Hwanghak-dong: A Mecca for second-hand goodies in Korea

By Kim Sun-han

SEOUL, South Korea (Yonhap): A three-year-old refrigerator by a well-known maker for just 30,000 won (US$37) and a stereo that still works for 20,000 won ($24): a modest bargainings to be sure.

For Seoul residents, however, this comes as a good news as they struggle to eke out a living at a time when prices are skyrocketing.

But few Seoulites, except for a small number of natives, are aware of the existence of Hwanghak-dong -- a penny pinchers' paradise where such bargains can be found.

Situated at Chongye 8-ga, an eastern sector of East Gate in the metropolis, the representative flea market has existed over the past four decades.

Hwanghak-dong has not been given much of the public spotlight because of its unfamiliar location and a relatively distorted notion that used goods are fit only for beggars.

However, much has changed recently as an increasing number of people are turning to second-hand merchandise for economic reasons and a high-flying penchant for things past.

As indicated by its name, Hwanghak-dong appears to be a mere congregation of some 500 tiny shops and vendors along a 200-meter-long alley. The number runs higher when added to those of nearby areas.

What attracts the biggest number of visitors to the area is shops that trade in antiques. Over 200 percent of the shops deal in a variety of antiques, some of which may turn out to be invaluable cultural assets.

On display are scrolls containing Chinese verse, presumably from the late 19th century, and beautiful bronze decorations hung on columns of the house of a yangban or an aristocrat during the Choson Dynasty (1392-1910).

A delicately-carved miniature bronze Buddha image also captures the attention of passers-by but is not sold out due to its comparatively high cost of upwards of 300,000 won ($372).

Early types of telephones attract many visitors with their somehow quixotic yet romantic appearances. Endless bargaining occurs over the phones but rarely do they reach an agreement on price.

An ancient typewriter has sat on display over the past five years, waiting for a new owner that has never come because of an "exorbitant" price tag of over 10 million won ($12,400), one of the highest in the area.

The typewriter, a 1915 Portable, has drawn so many avid collectors that the shop put the comical price tag on it in an attempt to show away people wanting to get it for a fraction of the price.

Antiques

Used goods sold in the area are comparatively cheaper than those considered antiques. For instance, a pair of used military boots costs less than 10,000 won but lace-up boots for women from the early 20th century go for 10 to 30 times as much.

The shoppers don't necessarily buy used goods; some items are brand new, still in their packages, but are outdated in terms if design and color, which automatically causes prices to spiral downward and shunts them aside to second-hand markets.

Consequently, a thrifty consumer can purchased unused goods, though outdated in model and design, in the Hwanghak-dong area for one third of the original price.

Few could say for certain when the market was created. Most scholars and natives versed in the metropolis assert that the market's emergence has much to do with the fratricidal Korean War (1950-53) that not only ravaged the landscape but left millions of people jobless and homeless.

As the war drew to an end, thousands of people, most of whom sought refugee in the South after having fled the Communist North during the war, flocked to the area in their first attempt to land a job at the U.S. military bases nearby.

The area turned into a flea market in due course, dealing in a wide variety of items, ranging from second-hand goodies to "posh" yet contraband products offered illegally by U.S. servicemen.

Another generation that helped build the area is very different from the refugees.

In stark contrast to the refugees from the North, these men came to Seoul from the countryside in hopes of finding stable jobs and putting their children through an institution of higher learning, which they considered a sure guarantee to escape from deep-rooted poverty and attain success in society.

The market flourished until the 1980s when Korea geared up for modernization and, as a result, began enjoying betterment in economic terms.

Kim Hong-sok, 62, who has run a tiny shop in the area over the past 24 years, says that he was able to make a "handsome" fortune and put his three sons through college with the business.

He concedes that he pocketed a monthly average of 2 million won ($2,400) by dealing in used foreign-made electronics items until mid-1980s, when Koreans still put these goods before Korean ones qualitywise.

Asked the secret behind the lucrative business, Kim explained that he resells the items, mostly coming from U.S. servicemen leaving Korea on a short notice, with a "considerable" margin, a profit running over four to five times the original price he paid.

Yet, things have changed since the mid-1980s as Korean makers paid more attention to producing quality goods and the general preference for foreign-made merchandise cooled down noticeably.

As the phenomenon continued, a considerable number of shops trading in second-hand, foreign-made items closed and changed their specialty or moved to other markets.

Merchants

Worse, the overheated consumption spree that spurred people to turn to new products also affected the market, leading not only merchants in the area but consumers who used to it to worry about its survival.

This concern was alleviated in 1990 when the national economy was faced with general hardship and people consequently became more thrifty.

Moreover, an increasing number of collectors of antiques and used goods have helped the market rebound.

"I felt I got out of the quagmire," says Lee Kyong-oh, 48, a dealer in antique and, on occasion, hard-to-find gadgets, such as a 40-year-old wristwatch.