Suwon: The Comfort of a Timeless Cityscape
A few days ago, I visited Suwon for the first time. And I was genuinely surprised.
Of course, Suwon wasn’t an unfamiliar name. I knew about Suwon galbi, the old campus of Seoul National University’s College of Agriculture, and the Suwon Paik clan. I had also heard of Hwaseong Fortress, a UNESCO World Heritage site, and was familiar with local sports teams. As a football fan, I knew how Suwon FC, once a team more suited to Korea’s second division, gave a fallen superstar like Lee Seung-woo a second chance. Together, they climbed their way up and now hold their own in the first division.
More than anything, Suwon is known as Samsung’s city. If Pangyo is Korea’s Silicon Valley of the 21st century, Suwon feels like a long-standing fortress meticulously built by Samsung over decades. That was the extent of my perception of Suwon. No more, no less.
I’m not here to delve into the city’s historical timeline. Suwon is, of course, a place with deep roots. King Jeongjo of the Joseon Dynasty could be considered the city’s founding father. He built the Hwaseong Haenggung, a temporary palace that served as his base for engaging directly with his people. During his 24-year reign, he visited Suwon thirteen times, which speaks volumes about his affection for the city. Hwaseong Fortress, which surrounds the palace, remains beautifully preserved and, more importantly, seamlessly integrated into daily life.
That was what struck me the most.
Seoul also has its grand gates, fortress walls, and palaces. But in Seoul, these are often isolated monuments — cultural assets rather than living spaces. Namdaemun and Dongdaemun are admired but no longer functional gates. Fortress trails exist, but they are more like hiking paths than parts of urban life. With a city as vast as Seoul, cultural landmarks often feel detached from their surroundings, scattered rather than connected. Take Dongmyo, for example. Many stroll through the area, but how many actually step inside the shrine?
In contrast, the area around Suwon’s Hwaseong Haenggung functions as a true part of the city. People use the fortress paths in their daily lives. They climb stairs, walk along the walls, and descend into neighborhoods when needed. These are not artificial walkways like Seoullo 7017 but natural paths formed by generations of footsteps. The fortress, once designed to monitor and defend, now offers shaded pavilions where people rest. Even standing beneath the gates provides a cool refuge from the sun. Cars also pass through these fortress gates as if it were the most ordinary thing.
It reminded me of Rome. In Rome, the city is still embraced by ancient walls, and “porta” gates continue to serve as passageways for cars and people. Streets paved with Roman stones remain in use. I never imagined I would see such a scene in Korea.
When I lived in Rome, what I loved most was the comfort that came from such timeless scenery. A cityscape that hadn’t changed for centuries. The sense of living in the present, within the same space as the past. It gave me a quiet certainty that even centuries from now, this place wouldn’t change so easily. That continuity offers a kind of comfort we rarely recognize. Our lifespans are limited, but knowing that the world our descendants will inhabit isn’t so different from ours creates a subtle sense of peace. There’s a bond in believing that the spaces where our ancestors lived aren’t far removed from where we stand today.
These feelings are becoming harder to find in Korea, where cities seem to reshape themselves by the day.
Not long ago, I visited Mokpo. I loved the traces of the past that still linger in the old downtown. But in the newly developed area of Peace Square, although crowds filled the streets and neon lights lit up the night, the place felt hollow. It was bustling with people, yet lacked any distinct character of its own. The soul of the city had moved elsewhere.
Suwon, however, was different. The past and present coexisted in a way that felt effortless and natural. It wasn’t the result of artificial restoration but the quiet accumulation of time. Walking through Suwon, I couldn’t help but wish for more cities in Korea to preserve this delicate balance. I hope that not all of Korea’s towns and cities will lose their identities to soulless, cookie-cutter developments.
