Back to Our Place - Somewhere in My Memory - Essay Example

Back to Our Place (Somewhere in My Memory) I imagine myself walking along the little hill that stretched upwards to the left side of my house, when I recall childhood memories. The place at the top of the hill, that comes so clearly to my mind, was surely there before my reminiscences made me aware of it - I had no idea when it was built, it was always, for me, just there. I was young enough to enshrine that spot as a precious memory, right up to the present day, and the good memories have pushed the bad things behind me. It had an odd little name, if I translate it directly into English - Car Inspection Office of Eastern Part. In America, I suppose it would be a Vehicle Testing Station. As I remember, there were hundreds of taxies, so it might even have been a cab company, like Yellow Cab. In the mornings, it used to be a little crowded, with neighborhood people complaining about the waste oil flowing downhill from the top, to the housing area. This is the only bad memory that comes to mind about that place. However, residents did nothing more, other than to murmur sulkily to express displeasure about that oil. Around midday on Sundays, after having a light lunch, my family would take four badminton rackets, a few shuttlecocks, and some water to drink, and would step inside the 400 square yards area of that big car park up the hill. With a light heart, we would pass by the black written sign "Car Inspecting Office of Eastern Part", as if the sign did not exist. A few neighbors would already be there, playing side by side, as everyone had fun, and enjoyed their games. It seemed as though nobody cared about original purpose of the place. Instead, It played the role of a little camping spot and family play area. For my family, the white lines for car parking became the perfect place to play badminton, the markings were just right. We would start for home at dusk, cooled by a fresh breeze, smelling the sweet scent of sweat that wafted skywards on that gentle wind, tired but happy. On weekdays, around the time when the office work was finished, the parking lot would slowly become empty, and my friends and I would gather, without any formal arrangement; it was as if we knew each other's thoughts. Using those same 'badminton lines' my family enjoyed, we would play every game we could think of. If we put those lines, that looked like a chessboard, together as a set of twelve, it became a great soccer field, or the place for dodge ball played on a group of lines, in exactly the same way. We would never go back home until darkness fell, making us afraid. The only exception that would stop our play for a time was when we heard our mother's voices. They would call us loudly for dinner, sounding very far away in the darkness. Those friends, and sound of my mother's voice, filled with alarm, have been a pattern and part of my life throughout my entire childhood and beyond. The scenes from those times remain unforgettable to me, for all my life. But sometimes things did not always happen that way, and the happy scene would be disturbed. We would hear another voice coming toward us, not the loving concern heard in our mother's calls. There were two sides to this place, a different aspect that stays in my memory. The office would never be totally empty, even though we hoped it would be. After 5.00 PM, when the workers went home, a few people would always be on duty there. Though they did not often confront us, there was a sort of competition, as they did not want to let the balance of power between neighborhood and workers, pass to our side, making us the winners. To assert their position of being 'in charge', sometimes, the person on duty would make us leave, and we had a lot of fun hiding from them and watching carefully for a chance to get back inside the car park again. But in my memory, I can see that they were only human too, the same as we were, and we saw that side of them often. When they became bored sitting in the office, they would come out and play with our soccer ball, not shouting or angrily ordering us to leave. I know they thought we were only kids, with no ability to make judgments about adults. But I still remember them sometimes as ill-tempered uncles! We were crazy about the scent of the exhaust fumes from automobiles, that emerged from the place. I am still uncertain that this is one of the most crucial causes of air pollution, simply because of the happy times I associate with that smell. I would stop by the place on my way to school, and then try to feel and taste that smell. I would breathe deeply and let the beautiful smell stir inside of me. It was a manmade, chemical production, a combination of carbons and oxidized steels, but to me, as a child, it also seemed pure and natural. More than aromatic air-fresheners, covering a bad smell in a car, much more than the scent of marijuana that gives a temporary 'high', this was the factor that remains as in intense sensory experience, dominating my childhood. It is the smell of reminiscence for me. My country, Korea, is a nation with a very fast developing IT industry. For fifty dollars, Koreans are provided with a high-speed internet service, ten times faster than America's Comcast. All kinds of financial transactions can be authorized, with only one touch on a keyboard. We can become involved in anything, anywhere on earth, through a screen on a desktop. This change in our life style began quite recently. Until I graduated elementary school, internet services could not be accessed, even for those living in the capital, Seoul. (I am now 25 years old). The high price per minute and low speed, prevented many people from gaining access and using the services. But although society has benefited from high technology and the availability of high-speed internet services, I am not sure that we are really richer, of if the quality of life has improved. People no longer have the patience to wait for something they want. They have come to depend on the convenience of online services, instead of going out and dealing with real human beings. They have given up the chance of connecting with others, and are becoming isolated. Kids are more likely to have fun playing computer games or chatting online, rather than going out and becoming self aware through interactions, face to face with others in society. When I stayed at home for a time, I remember how annoyed I would be while waiting for one page on my laptop to move to the next (It was not even Comcast service). Now, I write checks every month to pay my rent for my apartment, and I have come to believe that life does not need to be that fast. During that time, I saw the faces of children with parents at home, so full of smiles, their voices joyful and energetic, as they ran and played, jumping and shouting to each other. It make me recall that parking lot where I used to love to skip and play, back in my home place, back when things were slower and more carefree. During the last winter vacation, I got a chance to visit the childhood place, and my parents, my friends and I joined together in remembering those days, sharing our feelings and memories. The little hill was still that same slope on the left side of the house I once lived in. As I walked up the hill, I felt as if the higher I climbed, the smaller I grew, becoming younger with every step; when I stood on the top, I was a little child again. But I found nothing on the end of the street at the top of the hill. Instead, an unfamiliar building stood on the spot. I turned back with a smile at the corner of my mouth, because I could still feel the atmosphere surrounding me, touching my mind. I heard the yelling of the workers, in the old Car Inspection Office of Eastern Part, the mothers' voices call us from down the hill. I smelled the fragrance of the cars starting-up in the morning, everything I had once known was awakening in me; it became for me a precious moment. I thought this building, this car park, these memories, would stay with me for the rest of my life. My place, my childhood, my happiest of memories. Read More