Kelonguni
12-10-15, 10:23
Boom in Seoul's mini-room housing by Chang May Choon
In South Korea, cram rooms for exam students have turned into a major
industry - and housing source - for students, young workers, the
middle-aged who are down and out, and foreigners.
In Seoul to pursue a K-pop dream, Singaporean Lydia Wong lives in a
box, quite literally.
Home to her is a 3 sq m room with no windows, and walls so thin she
can hear her neighbour's every move. But it comes equipped with
everything the 24-year-old needs - a small bed occupying half the
room, a study desk with a mini fridge and fan on it, shelves above her
bed to store books, clothes and a tiny TV, and a rod suspended from
the ceiling for hanging her clothes.
The room, which is smaller than a typical Housing Board flat bathroom,
is stuffy and claustrophobic.
But Miss Wong, who arrived in Seoul in February to study the Korean
language, said it is cosy and affordable enough "for a poor student
like me". She shells out just 250,000 won (S$304) a month for rent,
with Wi-Fi and utilities included.
"Initially I was worried about having no windows, but I soon got used
to it," said the K-pop fan who dreams of finding a showbiz-related job
here after finishing her course in November.
"I'm quite an adaptable person and I don't require a lot of things to
live, just the basic needs."
WEATHERING IT
The room is hot in summer and cold in winter. I had to wear three
layers of clothing when it's cold.
SINGAPOREAN LYDIA WONG, who sleeps with the door of her gosiwon ajar
because the tiny room is too stuffy
Miss Wong lives in a gosiwon, a boarding house-like form of housing
unique to South Korea. It started out in the 1980s as cheap one-room
accommodation of 3 to 6 sq m for students to isolate themselves for
months to cram for examinations, with shared facilities like bathroom
and kitchen.
Rice, kimchi and sometimes instant noodles are provided for free in the kitchen.
But since the early 2000s, such gosiwon, which literally means exam
room, have become an alternative home for a variety of people who
cannot afford to pay for other types of housing because of rising
living costs and a fiercely competitive job market, particularly for
young people with youth unemployment at 8.4 per cent, much higher than
the nationwide rate of 3.4 per cent.
Boarders include job seekers, foreigners who came here to learn the
Korean language or find a job, labourers, jobless people and, in some
instances, families.
Singaporean Lydia Wong, who is studying the Korean language in Seoul,
lives in a gosiwon so small that her fingers can easily touch the
walls if she stretches out both arms. - ST PHOTO: CHANG MAY CHOON
Even Korean-American singer Andy Lee, a member of boy band Shinhwa,
openly admitted that he once stayed in a gosiwon during the 1990s,
when he was living in Seoul alone, away from his family in the United
States.
To cater to growing demand, the number of gosiwon has almost doubled
in the past few years, from 6,597 in 2010 to 11,457 last year,
according to official data. Almost 80 per cent of these gosiwon are
located in Seoul and the surrounding Gyeonggi province.
In 2011, there were 138,805 people living in gosiwon, with over 62 per
cent of them unemployed, according to a 2013 report by the Seoul
metropolitan government.
There is no official demographic data of gosiwon dwellers, but local
news reports indicate that fewer than half are students cramming for
exams. In some poor areas, up to 90 per cent are middle-aged people
with no jobs, and some of them can live there for several years.
Gosiwon are popular because they are cheap, costing just 200,000 to
500,000 won a month, and they do not require tenants to pay sky-high
rental deposits, unlike in the traditional rental housing system.
Only about half of Koreans - 53.6 per cent last year according to
Statistics Korea - own their homes. The rest rent, forking out huge
lump-sum deposits known as jeonse, that could be 50-80 per cent of the
property's value.
One of the tiny 5-6 sq m rooms available at BoBo Memberstel located
near Seoul National University subway station. The rooms are rented
out for 300,000 won to 430,000 won (S$365 to S$524) a month.-PHOTOS:
KIM JINHA, BOBO MEMBERSTEL
A typical 25 sq m studio apartment, for instance, can require about 50
million won in jeonse. The landlord will usually invest the money,
keep the profits generated (which is considered the rent) and return
the original sum at the end of the two- to three-year tenancy. This
was a win-win situation until falling interest rates led landlords to
raise jeonse, sometimes to as high as 90 per cent of the property
value, making it unaffordable to many.
An alternative monthly rental system known as wolse also requires a
big deposit, on top of monthly payments. The same studio apartment can
command a 10 million won deposit in addition to 400,000 to 600,000 won
monthly rent.
