Update (6 Sept 2006): Thanks to KimcheeGI, link to song posted in “Sources and References” section.
Greetings, dear readers!
The Marmot temporarily lost his mind, and in a fit of misguided good grace, has allowed me on board as a guest blogger. I’m going to focus on relatively uncontentious stories of cultural interest…and for the cynics among you, don’t worry, this doesn’t mean that I’ll simply be writing KNTO copy.
The first story comes to us from a sleepy village in the rural outskirts of Daegu. If you take the KTX from Seoul down to Busan, soon after you leave Dongdaegu Station, you’ll pass under (or through) a pair of small hills, then by a tiny colonial-era railway station. You may not even notice the hills or station as the train barrels along the mainline without even slowing down. This nondescript location, however—Gomo Pass (고모령)—was the inspiration for one of the most heart-wrenching of all Korean songs, and at one time the country’s most popular song. Now, the station is closing, and one more real, non-gussied-up link that Korea has to its not-so-distant past is disappearing.
(Photo shamelessly ripped off from Chosun Ilbo)
According to local legend, once upon a time, a widowed mother lived with her young son and daughter in a small house nearby. One day, a monk visited, and judging by the poverty in which they lived that the family had not accumulated much virtue in their past lives, decided to help them become virtuous by having them build a mountain. (? It’s possible my translation skills are a little off.) The mother built “Mother Peak” (모봉), the son built “Brother Peak” (형봉), and the daughter built “Sister Peak” (재봉; you’re welcome to correct me on the translations). The siblings competed to see who could build the higher peak. The mother, disheartened at seeing their envy-driven fighting and angst-ridden over raising them wrongly, decided to leave home. She quickly set out on foot and didn’t turn back until she got to the apex of the path between the peaks, then turned back to look at the house and her children one more time. The pass’s name, 고모, means “mother looking back” (顧 (돌아볼 고) + 母 (어미 모)).
Fast forward to modern times. The Gyeongbu railway mainline between Seoul and Busan was built in the early 20th century, and ran through the pass. Gomo Station (고모역) opened as little more than a whistle stop in 1925, with local trains stopping there to serve the small farming villages in the immediate area. By the 1970s, 50,000 people a year were using the station. Even until the late 90s, farmers would catch the train there to take their fruits and vegetables to sell in area markets.
One day, a certain Park Si-chun—one of the most accomplished and famous Korean songwriters of the mid-20th century—was waiting for a train at the station, and looking towards the low peaks and pass nearby, was inspired to write 비 내리는 고모령 (”Rainy Gomo Pass”; lyrics by Ho Dong-a), which is based on the legend and speaks of pining for the restoration of lost love between relatives. The song’s short lyrics are plaintive, recalling a previous happy time full of love never to be recovered, wondering when mother will come over the pass again. Hyeon In—himself a legendary singer of the era—first performed the song in 1946. Somehow, the song struck a nerve—perhaps because of the population displacements as Koreans left for and returned from Japan, or had moved throughout the country to search for work, or because of the displacements resulting from the political developments that began with the division of the country upon liberation in 1945 and culminated five years later in the Korean War. It became for a time far and away the most popular song in the country. (Park Si-chun and Hyeon In later struck gold with another song that was right for its time, 굳세어라 금순아, “Be Strong, Geumsoon,” about the turmoil of the massive evacuation of people from Hamheung during the Korean War.)
But whatever misery and trouble drew people to the song in the years after liberation has largely disappeared. As South Koreans have grown prosperous and turned in increasing numbers to the private automobile, railway ridership has slowly but steadily declined. Over the years, Gomo Station’s annual patronage fell from 50,000 passengers down to a trickle. Korail ended passenger operations at the station altogether in 2004, suspended ticket sales at the end of August of this year, and in November, will terminate freight operations. The station—on whose platform a man was inspired to write one of the most tearjerking and moving of all Korean songs—will close, and the station’s six employees will be reassigned elsewhere.
Reporters from the Chosun Ilbo and Hankyore visited the station in recent days to speak to employees and area residents. One local man recalled catching the train there from when he was in elementary school right until he moved after leaving the army. Although the train was extremely slow and it took 30 minutes to get into downtown Daegu, he was never bored, due to the bustling crowds on the train. He (or another person?) remembered riding a cow to the market with his father, then taking the train back there to go home. The Gomo Village head said, “It’s very sad that Gomo Station is disappearing, holding [as it does] people’s joys and sorrows.”
