As I wandered through the charming, offbeat streets of Seochon Village area, just a stone’s throw from Gyeongbokgung Palace, an unexpected adventure awaited me. I had planned to visit the iconic palace, but, to my surprise, it was closed on Tuesdays! With no set plan, I decided to embrace the spontaneity of the moment and explore the lesser-known gems of the area. And boy, was I in for a delightful discovery.
Seochon, on a “rest day,” was a serene escape. The neighborhood felt different—quieter, with a timeless calm. As I walked along the narrow streets, I came across a modest hanok (traditional Korean house), its exterior unassuming but its presence commanding.
There was something about it that stopped me in my tracks. A few English explanations posted outside piqued my curiosity, drawing me in to investigate further. It wasn’t your typical tourist attraction. The beauty here wasn’t adorned or polished—it was raw, sincere, and real. This was the Dae-Oh Bookstore, a place with a deep and meaningful history.
The bookstore’s story dates back to 1951 when a young couple, Cho Dae Sik and Kwon Oh Nam, opened the shop. At the time, books were rare, and this small, unassuming bookstore became a hub for trading used textbooks and other books. Over the years, the couple’s hard work and dedication kept the store alive, even as the demand for used books dwindled. After the passing of Cho Dae Sik, his wife, Cho, stubbornly refused to close the shop, preserving the memories of her husband and the legacy of the bookstore.
Reading the signs inside, I learned that the couple had named the store “Dae-Oh” after combining parts of their middle names, a small yet meaningful tribute to their shared journey. The thought of this quiet spot still holding the couple’s spirit and legacy made the visit even more special.
While I was reading the sign in front of the bookstore, I came across something else: a wall filled with postcards. At first, I didn’t really think much of it, but then I started noticing something interesting. The postcards were all addressed to the same person.
Curiosity got the best of me, and as do some online search, I realized they were fan notes to a K-pop star! It turned out that this was a popular spot for fans of BTS’s RM(Namjoon) and IU, a major K-pop sensation.
Then, I recalled that when I walked in, the waitress seemed to assume I was a fan of K-pop. She pointed to the wall, asking questions I couldn’t fully understand due to the language barrier, but then I realized she was trying to gauge my interest in the idols associated with the place. While I may have missed the trends, it was clear I had stumbled upon a hidden fan hotspot, where music legends and literary history came together in the most unexpected way.
Feeling intrigued, I quickly walked to the front counter to ask for permission to check out the inner yard that i saw from the postcard, which I was curious about.
The staff kindly guided me to the area, and I learned something heartwarming along the way. The inner yard had once served as a summer paradise for the children of the family. Ms. Kwon’s mother-in-law, Joo Man Sung, had two watermelons and a small swimming pool set up there for her grandchildren to enjoy during the hot summer months. Ms. Joo had a special way of turning the yard into a retreat. After cleaning the floor with a brush, she covered the bottom drain hole with vinyl and used a water pump to create a 10 cm deep pool. It became a perfect little oasis, a fun, refreshing spot where the children could cool off and play. I could just picture it—how this humble yard, once filled with laughter and joy, had witnessed generations coming together to create memories.
It was a beautiful example of how this old hanok, once a place for books and knowledge, was being repurposed and rejuvenated for a different purpose, much like the shophouses back home in my country.
The bookstore, which had once been about textbooks and quiet reflection, was now also a secret spot for fans to celebrate their favourite idols.
I ended up ordering a hot chocolate and just soaking it all in. As I sipped my drink, I realized that the bookstore’s inner yard was more than just a peaceful escape; it was a place where two worlds—old and new—coexisted. The shelves filled with weathered books were still there, holding onto the knowledge and stories of the past. But now, the space also embraced the excitement of K-pop culture, making it a meeting point for two very different generations.
In a way, the inner yard of Dae-Oh Bookstore captured everything that keeps a place alive: the history, the memories, and the ability to adapt. It was a space that bridged the gap between the past, filled with the knowledge of old books, and the present, buzzing with the energy of K-pop fandom. This bookstore wasn’t just surviving; it was thriving, connecting different parts of Seoul’s culture in a way that felt both natural and surprising.
