36. Diana, Quanah and Renee

Gwangju was going to a special experience from the start: for the first time in Korea I was staying not just with a host, but with an entire host family. My couch surfing contact, Renee, was at work when I arrived, but I was to take a taxi to her family's home. I managed to find their apartment with the help of yet another kind stranger, rang the doorbell and was let in by Renee's mother Diana. She doesn't speak much English (although still more than I speak Korean), but that was not stopping her from being incredibly hospitable. She cooked me a fabulous dinner (and if you've read this travelogue up to this point you'll know that in Korea this means the table was covered with an abundance of delicious food), and by the time my efforts had had any visible effect on this spread of goodness, Renee's sister Quanah had arrived. She speaks very good English, which means that now the conversation really took off (well, after she had added noodles to the selection of foods, that is).
After dinner came the drink, and the gambling. Diana called a friend, who brought her daughters, and a bottle of bamboo-based wine - I'm not sure whether it was juktongju, or jukryeokgo, or something else entirely, but it was tasty. We drank, and ate some more scrumptious side dishes, and talked for a good while, until it was time for the daughters to go home and do their homework. That's when the Go-stop cards came out, and we started playing. Fortunately for my wallet we only played for points, because after a first round of total beginners' luck, I was struggling to even keep track of what was going on. It's a fascinating game with many rules (so many in fact, that it seemed a bit as if they were making them up as they went along), and it seems to be a good mix between strategy and luck. If you want to try it out and are in my neighborhood, let me know - Diana gave me the cards as a gift, and I want to practice!
Sometime during our game Renee finally came home from work, and shortly after that her father. He's a lovely, charismatic man, and - according to Renee - crazy like the rest of the family. The Park family, by the way, is an atypical Korean family as far as I can tell; the relationship the two daughters have with their parents is much more one of friendship, than of the traditional Korean obedience - the family laugh a lot and are full of friendly banter. And yet it was very interesting to witness the change in atmosphere when the dad walked in the door - immediately he was the center of attention, the playing cards and drinking glasses were whisked away, and he started peeling one of those sweet, huge juicy Korean pears - a quick snack before we all went out for more food at Renee's favorite fish place, where he tried to set me up with the cute waitress.
After saengseon hoe and maeuntang it was time to go to bed. And since I've not mentioned Korean sleeping customs so far, now is probably a good time. The Park family had cleared a room for me, and from the looks of it not just any room, but probably the one with the best bed.

I had happily slept on the floor for the previous two weeks, which incidentally is pretty much standard procedure in Korea - their heated ondol make sleeping on the floor comfortably warm at the very least. But this was the luxury version: a bed of "normal" height, with a slab of stone set over an electric heater, the control panel conveniently integrated into the bed.

The next day we went for a picnic in Damyang, a county to the northeast of Gwangju, which is well-known in Korea for its Bamboo forests. But first we went to visit the May 18th National Cemetery, where the victims of the Gwangju massacre and heroes of the Gwangju democratization movement are laid to rest. I had wanted to go there to find out more about what it took for Korea to make the transition to a true democracy. The museum that is part of the memorial site managed to convey the immense courage the protesters showed during the 10 days of resistance, and the heart-braking fate that many of them suffered. I was deeply moved.

After another short drive and a one hour hike through beautiful pine forests, we reached our picnic place: Geumseongsanseong, a large fortress built during the 13th century.

Most of the buildings of the fortress were destroyed during the Donghak movement of 1894, so the interior seems more like a park than a military compound. But a 5 minute walk from the outer wall revealed a small house and stage - the sleeping quarter and training grounds of the Dongjaam, a pair of boy monks who are being trained in the Asian fighting art by their father. We arrived just in time for their training session, and were dazzled by skill of these real-life Bruce Lees.

This post concludes the newest instance of Meet a Stranger a Day - Korean edition. I spent four more days in this fantastic country, but they were filled with travel, meeting old friends, finding a way to recharge my camera's battery, and buying overpriced souvenirs - which is why I'll leave it here. But I'm hopeful - Meet a Stranger a Day will be back, as sure as I'll go traveling again...