For those with no savings or wealthy parents to help them pay for
either jeonse or wolse, gosiwon are an affordable option. But a
gosiwon is "closer to a coffin than a room", as novelist Park Min Kyu
described in a 2004 short story about his stay in one such lodging.
VILLAGE OF MINI-ROOMS
In Silim-dong in south-western Seoul, near the prestigious Seoul
National University, there is even a gosichon, or exam village.
The residential area is filled with buildings that have been converted
into one-bedders for rent, cram schools and lots of cheap dining
options and cafes catering to the needs of students mugging for
their dreams - be it passing the state bar exam or the civil service
entrance exam, or entering the university of their choice.
One of the residents, Mr Lee Sung Jin, 32, is studying for the bar
exam in March next year. He lives in a gosiwon that is a steal at only
120,000 won a month. "I went for the cheapest gosiwon and it doesn't
matter that the room is small, because I need it only for sleeping,"
said Mr Lee.
Mr Charles Chu, who runs the four-year-old BoBo Memberstel located
near Seoul National University subway station, said students cramming
for exams make up only 60 per cent of his tenants. About 20 per cent
are office workers and the rest foreigners.
As the business grew more competitive with more gosiwon springing up,
Mr Chu decided to shift his focus to attract foreigners who come to
Seoul to learn Korean or on exchange programmes. He said most tenants
leave within six months, but there is a guy who has stayed on for four
years.
"He doesn't have his own house and has to live apart from his family
members. Gosiwon is the only place that he can afford to rent," said
Mr Chu.
While they used to spring up around universities, gosiwon can now be
found all over the capital city, with fancy Konglish - Korean-English
- names like gositel, livingtel or oneroomtel.
Near City Hall, where many major companies have offices, there are
gosiwon that target white-collar workers. Many prefer to live in
crammed quarters near their office than spend long hours commuting.
Even in Seoul's outskirts such as Dobong, Geumcheon and Jungnang,
which are not filled with colleges or major offices, the number of
gosiwon has increased 50 per cent from 2009 to 2013, according to
official data.
And in the upscale Chungdam-dong in Gangnam district, there are also
gosiwon that pride themselves on being a stone's throw from the
luxurious Galleria Department Store.
Chungdam Livingtel, for instance, advertises itself as a "hotel-style
full-option premium livingtel right in the middle of Gangnam",
complete with a coveted address that many can only dream of.
Living in a gosiwon is not all rosy, though, as residents often have
to forgo their privacy in the shared space, and are not allowed to
have guests. The living conditions vary, depending on how old the
place is.
Miss Wong, who lives near Konkuk University in eastern Seoul where she
attends language classes, said her windowless room is stuffy and she
sleeps with the door ajar, secured by a door chain.
"The room is hot in summer and cold in winter. I had to wear three
layers of clothing when it's cold," she said.
SAFETY ISSUES
The tiny rooms, with walls made of wood and filled with books and
papers, can also be a fire hazard.
A fire in a gosiwon building in Seoul's Sincheong-dong that killed 11
people in 2010, which followed a 2008 fire that killed seven gosiwon
residents in Gyeonggi province, triggered public concern about safety.
The government then imposed new regulations that require gosiwon built
after 2010 to have fire sprinklers, and started to inspect gosiwon in
2012 to make sure they comply with safety standards.
A set of new rules announced in June, including wider corridors,
thicker walls and mandatory CCTV systems, aims to enhance the safety
and comfort of gosiwon residents.
Miss Wong said fire is a concern, but "there are fire extinguishers at
every corner" in her gosiwon block.
The good thing about living in a gosiwon is that she never feels
lonely, said Miss Wong, who has chatted with fellow residents,
including office workers and those who come from the suburbs to look
for jobs.
Mr Park Jee Hoon, who moved to Seoul from south-western Jeolla
province to attend college, used to live in a gosiwon but has upgraded
to a 16 sq m one-room which he shares with a friend. They split the
monthly rent of 370,000 won. The so-called one-room is like a mini
studio flat complete with its own kitchen and bathroom, and commands
deposits ranging from a month's rent to a few million won.
Now working as a waiter at a restaurant near his home in Silim-dong's
gosichon, the 21-year-old has taken a break from his computer
technology studies to think about his future.
"If not for cheap accommodation like gosiwon, people like me can never
afford to leave our hometowns to find a job in Seoul," he said.
As for Miss Wong, if and when she finds a permanent job, she hopes to
move from her gosiwon to a one-room. "I'd like to have more space and
a window," she said.
