It’s a typical winter afternoon in Samjinae Village. Thin wisps of white smoke float up from the chimneys of the traditional Hanok houses, above the shingled roofs with their corners upturned like the pointed toes of beoseon¸ or traditional Korean socks. A fresh breeze blows over the old stone walls, carrying the sounds of nearby laughter, tinkling bicycles, and the crisp chirping of winter birds high up in the trees.

 

Samjinae Village (www.slowcp.com) has no skyscrapers, no brightly lit storefronts, and no sleek cars -- only a community of people intent on enjoying life at a slower pace. The town sits at the heart of Damyang County, Jeollanam-do (South Jeolla Province), the first city in Asia to earn the “slow city” distinction as part of the worldwide Cittaslow movement (http://www.cittaslow.kr/). 

 

 

  

 

Local resident Song Hee-yong leads the way down the dirt path that trails through the village, following the twists and turns of the ivy-covered stone walls. Song is a farmer, an innkeeper, the head of the local residential committee, and an artisan in the production of rice yeot, or Korean taffy.

 

Song points to the wall, which seems to have been constructed by piling up stones and filling in the cracks with mud. Upon closer examination, it becomes apparent that the rocks are of all different colors, some reddish, others more yellow, and still others showing green hues.

 

“The villagers built the wall themselves over 100 years ago,” says Song. “They went to the nearby river to collect rocks, and mixed them with mud to stack the walls. Whenever it rained, some of the dirt would wash away, leaving more stones protruding at the bottom of the wall.”

 

There’s a kind of rustic charm about the wall, with its peculiar colorations. An officially registered cultural heritage of Korea, the road stretches out over 3.6 kilometers through the village.

 

 

Just inside the walls are the well-preserved traditional Hanok houses, topped with elegantly sloping roofs. Flanked all around by the outstretched branches of ancient persimmon, chestnut, and zelkova trees, all of the houses are private residences, but most are open for visitors.

 

 

On a wall just opposite one of the houses hangs a sign that reads “Changpyeong Rice Yeot.”

 

“When Changpyeong was being considered for designation as a slow city, it won high marks not only for the beauty of the old stone wall but also for our local foods,” explains Song. “The rice yeot here is prepared according to a recipe that was apparently handed down from a court lady who settled here after passing by with local troops.”

 

Song goes on to describe the laborious process of making rice yeot, beginning with soaking the rice, hard-boiling it, then mixing in malt for fermentation. The resulting mixture, called shikhye, is then cooked for over seven hours into syrup. After a few more hours of boiling, the syrup hardens into black taffy that must be flattened and stretched before it takes the straw-like form and texture of yeot. From start to finish, the process requires over 48 hours of cooking and boiling performed under a watchful eye.

 

“There used to be about 30 or so households that made rice yeot, but because the process is so intensive and the profits are not too high, now only five families produce it,” remarks Song. “It’s a shame that the demand for yeot is not what it used to be, but this craft has been in our families for three generations, and we’ll do what we can to continue the tradition.”

 

 

Just down the street is the home of Moon Hyeon-jeong, who is famous for her jangajji, or pickled vegetables. Moon’s house is also a Hanok with a stone wall bordering its yard, built in 1911. The dozens of clay pots that line the garden are all filled with different kinds of vegetables in the middle of the pickling process, soaking in the wind and the sunlight.

 

“The taste of jangajji is the taste of thoroughly ripened time,” comments Moon. “We can open the lids only when the time is right. It’s really an appropriate food for our village. The older people will often come by while I’m tending the different foods, asking about the progress, sharing tips and stories. I guess you could say that their voices are an essential ingredient to seasoning the jangajji just right.

 

Moon serves cups of tea made from doraji, or dried balloon flower. The slightly bitter but subtly sweet flavors meld perfectly, and the living here seems as sweet as it is slow.

 

The sight of different artisans busy at their crafts, pounding bean paste, boiling yeot, coloring fabrics with dye from red clay, and filling jars to the brim with pickled vegetables, seems to lack nothing. The cool breeze wafting over the wall seems to nudge the visitor in awe of the serenity and ask, “See, isn’t it nice to slow down”