Big beaches and Bigger mountains... Gangneung and Seoraksan

Not satisfied with our trip to Ulleungdo and Dokdo, me and my accomplice Andy decided to spend a little more time in Gangwan-do before heading back to Seoul. I’d promised to take Andy on some real hiking trips during his stay in Korea, and I’d been told that it doesn’t get much more beautiful than Seoraksan National Park. And any excuse to stay in Gangwon a little longer and soak up some more of the fresh air is fine by me.

I’m a big fan of Gangwon province. It’s like the mirror image of its west-coast counterpart, Gyeonggi province. Gyeonggi is one of the most (over-)populated places on Earth: a man-made spaghetti  of urban sprawls, punctuated by crowded roads and highways, endless apartment blocks and the steady hum of 23 million people (almost half of South Korea’s population) trying their hardest not to fall over each other. 

Gangwon province, in contrast, despite being much bigger than Gyeonggi, has less than 2 million people. There is not much of a train network, no subway, and very few big highways. Instead, you can see a lot of mountains, farms, tourist hotspots, national parks and beautiful beaches facing out to the East Sea.

In many ways, Gangwon-do reminds me of rural Scotland. Like Scotland, it’s a hilly, mostly sparsely-populated place; like Scotland, it’s famed for tourism and outdoor activities such as hiking, rock-climbing and watersports; like Scotland, it gets more than its share of cold and snowy weather; and like Scotland, it always seems to takes bloody ages to get there. 

Anyway. After our ferry pulled into Donghae City from Ulleungdo, we headed to Sokcho, the most north-easterly city in South Korea and the closest to Seoraksan National Park. But, fortuitously, we had to change buses in coastal Gangneung City, and so we decided to spend a night there - good choice!

Meeting the locals, Gyeongpo Beach

Gyeongpo beach

My Rough Guide promised that Gangneung boasted ‘excellent’ beaches, and I had heard from some of my students that Gyeongpo beach, in particular, is one of the best and most famous beaches in Korea, so we took a bus there, and were not disappointed. Despite having just experienced Ulleungdo’s craggy island beauty, there was a distinct lack of sandy beaches there to lounge around on. So, it was an impressive and welcome sight to see Gyeongpo’s six kilometres of fine, clean sand stretching before us., with a few sunbathers and people messing around on banana boats around us. Time for a quick swim in the clean blue East Sea and a couple of cans of Hite. Yum.

Gangwon-do Acappella Jamboree

And what I call ‘explorer’s serendipity’ came into play for us, yet again, when we stumbled into a rehearsal for the annual Gangwon Province Acapella Festival, which was to be held that night, just a short walk from the beach. This featured a bunch of, I presume, art college students performing entirely without-instruments – singing, harmonising, and sometimes using human beatbox – to create a very cute and relaxed festival atmosphere in front of a surprisingly small crowd, sat politely cross-legged on the grass. It really was a unique event, and most of the groups were very talented. We spent around an hour there until we realised there were no bar facilities (WHAT?!), so we headed off into a taxi, into the night…

Trying to find the best place to hang out on a Saturday night in a new town, far away from the nightlife of Seoul, can sometimes be quite difficult. So, we drank outside a city-centre Family Mart and waited until we attracted people to talk to us. This method generally works. After a few bottles of Soju with bemused young locals, eager to ask us where we were from, and why we had come to little old Gangneung, we met some foreigners (who had exactly the same questions) and were duly whisked off to a variety of bars, clubs and into the boozey blur of late-night hedonism, Gangneung-style………

Andy managing a smile in 'underwhelming' Sokcho

Thus, Sunday was, predictably, a bad day. Even a dose of Haejangguk (Hangover soup) couldn’t really rouse our spirits. We sat, in mental and physical pain, on another bus, this time to Sokcho, gateway city to Seoraksan National Park. And our arrival into Sokcho was rather uninspiring: downtown Sokcho looked like it hasn’t changed since the 1970s. Compared to Gangneung’s spacious, relaxed feel, this place seemed harsh, outdated and quite uninviting. We found our way to a beach near the Bus Terminal, but even the temporary refreshment gained from a dip in the sea couldn’t take the edge off a nasty hangover and that feeling one sometimes gets when travelling: that, actually, it would be nice to be at home curled up on a sofa, rather than negotiating maps, buses and travel options in an unfamiliar place.

