The Story of Daegil Restaurant in Yangpyeong: A Gathering Place for Retired Leaders

In Yangpyeong, two distinct times flow.

One is the time that connects to Seoul. It takes just one or two hours by car from Gangnam, allowing those who have spent their lives busy in the heart of politics, economy, media, and business to maintain ties with the capital.

The other is the time of nature.

Here, the Namhan River and Bukhan River meet, and the seasons change along the slopes of Yongmunsan. In spring, flowers bloom on the mountains; in summer, the rice fields turn green; in autumn, the fields turn golden; and in winter, the mountains and villages fall silent together.

Yangpyeong is where the time of Seoul meets the time of nature. Among its areas, Yongmun and Jipyeong are particularly special.

Yongmunsa, a thousand-year-old temple, lies at the foot of Yongmunsan, while the fields and small villages of Jipyeong stretch out. There are golf courses, walking paths, and healing spaces that allow both body and mind to rest.

And at this crossroads is Daegil Restaurant, located at 857 Yongmun-ro, Gwangtan-ri, Yongmun-myeon, Yangpyeong-gun, Gyeonggi-do.

This is not a high-end restaurant with a grand sign or a famous chef. It is a humble place serving familiar dishes like seasoned vegetables, pancakes, fish, and soybean paste stew.

However, what makes this place intriguing is not just the food; it is the people.

For some time now, individuals who have stepped back from high positions in Seoul have begun to gather at Daegil Restaurant. Journalists, politicians, former members of the National Assembly, high-ranking officials, businesspeople, and IT experts come together. Those who once moved the nation now sit across from each other in this small eatery beneath Yongmunsan.

Thus, Daegil Restaurant serves as both a dining establishment and a gathering place, a small 'second act school' for retired opinion leaders.

At the center of this gathering is Yang Hwi-bu, a veteran journalist and former president of the Korea Professional Golfers' Association.

He began his career as a KBS reporter, later serving as a political reporter and director of news production, and held positions such as a member of the Broadcasting Commission and president of the Korea Broadcasting Advertising Corporation. He also served as the president of the Korea Cable TV Broadcasting Association and the 17th president of the Korea Professional Golfers' Association (KPGA).

His career encompasses a significant era in South Korea's modern media industry, spanning broadcasting, advertising, cable TV, and golf.

Now, one of his stages is not a broadcasting station in Seoul or an association president's office, but the mountains and fields of Yangpyeong.

After years of living among people and organizations, entering nature changes one's life perspective. The time of sunrise becomes more important than meeting times, and the changes of the seasons catch the eye before organizational personnel matters.

When sitting at Daegil Restaurant, former presidents and chairpersons are ultimately just individuals with a bowl of rice in front of them.

This is the charm of this place. There are no ranks at the table of Daegil Restaurant.

Another notable figure is Yoon Jeung-hyun, the former Minister of Strategy and Finance.

Having served as the chairman of the Financial Supervisory Commission and the Financial Supervisory Service, he is one of the prominent bureaucrats in South Korea's financial and economic policy history. After worrying about interest rates, exchange rates, financial markets, and economic crises, he now spends more time living close to nature with his spouse in the later stages of life.

The numbers that drive the national economy are vast: growth rates, interest rates, exchange rates, national debt, foreign reserves...

However, as one enters the later stages of life, different numbers become important. How many steps did you take today? How many meals did you share with your spouse? How many times did you laugh with friends? How many warm words did you exchange with your children?

Ultimately, those who once worried about the national economy are also husbands and fathers in their families. The final balance sheet of life often contains assets that cannot be measured in money.

Politics, too, is just a resume in the face of time. Kim Seok-jun, a former member of the National Assembly, is another familiar face that can be seen in this area.

He entered the National Assembly with Daegu as his political base and participated in politics after a career as a professor and expert. While he may have fiercely debated national policies and regional development during his active years, now he naturally seeks out simple spaces like Daegil Restaurant to spend time with others.

Jang Young-dal, another former member of the National Assembly, has a different life story. His youth is marked by the painful history of South Korea's democratization movement. He was imprisoned for demanding democratization during the authoritarian era and later entered politics, serving four terms in the National Assembly. It is rare for a person's life to encompass such dramatically contrasting spaces as prison and the National Assembly.

However, as time passes and retirement approaches, the intense political confrontations gradually fade. Both ruling and opposition parties share meals. Conservatives and progressives grow old. Those who once held power also visit hospitals, share laughter over grandchildren, and reminisce about friends who have passed away. Retirement knows no party lines.

This may be the most profound lesson in democracy that time teaches humanity.

When discussing Yongmun, one cannot overlook Yongmunsa. This thousand-year-old temple is nestled deep in the foothills of Yongmunsan.

There stands a massive ginkgo tree that has withstood the test of time. Countless dynasties have risen and fallen, and powerful figures have come and gone, yet the tree remains.

Standing before the ginkgo tree at Yongmunsa, one naturally realizes how fleeting human power is.

In this region, stories about Ahn Hee-jung, a former governor of South Chungcheong Province who was once a prominent politician but faced a significant fall from grace due to his mistakes, also circulate. It is said that he visits Yongmunsa at dawn to reflect on his past life. There must be a reason why this story is shared among the locals.

