Boksu-dong is located on the left bank of the Yudeungcheon Stream in Seo-gu, Daejeon. Long ago, it was home to natural villages such as Bonmal, Ttolgeonneo, Ddaetjimmotgol, and Shingye. Today, traditional village traces are hard to find, replaced by apartment complexes like Samik Mokhwa Apartment and Chorok Maeul Apartment, alongside neighborhood commercial districts.
Exploring the Meaning of Boksu-dong
Many historical records explain the origin of the name "Boksu" through "Boksuso." The Sinjeung Dongguk Yeoji Seungnam (Augmented Survey of the Geography of Korea) contains the following passage: "Chonggaeso and Boksuso: both are located 23 li east of Yuseong-hyeon."
This administrative classification existed until the early Joseon Dynasty. Craftsmen, rather than farmers, lived in these -so areas. While I wondered what they might have produced in Boksuso, it remains unconfirmed.
Although we can presume the name Boksu-dong has very deep roots, its exact origin remains a mystery. Furthermore, while the Sinjeung Dongguk Yeoji Seungnam uses the Chinese character for water (水) in Boksu (福水), recent administrative records use the character for guarding or protecting (守) (福守). The first character, Bok (福, meaning good fortune), remains the same. Regardless, the exact meaning behind the name Boksu is unknown.
Furthermore, the village I explored is a small "island village" even within Boksu-dong. The site where the village was established must have been a mountain that provided firewood back in the era of Boksuso. There is no separate name for this specific spot. When the village was first taking shape, telling a taxi driver to head to the "military housing" area would get you dropped off right there. Nowadays, delivery drivers simply call it "277," as the addresses in the area begin with number 277.
A Residential District Connected by Alleys and Stairs
The village is situated on the right side as you follow Hyecheon-ro, which runs from Hyecheon University toward Pai Chai University. Just before crossing the Bulti Cloud Bridge over Daejeon's Gyebaek-ro, around Gubong-ro leading toward Jeongnim-dong, you look up to the right to see the village. It was built after flattening the top of a low hill. When searching portal site maps, it appears as "Boksu-dong District 1 Housing Redevelopment Zone." Though a sense of ambivalence lingers as to whether redevelopment will actually happen given how much time has passed since the establishment of the association, the association's bulletin board still shows active engagement.
Wide roads loop around the perimeter of the village, which forms a triangle with one cut-off corner: Boksubuk-ro, Boksuseo-ro, and Hyecheon-ro. Because of this, residents often describe the place as being like an island. True to a residential area carved out of a mountain, the village is interconnected everywhere by stairs. Thus, what leaves a deep impression of this village are precisely its alleys and stairs.
Straightly laid alleys run from Boksu 1-gil to Boksu 5-gil, with houses nestled inside the blocks formed by these paths. Horizontally connected alleys link together via stairs at various points. While concrete stairs are the norm, some sections utilize old railway ties.
The mountain where the village settled must not have been very tall; it doesn't quite feel like you are on a mountaintop. Yet, it doesn't seem like the summit was heavily excavated downward either. Even so, there is a distinct feeling of being very close to the sky. That is likely because casting your gaze just a little beyond the alleys reveals the open sky directly without any obstructions. While living in the middle of a downtown area requires the effort of deliberately tilting your head back to look at the sky, here it naturally enters your view.
Every house features a persimmon tree of respectable age, and countless persimmon leaves must have fallen this autumn, yet the alleys are so neat they leave a profound impression, bordering on immaculate. Persimmon trees are the most common garden trees, but they are not the only ones. Several magnificent pine trees grow near the entrance of the stairs rising toward Boksu 1-gil, and a chicken coop sits beneath them. The clucking of chickens adds a warm, nostalgic touch. Well-grown willow trees stand along the roadside of Boksubuk-ro, alongside ginkgo and maple trees in the middle of the village, and several acacia trees along the edges. Human presence is rare in the neat village alleys. While a weekday afternoon is part of the reason, the fact that it is a private residential neighborhood rather than an apartment complex is likely the main factor. This quietness makes the village feel even more like an island in the middle of the city.
