate national habit of making overstretched and not very accurate comparisons (see: Jeju is the Hawaii of Korea; Garosugil is the Paris of Korea; Seoul National University is the Harvard of Korea).  Despite the rather overextended metaphor, Yeouido does exude an air of Serious Business, and its status as the country’s seat of economic power does at least mirror that of Gotham.  Hit up the neighborhood around noon on a weekday and watch the sidewalks turn into rivers of power suits.

When you step out of the subway station, the first thing you notice is, of course, the many tall office buildings, most of them covered in various hues of tinted glass – purple, cobalt, black, aquamarine.  There’s so much reflective glass in this neighborhood that if you left some kindling out on the street, sooner or later the sun would probably hit the right angle and it would catch fire.  Many of the buildings exhibit commissioned outwork out front, usually a sculpture in a style that emphasizes geometry over detail.

Yeouido isn’t all work and no play, however, as I found out via a few hours in the neighborhood on a late autumn afternoon.  The island has some of the city’s nicest green spaces, and is one of the best spots in the city for recreational biking.

Seoul initiated a public bike system just over a year ago, and although the city’s size and terrain have kept its scope relatively limited thus far, the program’s proved popular and there are plans to expand.  If you’re looking for a free ride in Yeouido, however, you’re in luck, as it’s the program’s hub.  All over the island you’ll find racks of crimson and white bikes available for public use.  They’re free for the first 30 minutes, after which you’ll have to pay a very modest fee.  Alternatively, you can purchase a one-month or six-month subscription.  More info is on the website (Korean only).

At first glance, Yeouido might seem like an odd place to set up a public bike program like this, but it’s got a few things working in its favor that made it a sensible place to start.  For starters, it’s flat, which much of Seoul is not.  The wide roads and sidewalks leave plenty of room for bikes (practically every street on Yeouido has a bike lane), and there’s a lot of parkland as well.

And those parks?  They’re good ones.  We’ll start with Yeouido Park (여의도공원) (which we also visited when we went to Yeouinaru Station), a long strip that divides the island in half, just a couple blocks from Exit 3.

Yeouido Park is divided into four sections: Traditional Korean Forest (한국전통의 숲), Grassy Field (잔다마당), the Cultural Events Plaza (문화의 마당), and Ecological Forest (자연생태의 숲), from northeast to southwest.  If you come from the station you’ll first arrive at the Cultural Events Plaza, a paved expanse dominated by an enormous taegeukki waving in the breeze.  Its edge is ringed with pickup basketball courts, most of which were being used when I passed by.  There were also fathers playing catch with sons and a pair of old ladies sharing a tandem bike.  Stands on the plaza rent out balls and rollerblades if you don’t have or don’t want to bring your own.  As its name implies, the plaza also hosts events and concerts, and on the day I was there a group of workers was setting up a stage for some type of performance.  While they worked, the enormous sound system blared out the same adult contemporary song over and over again.

South of the plaza, the Ecological Forest was peaceful, save for the Olivia Newton-John soundalike wailing through the trees.  A boardwalk loops through the trees in this section, which the signage says depicts miniature versions of a variety of eco-zones.  I came across a photo shoot taking place on one stretch of the walk, a not uncommon occurrence in the park, which is a popular place for shoots, both professional and amateur, thanks to its varied and picturesque scenery.

On the other side of the plaza, the Grassy Field is an open space of gently undulating knolls, dotted with trees.  It’s a great place for a picnic in warm weather or for playing in the snow in winter.  Like in the Ecological Forest, there’s a small pond here, overlooked by a country-style thatch-roofed pavilion.  In the northeast corner you’ll find a statue of King Sejong the Great, similar to the one in Gwanghwamun.

The Traditional Korean Forest, at the far north end, is a simple, unflashy section where walking paths wend between the trees, all of which are species native to Korea.  There’s another pond here, at the divide between the forest and the field.  It’s probably the prettiest one in the park, and as I admired it I watched four ducks paddle around and occasionally plunge into the water in search of something to eat.

