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| Mokpo and its 1500+ islands |
According to my students (whose opinions are really all I have to go on), Mokpo has a reputation for prostitution, gangsters and more than its fair share of poverty. Being located at the end of the train line at the South West of the country, I was kind of expecting a Korean equivalent to England’s Penzance – a scummy, deprived nest of pirates and smugglers, jostling for B&B rooms with slightly disappointed tourists. But Mokpo surprised me, and apart from a plethora of tacky motels, it seemed much like other Korean cities except, thankfully, with fewer office blocks and less traffic, and of course, it has the Sea!
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| Pimpin' Motel |
After meeting Joel (again) and our English blonde beauties Lisa and Helen, we found a pretty ace motel (complete with internet access, flatscreen TV, a water cooler, and a Jacuzzi-bath!), and wandered down to the seafront. Seeing the boats, applying some sun cream, and putting a cold can of beer in my hand definitely brought on the summer holiday vibes. Happy days.
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| 'Team Seaside' @ Mokpo |
After we spent an hour or two trying to get our bearings (and, inevitably, getting lost, giving up and jumping into taxis), we found ourselves at the beach. Mokpo’s beach is pretty tiny but definitely not without its charms, and after 7 months in Korea (half of which had been spent in the unforgiving winter), it was a treat just to be on the sand, in my pants and shades, watching the day drift by. We spent a good few hours here, interspersed with beer-runs to the shop and the odd dip in the water. Loved it.
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| Yudalsan as the sun went down |
On Sunday we had planned to take a boat trip to the island of Oedal-do, on the basis of a recommendation by a Scottish couple we’d met halfway up Wolchulsan two days before. The ferry crossing was pleasant and calm, and a great way to view just a few of the hundreds of islands which pepper the south-western Korean shoreline (even if the piped traditional Korean ‘trot’ music on the boat became slightly tedious!).
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| Free radioactive-looking Makgeoli |
Oedal-do, a self-proclaimed ‘Love Island’ was nice enough, and we wandered around the coastal path for a while before realising that the island was almost entirely deserted: the shops we closed, people were scarce, the swimming pool-water was a foreboding shade of brown, and the vague feeling an out-of-season-Butlins-resort permeated the air – our scottish acquantainces had rather mis-sold this place to us! We were starting to feel like hungry and slightly disappointed castaways, but, as we prepared to wait for the next ferry back to Mokpo, one of many Random Korean Moments occurred!...
We stumbled across what appeared to be some kind of outside Korean restaurant, near the island’s dock, and hovered around, waiting to see if we would be served. Immediately we were beckoned to sit at a table filled with dishes of vegetables, kimchee, rice cakes, beer and makgeoli, and so, we ate and drank, slightly bemused by our good fortune. Even more bemusing (and irritating) was the old man (Ajussi) who insisted on ignoring the mile-high language barrier between us and chatter at length to us about something or other as we nodded politely. After eating, our offer of payment was refused – we surmised that it wasn’t a restaurant at all and we had just gatecrashed someone’s private party. Sometimes, it would appear, ignorance and communication-problems can be a blessing.
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| Lisa and Helen and their biggest fan |
More randomness awaited on the boat back to Mokpo, as another Ajussi, aided by his camcorder, took a not-entirely-healthy interest in Lisa and Helen, our blonde companions. Koreans seem generally fascinated by ‘yellow’ hair, and Korean men seem particularly fascinated by western women, put the two together and you have THE GREATEST SPECTACLE EVER! He probably was a bit of a pervert, albeit a generous one, and he got me quite drunk on Soju, bless him.
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| Brit abroad |
After all the (free) beer, makgeoli and soju, by the time we got back to the harbour (about 2pm) I was pissed as an old fart. Time to hit the beach and fall asleep on the sand, mouth agape. I am a credit to my country.
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| Mokpo's taseful Motels |
Dak Dori Tang (spicy chicken soup thing) followed for dinner and we managed to drag my brother and his wife to a Noraebang (that’ll be ‘Kareoke’ then). Cue Bon Jovi, Led Zeppelin, Blur, the Beatles, and (of course) Queen, more soju and beer until the wee hours. Getting drunk and singing songs are simple, fundamental pleasures, ones which Koreans totally appreciate and accommodate. Today showed that you can do either of them anywhere, anytime, for peanuts.
Monday was a wash-out, so we caught a bus to Gwangju, capital of Jeolla Province, and ran from the city’s (very shiny) Bus Terminal, through the rain, to go to find the nearest Jimjilbang. This is another classic past-time for Koreans, and an ideal place to sit out a rainy day. Basically a Jimjilbang is a sauna/spa complex, with a selection of hot and cold pools, showers, and the option of a massage. Usually men and women are separated, and so you get totally naked, get hot, get cold, do your skin a favour, chat to your friends, read a book, have a snooze, whatever you like, as long as it involves relaaaaaaxing. By the time we left, I felt great, the rain had passed, and I had got to see Joel’s naked body. This holiday just got better.
After yet another rather boozy night, the next day (our last) was rather a sobering experience. We headed to the May 18th National Cemetery, which we had read about in our Lonely Planet books as being something worth visiting in Gwangju. Joel and his friend Lee, despite living in Gwangju for a while, hadn’t been there yet, so we took a taxi there to discover some of the hidden history of this city, and this country.
I will blog about the story in a separate blog (because there is a whole heap of back-story), but basically, in 1980 there was a large pro-democracy movement in Gwangju, which, on May 18th that year, was brutally put down by the Army, lead by the General-turned-President Chun Doo-hwan. It is estimated that maybe as many as two thousand people died in late May 1980, but nobody knows for sure. The government, controlling the Press at the time, managed to hide the scale of the massacre and it was not until Korea began its transition to democracy in the late 1980s that people outside of Gwangju realised what had happened. Years later Chun and his cronies went to court for their crimes, and later still, this huge National Cemetery was built to commemorate the dead.
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| May 18th National Cemetery |
The Cemetery’s centre piece is a tall monument, of two hands holding a giant egg - symbolizing the birth of Korean Democracy (after its rather long and turbulent pregnancy) - and it is surrounded by trees, flowerbeds and statues, scattered around a huge imposing stone square. Behind the monument, the sloping hillside houses the remains of 640 people who died in those tragic few weeks in May 1980. It sounds lame to say this, but regarding the architecture and landscape of the cemetery, it’s a very tasteful and artful achievement.
Thanks to a very friendly and helpful English-speaking guide, and a documentary film we were shown in the Visitor Centre, the historical significance of this place was made apparent to us. This sad (and largely unknown) tale of brutality felt so far removed from the modern, democratic and peaceful society which Korea appears as today. The cemetery is a grand, humbling and moving place, and I think it put us all in a pensive mood as we took a bus back into Gwangju’s city centre, weaving through some of the very streets which, thirty years ago, would have the bloody scene of Korea’s version of the Tiananmen Square Massacre.
And so it ended. A quick final meal of Bibimbab (mixed rice and veg) at the Bus Terminal and it was time to get our buses. We waved off Eddie and Sarah as they headed back to Seoul, to fly out of Korea the next day. It was nice to share my adventure around Jeolla province with them, and take in Green Tea fields, hiking, the seaside, noraebang, and a slice of history to boot. My students were right, this part of the country does feel a world apart from the Metropolis-city of Seoul. Thanks to Joel for hosting us in Gwangju, thanks to the people of Jeolla for not blinking an eyelid as we acted all foreign, confused and/or drunk, thanks to Korea for making it all far too easy, and thanks to whoever invented public holidays.
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