Korail plans to preseve the station building after closing it. Park Hae-su, a poet who had a plaque of a poem erected in front of the station recently (I’ve seen it, but I don’t remember how the poem went) said, “Gomo Station was a station where mothers [caught the train] to go to market and sell chickens and ducks to pay for their children’s education…. Because of the reality of the disappearance of love for parents, [I hope that] the station building can be transformed into a place where [people] can look back on their parents’ love.” (There is another, more famous, monument commemorating the song 비 내리는 고모령 about a kilometre west of the station, near the Hotel Inter-Burgo.)
It’s hard to convey in English the emotions that this song evokes in Korean, but if you’ve heard the song, you probably know what I mean. I always get an interesting reaction when I sing it in noraebangs, because while it’s a decidedly old-fashioned song by contemporary standards, it pulls at people’s heartstrings. Since I often visit Daegu, I’ve gone down to Gomo Pass twice to explore the area. There’s something special about the place…and while time doesn’t stand still, it has slowed down there: the quiet waiting room with sliding doors; the housefront grocery store across the street with a stack of yeontan outside. While the station is closing for business, the building will remain, and the memories the song evokes will last forever.
(If anyone wants directions to the station or pass, let me know, and I’ll provide information in the comments.)
Sources and references (all in Korean):
Recording of Hyeon In’s version of the song and other interesting nostalgic stuff (hat tip to KimcheeGI): http://everyoung.ne.kr/bbs/zboard.php?id=anni&page=2&sn1=&divpage=1&sn=off&ss=on&sc=on&select_arrange=headnum&desc=asc&no=315
Song lyrics: http://musicsearch.naver.com/search.naver?where=music_popup&query=62843
Chosun Ilbo: http://www.chosun.com/national/news/200608/200608280552.html
Hankyore: http://www.hani.co.kr/arti/society/area/153734.html
The legend of Gomoryeong (Suseong-gu district website): http://www.suseong.daegu.kr/ch/main02_sub03_06.html
14 Comments
I just looked up the sheet music. Thanks for the information and history; I will add this to my list of arrangements.
Great story-post, thanks… i hadn’t known about this.
Hyeong-je-bong is a very common name for a peak, and i’ll bet that has plenty to do with the origins of that myth; yep it’s brother + sister, “siblings” in common use and “brother” in Neo-Confucian ideology. I always wondered why there are so many “Brother Peak”s around; guess its a familial familiarity thing.
Lots of those old village-stations closing down these days, as even the farmers all have cars (SUVs) now…
R. Elgin:
Wow, I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for sheet music online in Korean! Do you sing, or play an instrument (or both)?
Sanshinseon:
Thanks for filling in the myth. Perhaps it’s a universal (pan-Korean) legend, localized to specific places?
Time just doesn’t stand still in Korea at all. It’s been nonstop change since about 1865 or so, it seems! Even things that are not really all that old—yeontan or metal-roofed farmhouses, for example—seem exceedingly old now by comparison, as time has passed them by. (The same could be said around the world of typewriters, rotary telephones, or black and white TV, though, I guess!)
Sewing, I have numerous books of old Gae-yo and this song was in one of them. I play piano and try not to go to no-rae-bangs.
That’s great. Heck, if you can do the real thing (play an instrument), why settle for imitations (noraebang)!?
This is quite true - there’s a museum in Hogye-myeon in Mungyeong-shi that has in it some old typewriters and big calculators, even some computers that are 10 or 20 years old. They look quite archaic, just as does the home-made or locally-made old-fashioned farming equipment that is also on display.
I’m glad they will be preserving the Gomo Station building though, even if it won’t be used for trains. We need to have some of the recent past visible, not just the remnants of Shilla and ancient times.
There is something nostalgic about railway stations anywhere. In my hometown of 2,000 people, the old station was moved elsewhere and transformed into a museum of local history. I like the idea of turning it into a museum but wished it could have remained in its original location, connected to the railroad. One of my favorite crumbling old stations is Toledo. Only 4-5 passenger trains pass through each day, boarding and disembarking on the platform nearest the exit while several other platforms, cracked and overgrown with weeds, lie in silent testimony to the long gone era when train travel was the main means of interstate human transport. Kansas City is amazing - just huge with at least twenty tracks.
Skookum:
I agree with your sentiments. And thanks for the tip on the museum in Mungyeong…if I’m ever that way again, I’ll try to check it out.