A "Foundation" Granted to Military Families
The redevelopment association office is housed in the senior citizens' community center, located at the end of an alley. This choice was born of necessity because, unlike rural villages where community centers are easy to find, it was simply impossible to encounter anyone in the alleys. I didn’t set out to find it deliberately; drawn by a short ginkgo tree, I walked down an alley that ended in a dead end, and there I simply stumbled upon the senior center building.
Having perhaps shared lunch together, the kitchen was busy with washing up, and in the grandmother's room adjacent to the grandfather's room, the senior-most grandmothers who had finished their meal were gathered. The sight of them calling out "You worked hard" to the younger ones returning after finishing the dishes felt straight out of a rural senior center. It was heartwarming.
"Oh my, when we first moved in here, living was so hard. The roads and alleys weren't even paved. There was no water supply either, so we had to haul water from the military base. Words cannot describe it."
That was roughly 40 years ago. Around 1970, houses began to go up here one by one. It seems Daejeon Metropolitan City did not carry out a formal housing land development project here. The land belonged to the military and was granted (sold off) to military personnel. That is why taxi drivers around here used to call it "military housing." At the time of the sale, most plots were divided into 50-pyeong units, with some terraced retaining wall sections ranging from 60 to 76 pyeong. Families of former military personnel who originally acquired the land back then still live here today, and residents explained that the proportion of civil servants among the population is higher compared to other neighborhoods.
Grandmother Kim Young-im (90), whom I met at the village hall, was a long-time local who bought a 50-pyeong plot here some 40 years ago for about 400,000 won and has lived here ever since. A family named Oh—who put up a tent and cooked meals and sold drinks to soldiers—served as the original pioneers. Grandmother Kim's late husband was a master sergeant in the engineering corps stationed at the Seo-bu Police Station at the time. Another grandmother, who moved in about seven years later than Grandmother Kim, recalled paying 30,000 won per pyeong, showing that land values appreciated quite a bit.
This residential complex, primarily populated by military families, once functioned as a boarding and lodging village for students, driven by Dongbang Girls' High School and Hyecheon University. There were many high school students who came to study from places like Seocheon-gun and Cheongyang-gun across South Chungcheong Province. Rooms for rent were pricey, yet in such high demand that there were never enough to go around, which provided a significant boost to household incomes. Afterward, students from Hyecheon University rented rooms here up until relatively recently. That trace can still be confirmed in a studio apartment building with the very exotic name "Academy House." Eventually, the village's function of providing lodging and boarding came to an end as Dongbang Girls' High School relocated and Hyecheon University built dormitories.
"Some young people came by one day asking this and that, wondering why anyone would want to build apartments here. With such a pretty sky, clean air, and all, I don't know for sure, but if they build apartments here, the scenery will probably be the best in all of Daejeon."
Once the conversation wound down, the grandmothers returned to their everyday chatter—tucking their legs together under a single quilt. The main topic of conversation was how Grandmother Kim had given her cat away to someone else because it was too hard to care for, only to open her front door the next morning and find it had somehow returned, staring right at her—and how terribly adorable that was.
Peaceful Sunlight Filling Every Corner of the Alleys
Leaving the senior center, I entered the eastern alley of the village. As expected, "No Vehicle Entry" signs were posted along the village edges. There must have been accidents where first-time visitors drove forward blindly and dropped straight down below the village. Tree stumps that had lived out their long lives and been cut down were visible here and there. When I mentioned that winter snow might make things difficult, someone replied, "It melts right away," and I imagine that's truly the case. Unobstructed, peaceful sunlight fills every corner of the alleys.
The perspective rendering attached to the redevelopment association stairs flashed across my mind. High-rise apartment complexes reaching toward the sky, accompanied by waterfront parks and landscaping facilities installed between them, radiated a distinctly computer-generated feel. That image superimposed itself over the village scenery unfolding before my eyes right now. It felt bleak and bittersweet. Once the apartments are built, the sunlight will undoubtedly be blocked by towering concrete structures, casting a lonely shadow. The peaceful sunlight shining everywhere like this now would no longer be seen.