When Seoul Surprises: History Beneath Our Wheels

From Insadong, we took a bus to the nearest park along the Hangang, Yeouido. Our agenda was simple: go on a bike ride and chase the sunset. Mission accomplished—and more.

Near the bike rental station stood a tunnel with a sign: “A Walk Through the History of Yeouido Airport.” I was tempted to walk through it, but we had bicycles waiting and the road ahead seemed to be calling us instead. For the next hour, we rode along the Hangang, passing families on picnic mats, couples strolling beneath the trees, runners, bikers, too and children racing ahead of their parents. Eventually, we stopped beneath one of the bridges to rest. That was when a series of historical markers caught my attention.

The markers narrated the story of Yeouido before becoming the financial district and riverside park that people know  it today. Once little more than a sandy island across Mapo Port, its destiny changed during the Japanese occupation when an airfield was built there. As I walked from one marker to another, I realized that this was not merely the history of an airport. It was the history of people whose dreams took flight.

One marker bore the words: “Yeouido, Where Dreams Take Flight.” It is a beautiful phrase because it speaks of more than airplanes, arrivals, departures, or the passage from one era to the next. It speaks of aspiration.

The story begins with Art Smith, an American aviator whose aerial demonstrations at Yeouido in 1917 captivated thousands and inspired many Koreans to dream of flying.

Among those inspired was An Chang-nam, who became the first Korean pilot to fly over Korea. Beyond aviation, he devoted himself to Korea’s independence movement before his life was cut short in a plane crash at only twenty-nine years old.

His example, together with Art Smith’s, inspired Kwon Ki-ok, one of Korea’s first female pilots. She joined the anti-Japanese independence movement, trained as an aviator in China, and dedicated her life to the dream of a free Korea.

Art Smith inspired An Chang-nam. An Chang-nam inspired Kwon Ki-ok. One person’s courage became another person’s beginning.

Reading those markers, I realized that inspiration also has a history. It moves from one generation to the next, from teacher to student, from artist to artist, from parent to child, from dreamer to dreamer.

I then realized how BTS’s songs about hope, resilience, and even resistance feel deeply rooted rather than entirely new. They belong to a much longer Korean tradition in which art, music, and culture carry memory, courage, and hope across generations.

Not because BTS is equivalent to these historical figures, but because they, too, have inspired millions of people to create, study, volunteer, teach, write, make art, to simply choose one more day to live or endure difficult seasons. Their music becomes another marker along the path, reminding those who come after them that courage can be inherited.

As a librarian, I have spent much of my life believing that history lives in books as well as places inhabited by dreamers, innovators and wanderers. Seoul validated that. History also lives in parks, tunnels, riverbanks, and the places where people choose to stop and read the space and environment.

Sometimes the greatest discoveries are not found inside museums alone. Sometimes they are waiting beside a bicycle path, though unnoticed, reminding us that every generation leaves markers for the next.