The other park on Yeouido is the Yeouido Saetgang Ecological Park (여의도 샛강 생태공원), which forms the island’s southeastern border and connects with the Hangang Park to create a green loop encircling Yeouido.  A short walk from Exit 1, this is, without exaggerating, one of the nicest green spaces in Seoul.  Though it’s an engineered wetland, the sculpting is minimal and prevents the park from feeling artificial, save for a couple spots.  Even in those spots, however, I was so taken by just how damn nice the place was that I hardly cared.

Although it’s not quite big enough to get lost in – the drone of traffic is always present, often visible, and the tops of office and apartment towers hog the horizon – it’s still the most ‘natural’-feeling place that I can remember visiting in Seoul, with the possible exception of Bukhansan.  On the mountain, however, you almost always have to contend with crowds, whereas in the Ecological Park you can frequently find yourself alone on the dirt walking paths, with nothing for company but the bent willow trees and the breeze rattling dried reeds like rainsticks.

Near the entrance to the park from Exit 1 is a small stream and cascade that tumbles into a pond where two more ducks, one white, one brown, were bobbing up and down.  Above the pond is the wonderful Saetgang Bridge (샛강다리), a pedestrian span linking Yeouido with Yeongdeungpo.  This thin, curvaceous span has two triangular wings formed by cables linking diagonal poles with the walkway, making it look like a lithe metallic dragon.

Lastly, something that doesn’t really fit in anywhere else in this post because it’s just so, well, weird, but that I have to mention because, well, precisely because it’s so weird.  While I was walking down Geukjegeumyung-ro (극제금융로) from Yeouido Park back to Yeouinaru-ro (여의나루로) I walked past a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, and literally had a Wait…did I just see what I think I saw? moment.  Was there a car parked inside that Coffee Bean?  Were there four cars parked inside?  There were.  And there were people reading at tables just as natural as can be, completely indifferent to the fact that at the next table there wasn’t actually a table.  There was a car.

I looked up at the Coffee Bean sign.  A Hyundai one was right next to it.  Was it a café with a showroom in the middle of it?  Or was it a showroom surrounded by a café?  It was like one of those perceptual illusions: Is it a young woman or an old hag? A vase or two people facing each other?  The questions didn’t end there.  I get the appeal of having a coffee while you look at new cars, but why would you want to drink coffee surrounded by a bunch of mid-priced family-friendly sedans?  Wouldn’t the scent of coffee interfere with that new car smell, and vice versa?  How soon will I be able to sip on a Frappuccino while I browse whiteware?  And, most pointedly: Huh?  (To see it for yourself, go out Exit 4 and turn left on Geukjegeumyung-ro.)

Yeouido Park (여의도공원)

Exit 3

Yeouido Saetgang Ecological Park (여의도 샛강 생태공원)

Exit 1

Gimpo Airport Station presented a rather expected problem, namely, as an airport, there’s not much walking around you can do, and the local topography is limited mostly to three things: big buildings, big roads, and big parking lots.

Coming out of Exit 4, I was presented with the latter – an enormous spread of asphalt that reminded me of life back in the U.S., where some parking lots could seemingly command their own zip code.  Encircling half of the lot here was a line of taxis leading up to the Domestic Terminal (국내선터미널).  The drivers waiting their turn would stop their cars and get out and talk with their fellow drivers, and then, after several cabs at the front of the line had picked up passengers and departed, they’d all climb back in their vehicles, start them up, and move them forward about ten meters before turning them off, getting out, and starting the process all over again.

I looped around the parking lot toward the domestic terminal, finding it curious how quiet it was.  Gimpo isn’t the busiest airport in the world, but I had expected the occasional roar of an arriving or departing plane, which I wasn’t hearing.  This odd quiet held until a nearby traffic light changed from red to green and buses and cars came roaring by on the six-lane road running in front of Domestic.  Then the light changed back to red and all was quiet again.