Seorak-dong at night

But nevertheless, negotiate maps, buses and travel options we did, and by the time it had got dark we’d arrived by bus in Seorak-dong, a village located near the entrance to Seoraksan National Park. We found a dirt-cheap minbak, grabbed some food and hiking provisions, and I was asleep by 10pm, which was a good job really, as we were up at 4am the next day to trek Seoraksan’s highest peak, Daechonbong, (a mere) 1700 meters high.

Seoraksan Entrance at Silly'o'clock

So, on Monday morning, as the rest of the world slept, we woke, put on our heavy bags (we had to carry a week’s worth of luggage up the mountain – bad planning, which was to come back and bite us in the ass later), switched on our head-torches and headed for Seoraksan. 

Despite the ungodly hour, and the fact it was a weekday, we weren’t alone on the mountain trail, and we met the usual gangs of brightly-coloured ajummas and ajussis, who as always, despite their fierce, intrepid exteriors, were very friendly to us (me and Andy having the novelty of being the only foreigners there, and almost the only under-40-year olds too). We stopped for breakfast at the rock of Biseondae (and managed to buy some enjoyably hot, if over-priced Ramyeon noodles from the hiking café there), and then, slowly, the ascent became steeper and steeper, the scenery more and more dramatic, and our bags felt heavier and heavier, as we trudged to the peak.

Colourful trees, colourful hikers

Seoraksan really is a beautiful place, and to go in Autumn is a visual treat, as the trees change colour into a cacophony of brown, orange, red and green. As we climbed the inside of the valley and up out onto the ridge, the epic scale of the place was also revealed to us: Seoraksan park is a vast network of mountains and valleys, with rocky peaks and tree-covered sides, broken up by the odd stream and waterfall. But the feeling of awe as we finally reached the peak of Daecheongbong was outweighed by a sense of relief, that after 8 hours of hiking, we were finally going to be going down at last.

at Daecheongbong - the peak

 

So after a stop at the top for photos and a bottle of Makgeoli (the hikers’ favourite poison, don’t-you-know), we headed off for a 3-hour descent to the little village of Osaek. Our reward for our 11-hour hike was Oseak’s USP: a natural hot spring. I can’t think of anything better than, after a hard day’s trekking, immersing yourself in a hot spa for an hour.  B.L.I.S.S.

on the way down to Osaek from the Peak

After some underwhelming Galbi-tang (Beef Rib soup) and some rather more delicious local-speciality Hwangtae-haejangguk (dried pollack hangover soup), we raised a toast to ourselves and our knackered feet, with a couple of cans of Max, and I was asleep in our minbak by 10pm. Spent!

 

I would love to say that I really enjoyed hiking up to Daecheongbong, but we carried so much stuff with us that it was a bit too much of a struggle to really describe it as ‘fun’. But, looking back at my pretty photos in the comfort of my fully-reclined bus seat on the return trip to Seoul, it was a satisfying achievement. If I go back to Seoraksan I would love to tackle some of the other, less demanding peaks (with a smaller bag) next time.  

Seoraksan

And so it ends, my week to Gangwon-do and the East Sea took, with a tally of 4 cities, 2 islands, 4 ferry trips, 5 intercity buses, 2 sizeable hikes, 1 heavenly hot spring, 2 sandy beaches, 1 singing festival, X cans of Max, Y cans of Hite and Z bottles of Makgeoli.  Yum.

'Don't say the T-Word'...Ulleungdo and Dokdo

So, finally, I finished my year’s contract in a hagwan and decided to take some time out to explore Korea a little more. With an extra month left on my working visa I thought I could really go to some of those hard-to-reach spots without having to worry about getting back to work for Monday morning. What a treat, after slogging for a year, it’s time to be a tourist! 

My friend from England Andy is on an extended holiday in Korea right now, so we have the chance to do some exploring together. There has been one place which has intrigued me for ages, the lonely island of Ulleungdo, located 100 miles off Korea’s East coast.

