Ageless tradition of Seomun Market
I like browsing through markets if I have time, preferably the old traditional Seomun Market in Daegu. I’m pretty familiar with it because I grew up in the residential area which was only a block away. The market is one of the country’s three largest conventional markets established in the 1920s.
Although the majority of dealings are conducted in the open air, most of the shops are in rows of buildings that hold thousands of individual shops. The Seomun market is particularly known as a source of textiles for Daegu’s thriving fashion industry. Side streets in the market area also feature a large number of indoor and outdoor stalls, selling fruit, fish, and vegetables, and there is a traditional food court. This is where I usually find the year’s first fruits and vegetables and become aware of the subtle shifting of the seasons.
Compared to the showy, fashionable malls or department stores downtown, I like the folksy and relaxed atmosphere of the conventional market. It's much cheaper here and the prices still come down after a little negotiation. I always buy my jackets here for half of the price they would charge me at the department store. While enjoying a huge variety of goods, I can perceive the human endeavor for existence — the bustling crowds of shoppers and merchants and their serious and often amusing activities as they go about their business.
In my parents’ generation when radios and televisions were not available, I learned from them that hanging out in the market, regardless of whether they had business or not, was one of the favorite pastimes for many adults. For them, it was like going on an outing or a picnic. Wearing hanbok tidily and men’s headgear for "yangban" (a noble man), some walked miles to come to the market, which was opened every five or seven days. They strolled about leisurely to explore the market, meeting and speaking with people and sampling some delicious foods with rice wine. By socializing with people from different regions of the country, they could hear from them how the crops and prices of farm produce were in the previous year.
In this huge traditional market, sales are promoted not only by qualities but also by sounds, smells and performances. In the middle of a busy clothing section, an excited dancing performance was in progress. Standing in the heaps of clothes piled on a makeshift platform, a man was dancing energetically, clapping and stomping on the wooden floor to attract buyers. He was hawking to sell women’s sweaters and blouses. His rhythmic and comical act had already gathered a horde of buyers around him, each vying to find something to make some good use of them.
A block away from the dancing performance, there is a cluster of eateries lined up along the pedestrian alley. Hot steam rose from pots and pans cooking traditional dishes such as japchae, kimchijigae, gimbab, noodles and many other Korean delicacies. They were served for only 2,000 to 3,000 won per person, only a half of what was normally charged at a regular restaurant. Men and women in suits and working clothes and even foreigners were seen enjoying the Korean traditional dishes. I often ate there when I was hungry, either noodles or pumpkin porridge with red beans and lots of pastry flakes.
If you hang around in the market long enough, you can’t miss the affecting sight of a poor legless peddler. Wrapped in pieces of rubber from the waist down, he crawls along the icy pavement, pushing his little cart which was carrying some household goods to sell such as hairbrushes, needles, spools of thread and mothballs. The sad music that comes from within the cart doesn’t seem to draw much attention now. Some quickly turn away from him as if they have seen enough of him or have helped him once before. Others just rush off for their business as though he’s only a nuisance on the narrow path. I bought a skein of black thread this time with profuse thanks.
Yi Woo-won (yiwoowon1988@gmail.com) lives in Waegwan, North Gyeongsang Province, and has been writing since 1986.