So I'm in Korea now. It's been a truly delightful trip so far and I'm enjoying myself thoroughly. One of the highlights thus far has been spending a little time with my wife's sister's son Hyeonsoo. He's a great kid (he's 18 - the same age as my son) and he was a good sport to spend some time with his oddball uncle from the States.
He was willing to go with me to one of my old mission areas - the first I'd been to when I got to Korea, actually - and walk around. Sure, it didn't mean much to him, but we walked around and looked at things that he had no reason to have any interest in. Like I said - he was a good sport. :)
When we were walking around where my first little apartment was, I asked him what he preferred - a high-rise apartment, or one of these low-rise condo or "villa" type apartments. See, in Korea there are several types of apartments, ranging from skyscraper types that are tens of stories high, to those which are four stories or less (they can avoid installing an elevator if they're four stories or fewer), to these buildings they call "villas" which feel more like large residences that have been separated out into small apartments. Perhaps that's how the style got started... I have been in several houses like this where it was just the house without being chopped up, and these folks were very wealthy indeed or had inherited the space. One of the defining characteristics of these "villas" is the inclusion of a small yard of some sort - usually not much more than 50-100 square feet, and often filled with concrete, but still there. This is considered a fairly good luxury - it's valuable space that is taken up by flowers or plants or something. And it's probably taxed at a much higher rate, which is why it's so rare.
So when I asked Hyeonsoo what his preference was, I was very interested to hear his response. He said he preferred this "villa" type structure. When I asked him why that was the case, he said it's because there was no "정" (jeong) in sky rise apartment complex. That each concrete block was almost exactly the same, and certainly each apartment in the complex was the same.
But the word jeong is what captured my attention. When I was a missionary trying to learn the word "jeong", I came to understand that it was a very complex word, one with many meanings and layers of implication. On one level, it simply means "affection" or "friendliness". But it goes much deeper than that. It implies a certain duty to one another, a responsibility that we all share as human beings to one another. And it means a kind of brotherly love, one that motivates and temporizes our actions, feelings, and attitudes towards one another. Each person has varying levels of this jeong, that move from quite apparent and overarching, to the quiet actions and attitudes of a neighbor towards their neighbors... Which could mean anything from the subtle head bow, nodding to the great and wonderful inside each other, to the tidying up of the parking area or stairwell when it gets dirty. This jeong suffuses this society and is key to how amazing this place is.
So when he said that there's more "jeong" in these "villa" neighborhoods, he was saying something profound and quite nuanced. It was lovely. And I think he was right on. Apartment complexes have to try much harder to break out of the cold, sterile antipathy that seems to permeate these little enclaves. If you live in an anonymous place of rigid regularity and antiseptic distances - both literally and figuratively - you have to work very hard to feel any kind of connection to a place or the people who live literally inches away from you. And I think that's hard on a society, on a people. I understand that it's necessary in order to have some semblance of peace in a world that is so crowded. But without the connections that make us people, that bind us together as fellow travelers, and that help a society overcome the individual and selfish pursuits that could form like a rot in the core of a mighty tree, we lose our sense of being a part of something amazing.
He was willing to go with me to one of my old mission areas - the first I'd been to when I got to Korea, actually - and walk around. Sure, it didn't mean much to him, but we walked around and looked at things that he had no reason to have any interest in. Like I said - he was a good sport. :)
When we were walking around where my first little apartment was, I asked him what he preferred - a high-rise apartment, or one of these low-rise condo or "villa" type apartments. See, in Korea there are several types of apartments, ranging from skyscraper types that are tens of stories high, to those which are four stories or less (they can avoid installing an elevator if they're four stories or fewer), to these buildings they call "villas" which feel more like large residences that have been separated out into small apartments. Perhaps that's how the style got started... I have been in several houses like this where it was just the house without being chopped up, and these folks were very wealthy indeed or had inherited the space. One of the defining characteristics of these "villas" is the inclusion of a small yard of some sort - usually not much more than 50-100 square feet, and often filled with concrete, but still there. This is considered a fairly good luxury - it's valuable space that is taken up by flowers or plants or something. And it's probably taxed at a much higher rate, which is why it's so rare.
So when I asked Hyeonsoo what his preference was, I was very interested to hear his response. He said he preferred this "villa" type structure. When I asked him why that was the case, he said it's because there was no "정" (jeong) in sky rise apartment complex. That each concrete block was almost exactly the same, and certainly each apartment in the complex was the same.
But the word jeong is what captured my attention. When I was a missionary trying to learn the word "jeong", I came to understand that it was a very complex word, one with many meanings and layers of implication. On one level, it simply means "affection" or "friendliness". But it goes much deeper than that. It implies a certain duty to one another, a responsibility that we all share as human beings to one another. And it means a kind of brotherly love, one that motivates and temporizes our actions, feelings, and attitudes towards one another. Each person has varying levels of this jeong, that move from quite apparent and overarching, to the quiet actions and attitudes of a neighbor towards their neighbors... Which could mean anything from the subtle head bow, nodding to the great and wonderful inside each other, to the tidying up of the parking area or stairwell when it gets dirty. This jeong suffuses this society and is key to how amazing this place is.
So when he said that there's more "jeong" in these "villa" neighborhoods, he was saying something profound and quite nuanced. It was lovely. And I think he was right on. Apartment complexes have to try much harder to break out of the cold, sterile antipathy that seems to permeate these little enclaves. If you live in an anonymous place of rigid regularity and antiseptic distances - both literally and figuratively - you have to work very hard to feel any kind of connection to a place or the people who live literally inches away from you. And I think that's hard on a society, on a people. I understand that it's necessary in order to have some semblance of peace in a world that is so crowded. But without the connections that make us people, that bind us together as fellow travelers, and that help a society overcome the individual and selfish pursuits that could form like a rot in the core of a mighty tree, we lose our sense of being a part of something amazing.
Comments