Everyone can make mistakes, but how one reflects on their life for the remainder of their days, separate from legal and social responsibilities, ultimately falls to the individual.

Yongmunsa is not a place that erases anyone's past or grants absolution. It is simply a space that allows individuals to look within themselves. The dawn at the mountain temple is therefore profound.

There are no titles. No applause. No power. Only one person remains.

The allure of Yongmun and Jipyeong extends beyond just Daegil Restaurant.

A short distance away is Yangpyeong TPC, set against the backdrop of the fields and mountains of Jipyeong, and to the east lies The Star Resort.

If golf was once a business in their youth, it takes on a different meaning after retirement. It is not just about the score; it is about who you walk with. Spending four to five hours walking with three good friends, gazing at the mountains, and discussing the world is exercise, relaxation, and connection all at once.

After a round of golf, it is perfectly fine to come to Daegil Restaurant for a late lunch of soybean paste stew and side dishes.

Conversely, one can enjoy lunch at Daegil Restaurant and then head to the Mirinae Healing Club in Jipyeong. This space allows for foot baths and therapy in the midst of nature, providing a place to relax.

In this way, a natural path emerges in Yongmun and Jipyeong.

One can cleanse their mind at Yongmunsan and Yongmunsa, exercise at the golf course, dine at Daegil Restaurant, and then rest again at Mirinae.

With this, there is no need to envy extravagant overseas trips. Healing is not far away. It is about eating well, walking well, meeting good people, and sometimes being alone.

That is healing.

Why do retired public officials, politicians, businesspeople, and journalists favor Yangpyeong? The reason is simple: it is close to Seoul but not Seoul.

If needed, one can go to Seoul. But upon returning, the mountains and rivers await. Those who lived in apartments in Gangnam now gaze at vegetable gardens. Those who were surrounded by countless people daily now walk alone on mountain paths.

In Seoul, business cards define people. In Yangpyeong, people define people. The difference is significant. South Korea is a country that has grown rapidly, unlike any other in the world. A generation has dedicated everything to this process.

There were businesspeople who led industrialization, public officials who established the national system, and those who fought for democratization. There were also individuals who created media and sparked the information and communication revolution.

Now, they are entering their 70s and 80s. What our society must consider is what happens after their retirement. How can we preserve the accumulated experience and wisdom as a social asset? If retired ministers, members of the National Assembly, businesspeople, and journalists merely play golf until the end of their lives, it would be a loss for the nation. Their experiences are part of South Korea's history.

Thus, small communities like Yongmun and Jipyeong hold significance. At the table of Daegil Restaurant, discussions about politics and economics can occur without the need for conclusions. They can share their experiences with younger generations, recounting failures to young entrepreneurs, discussing the principles of public service with young officials, and explaining how fleeting power is to young politicians. This is the role of the elders.

South Korean society has taught many ways to succeed. It has constantly discussed how to get into good universities, secure good jobs, become members of the National Assembly, become ministers, and grow businesses.

However, no one has properly taught how to come down.

Stepping down from power, leaving positions, and returning to being an ordinary human being may be more challenging than rising. For those who have come down well, retirement is not the end.

It is the beginning of a new freedom. Walking in the mountains in the morning. Playing golf with good friends. Sharing meals with old friends.

Having tea with a spouse. Reading books and meeting juniors.

And sometimes doing nothing.

That is also life.

Back to Daegil Restaurant. It is not glamorous. But that is what makes it good. Just like the simple Korean food served, people here gradually return to their true selves.

There are former ministers and former members of the National Assembly. There are those who have led broadcasting companies and managed businesses.

But at the table, everyone is the same. One spoon. One bowl of rice. One bowl of soybean paste stew. And a few friends. Few scenes better illustrate what is truly needed in the later stages of life.

There are the mountains of Yongmunsan and Yongmunsa. There are the fields of Jipyeong and golf courses. There are healing spaces to rest the body, and above all, there are people to grow old with.

There are humans. There is culture. There is nature.

This is why I want to talk about the small local restaurant called Daegil Restaurant. It is not just because it is a delicious place. It is where people gather. When people gather, stories emerge. When stories accumulate, they become culture. When that culture is embraced by nature, it becomes a foundation for life.

Yangpyeong's Yongmun and Jipyeong are changing in this way.

Those who have fiercely lived the first act of their lives in Seoul are coming here to start their second act. They relinquish power and gain people. They set aside business cards and embrace nature.

They slow down and gain time. And ultimately, they come to realize.

What is most precious in life is simpler than one might think.

Good people. Good nature. And a warm meal shared together. The table at Daegil Restaurant is humble today.

However, the lives of those gathered around that table have not been humble. They are individuals who have traversed the tumultuous modern history of South Korea, now sharing meals and aging together beneath Yongmunsan.

That scene is beautiful. If the first act of life was a time of achievement, the second act should be a time of maturity. If one has risen well, they must come down well.

And after coming down well, they must live well again. With people. With culture. With nature.

What I encountered at Daegil Restaurant in Yangpyeong's Yongmun was ultimately not just food, but a common sense of life.

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