'Lord Of The Rings'. Sans orcs

Ulleungdo is not a terribly easy place to get to, and very few foreigners make the effort, preferring to go to the more famous and accessible Jeju island down south. But being a contrary git, I like to do the things most people don’t do. So, with the indispensable help of my Rough Guide, and my Korean friend Nina, we advance-booked the ferry tickets (ferry crossings are not regular, so you need to book ahead, and you really need to speak Korean!), and away we went.

To get to Ulleungdo, we had to take a ferry from the rather boring port city of Donghae, a 3-hour bus ride from Seoul’s Express Bus Terminal. The arrival of a ferry at Ulleungdo’s Dodong harbour is rather a big event for this mostly pretty sleepy island, so we were immediately accosted by a bunch of ajummas trying to drag us to their respective hostels. The winning ajumma charged us 40,000 won (about £12 each) a night, for a basic but totally acceptable sleep-on-the-floor ‘minbak’ room.

We found out that there was a ferry leaving to go to Dok-do that same afternoon, so we decided to hop on it, and take a trip to Korea’s most easterly point, the disputed island which the Japanese call ‘Takeshima’ (but don’t mention the T-word to the Koreans, especially round these parts!)

 

Andy wondering what all the fuss is about this Dokdo place

My Rough Guide told me that going to Dok-do, despite its notoriety, is not a terribly appealing option except for the most nationalistic of Koreans, and I can kind of see why some might think that:  a 3-hour round trip, punctuated by only 30 minutes of actual time on the island, and costing £20, might seem a waste of time and money. But actually, it turned out to be a rather surreal and entertaining experience, and one which most people don’t get to enjoy.

For the uninitiated: Dok-do has been a source of friction between Korea and Japan for decades. Despite the fact that the international community appears to recognise it as being part of Korea, and the fact that Korea actually has troops stationed there, and has built a landing platform and various buildings on the two rocky outcrops which make up this tiny place, Japanese politicians periodically stir up tensions by reiterating their claim to the island.

Only this year, the Japanese government published new history textbooks for its school children, claiming that Takeshima was in fact part of Japan. More recently, a group of Japanese politicians from a far-right party were denied entry on a planned trip to Dokdo, with the Korean authorities fearing (correctly) that the aim of the trip was a media-stunt, intending to stoke the Japanese public into nationalistic fervour. The Japanese government also banned its staff from using Korean airlines for a while too, as a protest at Korea’s ‘occupation’ of Dokdo. All of these events (and particularly the textbook affair) were a big deal in Korea, who felt rather miffed that Japan seemed to be provocatively flexing its imperialistic muscles (again), at a time when Korea was trying to help the Japanese overcome the problems of the recent earthquake/tsunami disaster.

Throw in the (not unimportant) fact that Japan occupied Korea, rather brutally, for about 40 years, less than a century ago, and you can start to understand how Dokdo has become a focal point for anti-Japan antipathy in particular, and for Korean pride and patriotism in general.

So after crossing the East Sea for ninety minutes, we arrived at Dokdo’s tiny landing platform to a reception of about twenty soldiers saluting our arrival, to the obvious joy of the passengers who cheered and waved back, proudly and sincerely, without a hint of irony (NB – Myself and Andy were the only non-Koreans on a ship of maybe 150 people!).

The banner says something like: "even the children know Dokdo is Korea"

There is only a very small section of Dokdo which is accessible to civilians, so really it was just an opportunity for the Koreans to unfurl their banners (with pro-Korea slogans), wave their flags and take lots of photos. After thirty minutes of breast-beating patriotism, we were herded back into the ship, and as the Dokdo soldiers saluted us farewell, there was more cheering and waving, and possibly a few tears as well.

Squid Genocide.

Ulleungdo is famous for squid-fishing, and you can see squid being brought off boats, squid being killed, squid being skinned and chopped, and squid hanging out to dry, all over the place. There was a veritable fishy genocide going on pretty much continuously to be honest.  So after a fitting dinner of Ojingo Bulgogi (basically squid fried with loads of vegetables – a local speciality, and a damn good one too), and a stroll around the several bars built around the coast, we retired, full of fish and beer, mulling over the randomness of our Dok-do excursion.