Inside, the first floor of the domestic terminal had the slightly bored, slightly resigned feeling  that small airports often do, the knowledge that their trip is a small one and that there are more exciting places to go seeming to infect everyone there.  A drama was playing on the TVs in the waiting area, but most travelers were ignoring it, choosing instead to gaze at their smartphones or laptops.  Nearby, a trio of young guys slurped up 4,500 won ramen at the snack bar, a criminal price if ever I’ve seen one.

Upstairs to departures.  Passengers rolled luggage across the hallway; pretty flight attendants, their hair pulled severely back, quick-stepped to their planes; a Buddhist nun in gray robes checked her luggage; and police with snub-nosed guns slung over their shoulders walked casually by.  It was all getting my feet itchy, as airports always do, even if the prospective trip was only to Daegu or Jeju.

Along with the restaurants and convenience stores selling last minute supplies, the departure lounge of the domestic terminal also had an art shop selling paintings, some of them huge, and sculptures, including one of a five-foot high eagle perched on a twisted branch, wings spread out behind him.  Of course something like this can be shipped to the purchaser, but it nevertheless seemed an odd thing to pick up at an airport.

Leaving domestic, I walked past the taxi drivers trying to direct me to their cab and through the parking lot, where a worker was pushing a long chain of baggage carriers like shopping carts at a grocery store.  A pair of young kids had hopped on a couple of these, using them to get a ride from their parents.  There was also a car decorated in pink ribbons and fake plastic flowers, presumably waiting for its owners to return from their honeymoon.

From domestic I went over to Exit 3, which will drop you off just outside the giant tuna can of the new Lotte Complex, which contains the entire range of Lotte branches: department store, hotel, cinema.  It was crazy busy inside – a line for coffee at one café ran 20 deep – way more than I would have expected it to be that far out on the edge of the city; but then again, maybe that was the reason: there really isn’t anything similar in that part of town.

The complex was what you’d expect from a Lotte complex so, not really feeling the need to spend much time there and being a bit annoyed with the crowds, I headed back outside.  Fortunately for anyone feeling the same compulsion, there’s a park that runs around the back of the complex, though it’s still a work in progress.  The sodding has not fully grown in and was, at present, laid across the ground like bathroom tile, small square tufts of brown grass separated by thin lines of dirt.  Directly in back of the complex is a skating rink, though this too had not been completed.  The rink itself was covered in black plastic sheeting, and the wooden deck surrounding it was uncompleted, hundreds of screws scattered over the wooden planks.

On one side of the rink were some walking paths running between a variety of sculptures in different styles – cartoons, a large blue man and woman holding a white ball, and bronzes of kids playing leapfrog, tiptoeing across a log, and hanging on a fire hydrant.  The other side of the rink featured a windmill, a large playground, and two not-yet ponds.  One was lined with fake pink and white flamingos, its empty basin revealing the piping for what will be a rather elaborate fountain. The other was done in the style of a traditional Korean garden, complete with overlooking pavilion.  The overall effect of this mishmash is of a park designed by committee, as if the people in charge couldn’t make up their minds about anything and just said ‘yes’ to everything.

Finally, I made my way to Gimpo’s International Terminal (국제선터미널), which is closest to Exit 2, but which is reached from the station much more easily by the underground passageway.  Once South Korea’s main airport, Gimpo has of course been supplanted by Incheon, and nowadays the international terminal here handles flights only to China and Japan, the departure board listing only Osaka, Haneda, and Hongqiao as destinations on the evening I visited.  To me it actually felt quieter than the domestic terminal, perhaps because, while Gimpo is now only a secondary international terminal, its domestic terminal is still the primary one for intra-Korea flights.

In addition to the flights you can also visit the outlet mall and CGV theater connected to the terminal.  Given that the majority of arrivals here are coming from China and Japan, much of the shopping is targeted at visitors from those countries, and, accordingly, the Hallyu card is played pretty heavily.  Girls’ Generation, T-ARA, Won Bin, and the gang are splashed across large advertisements promoting both products and tourism to the overseas visitors.  In the large plaza upstairs, the corner opposite the CGV is dedicated to life-size cutouts of B2ST, G.Na, and 4 Minute, and as I was hanging out I watched a middle-aged Chinese man saunter over with his friend to pose for some stiff and very awkward looking photos with the girls.  I suppose, though, that by maintaining a dour expression he can still plausibly claim that the pics are for his kids.