In South Korea, cram rooms for exam students have turned into a major
industry - and housing source - for students, young workers, the
middle-aged who are down and out, and foreigners.
In Seoul to pursue a K-pop dream, Singaporean Lydia Wong lives in a
box, quite literally.
Home to her is a 3 sq m room with no windows, and walls so thin she
can hear her neighbour's every move. But it comes equipped with
everything the 24-year-old needs - a small bed occupying half the
room, a study desk with a mini fridge and fan on it, shelves above her
bed to store books, clothes and a tiny TV, and a rod suspended from
the ceiling for hanging her clothes.
The room, which is smaller than a typical Housing Board flat bathroom,
is stuffy and claustrophobic.
But Miss Wong, who arrived in Seoul in February to study the Korean
language, said it is cosy and affordable enough "for a poor student
like me". She shells out just 250,000 won (S$304) a month for rent,
with Wi-Fi and utilities included.
"Initially I was worried about having no windows, but I soon got used
to it," said the K-pop fan who dreams of finding a showbiz-related job
here after finishing her course in November.
"I'm quite an adaptable person and I don't require a lot of things to
live, just the basic needs."
WEATHERING IT
The room is hot in summer and cold in winter. I had to wear three
layers of clothing when it's cold.
SINGAPOREAN LYDIA WONG, who sleeps with the door of her gosiwon ajar
because the tiny room is too stuffy
Miss Wong lives in a gosiwon, a boarding house-like form of housing
unique to South Korea. It started out in the 1980s as cheap one-room
accommodation of 3 to 6 sq m for students to isolate themselves for
months to cram for examinations, with shared facilities like bathroom
and kitchen.
Rice, kimchi and sometimes instant noodles are provided for free in the kitchen.
But since the early 2000s, such gosiwon, which literally means exam
room, have become an alternative home for a variety of people who
cannot afford to pay for other types of housing because of rising
living costs and a fiercely competitive job market, particularly for
young people with youth unemployment at 8.4 per cent, much higher than
the nationwide rate of 3.4 per cent.
Boarders include job seekers, foreigners who came here to learn the
Korean language or find a job, labourers, jobless people and, in some
instances, families.
Singaporean Lydia Wong, who is studying the Korean language in Seoul,
lives in a gosiwon so small that her fingers can easily touch the
walls if she stretches out both arms. - ST PHOTO: CHANG MAY CHOON
Even Korean-American singer Andy Lee, a member of boy band Shinhwa,
openly admitted that he once stayed in a gosiwon during the 1990s,
when he was living in Seoul alone, away from his family in the United
States.
To cater to growing demand, the number of gosiwon has almost doubled
in the past few years, from 6,597 in 2010 to 11,457 last year,
according to official data. Almost 80 per cent of these gosiwon are
located in Seoul and the surrounding Gyeonggi province.
In 2011, there were 138,805 people living in gosiwon, with over 62 per
cent of them unemployed, according to a 2013 report by the Seoul
metropolitan government.
There is no official demographic data of gosiwon dwellers, but local
news reports indicate that fewer than half are students cramming for
exams. In some poor areas, up to 90 per cent are middle-aged people
with no jobs, and some of them can live there for several years.
Gosiwon are popular because they are cheap, costing just 200,000 to
500,000 won a month, and they do not require tenants to pay sky-high
rental deposits, unlike in the traditional rental housing system.
Only about half of Koreans - 53.6 per cent last year according to
Statistics Korea - own their homes. The rest rent, forking out huge
lump-sum deposits known as jeonse, that could be 50-80 per cent of the
property's value.
One of the tiny 5-6 sq m rooms available at BoBo Memberstel located
near Seoul National University subway station. The rooms are rented
out for 300,000 won to 430,000 won (S$365 to S$524) a month.-PHOTOS:
KIM JINHA, BOBO MEMBERSTEL
A typical 25 sq m studio apartment, for instance, can require about 50
million won in jeonse. The landlord will usually invest the money,
keep the profits generated (which is considered the rent) and return
the original sum at the end of the two- to three-year tenancy. This
was a win-win situation until falling interest rates led landlords to
raise jeonse, sometimes to as high as 90 per cent of the property
value, making it unaffordable to many.
An alternative monthly rental system known as wolse also requires a
big deposit, on top of monthly payments. The same studio apartment can
command a 10 million won deposit in addition to 400,000 to 600,000 won
monthly rent.
