My decision to write an article about the Korean legation for my school magazine The Highlander was done with the lighthearted student journalist laziness and with the rather immature worry that it would turn out uninteresting to readers who are mostly American high schoolers. To make matters worse, I have never learned Korean history in a Korean classroom, since my life has randomly been fixing its direction to someplace not Korea every time a Korean history class approached my fate. I only faced it once in fifth grade for a mere three months, but I can only recount being mortified about how my desk partner looked at me with a you’ve got to be kidding face when I couldn’t tell him the answer to the simplest Korean history question in the world; the answer was jip hyun jun. Although I can’t solely place blame on my dad’s job that made our family move every couple of years, it was part of why I’d been so ignorant on most Korean historical matters, and much more probably rendered me one of the most unsuitable people to write a news article about a Korean legation that represents a part of Korean history.

But so there was my first encounter with the Old Korean Legation. It was a cold November day, and I prepared myself with more uneasiness than excitement due to the interview I was supposed to conduct with a curator for my article. I nervously padded out my folded sheet of paper full of interview questions and set my phone on the recording app. Walking facing the side of the building as my parents needed to park far away from it, I saw its sideview getting closer and closer. The building appeared to fit in with the typical 19th century landscape of Victorian-style European constructions, a familiar scene in the U.S. in its era of flooding immigrations but quite unfamiliar with its name of a “Korean legation.” The two contrasting elements: the western style of the building, and the Korean flag, “taegeukgi” on the roof, seemed to be a brief introduction to the inherent value of the legation, the significant historic implications that entail the beginning of a Korean-American friendship. 

After spending a while looking at the American flag in my school classroom and hearing the pledge of allegiance every morning, the taegeukgi on the roof made me feel nostalgic, reminding me of the Korean flag that was hung up on my classroom in my old Korean school. The Korean national anthem of grandeur did not ring loudly in my head, I confess, the Victorian-style building simply came to me more as Viotti’s Violin Concerto No. 22 instead. I guess that was a little unfortunate. But the Korean national anthem finally came to me, as a variation, when I entered through the door of the building and saw another huge Korean flag hung sideways on the wall, the traditional folding screen on the left of the space, the photographs of the Korean faces of the late 1800s, and the overall odd sense of familiarity of the place.

Taking our shoes off, my family and I quietly stepped into the building and looked around in silence. The legation felt oddly familiar and comfy from the start. It was like home. A few seconds later, one man, who turned out to be Dr. Jong Soo Han, came out of a room and welcomed us. “You’re here again?” he asked my dad smiling, and escorted us to the little room with a TV that showed a video explaining how the Old Korean Legation came about. We decided to conduct the interview after the tour he would give us. We started with the left side of the first floor, the Gaekdang, Jeongdang, and then the Sikdang on the right. The first and second floors were restored to its original state but the third floor of the building was now used as an exhibition room, newly painted with white and set up as a typical museum, with little TV screens, pictures, and descriptions. All the floors were meticulously restored, but the first floor, the floor which was restored based on remaining photographs of it and thus is the most accurately set up, was the most charming to me personally and left quite an impression.

The Gaekdang, or the parlor, was the first room I was introduced to. The whole room was full of warm colors, of gold, khaki, beige, and lime, contrasting with the predominant green, black, dark brown, and red of usual Korean historic buildings I have seen in Korea. The curtains, sofas, and the carpets were all very western, but there was a Korean folding screen, a little cushion with a Korean flag embroidered on it on a sofa, and some Korean porcelain vases, which all reminded me that the former residents of this building used to be Korean. At first, rather than a harmonious mix of two cultures, these things seemed like a comic first clash of the two. Even in the Jeongdang, the furniture were of western style, but the little portraits of black and white showed faces of Koreans. The fact that the Americans were so intrigued by the Korean traditional clothes that the Bobingsa wore that the Bobingsa were featured on an American newspaper also seemed to be a connected result of this first clash of Korea and the U.S. I found myself chuckling imagining how surprised the Americans would have been. Having seen numerous 19th to 20th century European interior designs, I was surprised by the little Korean bits of decorations that added more of the Korean spirit to the overall space that seemed rather very European. The legation had an amusing twist when observed closely, and I loved these details that I was able to catch. By the end of my visit, walking out of the doors also decorated with little taegeuk symbols, those details I considered awkward initially  seemed more natural: a new kind of natural. These details made the Old Korean Legation more vibrant, alive, and truly special.

