If I were going to make a list of adjectives to describe myself, ’sentimental’ would not be among them. Once upon a time, when I was younger, it would have been. But after years of living in a foreign country as an expat, being away from everything I knew and loved back home and watching new friends come and go on a regular basis, I’ve found that there’s just no time for sentimentality. Anyone with a sentimental nature wouldn’t make it very long as an expat.
That’s not to say that I’m not fond of my memories, or that I never take time out to think about days gone by and friends long gone. In fact, the neighborhood in which I currently live is packed with memories for me. My first house in Seoul was just a block away from where I am now. I lived there with a girlfriend after I left the Army, during the middle phase of our three-year relationship. The house burned down and we lost everything. We were fortunate to be out at the time, but the landlord’s son died in the fire. When I walk through the neighborhood and the surrounding areas, I often think of my ex, that house, and the boy who died.
Last Friday, I went hiking with my sister-in-law’s husband. Since we’re both trying to get back in shape, we’ve decided to go hiking once per week. This time, we went to Dobong mountain, which is located just north of Seoul and south of Uijongbu. When we left, I decided to hop on the subway and head further north to a small town called Dongducheon before going back to Seoul.
When I first came to Korea 16 years ago as a U.S. soldier, I found myself stationed at Camp Casey in Dongducheon. I had such a good time that when my one year tour of duty was coming to a close I requested, and was granted, a voluntary extension for another year. Dongducheon, or TDC as we called it (it was frequently spelled as ‘Tongducheon’), was like a miniature paradise for young soldiers away from home for the first time. If my unit wasn’t out in the field, or if we all weren’t locked down on the base, you would find me out in TDC each and every night. I lived in the bars across the railroad tracks. My friends called me ‘The Mayor of TDC’, a title given to anyone who spent most of their time in the bars. I certainly made a great many memories there.
Back then, the subway didn’t extend to TDC. To get back and forth between TDC and Seoul, most soldiers and government employees would either take a bus (operated by a local contractor, several of which run amongst most of the U.S. Army bases in Korea) or drive. Most soldiers north of Seoul were not authorized to have a car, so it was the bus for them. For the adventurous, there were also buses off-base, but the better option was the train.
There were two train stations in TDC, one downtown and one on the northern edge directly across the street from Camp Casey’s gate #2. At either, you could catch a train to Uijongbu for 700 won or so (just under one U.S. dollar at the time). The trains were old and lacked air conditioners, with fans hanging at either end of each car. In the spring and summer, I usually spent the trip between cars, hanging out of the open door with the wind in my face. Uijongbu station, a 30 minute ride away, was the last stop to the south. There, you could pay 600 won for a subway ticket on the number one line. There were four lines at the time. Now there are eight.
Now that subway line one has been extended, it stretches one stop north of TDC to Soyo mountain. The two train stations in TDC have been modernized and are used as subway stations, but there is one more positioned between them. This stop opens up onto what used to be a little-used street behind the bars across from Camp Casey’s gate #1, where I used to hang out every night. As I stepped out of the station, two things hit me. First, TDC still smells the same. I can’t describe it very well. It’s not bad, just somewhat unique (though many small towns in Korea have a similar smell). The second thing that hit me was that the place looks very different.
Beyond the bar strip, next to the river, is a highway. That’s actually been there since shortly after I left TDC and I had seen it before on my last visit 10 years ago. But it’s still something that seems out of place. The train tracks that divided TDC’s main road an the bar strip are gone. The subway is elevated, running along the same route. But now you can move freely between the bar strip and the main road in several places, where before the only way to get between them was at one of two railroad crossings. Buildings which used to line a small side alley, where some popular bars were located, are all gone. They have been replaced by a small park. Another building which used to sit in front of the central railroad crossing on the side of the main road, where a sleazy bar called New House had its front door in the building’s backside, has been replaced by a parking lot. Semi-permanent booths line the bar strip in this section, where there used to be carts set up along the railroad fence. Further down, where the strip veers away from the railroad tracks and has buildings on both sides, nothing has changed in the layout, but it still seems foreign to me.
The last time I visited, my old haunts were still all there. The place looked much the same. Many bar owners I had known, and even some of the ‘employees’, were still around. It was great catching up with them. Now, I knew no one. I saw only a handful of bars that still had the same name, but none of them had the same owner. There were several bars where before there had been none. Most of the ones I remember now have new names and, in some cases, have been remodeled, though many looked exactly the same. One place I visited even had the same paintings hanging around the pool tables, which were all still in the same position. Where there used to be Korean ‘hostesses’, there are now Phillipinas. I heard there were Russian women working there before. In one bar I stepped into, located where there once was a small mom-and-pop store, I found a Russian bartender. She has lived in TDC for seven years. She filled me in on some of the more recent changes. For example, the sleazy bar I mentioned above, where the parking lot is now, is gone because it burned down five years ago.
In my memory, TDC has always felt like an old hometown. Many of my friends there, both Korean and American, were like family. While I lived there, Korea was still new to me and I was still quite young, so everything was exciting. That’s probably why my memories of TDC are sharper, more vivid, and have more meaning than those I have in Seoul. I’m not much for sentiment, but I admit to feeling disappointed, and even sad, to see how much TDC has changed. It was my special place, but now I don’t recognize it. Each time I visit my real hometown, in the suburbs of Atlanta, I find that something has changed. I’ve gotten lost several times where I once wouldn’t have. Whole neighborhoods have vanished, while others have sprung up where once there were fields or forest. But I never really felt sad about the changes back home. Seeing TDC on Friday, I couldn’t help but suffer from a bout of sentimentality.
Such is life. People and places change as time marches on. Dwelling on what once was is bittersweet and, really, not very productive. But sometimes it can’t be helped. I remember that I borrowed a friend’s camcorder one night while I was there. It was a slow night, as I recall, with very few people on the streets. I walked along the bar strip, trying to take everything in: the bars, the shops, the hot dog carts. I was going to send the tape home so my family could see what I saw. But before I could, someone else inadvertently recorded over it. I never made another. Now, I wish I had. That magical place I knew and loved is gone.
Post a Comment