Geumjeongsanseong Fortress

This is a Busan Ex-Pat City Guide post. Check out the rest of my list here.

I’ve reached my elusive last month in Busan. Inevitably, it feels like everything I do these days is for the last time. This was the case yesterday, which I shall title “The Last Hike”, if only because it’s way too humid in Busan to go for another one before I depart.

While I had technically visited Geumjeongsanseong Fortress back in April, en route to Seokbulsa Temple, I’m a bit of a crazy person and decided that my first short, unintentional visit to the fortress wasn’t sufficient and I would need to re-visit in order to truly cross it off my Bucket List. Thankfully, I have friends (Steph and Brandi) who enable my neurotic behaviour and agreed to hike back up to the fortress with me.

The three of us had anticipated a rainy, overcast day, but were pleasantly surprised with the sunlight flittering through the dense forest upon arriving at the East Gate of the fortress. We headed in the direction of the Nammun Pond, and were soon greeted by the unmistakable sound of animated ajusshis. On our left was a tiny hamlet filled with middle-aged Korean men (and likely women – we were too far away to really tell) socializing at plastic tables and playing within around a green, netted enclosure. Steph, as the perfect human being she is, remarked, “it’s like Ajusshi Summer Camp!”

We reached Nammun Pond after a ten minute hike, where we observed blue dragonflies, frogs, snakes, and koi from our perch on the wooden bridge that wrapped around the swampy waters. A couple of friendly ajusshis retired their fishing poles to snap a photo of the three of us before we continued our hike to the Second Watch Tower. We ended up sitting on the fortress wall for about half an hour playing “Would You Rather?” and talking at length about some questionable content. While we sat on the wall, I did my best to take in the mountain scenery. I sat with my legs dangling off the fortress wall, and practiced some pre-sunset gratitude. It was a perfect day – breezy, with wispy clouds speckled across the sky, but still allowing the sun to peak through. This view justified the long trip back to the fortress and was a good reminder of Korea’s everyday natural beauty.

My favourite part of the hike, given that I had seen much of the scenery before, was the (derpy) conversations and jokes I had with Steph and Brandi. At one point, Steph regaled us with an anecdote involving a random black feather she had found while cleaning out her purse. She was legitimately confused about how it had ended up in there and joked that it was some sort of talisman that she should hold onto. Shortly afterwards, we crossed the pedestrian overpass from Oncheonjang Station to reach the bus stop. We passed by a seated ajumma selling unspecified herbs on a cloth who first made eye contact with Steph, smiled creepily, and muttered some Korean under her breath. Steph joked that the ajumma knew about the feather and was cursing her with some old school, Dongnae incantation. All to say, every crow (of which there were many) that flew overhead the forest on our hike seemed to be an ominous harbinger of things to come. Also, not once, but twice, Steph was (rightfully) yelped at the sight of a giant slug on the path to the fortress. To his credit, the poor cheetah printed little guy was just trying to get to his destination, but the jarred look on Steph’s face was just too much not to laugh.

The girls and I opted to take the cable car down the mountain after quickly visiting the South Gate, which offered much better views than my first foggy trip to Geumjeongsanseong Mountain. While the fortress wasn’t anything new or particularly exciting, it felt so right to sit on the its wall and stare out into the vast and seemingly never-ending Busan terrain one last time.

Directions
To get to Geumjeongsanseong Fortress, take the Orange Line on the Busan Subway (Line 1) to Oncheonjang Station (stop 127). From here, go out exit 3, and use the overhead crossing to get to the other side of the street. Take bus #203, which will take you to the South gate, East gate, or the forest village.

Dadaepo Beach & Sunset Fountain of Dreams

This is a Busan Ex-Pat City Guide post. Check out the rest of my list here.

What kind of person do you become when you’re left alone?

Personally, I become the “neurotic planner”. Such was the case during the June long weekend. I sat, latently anxious for no reason, waiting for Steph and Katie to return from their dinner. During this time, I clipped my toenails way too short, bookmarked all of the “best of Jeju” blog posts, and ate too many yogourt cups. I also decided, on a whim, that I would travel to Busan’s most remote beach – Dadaepo – the following day. I had gotten it into my head that if I didn’t travel to Dadaepo Beach the next day, that I wouldn’t have enough weekends to complete the remaining items on my Korean Bucket List. Steph and Katie eventually came to retrieve me from the #darkness (read: my apartment), shortly before my neuroses led me down the rabbit hole of planning my trip to Thailand – a whole 8 weeks away at that point.