These furnitures and setups of rooms and halls that caught my eye left me very impressed by the restoration process and the history of the building itself as well. I found out that the Cultural Heritage Administration of the Korean government purchased the building in October 18, 2012 and the Overseas Korean Cultural Heritage Foundation assumed responsibility for management and operation, and began drawing the architectural blueprint from 2013. In order to restore the original interior designs of the building, they needed to purchase 1890s restoration reference data, historical documents, photos of the building, and exhibition goods that were in fashion during the late 19th century. From December of 2015, the Foundation began to restore the building and completed it in March of 2018, taking a total of about 2 years. On my online interview I later conducted, I asked the curators of the museum on the matter of the restoration time. Dr. Jong Soo Han replied saying that the contributing factor to the particularly long time it took to complete the restoration was the fact that the Logan Circle area was designated as a historical district, which prolonged the process of receiving the permission from Washington D.C. authorities. Interestingly, for the restoration of historic property located in a historic district, a building permit is required.

The efforts that the Foundation took to match original room coordinations were evident as I have already mentioned; the black and white photographs taken of the place looked almost identical to what I saw before my eyes. The floor carpets and walls with detailed patterns, the sofas with rollers... I believe that many others may have felt the familiarity and comfort that I felt of the legation. The Old Korean Legation is the only old legation in the D.C. area that is preserved in the state of its 19th century appearance, and I feel that the people who were involved in the process of restoration who cared enough for restoring an important historic building deserve to be commended for their efforts. Not only did I, someone who used to be dangerously ignorant on Korean history, learn about Korea’s situation in the 1890s and the Korea-U.S. cultural and diplomatic exchanges, I also was given the opportunity to learn about the importance of restoring neglected historic sites. 

Notwithstanding the Old Korean Legation’s promotion of the display of Korea’s diplomatic relationship with the U.S. specifically, I think that the legation mostly buys interest of those who identify as Korean. I do not mean to say that this is bad, I believe that the legation is worth sharing with many other people, including foreigners. Looking at the Old Korean Legation in the perspective of a Korean whose personal connection with the history of Korea reinvigorates patriotism and genuine interest, I almost overlooked the other perspectives, of those whose intimate historic bonds lie somewhere different. But those bonds are not as distant or foreign as we might think. For example, due to the shared history, many Chinese, Japanese, and other Asians may find this place interesting to visit. Qing China and imperial Japan were two states that interfered the most with Korean affairs during the late 19th century. How Korea coped with those interferences is represented in the legation, even through subtle things such as the Korean flag on the roof that emphasized Korean autonomy.

Visitors whose countries share a similar history may also be highly interested as well: those from Eastern Europe, also being a region “in between” just like Korea, historically exploited and overrun by nearby states. They will note how this building was forced to be sold for a mere $5 to Japan when Korea was colonized by Japan in 1910. To Americans, these would be equally applied, considering how the U.S. is a multicultural country. It would also fascinate those who are fond of history, regardless of whether his or her nationality relates to Korea anyhow. The promotion of these interesting facts would have to be done appropriately; it may be a good idea to add them to the brochure or online promotions. I also feel that the museum sign should be more noticeable to pedestrians, as it is not very clear that it is a museum from a distance. The fact that the museum is an unconventional one should also be emphasized in the brochure or promotions, and speaking of which, I think that expanding the legation’s use to a mini library in which a certain amount of people can stay to read and relax for a time may be appealing to more visitors.

By reaching out to local schools or school boards, more students may visit, and field trips may take place as well. I know from experience that students enrolled in world history classes are taught a bulk of Chinese history and some Japanese history, and very little to no Korean history. Although world history classes tend to focus on general trends, I believe that visiting the Old Korean Legation, one part of the Korea-U.S. history would be a meaningful experience. I definitely think that the historical context of the legation’s emergence is important as well as intriguing to understand. Through these methods, the uses of the building will be further expanded and visitors will not be exclusively Korean or Korean-American.

But at least to me, as a Korean, being able to witness a piece of a Korean historical stage in the middle of a foreign country and to discover its relevance was a truly amazing experience. The Old Korean Legation provides insight to how Korea’s diplomatic efforts elicited noticeable if not significant reactions from the U.S. during a time of Korean history characterized by political turbulence. Shortly after the visit to the Old Korean Legation, I pulled out a book from my bookshelf: The Alive Korean Modern History. Looking at the picture of the Bobingsa, the group who visited Washington D.C. back in the day, in the middle of the book, I smiled in memory of the legation. I wondered if the author of the book found out about the recent public display of the Old Korean Legation yet. My bond with Korea and my bond with Korean history, my own heritage, felt sincerely alive in a different but similar way from when I advocated for Korean Dokdo and felt frustration for the comfort women. Now, I can proudly say that the Old Korean Legation gave my Korean heart a special lesson and experience to remember.