Return to Nature
Late Life Blooms As Urbanites Retire to the Countryside
By Lee Hyo-won
Staff Reporter
ICHEON ― Small fenced cottages nestle on an isolated hillside, ranging from traditional ``hwangto'' (red mud) and tile-roofed hoses to petite Western Alps-inspired chalets. Each dwelling has a large yard sprouting greens.
During the past few decades, Koreans were focused on rapid economic development, and the metropolis was the ultimate destination for success. But in recent years, many of the retiring generation, the very people who helped build Korea from being one of the world's poorest nations to its 13th largest economy, are returning to the countryside. Some are going back to rural homes in Gangwon Province but others, many being Seoul natives, are paving a niche for themselves on the outskirts of the city.
In hilly Yongmyeong-li, Sindun-myeon in Icheon, Gyeonggi Province, a little over a dozen families have settled down. The abandoned farmlands are now home to Kim Dae-hee, a master pottery maker, and the former heads of a construction company and travel agency as well as ex-civil servants. After a lifetime of toiling in the big city, these men and their wives, mostly in their 60s, find comfort in living the simple life.
``The desire to return to nature is human instinct,'' said Lee Deok-am, a 63-year-old doctor who worked in Seoul for over 30 years. Not yet retired, he makes the 40-minute drive to his ``haven'' every weekend. Unlike other residents, his small plot of land is farming friendly but he has yet to construct a dwelling. He sleeps and eats in a small container equipped with a kitchenette, single room with floor heating and small bathroom.
``The average retirement age is 65, and your memory and ability to judge start failing you. Leading an active social life also becomes enervating. (Returning to nature) is about discovering myself. I gaze at the sky and stars. It's conversing with nature,'' he said. He wishes to build a hanok, or traditional Korean house here in the near future.
The Korea Times spent a Saturday with the Lee family in their getaway. ``It's a wonderful way to cast off the weariness of city life and get away from the apartment buildings and pollution. Feeling the earth and engaging in manual labor is good for your health. It allows your heart and mind to breathe as you befriend nature,'' said Lee's wife, Coh, 59.
Lee is one of the more fortunate Seoulites to reside in a house with a garden instead of a ``cement cubicle'' (apartment). He grew small vegetable plants such as cherry tomatoes on one side of the front yard. But farming in Icheon is a whole new ball game. ``It's my wonderland,'' he said, looking far out to the open green. ``I always wanted an enormous garden, and here you're surrounded by woods.''
This time, he managed to bring his entire family, including his three children. Lee's son and two daughters all work or attend school in Seoul and haven't been able to visit their father since he started farming.
``Oh my goodness,'' exclaimed the elder daughter, 27. ``The last time I was here, it was just dirt and rocks.'' Now, the entire plot of land is covered with green: zucchini, green pepper, bell pepper, eggplant, cabbage, lettuce, potato, corn, taro, soy bean. It's all completely organic, and horse manure from a local farm is used as fertilizer.
The family members wore sunblock lotion, wide-rimmed hats and latex gloves (the type used in surgery ― ``you get dirt under your fingernails with the regular cotton ones,'' explained the mother) to get down to business. The reporter here also joined in the fair. It was just after the rain. The overcast sky and the moist soil were most favorable for the mission of the day: weeding.
Weeding takes up maybe 80 percent of the work. Especially because of the hot rainy weather, weeds grow at an uncontrollable rate over the weekdays. They must be extracted so that they don't take away all the nutrition in the soil that should be going to the veggies. Once plucked, the weed must be left out with the roots facing upward or else it might plant itself back in the soil.
In Korean, zucchini is synonymous with the feature ``ugly.'' But here, the vegetable is queen. It is very sensitive and uprooting its roots can completely destroy it, warned Lee. So weeding must be undertaken with utmost care.
Surprisingly, the task is far from tedious. Along the way, you encounter wonderful little friends, like a pair of white butterflies fluttering around the zucchini flowers, a bright ladybug and a tiny frog. Once in a while, one of the daughters would give a shrill cry ― ``a bee!'' or ``eww, a worm!''
Time goes by very quickly, but your legs call for help from the constant crouching. A little past 11'o clock, Lee calls for a break. The freshly picked lettuce is washed in the freshwater stream. Tiny schools of fish found in only the purest waters swim about. In the slightly deeper areas, there are catfish. ``That would make great chueotang,'' said the son, 32, referring to the traditional catfish dish.
The lettuce is then prepared in the kitchenette, boiled with ``doenjang'' (bean curd) for lettuce soup. The zucchini is chopped for ``jeon'' (panfried dish) and the cabbage and other greens are washed for salad and ``ssam'' (vegetable wrap). The meal was simple but divine ― it is a savory reminder that the best ingredient in any meal is fresh produce.
After the meal, the family takes a break during the hottest hours of the day. We turned
on a DVD of a movie. The container is equipped with cable TV and DVD player ― small pleasures that are hard to abandon. ``It can get lonely up here when I stay alone,'' said Lee. Usually he has a farmhand who accompanies him.
When asked if she would like to live here once the house is built, Lee's wife nodded yes. ``But only on the weekends ― I've lived in the city all my life and it would be difficult to cut off my entire life there. But coming here on weekends will enable be me to recharge and `recycle,' '' she smiled.
As for Lee's children, who haven't farmed ever since small field trips to plantations in grade schools, they were all smiles. ``This is really just great. It's a break from the grind of everyday life in Seoul. Usually my eyes are glued to the computer screen because of work, and I feel alive,'' said the younger daughter, 25. ``But my legs are very sore,'' she said.