Domestic Terminal (국내선터미널)

Exit 4

Lotte Complex and Park

Exit 3

International Terminal (국제선터미널)

Exit 2 or underground passage

There are some neighborhoods in Seoul that have their own distinct character or spirit.  Then there are neighborhoods like Chungjeongno that don’t feel quite like their own place but rather sponge up elements of the neighborhoods around them.  West of the station, you quickly find yourself on the edge of Ahyeon’s large furniture market; to the east are new office and apartment towers that spill over from Seodaemun and downtown’s western edge; southeast you run into the homeless and eccentricities that tends to wash up around Seoul Station; and the lower-class neighborhoods of Aeogae’s northern end extend into Chungjeongno’s southwestern reaches. Read the full story

If someone were to blindfold you and then drop you off at the intersection above Gongdeok Station, you could be forgiven for thinking you were in Gangnam and not Mapo-gu.  The neighborhood is starkly different from the much more modest nearby areas of Aeogae and Daeheung – massively more developed, a forest of brand new steel and glass towers with streams of heavy traffic moving along the wide avenues below them.  It’s clear that Gongdeok has seen a lot of change, and seen it fast, and having recently been linked to the AREX line that runs from Seoul Station to Incheon Airport, it’s likely to see more.

The AREX expansion is still new enough that the entrances accessing it and the surrounding plaza haven’t yet been completed, as I saw after stepping out of Exit 8, where white metal fencing and piles of dirt show signs of a work still in progress.  Just past those, however, things is the spic and span, Mapo-ro (마포로) lined with sparkling new buildings housing banks, restaurants, and cafes on their first floors.  It’s more of the same along Baekbeom-ro (백범로) from Exit 7: tall modern structures, in front of several of which are the sorts of sculptures commissioned by corporate groups.  There’s a big blue man like glued together lollipops holding a glowing white orb, and metal stick figures running up a silver arc towards vertical.

In the area framed by these two avenues the neighborhood lets its hair down a bit, and a number of restaurants, bars, and small shops sit invitingly on some small streets paved with stone.

Kiddy-corner from that, I found things to be exceptionally residential.  Just outside of Exit 2 is the tower of the Lotte City Hotel, sequined eggs out front, and behind it, via Exit 2 or 3, the neighborhood is 100% apartment towers and their trappings: convenience stores, bakeries, real estate offices, and a few hagwons.

But if there’s one thing that residents of Seoul have come to know it’s that not even the most modern and sterile neighborhoods are without their traces of grime or stubborn remainders from a rougher and not all that remote past.

Take a bus (or a walk) along Sogang-ro (서강로) west of the station on any given night, and you’ll see a sidewalk flooded in a pulp magazine shade of pink where a strip of hostess bars line up, especially on the south side of the avenue, nearest Exit 1.  I’d seen these several times before, but always from late night bus windows; this was the first time I’d walked past them.  Up close, they seemed curiously shrunken, as if employees and clients alike were two-thirds size.  The front of each establishment was only about three meters wide, and the doors were exactly my height or an inch or two shorter.  Most of them had peepholes.  Facades were usually painted in one solid color, doors in another, and almost all of the establishments used an old-fashioned font resembling hand-drawn brushstrokes on their signs.  It almost goes without saying that none of the bars had windows.

The hostess bars front a thin strip, a half block wide, of old, slightly beat-up, tile-roofed buildings that reminded me of similar scenes I’ve come across in the more industrial parts of Yeongdeungpo and elsewhere.  Where was the money that was so proudly on display elsewhere around Gongdeok?