35. Timothy

Even though my flight to Jeju was on a Saturday, Haeyoung had to work in the morning - but we were going to have lunch before I had to take off to the airport. I used the time until then to find when and where exactly the bus to the airport leaves, and to have a second look at the port. And then lunch was so delicious and the company so good, that I caught the bus twenty minutes later than intended. On top of that, traffic was atrocious, and instead of 90 minutes the transfer across Busan took about two hours. I arrived at the checkin-desk with 15 minutes to go until takeoff, focused only on not missing the plane, and must have been quite startled when the staff asked me whether I preferred an aisle or window seat. Either that, or it's standard procedure to have an extra close look at late checkin luggage. Whatever the case, I was asked to wait at the counter until my backpack had been scanned, and - after about a minute - told to join security for a closer inspection. They had seen an electrical appliance, with a wire coiled up, and wanted me to show it to them. It took me a few moments to realize that they meant my laptop charger (I was not sure about which of my belongings were in my hand-luggage and which were in the backpack), but together we found it. With the immediate security risk resolved, their focus wandered to a different item; back in Zurich, I had wrapped a couple of buttons - part of a special delivery of climbing pants to Eunkyoung in Seoul - in a piece of paper, on which I had been practising Hangeul, the Korean writing, pretty much with random simple words. While we were looking for the charger, somehow one of the security crew saw this, and now asked me whether I had written this myself - from then on they were all smiles, and I was finally on my way to Jeju.

Tim picked me up at the airport, an unexpected kindness; in general he struck me as a gentle giant (him waving to one of his elementary-school English pupils is a sight to behold). In the evening we joined the expat crowd for an open mic night, and later on went to the aptly named "The Bar". It was good fun, but it meant that we had a late start the next day, and what I had wanted to be a daytrip up Jeju's Hallasan turned into an afternoon at the Trick Art Museum. Its concept: take masterpieces, monsters and dinosaurs, arrange them so people can interact with them and take cheesy pictures, and let the crowd exit through the gift shop. Definitely not my kind of museum. The next morning I pulled myself together, and at least went to see the Manjanggul lava tube. Jeju is a volcanic island off Korea's southern coast, and sports craters, basalt stone cliffs, and underground caverns. Manjanggul is part of a system of roughly 7km of such caverns, created by subterranean lava flows, of which about 1km is open to the public. It was a bit of a bus ride and accompanying walk to get there, but the caves are impressive and very nicely lit.

Particularly interesting is the lava pillar all the way at the far end of the public part, where lava flowed and dripped down from another tube higher up, creating a strangely shaped pillar.

Porous volcanic rock is ubiquitous on Jeju, and is used - among other things - for dry walls.

34. Haeyoung

Busan is Korea's second largest city, and one of the world's five largest ports. This becomes noticeable for example when traveling by subway; after a short 40-minutes bus ride from Gyeongju to Busan, it took me a full hour to make my way across town to Haeundae, where I was going to meet Haeyoung. Thanks to Ji-whan's planning and hand-drawn map of the subway system, this proved to be simple enough. I arrived on time, and without any major detours, and had just enough time to make a phone call and buy some iced tea from a street vendor, before Haeyoung picked me up. We left my luggage in her car, and went directly to Haeundae's namesake beach, a summer favorite that draws up to a hundred thousand sunbathing visitors from all of Korea, not all of which can conceivably touch sand at the same time.

Haeundae has seen a nearly incredible amount of development in the last five years, including the construction of Gwangan bridge.

Since we both hadn't eaten, Haeyoung then took me to the the place to go for fresh eel. The eel are kept alive in a tank just outside the restaurant until the moment you place your order.

