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The May 2008 issue of National Geographic featured an article on the Dong ethnic group who live in an enclave nestled in the luxuriant mountains of Guizhou Province, China. Headlined "Village on the Edge of Time," novelist Amy Tan's narrative of her journey to this remote and poor corner almost read like poetry.
The Dong people have no written form of their language, which they call Kam. Songs are their record of traditions and a mythic history that is a thousand years old, or so the songs themselves suggest, Tan writes.
Not only the story but the photos had a sharp impact on my mind. What I especially remember is one of the bridges, which the writer described as "a covered bridge that was fanciful, outlandishly so for a small village of rice farmers whose income is less than a hundred dollars a year. The bridge was as formidable as a dragon, with a scaly roof for its body and cupolas for its head and spine." She viewed it "with the awe of a child who has just seen a fairy-tale place jump out of a book." For their beauty they are called flower bridges and for their practicality, wind-rain bridges, a handy shelter from the elements, Tan wrote. Benches run along both sides of the bridges, making them an ideal resting spot for old comrades, a playground for children and a work space for carpenters when dark clouds churn." Yes, her description matches the photographs of the bridge structures quite well.
It was around that time that I happened to learn about the Gyeongju Palace project, which is now known as the "Silla Dynasty Excavation and Restoration Project." The document about this project I read first was the report of a survey tour to China by a group of local professors and city officials. Their purpose was to gather whatever information or data was available, either texts or drawings, on ancient-style wooden bridges. The photos of bridges in the report were exactly the same style that was narrated by Amy Tan in Guizhou.
There have long been a few stone pillar foundations on the bed of Gyeongju's peaceful Nam-cheon or "South Stream," designated as Local Historical Monument 457. These have been known by archeologists and local tradition to be relics of the ancient Woljeong Bridge, south of the ancient Wolseong-gung Palace, probably leading to its main gate over the stream that functions as a natural moat.
Later, I heard that a few small pieces of burnt wood and roof tile shard were found in the area, which hinted that it had been a large wooden bridge with a roof.
Although the 12th-century book "History of the Three Kingdoms" tells us that the bridge was built during the reign of Silla King Gyeongdeok in the 8th century, there are no records about the size, shape or materials of the bridge.
However, the mayor and the citizens of Gyeongju were not thwarted by the lack of supporting documents; discussions among expert groups and consultations with international bodies were conducted.
I know that a ranking UNESCO expert strongly advised against building anything on the extant stone bases. He recommended constructing a museum or a display hall near the site, so that the original rocks and stones could preserve authenticity. But the truth is, no one wants to see a newly built bridge based on imagination alone.
After that, I had no chance to hear about what happened with this project. But whenever I visited Gyeongju, I could see high fences concealing the construction site of the new Woljeong Bridge. It is reported that a 66-meter ancient-style covered bridge was completed over the stream after construction work between 2008 and 2013. It is not like the simple covered bridge structure of the American movie "The Bridges of Madison County," but a solid wooden structure with two double-decked gate pavilions on both ends. The gates themselves are scheduled to be completed by the end of 2017.
A local media reporter wrote, probably based on the city's press release, that the Woljeong Bridge is "treasured as a historical artifact in that it may have functioned as an artery in the city, and it enables us to presume the size and characteristics of the royal city."
In his 2009 article "International Principles of Preservation," Michael Petzet of ICOMOS discusses the generally accepted modern principles of preservation, restoration and renovation of historic sites.
The aim of restoration is "to preserve and reveal the aesthetic and historic value of the monument and is based on respect for original material and authentic documents."
What really matters are cases when there is nothing authentic at all in the work of "restoration." I think we would better name such project as "re-building heritage" and "construction" or "re-construction" projects to avoid a fallacy in nomenclature, or simply to avoid deceiving ourselves.
The recent earthquakes around Gyeongju have made us think once more about the irreplaceable value of heritage sites and artifacts in Gyeongju. More than 55 cases of damage have been reported, including a slight slanting of the Cheomseong-dae Observatory Tower, a damaged railing stone of the Dabo-tap Pagoda and partial damage to the roof and ridge of the main hall of Bulguk-sa temple.
It may be opportune for us to pool resources and wisdom on how better to preserve our authentic cultural heritage there rather than build new structures.
The writer is the chairwoman of the Korea Heritage Education Institute (K*Heritage). Her email address is Heritagekorea21@gmail.com.