View through the mist from Seonginbong

The next day was hiking time, and we dutifully hit the trail for Seonginbong, the island’s biggest and most central peak, standing at just over 900 metres. The hike up wasn’t too difficult (especially as a taxi ride to the mountain entrance shaved off the first few hundred metres), but coming down on the island’s north side was spectacular, and the island’s reputation for its’ ‘Lord of The Rings’ style scenery was justified to us, as we took in epic vistas of rocky mountains, covered in lush greenery, dissolving into cloud at the top, and into the sea at the bottom. 

We walked down over the only flat part of the island, the Nari basin, towards the North coast, where we were met by more huge rock outcrops, gaggles of seagulls, and the beautiful blue of the East Sea crashing onto the craggy shore. Time for a can of Hite before taking the bus along the coastal road (indeed, the only road) back to Dodong.

'Entertainment'

At Dodong, by the docks, an outdoor stage had been built, and me and Andy sat, bemused, as a variety of singers were brought to perform to us and the crowd of a few hundred Korean tourists. Some of the singers were young kids, some were seasoned old pros, but the music was invariably a distillation of what older Koreans seem to like in general: big, wistful, passionate power-ballads, mostly set to the bouncey beat of traditional Korean ‘Trot’ music. Hmmmm. After a few bottles of Makgeoli, it seemed, strangely enough, to sound better, and I was shaking my ass along with all the 50-year old mums and dads, dressed head to toe in unnecessarily brightly-coloured hiking gear.

Coastal Path. Lovely Day.

The next day, after a brunch of absolutely divine (and cheap-as-chips) Mackerel stew, we did the coastal path from Dodong-ri to Jeo-dong-ri. The path has been cut right into the side of the cliff, close to the shoreline, so you can walk in a place you wouldn’t naturally be able to access: it’s a triumph of ambitious yet tasteful Korean engineering, and an example of how Ulleungdo has been made tourist-friendly without spoiling itself. On our route we also stopped at the lighthouse and took in yet more amazing views (to which we were becoming rather blasé by now) before descending down to Jeo-dong-ri for a ‘well-earned’ can of Hite or two. I’m always relieved that daytime drinking is never frowned upon in Korea, and the sight of middle-aged men quaffing down Soju at lunchtime is always reassuring to the British binge-drinker.

The Squidy mascot was a recurring theme

The rest of our day was rather similar to the first: more hiking, amazing views, a ferry ride or two, some nice local cuisine (this time, Mountain-vegetable bibimbap AKA ‘mixed rice’), more ‘entertainment’ at the docks, and plenty more Makgeoli.

If I had to give a complaint about Ulleungdo, it would be that the nightlife is almost non-existent. There is one nightclub at Dodong-ri but it appeared rather empty when we passed it, and after the stage entertainments stopped at just after 9pm, there was very little to do other than drink on the street and attract the attention of the odd local, who might, if you were lucky, speak a little English. This did happen to us one night, when a local guy brought us a load of fried Squid (which makes for a great drinking snack) in exchange for some of our Makgeoli and a little English conversation practice.

But mostly, Ulleungdo is a place for couples or families, or those who want to escape the craziness of urban Korean life and don’t mind a little quiet time. I was never bored, and our daytimes were so tiring enough physically that all-night partying wasn’t really called for anyway.

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As our ferry left Dodong-ri, and my view of Ulleungdo became ever-smaller from my ferry window, I felt minded to conclude that it is one of the prettiest places I have seen in Korea, and is uniquely tranquil in a country which seems desperate to do everything as fast as possible. Add in the great food, the randomness of Dokdo, the eccentricities and friendliness of the other tourists and the locals, and you are guaranteed a great time in a special place, far away from anything resembling a beaten-track. Just don’t say the T-word.

Language as Therapy

I like my job. I teach English conversation with adults. Usually a small group of students, between 1 and 6 people, aged anywhere between 18 and 50, file into my little classroom for 75 minutes. And we talk about a load of different stuff, covering the kind of conversation topics you might expect, like Music, Love, Families, Sport, TV, School, etc. 

But the part I enjoy most is getting to know the students’ individual stories, their pasts, their ambitions, their dreams, and the small talk about their everyday activities – working, studying, bringing up children, meeting friends, getting a girl/boyfriend etc. – this is the stuff which is universal enough for me to relate to (except the bringing up kids bit), yet, being in Korea, there are also many subtle differences which make it all seem new and interesting to me, and I always have lots of questions to ask. 

