Gwangju’s Highway to Nowhere Links Testaments of 5.18
Written and photographed by Isaiah Winters.
Impromptu road trips are among my favorite things to do in Korea, and the Honam region rarely disappoints. If only I had the time, it’d be a cinch to produce an additional “Lost in Honam” column every month, as this region is largely overlooked and thus laden with low-hanging fruit. This month’s article will be a sort of Lost in Gwangju-Honam hybrid, as I’ve finally made time to visit a provincial haunt linked to 5.18’s more metropolitan flashpoints: Gwangju’s highway to nowhere.
I first noticed this highway long ago while on the way to Jangseong from Gwangju but never bothered to check it out until my wife began learning to drive. Finding wide-open spaces for driving practice isn’t always easy in Gwangju, so thinking it might be a good place for her to get some experience behind the wheel, I decided to head northbound on Highway 25 to see if it was somehow accessible. To my surprise, it was indeed accessible, with no warning signs prohibiting entry – well, sort of.
I first walked the empty highway on foot, which was an uncanny experience suggestive of how our world might look post-humanity. The only road sign I encountered was crooked, sun-warped, and written in an older font reminiscent of the 1980s. Adding to the highway’s eeriness, the sign was also terribly inaccurate, saying Gwangju was 30 kilometers away when City Hall was in fact only 15 kilometers away – and in the opposite direction. It was around this time that I spotted a security car parked on the shoulder ahead, which was my de facto “sign” that visitors might not be welcome.
It turns out that the flawed and timeworn road sign I’d seen was actually only about three years old, and its retro font and hanja characters were deliberately designed that way to evoke the look and feel of the past. The reason for such meticulous attention to detail, of course, was to provide a backdrop for the highway scenes in the 2017 film A Taxi Driver. As part of the old Honam Expressway, this abandoned tract of highway was perfect for reproducing the provincial military blockade of Gwangju during 5.18, doubly so as there’s a real military base nearby that likely provided some of the armored vehicles featured in that part of the film.
The prop sign, which now sits tilted and sun-cracked among ever rising foliage, obviously wasn’t built to last. In a few more years, its message will likely peel off, by which time the bushes will have swallowed it whole. A minor mystery remains as to how it became tilted in just three years. Some of the more parsimonious explanations are simple root heave, attempted theft, or shoddy construction. Anyway, it’s interesting that the filmmakers would leave it there, almost as a memorial to the film and the rural highway’s significance during the military crackdown of May 1980. Today this stretch of snow-prone highway has been made redundant by the safer Motjae Tunnel connecting Jangseong and Gwangju. What will become of the old pass is anyone’s guess.
Another piece of 5.18 history featured in A Taxi Driver – and one with a more certain future – is the old Red Cross Hospital downtown. Later renamed Seonam University Hospital, it was the place where certain hospital scenes were shot, and much like the faux-retro road sign, the hospital’s new back gate is another one of the film’s tangible imprints on Honam. Although the hospital was already the centerpiece of a Lost in Gwangju article twenty issues ago (see issue #203), in light of recent changes in its ownership, it seems apropos to include an update in this article.
In a substantial victory over private sector bidders, the old Red Cross Hospital was officially acquired by Gwangju City at the end of July for the sum of 8.85 billion won. Before the recent purchase was finalized, there had been serious fears among those seeking to preserve the hospital that the liquidators of Seonam University would sell the property to a private bidder, which would’ve put the hospital’s future in far greater jeopardy1. The recent public acquisition, however, suggests a brighter future for the historical site, which closed in 2014 due to mismanagement and has since been home to squatters.
To be fair, whoever has been squatting there seems to be looking after the place, which is largely free of vandalism. On my most recent visit, the only changes I noticed were that the abandoned ambulance out back had been removed and a few new rooms had been made accessible, including the maternity ward, x-ray room, and records room. Otherwise, the place is more or less being respectfully maintained by its unauthorized residents. That they’ll soon be left homeless following the building’s preservation is a rather cheerless inevitability.
There are a few other urban sites linked to 5.18 that are similarly inching towards better preservation. These include the former 505 Security Forces’ headquarters, which will be turned into a historical park starting next year, and the former Armed Forces Gwangju Hospital, which has already been converted into a historical park and is currently receiving additional safety checks1.As these two sites were the subject of my very first Lost in Gwangju article thirty issues ago (issue #193), I’m chuffed to see progress in their preservation. Usually, urban exploring teaches me to get used to disappointing losses of history. Thankfully, there are exceptions.
Source
1 Gu, G. (2020, August 5). 505보안부대 옛터 등 5·18사적지 4곳 보존사업 어떻게. Newsis. https://newsis.com/view/?id=NISX20200805_0001119792
The Author
Originally from Southern California, Isaiah Winters is a Gwangju-based urban explorer who enjoys writing about the City of Light’s lesser-known quarters. When he’s not roaming the streets and writing about his experiences, he’s usually working or fulfilling his duties as the Gwangju News’ heavily caffeinated chief proofreader.