making South Korea smaller, one bus at a time!
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| average South Korea window view: neon signs, foresty hills and... a fake waterfall! |
It's not a mere coincidence if this -among so many other things- was the first (and to the date, sure enough the main, even though "finding a decent place to free camp" was in the shortlist too) of the several SKCs (South Korean Challenges) we took on. South Korea is indeed a relatively small country and, if something can make it even smaller, it's its fantastic, cheap, dense, anastomotic intercity bus network. It usually connects one
intacity bas talminal to another
intacity bas talminal, where you'll always find a vending machine with the cheapest coffee with milk, free wi-fi and an air-cond waiting room so your body won't notice it's actually 38 ºC outside! Neat. The bus companies operate everyday from early morning til late at night, but not so often overnight. As far as we understood, the only reason why there are so few overnight coaches is the size of the country: it's so small it wouldn't make any sense at all.
Voilà: touché! At first, it seemed you could go from any city/town to any other city/town with either one direct bus or a couple of transfers. And it looked cheap, considering how easy and smooth it was to get from one place to another. We said "at first", because at some point, we became over-confident, forgot all prudence and got so deep inside the rural country that coming back to civilization was suddenly a seven-hour marathon of tiny local buses with no time-tables, no maps and not a single word of information written in Latin alphabet!
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map of South Korea provided by G----e, showing our wanderings and bus-hoppings,
from arrival (Vladivostok, Russia) to departure (Osaka, Japan). |
Free wi-fi also appeared to be correlated with Latin alphabet and it was more than a mere trend: they always disappeared together! It was supposedly easy to get a SIM card either to give/receive calls or to just access the internet, but we were told by some informed friends the wi-fi offer was plentiful and it was unnecessary to pay for a SIM card, be it very cheap. Which was generally true. Well...
The time has now arrived to ruin every little bit of surprise and suspense, showing the full monty and revealing most of our movement across the gorgeous little green peninsula: right there is a map you can look at in order to get a fair idea of where we got in, through and out of South Korea.
- Donghae and Gangneung: we talked about these two cities by the sea in our
first South Korean post in B major: beach, bus and bivy.
- Seoraksan National Park: we told you as much as we could about the Asian doppelganger of Catalonian Montserrat in
this other post, with pictures in colours to lure and inspire our climber fellows who may be getting there someday...
- Chiaksan National Park: we got there through a never-ending series of bus hopping under an end-of-the-world sun, cruising through Korean small towns (understand: ranging from 120 to 160 thousand inhabitants) and eventually landing in the evening on a hot dirt patch with no shade at all. The landscapes and views from the bus windows were really nice all day long: sloppy hills covered with forest, taller mountains in the background and flat valley bottoms with rice fields packed around quiet rivers; just the average "small town" surrounded by huge blocks every now and then.
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| the long way up: no stairway to heaven, no highway to hell, just patiently stair-ing, sweating, and swearing up to the top... |
The next morning, we hiked up and down one thousand stairs to summit Birobong, the highest yet slightly frustrating (1300m asl) peak to be found around. We climbed our way up the metal staircases only to discover a power-generator buzzing, all kind of power tools blasting, grinding, cutting, sawing, drilling, sanding and welding around, all operated by a happy team of villagepeople
-ish tough guys building a huge metal-and-wood platform around the giant, ancient and supposedly iconic
cairn (a pile of stone, in mountain slang) which apparently was the ultimate goal and reward for Birobong’s brave conquerors. Let's face it: high season was over, the camping was almost desert and it was probably the best time of the year to build that, regardless of the handful of disappointed and sweaty hikers who made it there, namely: us. Anyway, the cairn was worth it.