While the majority of our group were either exhausted from our weekend of travelling to Bijindo, or had alternate plans, Steph graciously offered to join me on the hour and a half long excursion to Busan’s southwest coast. This trip was no joke: 40 minutes on the Busan Subway’s Green Line, another 40 minutes on the Red Line, and finally a 30 minute bus ride that dropped us off approximately 10 minutes from Dadaepo Beach and the Dadaepo Sunset Fountain of Dreams. There were no other passengers on the subway by the time we reached the last stop on the Red Line (Sinpyeong), and while the bus we boarded was nearly full, the surrounding neighbourhood told a far more subdued story than Haeundae and Jangsan.

I fell in love* with Dadaepo before I even set foot on its sandy beach. This is mostly because on our way to down to the water, Steph and I discovered a ramshackle arcade housing a batting cage, a small, carnival-style punching bag, and most importantly, a rickety, old trampoline that lay, unused, feet from Dadaepo’s traffic-laden thoroughfare. As I looked around in blissful confusion, wondering whom to inquire to or to pay for the use of the dilapidated old thing, Steph was already removing her shoes. “Don’t ask permission, ask forgiveness!” she chortled. I shrugged and joined her, bounding up and down on the shaky structure for what felt like hours. Below, foreigners and locals alike passed by, observing our mirth with a mixture of puzzlement and delight. Oddly, no one ever stopped to join us or inquire about using the trampoline. Even on our way back home, the arcade was a ghost town despite the busy crowds from the Sunset Fountain of Dreams. I wanted to shout into the great abyss, “hello, people! It’s a trampoline? Have you never had fun before?” Alas, it just meant more bouncing for me.

Despite Dadaepo’s isolation and distance from Busan’s bustling downtown sector, the beach itself was spectacular, stretching along the coast for as far as the eye could see. Steph jokingly quipped about the beach’s set-up: “On your left, cottage country. On your right, eternity!” The left side of the beach had a tiny inlet of waist-deep water, perfect for small children to wade out into and build sand castles along. The quiet Nakdong River cuts across a quiet park separating the parking lot and the beach, and trickles down into the sea. Steph and I removed our flip-flops to cross a series of stepping stones to reach the eastern side of the beach which was filled with dozens of tiny offices and sheds filled with water sports equipment. Here, fit, young males carried their paddle boards high overhead down to the beach while wiser men stood precariously on jagged rocks, casting out lines in the hopes of an afternoon fish or two.

Steph and I followed the wooden boardwalk around Dadaepo’s winding coast. We gingerly tiptoed across the rock sand beach. We freaked out about the wildlife (particularly the insects) indigenous to Dadaepo, as they scurried out from under the rocks onto the main trail. We admired the jutting rock formations emerging from the sea. We spent a lot of time people-watching: scenes of older brothers challenging their younger brothers to rock-skipping contests, foursomes enjoying a sunset picnic of gimbap and soju by the water, and ajummas stretching their legs after traversing the coastal walk. We talked and talked and talked about the future, almost as if we needed to say it all before the sun disappeared from the sky. The mood was super relaxing, and we both acknowledged how happy we were to have made it to Dadaepo.

We started back to the beach to catch the sun before it disappeared into the foggy horizon. However, the sand was so ridiculously soft that we all but ignored the setting sun in favour of a little handstand practice. After a little derping around, peppered with some more chats about our hopes, dreams, and aspirations for the future, we headed towards the Nakdong River, our sights set upon the Sunset Fountain of Dreams.

I would not have surmised how what a popular destination that the Sunset Fountain of Dreams was earlier in the afternoon, based on what a ghost town Dadaepo seemed to be, but soon enough, hordes of locals and tourists alike streamed into the rather unsuspecting fountain square. There were more than a dozen workers setting up rows of chairs for the show, and soon, there wasn’t an empty seat in the house. Based on blogs that I had read about the neighbourhood, Dadaepo used to be even more remote than it currently is. However, with the establishment of the fountain, the neighbourhood was quickly launched into gentrification to accommodate its newfound “tourist destination” title.