Compounding the incongruity was the fact that just behind this humble row a new park was going in.  It was just a thin strip of concrete walking path between saplings, but I’d seen something similar near Daeheung Station, and my guess was that the two, and possibly more, would connect in a ribbon of park running above the extension of the Jungang Line, going in underground.  Much development is left, however – dump trucks sat around idly and the exercise equipment placed at a bulge in the walking path was still wrapped in protective blue plastic.

For a bigger look at what Gongdeok was probably like a few years ago, pop out Exit 5 and head to Gongdeok Market (공덕시장) by heading straight on Mallijae-gil (만리재길) and veering to the left onto Mallijaeyet-gil (만리재옛길).  A block up on the left is the market, as old school as you like.  Its main alley runs parallel to the street, squeezed between two old three-story brick buildings that have tufts of grass and weeds growing out of cracks in their sides and roofs.

Along the outside alley were vegetable sellers and piles of shoes and butchers whose cuts of meat were illuminated with the same pink lights as the hostess bars a couple blocks away.  The market continued in dimly lit stalls occupying the first floor of the building between the alley and Mallijaeyet-gil, a low-roofed, cramped place that brought to mind Guro Market (구로시장) near Namguro Station.  Many of the stalls were closed on a Sunday, but some potent-smelling lunch booths were open and manned by wizened ajummas, though at least one of them had snuck away to a noraebang, judging by the wail pouring from a second-story window.

I’d heard of the Gongdeok neighborhood being well-known for a couple of foods, so one of my main goals on this visit was to try them out.  Fortunately for the serial-eater, the places for both of these are right next to each other, occupying the outer edge of the market and are the first and second things you see on your way there from the station.

As soon as you arrive at the market you’ll notice several signs advertising places for jokbal (족발), or pork trotters.  The most prominent of these, and the one my companion and I ate at, is Gungjung Jokbal (궁중족발), which doesn’t appear all that big from the street, but once you step inside the market alley reveals itself to be spread over about a half-dozen rooms, as if it’s metastasized.  Every single one of these was boisterous and packed when I visited, as any good jokbal place should be.  Jokbal is maybe one of the world’s least pretentious eating experiences, and every time I have it I feel as if I really should have just finished working at the docks and should now be telling loud off-color jokes.  My longshoreman fantasy was graciously aided by the fact that a minute after we were seated two guys pulled up chairs at the table next to us, one of whom had the most beautiful Korean mullet I’d ever seen.  Less than ten minutes later they were already on their second bottle of soju.  Keep up the good work, men.

Gungjung Jokbal’s popularity probably owed quite a bit to its generosity.  Along with a liberal portion of jokbal, the joint provides both a plate of sundae (순대) (blood sausage) and sundae-guk (순대국) (sundae soup) free of charge.  This sounds wonderful in the abstract, but in practice, splitting all that nasty bit pork between two people can feel like you’re eating your way towards your own death.  My advice?  Don’t go with less than four people.  Which is not to say that it wasn’t all delicious.  It was.  I was just ready to sign myself into the nearest cardiac hospital by the time I was done.

Slightly less heart attack-inducing is what’s referred to as Twikim Alley, just next to the jokbal places.  First of all, this is a total misnomer.  This isn’t a row of restaurants specializing in one food, like Tteokbokki Town in Sindang or the bindaetteok stalls in Gwangjang Market in Jongno-5-ga.  It’s two big twikim restaurants next to each other, though prices here are a bit cheaper than in other parts of town.

The two restaurants, Cheonghakdong (청학동) and Mapo Grandma Bindaetteok (마포할머니빈대떡) sit on either side of a market alley and are each fronted by a long table piled with dozens of varieties of twikim, battered and fried snacks similar to tempura.  There are the standard varieties you see at any old tent restaurant – vegetable, potato, squid – but also more exotic fare like hot peppers, sesame leaves, and octopus rings…just about anything you could batter and deep fry.  The selection did not, however, extend to deep-fried Oreos or butter.  America – still undisputed deep-frying champion.  U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

Like Gungjung, Grandma’s spreads out through a warren of first floor rooms, but Cheonghakdong, where we ate, mostly takes up a large second floor dining room.  After loading up a tray Dunkin’ Donuts-style we handed it over to the woman working there and went upstairs to sit down while our twikim was fried up.

