Jon Dunbar is a copy editor at The Korea Times, as well as editor of the Foreign Community page and curator of the Korea Times Archive. If you have suggestions for possible articles, or wish to contribute articles yourself, contact jdunbar@koreatimes.co.kr.
Inside and outside the gates of Yongsan Garrison
Marsha Altvater explores an old neighborhood near where she grew up in Samgakji, on a visit during last Chuseok. / Courtesy of Yongsan Legacy
By Jon Dunbar
By Marsha Altvater
When I arrived in Korea, they were celebrating Chuseok. I found it ironic that my return coincided with the celebration of Koreans returning to their hometowns to pay respects to their ancestors. I had returned to my ancestral home, Yongsan. In my own personal way I paid homage to my Korean ancestors, too.
I was in Yongsan in mid-September last year to participate in a tour for military retirees by Dragon Hill Lodge, after leaving 54 years ago as a child.
I thought I would be emotional when I finally arrived in Seoul, but I did not feel any different than I normally do when I go on a tour. I shocked myself. I realized it was unfamiliar, like many places I explore and learn about during my travels. What would I find inside and outside the gates around my childhood home? Would there be anything left that I remember?
After showing off my dependent military ID card, I was finally allowed through the gates to Yongsan Garrison in Seoul. I have spent many years as a military child and later a spouse living on and around various U.S. military instillations. But it reminded me of other military posts I have visited. For me, finally getting in the gate was anticlimactic.
With help from Coco Cugat and Nam Sang-so at Yongsan Legacy, I discovered I grew up at Samgakji, near the base. I was told the War Memorial of Korea was built on my childhood neighborhood. Where the Wedding Hall now stood was probably where my childhood home was located. Mr. Nam told me the little stream that was between the neighborhood and the military base still exists. However, it was buried when the memorial was built and still runs underground.
On my first day in Yongsan, my husband and I went to the War Memorial. I felt like a tourist. As I was walking, nothing looked familiar. The Korea I remember and dream about no longer existed, but I had known it would probably be like that.
We found the name of my husband's 20-year-old great uncle, PFC Ellis A. Choma, was killed in Kajon-ni. I began to weep because I found it ironic that in the former neighborhood where I grew up is a memorial honoring my husband's great uncle. My Korean part of me said it is fate.
As we were leaving the museum, it began to rain. We were walking past the Wedding Hall and one of the guards began running toward us from the guard shack. I could not understand what we could have done to get his attention. He put an umbrella in my hand, and turned around and ran back. Of all the people who were walking in the light mist without rain gear, why did he single me out? Again, I softly wept. I took this simple act of kindness as my welcome home from a fellow Korean. Finally I felt at home.
Although I did not know where my Korean family was, I felt their presence throughout my visit. I was reminded of them as I explored inside and outside of the gates of Yongsan Garrison. I encountered many long forgotten memories from my Korean childhood.
At N. Seoul Tower, looking across the horizon, it dawned on me the vastness of the city. I had lived in a very small part of Seoul. In my childhood memory, I thought Yongsan was such a large area, when in reality it was just a tiny fragment of Seoul. For some reason I don't remember Seoul being surrounded by mountains and being very hilly. I found that to be odd.
Arriving in Seoul, the first familiar landmark I encountered was the Han River. I was taken aback by changes along both sides of its shores! In the early to mid-1960s, there were very few buildings, homes, stores or other structures near it. When I thought of the Han River, I pictured its rocky and sandy shore covered with blankets of people picnicking. In its water, people were wading or swimming. I remember lining up with the women and other children to swing on a tall wooden swing at the riverbank.
At the Korean Folk Village, I saw children standing up and swinging at the playground. Not to embarrass myself, I waited for it to be clear. As I was standing and swinging, I traveled back in time. I was a child again swinging by the Han River, feeling the breeze against my face, trying to get as high as the metal bridge that crossed it.
At Wolmi Park in Incheon, I had another flashback. Outside of a courtyard of a traditional house was a Korean seesaw. Again I got the chance to experience something from my Korean childhood. These two simple Korean childhood activities from many years ago were so joyous to experience again.
My last day in Korea was on Chuseok. I met with Coco Cugat, Daniel Oh, Yun Su-yeon, and Hwang Hein from Yongsan Legacy, who took me to see remnants of houses from my old neighborhood. They help me locate the photography studio where many of my childhood pictures were taken. Using a couch in the background of an old photo of me, Coco was able to verify later it was where the picture was taken, just as I remembered. That was amazing.
With my husband and new friends, I was able to have one of the best moments of my trip while at a restaurant serving grilled mackerel. I haven't had grilled mackerel or any other in-bone-fish since I left Korea. As I was trying to eat the fish, I had a flashback of my grandmother teaching me how to remove the bones. Without a thought, I did it in a single stroke.
Finally, Suyeon helped me find one of the missing pieces I have been searching for. I remembered my mother had taken me to a palace with a zoo. She told me it was Changgyeong Palace.
I made time to visit the palace. Since it was a holiday, you saw many families across generations together. While I wasn't physically with my grandmother and mother, I felt a closeness to her that I haven't felt in a very long time.
Marsha Altvater was born in the 1950s to an unwed Korean mother and U.S. soldier father. After a childhood in Seoul she joined her father's family in the U.S. in 1965. Visit
to read more about the history of Seoul's disappearing U.S. garrison or to contribute your own memories.