The show itself, which has been branded as the “world’s best and biggest fountain”, was admittedly, pretty magical. It lasted for 20 minutes, and featured shooting streams of water coloured by flashing lights, perfectly choreographed to a variety of popular Korean songs. Given that Steph and I had been discussing (often feeling uncertain about) our future careers, Steph sarcastically quipped that “this is actually someone’s job. They just coordinate water and lights to music as their livelihood!” We also joked that they hadn’t quite done the job justice, since “Let It Go” from the Frozen OSD, which would have been a perfect choice for the Sunset Fountain of Dreams’ light show, was not utilized.

The light show ended rather quickly (or so it felt at the time), and Steph and I began the long journey home; not before, of course, jumping on the trampoline one last time. Despite how zonked out I felt on the subway back to Jangsan, Steph and I had enjoyed a perfect, spur of the moment day in an area I knew I wouldn’t be returning to, ever. The “neurotic planner” inside me flashed a toothy grin.

* I use the term “love” lightly – it was indeed a charming area, but not one that you could pay me enough to live in for the duration of a full-year teaching contract.

Directions
To get to Dadaepo Beach and the Dadaepo Sunset Fountain of Dreams, take the Red Line on the Busan Subway (Line 1) to Sinpyeong Station (stop 101). Go out exit 5, and wait at the bus stop on your right. Buses 2, 11, 338, and 1000 will all take you to Dadaepo. The bus ride takes approximately 20 minutes. Get off the bus at the DaeU apartment complex on the right side of the street. The beach and fountain are a five minute walk straight down the road, across the street. Note: The fountain is closed every Monday. For more information regarding show times and seasons, please click here.

Chungnyeolsa Shrine

This is a Busan Ex-Pat City Guide post. Check out the rest of my list here.

Today is Election Day in Busan. It constitutes an important day where the citizens of Busan can exercise their civic duties to safeguard the values they hold most dear. Since I cannot participate in this particular election, I decided to spend my afternoon at Chungnyeolsa Shrine, a site commemorating citizens of Busan who also safeguarded their own values – over 400 years ago.

Chungnyeolsa Shrine is dedicated to those Korean nationalists who lost their lives during the Japanese invasion of Korea between 1592 and 1598. The bravery of the largely unprepared Korean troops and volunteers who fought against annexation are memorialized at the Chungnyeolsa. The complex itself consists of a main hall, fifteen subsidiary structures, and nearly one hundred tablets in memory of the Busan area patriots who lost their lives defending Busan.

I spent around an hour exploring the large grounds of Chungnyeolsa. I started at the small koi pond near the entrance of the shrine. I watched as earnest children deposited coins into a machine dispensing fish food, their faces alight with wonder as they sprinkled it into the water beneath them. I worked my way around to a quiet elevated park on the west side of the complex, where groups of men huddled together to watch games of (what looked like) backgammon. I sat for about fifteen minutes and drank in how peaceful and restrained it felt beneath the perfectly trimmed tree branches of Chungnyeolsa. Even though I could see the urban sprawl of Busan just beyond the shrine’s walls, I felt far removed; in my own private Garden of Eden.

The park itself is meticulous and manicured. Every type of tree, flower, shrub, bush, plant, and weed you could imagine was in bloom, neatly trimmed, fighting against every unruly tendency it might have. The shrine contains dozens of seated areas, ranging from gazebos, wood benches, and circular rock formations, depending on your mood. Chungnyeolsa also gains serious points for being completely wheelchair accessible.

I eventually reached Chungnyeolsa’s Main Hall, which is dedicated to twenty-two officers who lost their lives during battle. Perhaps more interesting to me was the Uiyeolgak complex. This particular shrine is dedicated to two women who resisted Japanese aggressors by throwing roofing tiles upon them. I pulled my hands to heart centre and bowed to these women, but felt quite sure that there were more unsung female heroes that deserve equal representation at Chungnyeolsa.

The day soon turned overcast and rainy. I decided to depart the shrine, but not before ambling over to peer down into the koi pond one last time. I caught my own reflection in the clear waters, flashed a quick smile and turned on my heel to leave. Mushy, but it’s true.

Directions
To get to Chungnyeolsa Shrine, take the Blue Line on the Busan Subway (Line 5) to Chungnyeolsa Station (stop 405). Go out exit 3, and turn left until you are facing the large white stone monument. Take your first right and walk for about a minute. You will see a flight of stairs on your left. Take them and the shrine will be on your right.

Seokbulsa Temple

This is a Busan Ex-Pat City Guide post. Check out the rest of my list here.

