Stream survivors

As the story goes, Rome was not built between dawn and sundown. Neither was Seoul built in a single day, but it was resurrected in one hell of a hurry. And in that post war rush to build itself up and push forward the economy, some of the beauty was covered up; lost in concrete.

So it paved over an ancient stream, chose traffic over water. The cars came in and drove down dotted lines, added to the chaos. Until some seven years ago, it seemed as if that urban rubber would spin this way forever.

Not so. The freeway flowed into a halt as cars were kicked onto other pavement. The construction crews drilled down and revealed where Seoul had long before hidden water. The scraps built up into a public space, made potters for trees to canopy at the river edges.

Now couples walk hand in hand down the river, people gather to watch the reflection of the sunset. Under the bridges hide photo art galleries, residents clutching paperbacks and tall cans.

We hopped over the river on stepping-stones, blew up a paper cube to send a message. Pick your poison of Seoul-soul puns, I told my accomplice. So he scratched on “Seoul Survivor” and sent our boat down the streamed that survived the city.