“Did the king really fear peaches?” a young voice piped up from the crowd gathered in Beoman-dong. A ripple of laughter followed. “Indeed,” I replied, adjusting my microphone. “The story goes that during the Goryeo dynasty, a prophecy foretold the rise of the Yi family. It linked their destiny to the peach trees flourishing on the slopes of what is now Beoman-dong.” Beoman-dong. A name whispered on the wind, etched onto ancient maps, and carved into the very heart of Seoul. It’s a place where history intertwines with legend, where the rustling leaves echo with the murmurs of woodcutters past. Our journey takes us back to a time when this vibrant neighborhood was known as Beol-ri, meaning “woodcutter’s village”. The “Grand Map of the Capital Castle” and the “Daedongyeojido” both bear witness to this name, marking its location outside Seoul’s small east gate. But why the woodcutters? That’s where the peaches come in. The Yi family’s symbol was the peach tree, and the king, fearing their growing power, ordered the felling of every peach tree in the area. These woodcutters, or “beolisa”, became so synonymous with the area that their profession lent its name to the village. Beol-ri, eventually softened to Beon-ri, and finally to the Beoman-dong we know today. So as you stroll through the bustling streets of Beoman-dong, remember the whispers of prophecy, the scent of peach blossoms lost to time, and the rhythmic chop of axes shaping the destiny of a dynasty. The very ground beneath your feet holds the echoes of a kingdom’s fear, transformed into the vibrant tapestry of a modern neighborhood.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to