Sometimes my students seem to find it strange that I find so much mileage in what they assume to be the mundane stuff (“What time do you go to sleep?”, “What did you eat for breakfast today?”, “What do you wear to work?”), but for me, that’s the valuable part of my job – I get to uncover some of the minutiae of Korean life for Korean people, the stuff you can’t discern from a Wikipedia entry or a Lonely Planet guide, and which you certainly can’t get from teaching 6-year-olds how to count to 10 in English. It's like I have my own little Focus Group.

In my first couple of months, I was slightly hesitant to ask personal questions which, in England might be considered rather nosy or invasive. But as time went on, I realised that I needed worry. Koreans are far more open and honest than us Brits.  Koreans have no problem with trying to satisfy their curiosity, and my students often ask nosy questions of each other, especially about money, like asking each other how much their clothes cost them, or how much they earn, stuff which us Brits tend to be pretty coy about.

"Where the magic happens."

Within the walls of my classroom, all sorts of stuff comes out. And I guess the crucial factor is the language difference. For many of my students (who are of a pretty advanced level), English no longer presents a language barrier, but an opportunity. It sounds silly to say, but my class is, for some of them at least, akin to therapy for them. It’s a chance to talk about their feelings in a safe environment: to vent their anger at their manager who doesn't turn on the Air Con when the temperature at work is 32degrees; to voice the unspoken frustrations they have with their spouse who doesn't pull his weight at home; to complain about studying for the endless tests and english certificates they all endure. Basically, to mouth off about the imperceptible structures which shape their lives, and the very tangible people who just irritate them.

I have heard some pretty startling stuff come from my students, especially the female ones. Some wives complain about having married too young, or about regretting having the kids which their husbands talked them into having. Younger students tell about hating their parents, lying about the long-term boyfriends and girlfriends and wanting to move out; and a friend of mine was told by a student (whom she had known only a few days) that she was cheating on her husband with a variety of boyfriends, and had been doing so for years.

It is a well-known fact that people often feel more able to discuss sensitive issues with strangers, where the fear of repercussions is massively reduced (Even if I could speak Korean, I’m hardly going to find their husband/boss/father to dish the dirt, am I). Furthermore, the fact that I am foreign and therefore unencumbered by the cultural norms of Korea, surely helps my students to offload. 

And I guess using English, rather than their native tongue, is a huge factor too. As for me, whenever I speak in a foreign language, there is something un-real about it all. I am almost surprised when the sounds I form with my mouth actually illicit the desired response (I read out some gobbledigook from my phrase book, and 'Hey Presto', two beers duly arrive at my table! How did that happen?).

When I speak English, it comes so naturally to me, that I am entirely aware of what I am saying and the likely consequences of my words. So it’s far more likely that I might be more honest and lucid when speaking in a foreign language (assuming, of course, that I possessed the vocabulary to express what I felt).  In fact, I remember that when learning French in my teens, and having to practice forming sentences, I occasionally said things which, unwittingly, unveiled some inner subconscious truths, which I wouldn’t feel as comfortable saying in English. Most strange.

I know I’m in danger of having made some huge generalisations here, and I know that not all of my students are so open with their feelings in my class. In fact, for some of them, having to speak to me in English for an hour seems like a huge, almost painful effort, and they seem visibly relieved when our time together is up, and they get to re-enter the Korean world outside. But for some of them, it’s maybe the only time they have in their day when the only thing required of them is to talk. 

So, the moral of the story is as follows: if you’re a socially curious person (AKA 'nosy git'), become an adult English teacher, and if you’re an emotionally-repressed wreck, learn a foreign language. 

You heard it here first.

Jeolla - Part 2

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!

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. 

'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. 

Yudalsan as the sun went down

Full of booze and sunshine, we skipped up the nearby Yudal mountain to grab some views of the city, the sea and the nearby islands before the sun came down. It was nice to finally be reward with a decent view after the wash-out at Wolchulsan the day before. We came back down the hill to find a restaurant serving Dak Galbi (Chicken and veg BBQ thing), washed down with Soju, before heading back to the Motel to drink a load more Korean lager in our swanky rooms. Being able to link the PC to the TV meant we could watch youtube music videos too – instant jukebox in 32” flatscreen glory! Glamour-time (But why-oh-why didn’t we have a drunken dip in the Jacuzzi at 2am?!)