Known as the “Stone Buddha Temple”, or Byeongpung-am (the “Folding Screen Hermitage”), Seokbulsa Temple is perched high upon Geumjeongsanseong Mountain. The temple is a bit of an anomaly – the majority of Koreans and foreigners I’ve spoken to have never heard of it, yet it is consistently ranked as a “must see” by Lonely Planet and other travel blogs. I was excited to be let in on the secrets of Seokbulsa.

I visited the temple in mid-April, a month that was all about early morning wake-up calls on the weekends. Following a Saturday night slumber party with the girls, we woke to an overcast Sunday in Busan. Nonetheless, we laced up our runners, downed our requisite Starbucks lattes, and began the great journey to Seokbulsa.

The subway ride itself was a bit of a voyage, as we had to switch from the green to the brown to the red line. Once we reached Oncheonjang, we caught a cab to the base of Geumgang Park, the grounds which house both Seokbulsa and the Geumjeongsanseong Mountain Fortress. The rain was starting to fall at this point, and I remember thinking, “I hate this already”.

Just beyond the entrance of Geumgang Park, we found the ticketing office for the cable car up to Geumjeongsanseong Mountain. My spirits were lifted at the prospect of being physically lifted up the mountain, plus, I had never taken a cable car before. I’m all about experiencing everything, but I feel like I need to ride a cable car at least once more in my life. The foggy views of Busan’s cityscape and the forest unfolding below us were absolutely breathtaking. I wrote the word “bumnaegol” in the condensation forming on the cable car’s window to mark my time there.

Once we reached the top, the hard work began. Apart from simply mustering the energy to hike to the temple, (we were still very groggy at this point), we also had to effectively navigate our way there. This was much more difficult than we had initially anticipated. We had assumed that we could simply follow a group of hikers to the temple, but quickly learned that there were dozens of trails; some leading the Seokbulsa, some leading to the Geumjeongsanseong Fortress, some leading to Beomeosa Temple, and some simply for meandering nature enthusiasts. The signs, obviously all in Korean, also weren’t exactly a big help to us either (0.8km to what, exactly?!)

Thankfully, a kind Korean gentleman offered his adept navigational skills, and put us on the right path to the temple. Originally, he led us to one of the fortress entrances, but recalculated to lead us through a quaint mountain hamlet, covered in cherry blossom leaves. There were rows of tiny, roofed tents occupied by smiling ajummas serving up rice cakes to groups of hikers sipping on thimbles of soju. The entire scene was completely picturesque, and we all agreed to return for lunch after we visited the temple.

After exiting the village, and gaining some assurances from other hikers (“Say-uk-bowl-sah Tem-pull-uh? This way?”), we finally reached the main path. We crossed small bridges, avoided tripping over numerous jutting rocks and tree roots, and descended a rather perilous flight of stairs bordering a quiet bubbling brook. This rather enchanted forest reminded me a little bit of the grounds surrounding Hogwarts, and I was almost breathlessly waiting for a pack of centaurs to hop out from behind a tree and offer us a ride on their backs to the temple.

The last leg of the journey to the temple can only be described as a “long and winding road”. The majority of the blog posts I had read about Seokbulsa indicated that this part of the hike would be treacherous and awful and so bad that you would slap your own mother in the face to avoid going back down. Apologies for the humble brag, but I didn’t find the hike any more strenuous than Mount Geumnyeonsan or Jangsan Mountain. That said, I was admittedly dripping in sweat by the time we reached the temple. Thankfully, it was a happy sweat.

I don’t know about the girls, but I felt vindicated once we reached the grounds of Seokbulsa. The temple complex housed a small, two-story stone pagoda, much less ostentatious than others I’ve seen throughout Asia. Before ascending the stairs into the temple, we stopped to appreciate the mountains rising from the mist in every direction, the attention to detail on the giant bell that hung in front of the temple, and most importantly, the placid beauty of a virtually deserted temple high above Busan.

Between the giant mountains and the six towering stone Buddhas staring down at me, I was reminded of how insignificant my daily worries are. I felt incredibly humbled as we left the sacred temple, pledging to remember not only how beautifully intricate the carvings were, but also how liberated they made me feel.

I had a very pensive hike back down, trying to internalize my pledge while also reminding myself to keep my weight over my knees – I’m no stranger to the old twisted ankle. After about 25 minutes, we reached the tiny village, where we enjoyed a celebratory meal of pajeon (a Korean pancake primarily made of green onions and leeks) and beer. It felt so good to toast to what we had achieved that day – all before 2PM! While I didn’t enjoy any pajeon (leeks, yuck!), I did try some roasted king crabs, a slightly less adequate snack to pair with beer than, let’s say nuts, but manageable.

