By Shin Hye-suk
Unlike in previous years, this year’s Lunar New Year fell in January, aligning more closely with the solar calendar. Despite the extended holiday, I opted to take the KTX train to my hometown in Sejong City instead of driving, concerned about potential traffic congestion. The journey took a mere 43 minutes from Seoul Railroad Station — so brief that I found myself wishing for a longer ride to savor the moment.
I often reflect on how different travel was for my late father, a man of keen intellect. Born in 1934, he endured long, rattling train rides — about two hours each way on a slow train — to attend university in Seoul in the early 1950s. Back then, an endless stretch of mountains and fields created a mesmerizing landscape.
What thoughts occupied his mind during those four years of daily commutes? Now that he has passed away, I deeply regret not being able to hear more of his reflections from that time.
Sejong, Korea's administrative capital, has undergone a dramatic transformation. Recently designated as an industrial research complex, it now hosts leading enterprises such as Hitejinrobeverage, SinSin Pharm, Kolmar Korea and the nation's largest warehouse of Daiso. It reminds me of how Seoul’s bustling Gangnam District was once nothing more than rice fields and peach orchards. This rapid transformation, driven by economic progress, is undoubtedly beneficial for the nation and its people. However, amid the tide of development, I find myself drawn to the enduring elements of tradition.
One of my most delightful discoveries was "Gwanunjeong," an archery range near my grandparents’ graves in Sejong. Archery, a cherished hobby I practice at "Seokhojeong" in Namsan, Seoul, now, coincidentally, connects me to my hometown.
Visiting my ancestors' graves and engaging in a practice that strengthens both body and mind was truly heartwarming. Balancing tradition with development is vital.
Another significant discovery was a plot of land still registered under my father’s ownership. Some advised me to sell it, as the area is slated for major development, including corporate buildings and public facilities. Yet, my heart envisions something different — a small, serene cottage surrounded by flowers and trees of my choosing. A place where I can retreat from time to time, honoring my parents’ memory in peace. Rather than a mere financial asset, this land represents a connection to my roots — a sanctuary where past and present can coexist harmoniously.
As I reflect on these changes, I am reminded that progress and tradition need not be at odds. While cities expand and industries rise, my heart still longs for a place to call home — not just in the physical sense, but in the spiritual and emotional realm as well. And for me, that home remains where my ancestors rest, where tradition lives on, and where I can still find a piece of myself in my ever-evolving hometown.
Shin Hye-suk ([email protected]), who also goes by Shindy, completed a doctorate in sociology and has devoted two decades of her life to academic pursuits at a university in Japan. She is also a florist and has served as president of the Rotary International Seoul Club Korea.
English (United States) ·