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| the peaceful and iconic summit of Mt. Birobong, low-season-maintenance style! |
We went back to our spot, had some instant noodles and a solar shower of ours, then a long nap by the river*. We got to cook some local zucchini and “shrimp sausage” (it's not as bad as it sounds, honestly!)
risotto on the Trangia. Around our tiny tent and heavy backpacks were the last few families of the summer: their huge
Hyundai and
Kia SUVs
parked right in front of their huge Coleman tents with rooms, kitchens, hammocks, fans and furniture. Sometimes, they would look at us and smile awkwardly, both because Westerners didn’t seem to make it there too often and because we looked so poorly-equipped and ill-prepared. Not only at the campground, but also on the trails: no energy belts with glucose shots, no camelbacks, no sticks, no thermal-breathable-intelligent softshells, no fancy-shiny-tiny trail boots... Unlike what many people say, the national sport here is not exactly hiking. Apparently, car-camping is. And it comes as a package with buying and wearing expensive, unnecessarily technical mountaineering gear to just walk around between a whole three-course picnic and teatime. In un(t)raveling dialect, we call'em seagulls**.
As you would expect, the heavy evening sun gave place to a stormy night with pouring rain. Again, we had to abandon our tiny tent and seek shelter somewhere more water-proof, like the bathroom porch. Our neighbours apparently considered it such an unbearable invasion of the collective premises that - without a word nor the slightest sense of compassion towards us (taking into account their many tents' spare square meters) - they asked the campground's guard to take us out of there. He came, very very sorry and ashamed, to check what our options were. After seeing our tent, he installed us in one of the bungalows for rent (all empty at this time of the year), only insisting on the fact that we'd have to wake up early the next morning. We did exactly that: shortly after 8am, a local bus full of school boys and girls in uniforms dropped us back at the closest
citybas telminal, ready for our next destination:
- Andong (cultural heritage): after another day-dreaming ride on another local bus, we ended up in Andong downtown. We both equally and urgently needed to get some clothes clean and dry, to get a warm and thorough shower, to get some decent sleep on a dry and comfy mattress. In a word: to get to a hotel. After the camping days (you pay for a spot, regardless of the number of people in your party, of whether you have a car, of the size of your tent and such... making campgrounds substantially more expensive for us than they usually are in Europe), our travel budget allowed for little more than "not much". The (only?) one and good option was, of course, to spot and book a love hotel!***
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room dining at a love hotel: some clean sheets, gorgeous street market food and
THE cheap-chic detail of the anti-stain, glittery-purple, vinyl stool... |
Even in an old town full of history and culture, "
walk down the right back alley and you can find anything". Indeed, passed the train station one particular street was packed with car parks hidden behind purple velvet curtains, with blue neon signs advertising such unambiguous places as the dark pink "romance hotel", the Las Vegas inspired "dollar motel" or the classy/trashy "hotel Q"... At a love hotel, you seemingly get more for your money: tons of free samples of almost anything you can imagine, from shoeshine to grilled peanuts, toothpaste, toothpicks or lube. Amazing. And you probably should add: hairdryer, microwave, kettle, multiple fans, a generous offer of cable TV and pay-to-watch "adult" channels, way too many mirrors and the mandatory UV sterilizer to ensure surgical grade-safety while doing whatever your imagination urges you to... Customers usually crave for privacy and a low-profile setting, hence the many curtains, cars' plate covers, dark corridors and even a front desk with nobody but a vending machine spitting the key of your desired room as it'd spit a Twix or a can of diet Coke.
Oh, the places you'll go!
