Slow is the New Green

Damyang Bamboo Forest by toughkidcst on Flickr

Laughter came easily when I read about the latest developments on Lonely Planet's reader forums. By way of a democratic vote, Seoul had been cast the third most hated city in the world by some of the world's most embittered and - dare I say - loneliest travelers.

Seoul, South Korea – According to one traveller comment, ‘It’s an appallingly repetitive sprawl of freeways and Soviet-style concrete apartment buildings, horribly polluted, with no heart or spirit to it. So oppressively bland that the populace is driven to alcoholism.’

With the exception of the 'no heart or spirit to it' clause, I actually don't disagree with a few of the observations. Seoul is terribly industrial. It doesn't have the sleek, hi-tech veneer of Tokyo or the glass tower ambitions of Hong Kong. Traffic chokes the roads and the pollution chokes the people. But there's a story to this urban malaise. In a wild bid to overcome post-colonial squalor and Third World treatment from smug, First World nations, the South Koreans were willing to bear enormous sacrifices to industrialize in an absurdly short span of time. In the quick stroke of 20-30 years, the past was literally bulldozed from memory.

It's a small miracle then that the past has stayed on, precariously intact from smokestacks and faceless factories, in places like Cheongsan Island, Cheongpyeong, and Hadong, the first Asian cities to be accredited by the Slow Food Movement. In order to qualify for Slow Food membership, towns must have a population under 50,000, promote the local sourcing of good ingredients, sustainability, artisan production, the careful and respectful preparation of food, and conviviality in the eating of it - Slow Food, as opposed to Fast Food. Clearly, small as these towns are, they offer something the big city doesn't.

I have visited the area where Cheongpyeong is located. Damyang is known for its bamboo forests, brooks and streams. Everything there felt so alive, untouched yet breathing. There, I could feel a nature more powerful and beautiful than anything created by humanity's imperfect hands. Next time I go, I will have to try the locally grown food.

It's interesting to note the concept of Slow Food began in the mid-80s, when a McDonald's was a looming possibility by the Spanish Steps in central Rome. Carlo Petrini and a group of like-minded Italian journalists believed that indigenous food customs were eroding away and began an idea that is now practiced in 15 countries. Industrialization and McDonald's have blanketed much of the world since then, and the McDonald's of guidebooks may hold sway with the unimaginative, but sometimes I feel we all need to cast aside the multinational brand names and their myopia, before it spells death for a vision that's right before our eyes.