When our food came, along with a grease-splattered receipt, it was served with dongchimi (동치미), a light, slightly sour soup; two kinds of kimchi for cutting through the grease; and soy sauce with slices of onions for dipping the twikim in.  Comforting, filling, and warm.  Order up a bottle of makkeolli and you’ve got all you need to get yourself through the winter.

Gongdeok Market (공덕시장)

Exit 5

Straight on Mallijae-gil (만리재길) to Mallijaeyet-gil (만리재옛길)

Gungjung Jokbal (궁중족발)

Exit 5

In Gongdeok Market

02) 718-7087

Cheonghakdong (청학동)

Exit 5

In Gongdeok Market

02) 706-0603

Mapo Grandma Bindaetteok (마포할머니빈대떡)

Exit 5

In Gongdeok Market

www.빈대떡.net

02) 715-3775

Gongdeok Station in the west of Seoul links lines No. 5 and 6 but will soon become yet another major hub which connects with 4 different lines. As you may have noticed on some subway maps, Gongdeok is to link up with the airport railroad in the near future. While no exact date has been given, it is expected to open sometime at the end of this year.

Additionally, the Gyeongeui Line is to start running through Gongdeok as it follows its new permanent route down to Yongsan Station. This will provide direct access to the Gyeongeui line from Line No. 5. Look out for an upcoming post about the Gyeongeui Line’s terminus station change and plans for it to be directly connected to the Airport Railroad.

Once completed, Gongdeok Station is expected to look something like this. Read the full story

Seoul Sub→urban would like to thank Meagan Mastriani for inviting us to and showing me around her work neighborhood of Wangsimni.  Meagan writes about food, mostly, and you can check out her take on the local dining scene at her column, Savoring Seoul, in the online magazine Honest Cooking.

I met Meagan on a recent Sunday outside Exit 9 and, being a bit of a foodie, naturally one of the first places she took me was to a small bakery, Bonnie’s kitchen (바니스), that specializes in cakes and cupcakes.

Hanging a U-turn from the exit and then a right on Wangsimni-gil (왕십리길) brought us to the bakery, which looks like the manifestation of a very domestically-minded eight-year old girl’s fantasy: the interior is all whites and pastel pinks, and is decorated with paper chain ponies.  Cakes on display in the window ranged from one decorated with the nearby Hanyang University insignia to one topped with a Barbie doll to one bearing the goggled visage of Pororo.  Unfortunately the bakery was closed so I couldn’t sample the goods, but Meagan vouches for their deliciousness.

If your interest in cupcakes is as constructive as it is destructive, Bonnie’s also offers baking classes.  Your Korean need not be impeccable either, as Bonnie spent time living in New York, where she learned how to bake, and speaks excellent English.

Update from Liz: When I stopped by, Bonnie’s Kitchen was open!  Bonnie, who prefers to go by her Korean name, Seo-Young, is super nice and informed me that the kitchen no longer sells cupcakes on the go. You can call and pre-order a minimum order of six cupcakes. She was surprised Seoul Sub→urban was interested in her store, but appreciated the opportunity and voiced her apologies that she no longer sold cupcakes on the fly to the foreigners who used to stop by frequently. We chatted for a little bit while I admired her handiwork and assured her I would be linking her adorable bakery up to our post.  For information on how to order her adorable cupcakes or sign up for a cooking class, please visit Bonnie’s Kitchen Blog.

On your way to the bakery you’ll pass the Seongdong Culture Hall (성동문화회관) and the Soweol Art Hall (소월아트홀), but the real attraction is just outside, in the adjacent park where, at all hours of the day, you’ll find old men gathered to play baduk (바둑), the Korean version of Go, and janggi (장기), a Korean version of chess derived from the Chinese Xiangqi. It’s strictly an old boys club, but the dress code is relaxed, ranging from suits to utility jackets.  The men congregate around park benches in groups of three or four or half a dozen, but there’s very little chatter.  Almost to a man they’re focused on the games, and the most prominent sound in the park is left to the gentle clicking of stone on wooden board.