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| in this specific order: old fossils; old school; old masks; old wood; old rusty thing; old mafia house and oldest-brick-pagoda-in-the-country! |
Before the evening was over, we went for a walk around town, to
an old pagoda the oldest brick pagoda in South Korea and
an old house the adjacent, gorgeous mansion of
the local mafia a famous, ancient clan dating back to the three kingdom era. Wandering around along the river bank, we hit several antique boutiques, flea, thrift and vintage shops, a couple of temples and some beautiful old workshops, kept dusty and
dans leur jus by some authentic, picturesque, white-bearded craftsmen. After a while, we randomly hiked uphill to a small neighbourhood whose narrow streets had been taken up by the locals' vibrant creativity: all the painted houses made it look like a giant open-air comic strip. The colours were warm in the sunset light, almost as warm as the teethless smiles some old ladies greeted us with, proudly sitting on a bench in the middle of their collective
chef d'oeuvre with a
petit air de "We invented street art, kids. What did YOU invent?". Below is a (non exhaustive) small collage of some of our favourites:
After a beautiful sunset on a pond with frogs and a cheap/chic, classy/trashy night at the love hotel, we were out early the next morning, to get on a new series of buses southbound, to:
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if you want to see Futuna hysterically jump and scream, the only thing you have to
do is to make sure he inadvertently (almost) steps on one of those creepin' fellows. |
- Juwangsan National Park: our experience of this third national park was highly enjoyable, thanks to some new friends we made (see one caught on picture here), to the rain which gave us a two-day break and to the very features of the place: insane sun and heat, a pitch with no shade, a group of young, friendly, beer-enthusiast German hikers as neighbours and a very picturesque landscape. We slept under the stars, with nothing but
un peu d'essence de Guerlain dans les cheveux (ou presque) and a mosquito net. We then woke up early and took the trail to several renowned waterfalls, which we were a bit disappointed to find waterless. Apparently, the unusually hot and dry august took them by surprise and, you know, there was not a drop of water to be seen around. We considered it to be an effect of global warming, but it could as well be just another scam for tourists: water might have been long gone and the place would still be luring crowds of camera-bearing, North Face-wearing, breathtaking view-hunting individuals. The question was: who knew? No, the question was: who cared? The rock formations around -caves, canyons, cliffs and boulders- were beautiful and the scarce water running here and there was green and mossy. Legions of signs clearly indicated bathing (not a single sane person would have considered it) wasn't allowed. Not only was the rescue gear always at see, engaging into many other nice activities was forbidden as well.
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| the would-be official Juwangsan postcard, if there happened to be one. |
After a few dry waterfalls, caves and temples, Wallis decided to take a rest, reading her book hiding from the sun by a temple, while Futuna had his little Kilian Jornet moment, running/hiking to the summit of one of the small nearby mountains/hills. He came back sweaty and out of breath, having witnessed the beauty of Juwangsan from above and taken way too many pictures of the whole ascent. Just before reaching the campground, we walked through what was a desert alley to the temple a few hours earlier, only to discover a busy and beautiful market of medicinal stuff, roots and herbs. Probably for tourists craving for green magic, ground shrooms and other dry phyto-healing. Well worth a couple more pictures, indeed. The weather was still sunny but the forecast kept announcing a typhoon we both expected with concern: rain? again? really? We decided to go on southbound on our way to Busan and looked for an option to keep camping dry and warm. While trying to fit in a busy and ever-changing CS host's agenda to make it to another National Park, we stumbled on the limits of
intacity bases and had to change plans (Jirisan, apparently beautiful. Consider renting a car to get there...). But before we leave the area and
à la demande générale, here is a photographic summary of our little Juwangsan tour:
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| forbidden to forbid? not in this country apparently: don't be clumsy, don't climb, don't drown and in case you do anyway, here's a good buoy! |
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| (hardly) shored rock ; what(er) the fall is this? ; crossing the bridge ; stone Buddha ; what(er) the fall? #2 ; piles of stones ; Wallis' holy moment. |
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| "au marché de Brive-la-Gaillarde, à propos de bottes d'oignons, quelques dziaines de gaillardes, se crêpaient un jour le chignon..." |
We fell in the trap of another allegedly amazing-free-campsite-by-the-sea and thougt it'd be good to rest on the beach and sunbathe for a couple of days. And that's how we finally
met your mo got to Geyongju - probably the one most beautiful, authentic, richest and tastiest of our South Korean experiences... And that's probably more than enough for today: we'll keep this and the rest for the next chapter(s)! Sending y'all lots of love from some South Korean intercity bus terminal, take care and enjoy your weekend!
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