The Sounds of Seongbuk

Of all the things I'll miss about Korea after we leave, I think one of the things I'll miss the most are the sounds of our neighborhood. Almost every morning I've woken up to the sounds of birds -- which I think is rare in about 90% of the rest of Seoul. There are powerful caws from the big, black-billed magpies that like to perch on the railings of our porch. And there is the light chirping of sparrows. There are even some birds that sounds like small owls, with these short, bright hoots... though I'm not sure what those are.

Then there's the Korean flute player. He's somewhere behind our house, I think (and I imagine it's an old man), tucked somewhere between the forest and the cluster of old, plaster and brick buildings, playing these ancient-sounding melodies that wander through our windows every morning like a breeze. I've always wanted to seek him out and meet him, but never have.

Then there are the rhythmic broom strokes of the retirees who come through to sweep up the neighborhood. The endless chatter of schoolchildren in the schoolyard, and the now familiar electronic melody that signals the beginning of every period. There is the junk collector who drives through and blasts the same message on his megaphone every day, imploring people to offer up their used air conditioners, refrigerators, and TV's for him to resell. The sound of utensils clattering in a house nearby.

And in the distance, no matter what time, you can hear the hum of Seoul's roads, which never sleep.