For those with no savings or wealthy parents to help them pay for
either jeonse or wolse, gosiwon are an affordable option. But a
gosiwon is "closer to a coffin than a room", as novelist Park Min Kyu
described in a 2004 short story about his stay in one such lodging.
VILLAGE OF MINI-ROOMS
In Silim-dong in south-western Seoul, near the prestigious Seoul
National University, there is even a gosichon, or exam village.
The residential area is filled with buildings that have been converted
into one-bedders for rent, cram schools and lots of cheap dining
options and cafes catering to the needs of students mugging for
their dreams - be it passing the state bar exam or the civil service
entrance exam, or entering the university of their choice.
One of the residents, Mr Lee Sung Jin, 32, is studying for the bar
exam in March next year. He lives in a gosiwon that is a steal at only
120,000 won a month. "I went for the cheapest gosiwon and it doesn't
matter that the room is small, because I need it only for sleeping,"
said Mr Lee.
Mr Charles Chu, who runs the four-year-old BoBo Memberstel located
near Seoul National University subway station, said students cramming
for exams make up only 60 per cent of his tenants. About 20 per cent
are office workers and the rest foreigners.
As the business grew more competitive with more gosiwon springing up,
Mr Chu decided to shift his focus to attract foreigners who come to
Seoul to learn Korean or on exchange programmes. He said most tenants
leave within six months, but there is a guy who has stayed on for four
years.
"He doesn't have his own house and has to live apart from his family
members. Gosiwon is the only place that he can afford to rent," said
Mr Chu.
While they used to spring up around universities, gosiwon can now be
found all over the capital city, with fancy Konglish - Korean-English
- names like gositel, livingtel or oneroomtel.
Near City Hall, where many major companies have offices, there are
gosiwon that target white-collar workers. Many prefer to live in
crammed quarters near their office than spend long hours commuting.
Even in Seoul's outskirts such as Dobong, Geumcheon and Jungnang,
which are not filled with colleges or major offices, the number of
gosiwon has increased 50 per cent from 2009 to 2013, according to
official data.
And in the upscale Chungdam-dong in Gangnam district, there are also
gosiwon that pride themselves on being a stone's throw from the
luxurious Galleria Department Store.
Chungdam Livingtel, for instance, advertises itself as a "hotel-style
full-option premium livingtel right in the middle of Gangnam",
complete with a coveted address that many can only dream of.
Living in a gosiwon is not all rosy, though, as residents often have
to forgo their privacy in the shared space, and are not allowed to
have guests. The living conditions vary, depending on how old the
place is.
Miss Wong, who lives near Konkuk University in eastern Seoul where she
attends language classes, said her windowless room is stuffy and she
sleeps with the door ajar, secured by a door chain.
"The room is hot in summer and cold in winter. I had to wear three
layers of clothing when it's cold," she said.
SAFETY ISSUES
The tiny rooms, with walls made of wood and filled with books and
papers, can also be a fire hazard.
A fire in a gosiwon building in Seoul's Sincheong-dong that killed 11
people in 2010, which followed a 2008 fire that killed seven gosiwon
residents in Gyeonggi province, triggered public concern about safety.
The government then imposed new regulations that require gosiwon built
after 2010 to have fire sprinklers, and started to inspect gosiwon in
2012 to make sure they comply with safety standards.
A set of new rules announced in June, including wider corridors,
thicker walls and mandatory CCTV systems, aims to enhance the safety
and comfort of gosiwon residents.
Miss Wong said fire is a concern, but "there are fire extinguishers at
every corner" in her gosiwon block.
The good thing about living in a gosiwon is that she never feels
lonely, said Miss Wong, who has chatted with fellow residents,
including office workers and those who come from the suburbs to look
for jobs.
Mr Park Jee Hoon, who moved to Seoul from south-western Jeolla
province to attend college, used to live in a gosiwon but has upgraded
to a 16 sq m one-room which he shares with a friend. They split the
monthly rent of 370,000 won. The so-called one-room is like a mini
studio flat complete with its own kitchen and bathroom, and commands
deposits ranging from a month's rent to a few million won.
Now working as a waiter at a restaurant near his home in Silim-dong's
gosichon, the 21-year-old has taken a break from his computer
technology studies to think about his future.
"If not for cheap accommodation like gosiwon, people like me can never
afford to leave our hometowns to find a job in Seoul," he said.
As for Miss Wong, if and when she finds a permanent job, she hopes to
move from her gosiwon to a one-room. "I'd like to have more space and
a window," she said.