At that point, they are killed and filleted, and stewed on a cooker on your table. Eventually the pieces stop moving and are ready to eat - they have a chewy texture, a desired trait in Korean cuisine.
It was one of the last days of the Busan Film Festival (PIFF), and Haeundae Beach was filled with booths that were all at least loosely related to the movie industry. We took a stroll along them after dinner, and happened upon a performance of traditional Korean music - part of a PIFF-related reception. A brass instrument, whose sound reminded me of a Shawm or Schalmei, accompanied by four percussion instruments, playing groovy, stomping, pounding rhythms, and dancing: a man - maybe the fool?, a bear - or at least two men in a bear costume, and at the end the musicians themselves, who circled, jumped and turned like dervishes, the long ... on their hats describing coordinated circles and figure eights. What struck me as remarkable, is that I would have placed this music much further west, had I heard it out of context - I would have guessed it to be from Turkey, or somewhere along the silk road perhaps.
After that, we walked back to the car, had another look at Gwangan bridge by night, and drove to Haeyoung's home in the outskirts of Busan.

The next day - Haeyoung had to work - was filled with sightseeing. One of the things Busan is known for is the Jagalchi fish market, an immense collection of stalls and restaurants, partly in the road, partly in a newly opened market hall, and ships in all sizes and shapes.

Jagalchi's focus is on fish, but that doesn't mean you can't get everything else too. At the outer reaches you'll find stores full of traditional Asian medicine (this time I was quick-witted enough to take a picture of the dried frogs), and any supplies fishermen may need; ropes, chains, nets, and so on.

Closer to the center of the market are the dried fish stalls.

Tiny dried fish, small dried fish, big dried fish, dried seaweed, dried squid, dried octopus - if you can dry it, you can find it here.

At the heart of Jagalchi are the fresh fish stalls, and of course live fish, and crab, mussel, clam, squid, snail and turtle.

Walk on past the restaurants that sell fish and other seafood, fried, stewed, and of course raw, and you'll get to the vegetable and fruit part of Jagalchi, where there's cabbage, leek, carrots, potatos, dubu (or tofu), lettuce, sesame leaves, garlic, onions, hot peppers and of course kimchi. And then, as you are about to emerge from this jumble of color and smells, there are more medicine stalls with their powders, roots, barks, leaves, mushrooms, seaweeds and, again, dried frogs.

In the afternoon I went for a hike in Geumgang, a mountain park in the northern part of Busan. It turned out to be quite hard to find, as I had forgotten to pack my guide book when I left Gyeongju, and was navigating only from a tourist map of Busan. I took the metro to what I thought was a nearby station, and walked in the general direction of the mountain, which thankfully distinguishes itself from all the other hills in and around Busan by the red supports of its cable-car. Busan's road system was not kind to me, and gradually turned me away until I was walking in a completely useless direction; but eventually I made it to the entrance of the park. I decided to walk up, rather than take the cable-car, and was rewarded on the way with a magnificent view of the sprawling Busan.

33. Ji-whan and Jae-min

In Gyeongju, my couch surfing experience was an unusual one. Professor Hank Chay of the Gyeongju University arranges for his students to accommodate couch surfers - to the mutual benefit of all involved. The students, in my case Ji-whan and Jae-min, get to practice their English for a couple of days, while the couch surfer has the best, most authentic experience possible. I had been exceedingly complicated, delaying my departure time from Daegu more and more (so I could spend some more time with Martine and Ross, see some more of the sights, and have yet another delicious meal). But when I finally arrived at the Gyeongju bus terminal and called Ji-whan, he and Jae-min were there within minutes. We took a taxi to Ji-whan's one-room apartment, dropped my stuff and exchanged some presents (red ginseng tonic and Swiss chocolate), and started right away into the sightseeing, of which there is a lot to do in Gyeongju.
Anapji pond is the reconstruction of a Silla-era summer palace, and it looks truly pretty - especially at night.
A nearby restaurant serves the town's best Boribap, and after this yet again delicious meal we drank brotherhood with Dongdongju, a sweet rice-drink that somehow reminded me of the Swiss "Suuser". Later that evening, we went to play some basketball, a traditional Korean sport, played with a large ball and one or two hoops fixed to a rectangular board... oh, you've heard of it?
The next morning, Ji-whan took me to the Jimjil, a Korean bathhouse, with showers, a sauna, a hot pool, a very hot pool, and a refreshingly cold pool, all of which we used in the proper sequence. Refreshed and clean we started into the day, and went to visit two of the most important cultural sites in the vicinity of Gyeongju: the Bulguksa temple and the Seokguram grotto. On the way there we decided to strengthen ourselves on Beondegi, stewed silkworm pupae. Unusual, to say the least.