By far the most dominant feature of the Wangsimni area is the enormous Bit Plaza (비트프라자) complex at the east end of the station, and it’s easy to get your bearings from anywhere in the vicinity by looking for the huge tower with the mother-of-pearl-esque sheen on it.  The complex covers a large area and different parts are accessible from different ways, so we’ll break things down by their nearest exit.

In front of the complex proper is a bifurcated plaza, and as you come out of Exit 4, directly across the small access road is a bust of 김소월 (Kim So-Weol), which was the pen name of 김정식 (Kim Jeong-Shik), one of early modern Korea’s greatest and most influential poets.  Kim died by his own hand in 1934 at the young age of 32, having published only one book, Azaleas, when he was 25.  His poem entitled ‘Wangsimni’ is engraved on a stone slab next to the bust.  For a bit more on Kim’s life, you might want to read this short piece in the Korea Times by the always excellent Andrei Lankov.

Behind the memorial is a small black and gold clock tower called the Lover’s Clock, which was erected to commemorate Seongdong-gu’s sister city relationship with Cobb County, Georgia, the placement of the apostrophe suggesting that it’s a rather one-sided relationship.  On the same side of the plaza and just in front of the complex is the 빛-물-바람의 길 or 걷고싶은 비트거리 (Road of Light, Water, and Wind or Bit Street That You Want to Walk), depending on which sign you refer to.  Just in front of Exit 6-1, it’s a small pathway behind a waterfall sculpture where water tumbles over staircase-like green glass slats.  Much better as an art installation than someplace you can actually take a stroll.

Behind Exit 4 or just around from Exit 5 the other half of the plaza features a dancing fountain, where about ten kids were taking advantage of one of the last days that was warm enough for splashing, and behind that is a mural wall with one of those rather cheesy sets of painted angel wings for trick photography that seem to be popping up everywhere in Seoul these days.

Both Exit 5 and 6-1 put you right in front of Bit Plaza, near where there was some kind of car promotion going on and people sifted through bins of discount jeans on the day I visited, but Exit 12 connects directly into the middle of the complex.

Bit Plaza has a huge E-Mart and several floors of everything you’d expect at a big Seoul shopping complex: phone shops, cosmetics boutiques, salons, candy shops, shoe stores, Vietnamese noodle restaurants…  The fourth floor has a pretty wide ranging food court – bagels, sushi, hamburgers – and the fifth floor is home to both an indoor waterpark and the CGV with Korea’s largest Imax screen.

On the fourth and fifth floors you also have access to outdoor plazas looking west, from which you can see N Seoul Tower and Doota in Dongdaemun popping up above the apartment complexes.

A sign near the elevators advertised the Sky Plaza on the 15^th, 16^th, and 17^th floors, but when we tried to go up the lift wouldn’t take us any higher than the 9^th.  An attempt to sneak onto the service elevator was also unsuccessful, as the up button from the ninth floor did nothing.

So what’s on the ninth floor if you get stuck there in your attempts to sneak upstairs?  That would be the Golf Dome, a four story (6^th, 7^th, 8^th, 9^th) driving range that’s also part of the complex.  If you haven’t been, hanging out in one of these indoor driving ranges for a few minutes can be a pretty Zen experience.  Almost no one talks, directing all of their focus to the small white orb set between their slightly more than shoulder width feet.  There are barely perceptible rushes as clubs split the air, and an almost regular and gentle tick…tick as clubs meet balls, like the dripping of a water clock.