Your user name…that’s a Chinook word, isn’t it? Do you hail from the Pacific Northwest?
Sonagi:
Yes, there are at least a couple of old unused railway stations in the Vancouver area that have also been transformed into local community museums.
Huge, old, largely abandoned stations are creepy: the sense of what once was, contrasted with the empty ghostliness of such places today. Especially a place like KC, which was probably a major railway junction in the old days.
is this before or after you hit 경산?
Daeguowl: It’s in 수성구, between 동대구역 and 경산역, but much closer to Dongdaegu than Gyeongsan. The station is a couple of kilometres north of the World Cup Stadium, and a bit west, located along a road that runs in an arc from 망우공원 southeast to near 고산역 on line 2 of the subway.
망우 공원 is on the 금호강, bisected by 화랑로 (일반 국도 4) which crosses the river via 화랑교. If you drive due east from 중앙 네거리 to MBC 네거리 then continue to the Y-intersection just beyond and bear left, going past 동부 시외 버스 터미널, you’ll eventually end up passing through 망우 공원 and crossing over the bridge.
East of the bridge is 영남 제일관, moved from its original location (one of the Daegu city gates) and restored, overlooking the river. South of the gate, on the southeast corner of the nearest 네거리, close to 화랑교, is a 노래비 (-碑) erected to commemorate the song 비 내리는 고모령. East of the gate and 노래비 are the 호텔 인터불고 and 대구 파크 호텔, squeezed in between the river and the railway tracks.
Leading east from the 파크호텔 driving range is a road along the north side of the railway tracks. If you drive or walk along it, you’re actually passing over 고모령 (which in and of itself is admittedly not very impressive). When you come out on the other side of the pass, you’re in the small farming village of 팔현 마을—and suddenly, you’re in the countryside!
The road continues east, then crosses under the tracks, and continues along the south side of the tracks to 고모역.
From there, the road continues, crossing under a bridge and ending up in another small village. If you bear to the right, the road will eventually intersect with 달구벌 대로, the main east-west road along which the subway line 2 runs, a bit west of 고산역 (as I recall).
There is almost certainly a bus that runs through 팔현 마을 and past the station, though I don’t know the route number offhand.
A lot of 앚줌마s and 아저씨s cross over the railway tracks near the 대구 파크 호텔, then bear east to a trail that goes up over the hill just south of the tracks (one of the three 봉s—either 형봉 or 재봉, as 모봉 appears to be closer to 담티역 on Line 2). The trail leads over the crest of the hill, past a small exercise area where there’s a small food and drink stall set up, then down into a small valley where there’s a restaurant and a couple of houses (along a street called 고모로 which is more like a gravel path than a road). From there, there are trails that will lead you eventually to the 남부 시외 버스 터미널 or 담티역 on Line 2. Another alternative for exploration is a road that runs north from 달구벌 대로 near 담티역 and the nearby high school, past the Daegu prison or detention centre, down a hill and past a reservoir, then curving around through a beautiful farming valley, eventually coming out near 고모역, intersecting with the road that serves the station.
Hope this wasn’t information overload…!
Heh, I wrote all that thinking you were there in Daegu (given your username), but now that I notice the Union Jack in your sig, this was probably more detailed information than is useful to you!
Anyhow, I had a heck of a time finding 고모령 the first time I looked for it, because even the Korean-language information on the place is scanty, and directions are impossible to come by. Even looking for the place on a map, it’s hard to figure out how to get to it. So if anyone reading this wants to find it, hopefully these directions will help.
Caveat: I wouldn’t recommend to anyone that they go especially out of their way to find this place. The station is nice and the walk is good exercise, but the whole experience will be anticlimactic if you’re expecting anything special.
Sewing,
Here’s a link to a Hyun-In recording of 비 내리는 고모령. It’s from Everyoung, a Korean Nostalgia BBS. Click around, there’s some good stuff there.
Charlie,
The KimcheeGI
Great Post, Sewing!
Although I didn’t had a chance to visit 고모역 while I visited Daegu this time, I had a chance to drank soju with Daegu’s famous 막창 & 꼼장어 and sang “남행열차” in Noraebang. ^^;;
BTW,
Thanks for the link KimcheeGI.
KimcheeGI, thanks very much for that link! Good stuff!
JiMong, thanks for the comment. Although 남행열차 is set in 전라, it’s nevertheless also quite popular in 경상 as well!
Good to hear you sampled to local specialties!