As I've mentioned before, Korean Buddhist temples all have a relatively similar layout. One of the recurring features is the well, where devotees wash their hands and use the red and blue ladles to drink the cleansing water.

33. Martine and Ross

The bus ride to Deagu took longer than I had expected, and so instead of around five as planned, I arrived after dark, around eight. Daegu has several bus terminals, most of which are reasonably near downtown - except, of course, the one at which I arrived. In addition to that, it seems to be little frequented by foreigners, so that the only English I heard or saw, was an invitation to buy some authentic Indian food. I politely declined, and continued my search for a public phone. I found a number of them tucked away by the side entrance of the terminal, brushed away some cobwebs (clearly most Koreans own a mobile phone), and called Ross. He was at a wedding reception, but very kindly explained where I should go to meet up with him (a landmark building run by one of the big hotel chains), and that I should make the taxi driver call him, if there should be any problem. And sure enough: I approached a gaggle of taxi drivers, and said just the one word in a questioning tone; much puzzlement ensued. They started throwing hotel names back and forth between them, all of which sounded distinctly not like the name I had given them. Finally, one of them waved me towards his car, we got in, and he drove off. In safe distance from the other drivers he asked me for my destination again. I tried finding the place in my guide book, but without success. Finally I pointed to his phone, typed Ross' number in for him, and so for the third time, my couch surfing hosts had saved me.
As it turned out, the wedding reception did not take place at the hotel at all, but Ross had simply chosen a big enough landmark form me to find. From there we took a short walk to the bar where the reception was still in full swing. I waited downstairs for Ross and Martine to say their goodbyes, but I hadn't even taken off my backpack, when Ross reappeared: I had been invited to join the party! The guests were a good mix of Koreans and foreigners, including a group of couch surfers. I won't go into the details of the party - you've probably been to a couple of them yourself. Only this: apparently, belly dancing is all the rage in South Korea.
The next day I went to visit the nearby Haeinsa temple. It houses the Tripitaka Koreana, a huge collection of buddhist scripture carved into wooden blocks, dating from the 13th century.


Haeinsa is very popular among Koreans, at least on a Sunday - instead of finding serenity, I ended up being part of a huge mass of tourists. And of course the wooden blocks aren't on public display, instead they are kept safely in the original storage, which provides the perfect storage conditions that apparently modern science cannot. But I was impressed by two things. Amid all the people, in one of the side temples was a monk, chanting, without a sign of distraction. And between the first and second gates stands the trunk of a roughly 1000 years old tree, according to legend planted to commemorate the foundation of Haeinsa in 802.

32. Lindsay

Arriving in Sokcho, after a four-hour bus ride through green hills and along the coast, I felt the slightest bit of apprehension. Sokcho is a small town according to Korean standards, counting a mere 100'000 inhabitants, but its dense layout and high-rise apartment blocks give it the feel of a much larger city. And I was going to have to try to communicate with a taxi driver again, a task that had left me puzzled and frustrated in Seoul. I managed to say "Sam Hong apatah" without making too much of a fool of myself, and when we arrived at the apartment complex and the driver pointed at several of the buildings with a querying look, I think I managed to convey to him that I did not know exactly which one, but that here was a good place to get out... And then once again a couch surfer came to my rescue - my host Lindsay had come out to greet me, and with that the taxi driver was satisfied that I was not going to get lost.
After I had lent my fingers to Lindsay's cat Mamba as a chew-toy for a while, we took the scenic route to Sokcho's food town and went for delicious Samgyeopsal - thick slices of pork, fried on a coal stove integrated into the center of the table, and served with a mind-boggling array of side dishes; lettuce- and sesame-leaves, kimchi, pickled roots and beans, scrambled eggs, raw squid, dried fish... I can't recall the exact arrangement, but suffice it to say that a Korean dinner table is not complete if there is still some space on the table.
After dinner that we went for some beer and soju, and had a great chat, which was interrupted only for a short time by a Korean girl of about 17 years, who had been dared by her friends to go ask the foreigners for some beer - we realized what exactly was going on only later, when the bar staff brought candles and everybody started singing Happy Birthday.