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!).

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.

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. 

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.

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 18^th 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 18^th 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. 

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.

Jeolla - Part 1

May is a good time for workers in Korea, with two public holidays (Children’s Day and Buddha’s ‘Birthday’) arriving so close together, that with a bit of extra time-off from an understanding boss, you can stretch it out to a six-day vacation – in workaholic Korea, that’s bloody ages!

And so, this was when I had planned for my brother Eddie and his wife Sarah to come and visit Korea. I don’t think either of them had ever considered Korea as a holiday destination before, but my living here gave them an excuse to visit a corner of the world most Brits associate with either crazy dictators from Pyongyang, or eating Dog. As their host, it was my role to try and help dispel some of those myths, and also try and have a jolly good time.

Jeolla Nam-Do, or South Jeolla Province was our destination, the south-western corner of the country: an area known for its lush scenery (and wealth of islands located offshore); its agriculture and great food; and the artistic passion and radical politics of its people. Having talked to some of my students about it, Jeolla is often seen as apart from the rest of South Korea, and Jeolla’s people are probably quite happy to be seen that way too.

Joel and Sarah @ Boseong Station

Geographically, Jeolla is about as far as you can possibly travel from Seoul in mainland Korea. A 5-and-a-half hour train ride from Seoul’s Yongsan Station delivered Me, Eddie and Sarah directly to Boseong, a small town about 30 miles south of the provincial capital Gwangju. Boseong is famous for its Green Tea plantation, and this time of year is perfect to see the fields in all their green splendour. It sure felt like a long journey crossing most of the country, but thankfully the views, our packed lunch (Kimbab!), and a few rounds of travel scrabble got us through to the end. There we met my friend Joel, now an English teacher, a Gwangju-ite, and all-round Top Geeza. 

Eddie and Sarah at Boseong Tea Plantation

Boseong was undeniably very pretty, but it was rather busy, and the presence of the slightly tacky ‘Green Tea festival’ at the site – meaning market stalls, food venders and a very loud and incongruous  music stage – detracted slightly from the natural splendour. We did get some decent pictures, enjoyed a nice stroll in the sun, and finished off with some Seafood Pajeon (Korean pancake) washed down with a couple of beers, so no complaints. Sure beats work anyway.

Strange 'Man' providing music/comedy at Boseong

As usual in Korea, motel accommodation was abundant and, at less than £20 for a simple two-person room, damn cheap. A stay in a motel or hotel (what is the difference!?), even if it’s pretty basic, always feels like a treat to me anyway – I feel like I’m on a business trip or something, like an Actual Real Grown-Up. Awesome.

The next day we got a taxi from Boseong to Yeongam, the town nearest to the Wolchulsan National Park – hiking territory. The taxi cost 50,000 won, which is a bit luxurious, even in Korea, but it was a lot easier than the alternative of catching two buses, and in English money, that’s about £25 for what was a half-hour drive. With travel and accommodation this cheap, Korea you are really spoiling us!

The drive was very pretty, winding round Jeolla’s numerous mountains, farms and tiny traditional-style villages, until we arrived in (a rather sleepy) Yeongam. It took a worryingly long time to find a Motel, or even any shops or restaurants. But eventually we found a place, slung our bags and headed to Wolchulsan. 

Gureumdari Bridge at Wolchulsan, minutes before the view disappeared

Wolchulsan had been recommended to me by several friends as a really scenic hike. Sadly it looked like we chose the cloudiest day of the year to attempt it, and after we ascended a few hundred metres, the landscape around us dissolved into cloud. There was a certain serenity to being at the top of a hill and feeling like I was in The Heavens, especially as we largely had the mountain to ourselves (doubtless the weather had put off less brave/stupid hikers than us), but it was a bit of a shame to miss the view.

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Back to Yeongam for showers, a quick snooze and back out for dinner in an empty restaurant, and a few beers in an empty bar – where the hell is everyone? To be honest, I was ready to leave Yeongam the following morning – a town too big to be quaint, yet too small to be lively. The bright lights of coastal city Mokpo awaited…