Connected to the main part of the Bit Plaza complex, near Exits 5 and 6-1, is the Enter 6 Fashion Square, a clothing mall with a rather odd Renaissance-y, medieval-y theme.  The merchandise is decidedly 21^st Century – Nike, Converse, Basic House – but the décor is a mashup of Italian Renaissance, Arthurian and Victorian England, and just anything that looks old and European really.  A central atrium holds a red-lit fountain of four topless maidens, around which runs a wall with Renaissance-esque paintings, and a random bust placed next to the Starbucks sign.  There were also several people in costume: a girl in a dress that made her look like Little Bo Peep, a guy who was supposed to be a court jester but looked more like a circus clown, and a woman in a red gown with white ruffles who turned back and forth like a robot mime.  And, of course, the big screen above them played K-pop videos.

Behind Bit Plaza, via Exit 6, is an area of small streets filled with restaurants, bars, convenience stores, DVD rooms, and lots ofgoshiwons (고시원) and goshitels (고시텔) (small rooms, about three square meters, that students often rent); in short, everything a college student could want.  Nearby is Hanyang University (한양대학교) and this little nook is a lively nightlife area, alive in the evenings with students blowing off steam.

Walk straight back from the exit and from Bit Plaza and you’ll come to Majang-ro (마장로) where, near the intersection with Wangsimni-gil, there is a buzzing arcade filled with video games, Dance Dance Revolution, and a singing booth where you can record yourself onto CD.  There’s also a line of punching and soccer ball kicking games lined up outside if you need to take out your aggression on something.  Idiosyncratically, you’ll also find a small market tucked in the middle of the area.  No more than a dozen stalls, it’s an island of seniors in the sea of twenty-somethings around it.

If all goes well and your score on the punching game or dexterity with the crane is sufficiently impressive, you may then wish to avail yourself of the strip of love motels near Exit 1.  Take the first right, on Wangsimni-ro-20-gil (왕십리로20길), and pick your pleasure.  Just don’t answer the phone if mom calls.

Bonnie’s kitchen (바니스)

Exit 9

U-turn, south on Wangsimni-gil (왕십리길)

070-4135-0030

www.bonnieskitchen.co.kr

Seongdong Culture Hall (성동문화회관)

Exit 9

U-turn, south on Wangsimni-gil (왕십리길)

Bit Plaza (비트프라자)

Exits 4, 5, 6, 6-1, 12, 13

Enter 6 Fashion Square

Exits 5 and 6-1

Hanyang University nightlife area

Exit 6

Love Motels

Exit 1

Right on Wangsimni-ro-20-gil (왕십리로20길)

Despite sitting near the heart of downtown, the area around Euljiro-4-ga Station remains off the radar for most.  Surrounded by Jongno, Myeongdong, and Dongdaemun, it suffers a bit from Bermuda Triangle syndrome, disappearing amid the attractions of its more well-known neighbors.  But there are plenty of reasons to get off the subway here and explore, from specialty shopping streets to Ojang-dong’s naengmyeon restaurants to a stroll along the Cheonggye Stream, Seoul’s favorite urban oasis.

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For our most recent trip we hoofed it about as far as we could hoof it from our respective neighborhoods, to the far southeastern reaches of the city, beyond the Seoul Ring Expressway (서울외곽순환고속도로) even, to Geoyeo Station.

The holiday season had begun to permeate even this corner of the city, and several of the businesses around the large intersection of Ogeum-ro (오금로) and Geoma-ro (거마로) had put up decorations in their display windows.  We began our visit by heading south from Exit 7 on the latter, which, south of the station, is renamed Yangsan-ro (양산로).  This took us past a small junk and recycling yard, where a couple of men sorted through the piles of random metal scraps, old signs, and bags of cans while nearby some two-wheeled carts rested, tilted up on their sides.

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Built to house a number of the facilities that were constructed for the 1988 Summer Olympics, Olympic Park is serviced by three metro stations: Gangdong-gu Office (강동구청역) in the north, Mongchontoseong (몽촌토성역) in the west, and the station we most recently visited, Olympic Park (올림픽공원역) in the east.  Besides hosting a number of Olympic facilities, the park is also home to a manmade lake, large park areas, the SOMA art museum, and Mongchon Fortress, all of which we’ll cover at a later date, as those are more accessible from the Gangdong-gu and Mongchontoseong stops.

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