Friday was reserved for hiking. Near Sokcho, a short bus ride of about 30 minutes from the city center, lies the national park of Seoraksan (Mount Seorak). I had considered trying to scale the summit, but decided not to overdo it - with a horizontal distance of about 10km from the park entrance and a vertical distance of 1700m it would have taken me roughly 10 hours there and back - a timeframe for which I was simply not awake early enough. Instead, Lindsay suggested the hike to Ulsan Bawi (Ulsan Rock), and she was spot-on with her suggestion. It's the time of the year when the leaves start changing color here in Korea, and the hike took me through some beautiful forests, which were mostly green, with just the right number of red leaves.

On the way to Ulsan Bawi there are several temples and shrines - and there's the teetering rock, Heundeul Bawi, that can be rocked back and forth by a small group of people.

The final half-hour of the ascent to Ulsan Bawi consists of stairs.

The view from the top is well-earned and much more spectacular than these two pictures can convey:

On the way down I stopped by Sinheungsa, the temple at Seoraksan's foot. All the Buddhist temples I've seen in Korea so far share some common elements. One of them is the entrance to the temple compound, guarded by the four kings of heaven, each of which rules over the domain of either north, east, south or west.
The king of the south, always depicted with a musical instrument.

At their feet: vanquished daemons.

After I had returned to Lindsay's, we met up with her friend Ari, and went to the harbor fish market. The way to buy (or even better, eat) fish here: point to the fish you like, and the seller will kill and prepare it right in front of your eyes.

Or you can order squid sundae - tasty!

Since we were still a bit peckish after our fresh clams, shrimp and squid sundae we decided to follow them up with some Bulgogi - thin slices of beef, again fried on a coal stove integrated in the table, and as always with an enormous number of side dishes.
And then - the night was still young - Lindsay and Ari introduced me to Sokcho's night-life. We met up with some of their colleagues from the English teaching institute, and went to their local to join in a double birthday party. There was a lot of talking, drinking, dancing, birthday cake and great company. And then, and I know I'm repeating myself, but Korean culture seems to be centered very much around food: at the party I talked to two Korean work colleagues of Lindsay's, and - hungry from all the dancing - we went to eat some pig spine soup (the literal translation is potato soup, and there are usually some potatos to be found in it, but according to common opinion, pig spine soup is a much more accurate description). Delicious food in the company of two charming ladies - what else could I possibly wish for...

