By Anna Fifield
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/80473f90-5496-11db-901f-0000779e2340.html
Published: October 6 2006 12:17 | Last updated: October 6 2006 12:17
Walking the streets of Bukchon, it’s hard to believe you’re in the middle of one of the world’s most populous cities. Located only a short walk from Jongno, Seoul’s central drag, where neon competes with carbon monoxide in the pollution stakes, the neighbourhood embodies the Korea of five centuries ago. Rows of hanok, Korea’s traditional houses, with their wooden lattice windows and patterned brick walls, line quiet narrow streets where cats prowl and birds flit across the sloping tiled roofs. One could easily imagine aristocrats being ferried past on carriages held on men’s shoulders.
Such areas are rare in Seoul because construction of new hanok stopped in the 1960s when industrialisation began. Those that already existed were flattened during the Korean war or bulldozed to make way for faceless, functional apartment tower blocks.
Now, however, Korea is a developed country and its citizens are increasingly valuing form as much as function. Many are restoring old hanok or building new ones. And Bukchon, a neighbourhood that is nestled between two of Seoul’s biggest Chosun-era royal palaces, which is said to have the best feng shui in the capital, is a hub for such activity.
“There is definitely a hanok restoration boom going on,” says Lee Moon-ho, an architect who specialises in renovating the old houses. “As soon as [one] is put on sale in this area, it is snatched up. As a hanok architect, I feel very proud of this. As every day goes by, new renovated hanok pop up in this area.”
Although Bukchon lost about 600 hanok when local building restrictions were lifted in the early 1990s, there is now a concerted effort to preserve the remaining 920 and ensure that new construction is in keeping with the traditional aesthetic. Five years ago the Seoul metropolitan government started offering up to Won30m (about $30,000) to any hanok owner wanting to restore his or her home and so far about 250 have been remodelled. Officials have also promoted broader initiatives, burying cables underground and relaying plumbing works, as well as tightening restoration and new construction rules, spending about Won41bn in total.
“Korea developed at breakneck speed after the Korean war,” says Kim Woo-sung, of Seoul’s urban design team. “Because of that rapid expansion, the government could not set a long-term city plan like European cities have. But now we are setting out a long-term plan.”
The government’s efforts have been successful in drawing new residents to the area. Lee Myung-bak, the former mayor of Seoul who advanced the “greening” of the capital through projects such as the rebuilt Cheong-gye-cheon stream through the city centre, is just one of the people who recently moved into Bukchon, as did this correspondent.
Park Jong-duck from Daesung Real Estate, an agency that specialises in hanok, reports a steady rise in inquiries since the restoration craze started. And “prices are rising steadily,” he adds. “There are some people who want to buy just an ordinary house near hanok village. The area is developing day by day so they expect the overall house prices in the neighbourhood to go up.”
Hanok prices vary wildly depending on proximity to Bukchon’s main road and the state of repair. A house on a small narrow street can cost only Won9m per pyong (3.3 sq metres) while a renovated property in a convenient area can cost as much as Won50m per pyong. This compares with an average price of Won14m for an ordinary apartment in Seoul. Building a hanok from scratch usually costs Won13m per pyong on top of the Won10m-15m one might pay for the land.
According to Korean tradition, all buildings are regarded as parts of a wider environment, so houses are typically positioned based on the principle of baesan-imsu – having a mountain at the back and a river in the front. Hanok usually face south to expose the living areas to the sun and are built as a series of inter-connecting rooms opening up to a central courtyard – to allow the energy to flow through the house. They are single-storey with stone foundations, wooden frames and soil in the walls and on the roof for insulation.
Heating and cooling is achieved through ondol, a system of ducts carrying hot air from the kitchen stove (or more likely a boiler nowadays) to the stone floors of the house in winter, which conversely helps aerate the rooms during the oppressive summers while the stones keep the floor cool. (This is one of the reasons why Koreans habitually sit on the floor.) Hanok also have glorious curved roofs made of tiles with edges that are engraved with patterns, usually of flowers, animals or insects, particularly spiders. They are useful as well as beautiful, further protecting the house from the sun’s heat.
“In this area, the hanok are very old so it is difficult to renovate them partially, so most of the time I rebuild them from scratch,” says Lee, the architect. “The rule that I try to follow is to build in a traditional way. You have to follow certain rules – the house should face south and everything in the bedroom should be low to make sure the energy does not drain from your body. According to Korean beliefs, when your bedroom is low, you sleep very soundly. I use Korean woods and try to make modern facilities, such as heating and air-conditioning systems, inconspicuous.”
Although hanok are widely admired for their quaintness, most Koreans still think consider them to be inconvenient for modern living, especially when compared with standard high-tech apartments. In most restored houses, the walls and roofs are still made of earth and air-conditioning units are embedded into the ceilings so not so as to not be too obtrusive.
But residents of Bukchon – such as restaurateur Choi Mi-kyoung who lives in a newly built hanok on a quiet alley with her Swedish husband and their two teenage sons – are proving that it’s possible to marry traditional character with contemporary comfort. The design of the house, which she worked on with an architect, is traditional; the living room opens out onto the courtyard, complete with wooden shutters that can be hung from the eaves while the doors are open. But the stainless steel kitchen is ultra-modern and downstairs, where the boys’ bedrooms and workroom are located, is all Swedish minimalism. Construction took 11 months.
“My husband has lived here for 20 years and likes Korean-style houses very much,” Choi explains. “Our friends think it would be uncomfortable to live in a hanok but they are envious.”
She acknowledges that life in Bukchon can be slightly inconvenient – there is no parking and few shops – but says the family enjoys their modern-traditional home. “It feels so peaceful and like we are close to nature because we have a garden and there are always birds flying around but actually we are in the middle of Seoul,” she says.
Next door is a hanok that serves as a guest house for visiting suppliers to Casamia, a ritzy Korean furniture company. As in Choi’s house, old blends with new. Interconnecting living rooms circle a garden but also lead to a huge modern kitchen. The minimalist bathroom with its square, inset tub is more boutique hotel than bygone house.
As with any project involving historic buildings, the rejuvenation of Bukchon’s hanok is not without its controversies. Families who have lived in the area for decades complain about noisy development and unwanted trendiness, while traditionalists complain that many new houses are built with modern materials and are not complying with tradition. But Kim argues that the transformation will allow Koreans to pass on an appreciation for indigenous architecture to future generations.
“Because people’s lifestyles have changed, it is inevitable that hanok will change,” he says. “Cultural heritage is not something that should only be protected. Preservation should be protection plus evolution. We live in modern times so we have to accept changes and that’s why we need boilers or air conditioners in hanok.”
Lee, the architect, agrees. “I think reinvigorating this area is much more important than reviving Cheong-gye-cheon [the Won330bn ($330m) stream reconstruction] because there is no culture in Cheong-gye-cheon but there is here,” he says. “You should feel a human, natural and ecological touch. I believe this area will become the Montmartre of Seoul.”