A salient feature of the Jeju landscape is how fluid the switch from farm land to town is, often with farmland inside the town. This allows for a seamless & productive day of back n’ forth. Admittedly this is not the case here, although the farm land in these pictures is only 10 minutes walk from Hallim town, it isn’t inside the town, exactly, though the area name is Hallim-eup. Another feature is construction. Everyday, i pass multiple big construction projects, which wouldn’t happen in England. Their is a continual rattle  of metal & thrumming of big engines. This makes for an interesting juxtaposition to the farm plots, huge hackberry trees & homunculus, traditional houses. But of course it also brings huge strain to the limited resources of an island. Soon Jeju will begin to feel the same strains as Santorini in Greece: inflated property prices for locals, limiting of utilities for locals & jobs that are unsatisfying, because they are all in the service industry. Problems that, when the sort of money that is involved in tourism is involved, means they don’t get sorted properly & voices go unheard for too long.

You can view part 1 here.

Posted by:DPM

DPM is an idea-logue (sic) and object-oriented speculative realist, attempting to be response-able in an irresponse-able society.

9 thoughts on “Streets of Jeju part 2

  1. These are wonderful photos. I would like to share some things with you, just to show that, once again, you and I operate on parallel tracks sometimes. The first is a passage from my children’s novel ‘The Everywhen Angels’; the speaker is a boy in his young teens – later in the book he will be diagnosed as being somewhere on the Aspergers/autistic spectrum – out walking with his dog:

    There’s a place where you notice our suburb begin to thin out. It’s a bit further now, because I think the car-park for the new garden centre reaches there. It’s not exactly the countryside, not yet, but it’s like the town isn’t holding on to its place any more, it’s beginning to lose its grip. There are buildings that aren’t quite farms, but might have a few sheep and ponies. There are stands of trees which aren’t quite woods, and there are tracks which aren’t quite lanes. You mustn’t be surprised to see ducks turning a flood-puddle into a pond as if by magic, or rabbits here and there; and once, one cold day when there was still snow on the ground, I saw a stoat in its winter ermine. I have even seen a sparrowhawk take a pigeon. When I was younger, I always liked to think that this area had a magic to it, because it was where something became something else. I used to notice things, I had my own little landmarks which told me whereabouts on a scale I had in my head, between town and country, the exact spot was. When we did percentages in school I used them in the scale. I graded the places by smell too. There’s a place where it smells of sheep droppings, and that’s about eighty percent countryside, and another where I can smell some sort of lubricating oil, and that’s seventy-five percent town. And sounds too. You never quite lose the noise of the traffic in the background, but it’s definitely louder the closer you get to the main road – well it would be – and in the opposite direction there’s the place where you can sometimes hear curlews in spring. That is so cool, that sound.
    Well, I like it round there. It’s not just the landscape, not just the smells and sounds, and the birds and stuff like that. It’s a feeling I get. I have always had it. It’s being right on the edge of something. I know it is only the countryside it is on the edge of, but it’s the edge that counts. It’s like one of those graphs that go along in a kind of gradual slope and then shoot up suddenly. It’s like that only upside down, so that the slope wants to pull you. I like being right where the pull is strong. It feels dangerous. But it’s a dangerous idea, not a real danger, if you see what I mean.

    The other items require links. The first one is a long poem I wrote in 2011, about the landscape near where I live.

    The second is a piece of prose that isn’t quite a story.

    At the time I was influenced by broadcasts I had heard by poets Michael Symmons Roberts and Paul Farley, which centred around their book ‘Edgelands’. If you explore my other woman-on-the-edge posts I don’t know what you’ll find – I haven’t been down that end of my web site in a long time…

    Anyway, I greatly appreciate these photos. You have put your finger on a rare aesthetic.

    1. Loved this little bit of prose. Got the others lined up. Not really in a reading mood at the moment as i’ve been ridiculously busy.
      i like the synchronicity between us. That sort of connection is seldom found. i hope if i come back to England we could arrange to meet. i don’t like that people i meet through a screen will be entirely out of face to face contact my whole life. i want to try & meet all the people i’ve met eventually, whatever that takes.
      By the way, Symmons Roberts might arguably be my favourite poet. Drysalter is masterful & Mancunia ain’t too shabby neither. i met him once & went to his reading after he published Breath. i was full of Shelley & Blake then & didn’t make the most of it. He taught MA Creative Writing at Man Met where i studied. Two of the nations best poets are lecturers there, Carol Ann Duffy is too. Though i don’t rate her, she has a following.

      1. I don’t mix online and offline if I can help it, for reasons far too boring to go into, but it’s a thought!

      2. i never did the whole MSN or anything, i’ve never met someone i met online, but i do (want, perhaps) to think that the people i’ve met here are meetable & the connection isn’t just because of the internet. It seems to be the internet has sort of grown up, at least in some areas. i may just be helplessly naive, because i came somewhat late to the internet. It didn’t pull me into its orbit for many years.

  2. It’s a sad commentary on the disruption caused by commerce.

    1. Tis that. But the alternative might just be grinding poverty. We sell off traditions for comforts. Maybe i am getting older, but i have altered my radical refusal of progress, but that isn’t to say it should be unregulated. I really don’t have good answers but i am thinking more about it rather than closing myself off to the dialogue.

      1. That’s keeping an open mind. I remember how the boom in the 80s changed my viewpoint from hippie to yuppie in a minute. Progress is necessary for the economy, but not always good for the environment.

  3. I’m late to all yr poetry & photo parties. The essence of every advance that we’re suspicious of seems to be this: implicating all of us in the suspicious & destructive, making us a part of it, even as we embrace & criticize it. The stories of third world folk trolling over slag heaps of technology for the bits that make our phones work—the same phone I type this on in suburbia USA—would make Orwell’s coal miners nod their heads in recognition. At least yr trying to make beauty, or simple reportage, out of it all. These are as always great pics, hardly any of yr readers wd see them otherwise. As I mentioned, you cd probably make a splash with these photos over on Tumblr or such, Pinterest. Cheers fella on New Year’s Eve, it’s almost New Year’s Day for you I think.

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