Leaving Seoul

The hardest thing about writing a travel-blog seems to be finding time to actually write it. I'm having such a good time here in Korea, that sitting down by myself with a computer is really not the first thing that comes to mind. But since I don't want to wait too long to write down my adventures - I tend to forget the details much too quickly - I'm just going to take some time right now, at ten to two in the morning, after coming back from my host Ross' surprise birthday party... So, let me think back a couple of days:
Getting out of Seoul was a bit of an odyssey. Eunkyung had to work early, so I had a head start into the day. Unfortunately that also meant that I was trying to get across Seoul with my large and heavy backpack during rush hour. Yong Jin had mentioned a subway connection, which sounded easier to handle than the bus - so following Eunkyung's suggestion I wanted to take a taxi to the subway station, rather than walking for 20 minutes and possibly getting lost. Finding a taxi was easy, but when I tried talking the driver into taking me to the station, he replied with a stream of exasperated-sounding Korean, and by pointing in the general direction of across the road. I realize now that he was probably telling me to flag down a taxi going in the other direction (apparently Korean taxi drivers are generally unwilling to do a u-turn across 4 lanes of heavy traffic - which kind of makes sense if you put it that way...), but at the time I guessed that for him the short distance was not worth the trouble, and he was showing me in which direction to walk. I had no map of the area, and was at first reluctant to try finding the subway station without better directions, but one look at the packed bus changed my mind - I could not even imagine trying to fit in there with all my baggage. You see it coming of course, and indeed that's what happened: I found no subway station. Instead, after about half an hour of happy early morning walking, I completed a half-circle that brought me back to the main road, just one bus stop further away from the city center. Obviously I was going to have to resign to the fact that I had no choice but to somehow squeeze in. And then luck smiled on me. The very first bus looked just like the one half an hour earlier - packed to the doors. But there was another one right behind it; clearly that was my chance! I got in, paid the fare, and was going to simply stand with my backpack on - but I had not counted on the kindness of Koreans: an Ajossi who was standing right next to me organized a place for my backpack in a corner of the bus (a lot of pointing was involved), and the Ajuma who was sitting just next to where I was standing offered to take my second bag onto her knees (again, a certain amount of pointing). Ajuma and Ajossi are honorific titles f
From that point on, finding the Express Bus terminal was more or less straightforward. But I hadn't left the city just yet, and I had two hours to do some last minute exploring. I stuffed my backpack into a locker again, this time putting much thought into how I could prevent the mechanism from jamming again, and headed off towards the Han river, along which I had detected a riverside park on my map.
Seoul can be a very green city. The residential area just by the Express Bus terminal is positively lush with trees and other greenery, and I even saw some hot chili peppers drying in the sun.
But Seoul can also be confusing, and - from a pedestrian's point of view - a bit frustrating. According to my map, to get to the riverside park, all I had to do was walk northwards. But after a while I came to a wall, which clearly separated me from the riverside park. It was still in a very green area, so I didn't mind much walking along it - but after about half an hour I was beginning to wonder how long exactly this wall was going to be. Behind it, I found out after a while, was one of Seoul's city freeways, and eventually I came upon an underpass, and finally entered Jamwon Riverside Park. What struck me as odd though, was that the park was less green than where I had just come from. There were fewer trees and bushes, and the paths were concrete and even straighter than the one along the wall had been! My guess is that this reflects much of the Korean way of life; a park is not a place where you go to sit in the shade, smell the flowers and read a book. Instead it's where you go to exercise. There are bicycle freeways instead of gravel paths, and workout-machines instead of park benches.
Well, I didn't have a book to read with me anyway, and I needed to get back to the bus terminal. But because it had taken me such a long time to find a way past the wall, I was now closer to the subway station a couple of stops away from the terminal - so instead of walking all the way back, I decided to make my way there. The orientation principle involved: find the next bridge across the river, and follow that road until you get to the subway station. But again my plan was foiled by the same city freeway. I found a way onto the bridge, but needed to cross the freeway that merged with the traffic coming from the bridge. There was even a red light, which I was sure would turn green eventually. There were two buttons on the pole, and to be sure I pushed them both. Nothing happened for a couple of minutes. I pushed the buttons again, tried pushing them both at the same time. Nothing kept happening. Traffic kept flowing by me at speed, so that simply crossing the road was out of the question. Eventually I began looking for an alternative route. I had seen what looked like a bus stop on the bridge, and turned back to investigate that option - but upon closer inspection it lacked the telltale signs of a serviced bus stop, such as schedules and route plans.
On the way there I had crossed paths with an Ajuma, and had been wondering how she would master the amazing red light that never turns green. So after waiting a perfunctory couple of minutes during which none of the passing buses showed even the slightest inclination to stop at my "bus stop", I returned to the red light. The Ajuma was still there, and so we waited together for another few minutes, trying out various combinations of how often and hard to push the buttons - until, eventually, we both resigned to having to brave the flow of traffic. At least there were two of us, not only a crazy tourist, and not only a silly old lady, and somehow we made it to the other side. We parted ways shortly after that, and I finally made it to the bus terminal and my bus without any further shenanigans.
There's still a lot of writing to catch up with, but for now I think I'll call it a night.