If you’re going to brave Seokbulsa Temple, don’t half-ass it: bring snacks (I opted for granola bars and bananas), at least 2L of water (you’re going to sweat a lot), proper footwear (as I said, twisted ankles are no fun, and neither are blisters), as well as a positive attitude.

Seokbulsa is worth it if you’re concerned with gaining street cred for journeying to obscure locales, experiencing new things like riding a cable car or sampling roasted king crabs, and being astounded by the beauty of nature. Otherwise, maybe you ought to stick to Shinsegae.

Directions
To get to Seokbulsa Temple, take the Orange Line on the Busan Subway (Line 1) to Oncheonjang Station (stop 127). I would recommend taking a cab to Geumgang Park (approximately ₩3,500). Enter the park, and follow the signs to the cable car ticketing office. A round trip costs ₩7,000.

This Busan Haps review of Seokbulsa Temple contains very clear directions from the cable car, however, if you do get lost, show the following Hangul (석불사) to a fellow hiker and pray that you receive adequate directions.

The Busan Aquarium

This is a Busan Ex-Pat City Guide post. Check out the rest of my list here.

Sometimes, I really, really love my school.

Like, when they cancel a field trip to a boring old arboretum to take the kiddies to the Busan Aquarium instead! This was good news for me because not only did I get to spend my day derping around with my seriously adorable homeroom class, but I also got to check another box off on the old Korean Bucket List. And for free! I’m trying to live relatively frugally these days, and frankly the ₩21,000 entrance fee to the Aquarium could be used to fill my gullet full of curry at Namaste. So, yay for an all-expense paid Brown & LCI field trip day!

I think if I had gone by myself to the Busan Aquarium, I literally would have been in and out in about 25 minutes, tops. But going with my kindergarten students was such a special treat. Their eyes were filled with a mixture of wonder and confusion, as the gaped at over 35,000 species of fish (or so the brochure told us). They may as well have been tugging at my heartstrings while tugging on my jacket, crying out “teacher!” as a penguin would dive into the tank and swim on by. Forget the fish, the looks of amazement on my kiddies faces were the real sight.

The Aquarium itself has three underground levels. We ended up visiting both exhibition floors, where we watched fish of the freaky and non-freaky variety, somersaulting finless porpoises, and penguins gliding majestically through the water. We walked through the glass-walled, seabed tunnel which felt just like walking on the ocean floor, as sea-life swam all around us. We also caught feeding time for the otters, and the kiddies had an opportunity to hold a starfish and other echinoderms. Tactile learning, y’all!

Afterwards, we were all ushered into the auditorium for the “Music Talking Show with Diver”. The entire thing was in Korean, so I’m not exactly sure what was happening. There was basically an enthusiastic lady onstage, furiously jabbering away at a diver equipped with a microphone in the tank. This was followed by some singing, a volunteer from the audience experiencing the gift of magic, and my own dripping sweat from sitting in a balmy room with three Korean children on my lap.

I was a little disappointed that my school didn’t splurge on the Glass Bottom Boat Experience, where one can float around a tank filled with sharks and other fishies, but I guess you can’t have it all.

Our school ended up eating lunch in the Aquarium’s cafeteria, where my kids stuffed raspberries and cookies into my mouth. Lunch time is one of the best parts of a field trip, because the parents always pack more food for their kids to share with us teachers. I get to bond with the kids and I get to eat their food. It’s a win-win, truly.

When lunch was over, we escorted the kids down to Haeundae Beach for about 30 minutes to derp around in the sand, before heading back to school.

As I mentioned above, I’m not sure how much I would have enjoyed the Busan Aquarium without the “oohs” and “ahhs” of my 30 Korean kindergarten students, but it’s a pretty chill to spend an hour exploring. If you’re down at Haeundae Beach and are looking for something to do, the Aquarium might be the sound of settling, but at least it’s a pretty splashing sound.

Directions
To get to the Busan Aquarium, take the Green Line on the Busan Subway (Line 2) to Haeundae Station (stop 203). Go straight out exit 3 or 5, and proceed straight for about 5 minutes until you reach the road running parallel to the beach. Turn right, and the Aquarium will be right in front of you. Entrance to the Busan Aquarium is ₩21,000 for persons 13 and over, and ₩15,000 for persons under the age of 13.