I walked east along the Cheonggyecheon Stream in downtown Seoul, finding solace away from the urban chaos. The city's bustle faded, granting me peace. I watched families, and towering herons coexist harmoniously. Suddenly, strange little sounds emanated from the south, prompting me to veer off the beaten path. And oh boy, that turned out to be the best decision ever!
As I ascended the towering Sewoon Plaza, these sounds led me to a tiny neighborhood called Sallim-dong in the Jung-gu district. It's hard to believe today, but Sewoon Plaza was Seoul's first high-end residential and commercial complex built in the 1960s. Before the development of Gangnam, the wealthier Seoulites lived in these apartments. K-drama fans may recognize the iconic scenery from the famous K-drama, Vincenzo, but what truly excited me was the view of Sallim-dong.
Gazing over a sea of old rooftops, I found the primary source of the sounds: a rhythmic clanking of hammers on metal, the buzz of saws, and the chaotic yet harmonious noises of welding and shaping. I discovered the core of Korea's most skilled metalworkers, where artisans had honed their craft in rooftop workshops for over 40, perhaps even 50 years. Can you imagine? Fifty years!
No one would guess what a fascinating neighborhood lay underneath these old rooftops. As I set foot in the alleys, the acrid smell of grinding metal hit my nose. It's always a pleasure to see steel artisans at work. I recall my wife jokingly saying, "You could build a tank if you wanted to." She was probably right. Every open shutter offers a glimpse into a metal workshop, giving it an open-air museum feel that showcases old Seoul from the 1960s, and it's all free!
I maneuvered past finished metal products: tables, pillars, beams, and frames. Every artisan was busy clanking metal. Those not actively hammering steel were enjoying Korean food delivered by the nearby local eatery during short breaks.
Some shutters display colorful, high-quality graffiti, perfect for photos. Many workshops exhibit unique calligraphic signs from the 1960s and 1970s, painted by the "sign grandpas." They have inspired today's Euljiro Font, and I love it!
But it's not all about metal. Cheaper rent has attracted many artists and small business owners, who have filled vacant spaces with cafés, restaurants, and galleries, emanating a youthful vibe. The family-owned restaurants, also known as "nopo," are adding to the ambience, serving wholesome meals and drinks for generations. This blend of old and new blends together wonderfully with the metalworkers in Sallim-dong.
Sadness overtook me when an elderly steelworker told me his workshop would probably need to make way for redevelopment projects in the coming years. A similar fate had already befallen a neighboring across Sewoon Plaza, now being replaced with towering high-rises. It dawned on me that Sallim-dong and all its skilled metalworkers, a prime example of Seoul's 1960s working class, are the last pioneers of a fading era. This neighborhood is the last of its kind. If you're looking for things to do near Cheonggyecheon Stream, head south into Sallim-dong to witness the art of metalworking before it's too late.