Most Korean cities look the same to me, once in the heart of them. Every city seems to have distinct neighborhoods, each with its own  infrastructure. Mine is no different and I’ve become quite enamored of its charms. Within a short walk from my home is the bank, the gym, several small grocery stores, multiple restaurants and, every five days, an open-air market.  Although I have a car, I use it only for excursions into town. Sometimes, it sits for days, parked out front, as I have no need to travel outside of Cheonsang (천상.)
I remember when I came back to America the first time. The isolation I felt within the first week until I bought a car. There was nothing within the immediate vicinity of our apartment in Plano except the Albertsons and a smattering of small shops across the street. I resented having to spend a decent amount of my savings on something to just get around town.

A different sort of isolation was also present, although not immediately evident.  Being in a car to get wherever I need to go, there’s no personal interaction with those around me. Here in my little neighborhood, as I walk from place to place, I am continually greeted by those I pass. Shopkeepers whom I have frequented will smile and bow as I pass. Children frequently say hello to test their English skills. My own students will stop and chat for a second, and if their parents are with them, will also chat briefly. Even strangers will sometimes smile and nod their head in a curt bow.

I feel connected to my surroundings. There are no megastores here, where everyone is just another faceless customer, although I can drive to those if need be.  In Cheonsang, nearly everything is small enough so that its customer base is a core set of those near it. That’s reflected in how people treat each other.

Other than having a yard and landscaping to enjoy, its hard to imagine the benefits of the American suburban lifestyle where everything is an automobile ride away. I might need some help in remembering why that’s a good way to build cities.