He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.
Jon Krakauer, “Into the Wild”
Table of Contents
23 May 2023
- 7:00-7:18 Jeju bus terminal to Jeju University bus number 132 (many buses go there), 7:28-7:40 Jedae Village to Gwanuemsa Trail bus number 475 (the only one that goes there)
- Hallasan – going up the Gwaneumsa trail (8.7k, 3h with no breaks)
- Hallasan – peak (~1.5h)
- Hallasan – going down the Seonganak trail (9.6k)
- 15:45-16:30 Jeju Seogwipo-si Namwoneup Sinrye-ri 2-13 (the bus stop at the beginning of the Seonganak trail) to Jeju bus terminal, bus number 281
- Resting at hostel
- 19:00-19:45 Jeju-si Orall-dong 2455-2 (the bus stop across the street from the bus terminal) to Jeju public art museum entrance bus number 465 (the only one that goes there)
- Jeju Love Land (~20m)
- 20:10-20:35 cab to Jeju bus terminal
Climbing Halla-san
I woke at 6:00 after six short hours of rest and ate breakfast at the hostel. It was just the three Brazilians, a French exchange student who gave me a bunch of tips about all of Korea, a Korean woman, and me.
Everyone was taking the easy trail. I was a bit nervous, going to the hardest one by myself. The last time I was alone on a mountain, I suffered a bike crash. Plus, I’d never hiked to an altitude of 1,947 meters.
Nevertheless, today’s weather was as perfect as I’d hoped it would be. 15 degrees, clear sky.
I took two buses to the beginning of the trail. Jeju City was a city like any other; the only reason to stay here was lack of a car. The island was traversable by buses, and every bus stop featured a large touch screen with ETAs and information about the lines and where they stopped.
As the Brazilian guy from my dorm had pointed out, the problem was the lack of ETA on Naver. You couldn’t find out when buses departed before making it to their stop. Furthermore, most of them were infrequent.
Seoul had boasted frequent public transport with ETAs. The public Wi-Fi, on the other hand… I recalled the French guy from my second hostel praying when trying to connect to it. Here, in Jeju, there was Wi-Fi everywhere; it worked every single time; and every bus offered a stable network as well.
The buses also had electronic screens displaying stop information and commercials with a sign language interpreter on the bottom. For example, a class for elders on how to use technology. And, even stranger to me, a video about public transportation etiquette. Don’t talk on the phone, don’t eat, don’t bump into passengers, move aside to make room for elders… Japan never played those, because everyone maintained proper etiquette there.
I started hiking at 7:43, from an altitude of 620 meters, through a forest. The presence of people was so rare, that an encounter warranted a “annyeonghaseyo”.
Most of the time I walked alone, seeing around ten Koreans overall. After 40m and 3km, I greeted someone in Korean.
“Wait,” I immediately added, “you’re not Korean.”
“I’m Australian.”
He was stretching his legs like a trapeze artist on a resting deck. Buzz cut, tann, shorts and a white T-shirt, with tattoos and chill vibes. We talked and hiked together for a while. He was so fit and outdoorsy, that soon enough, I was lagging behind.
“Go ahead,” I panted, “all good.”
This was still the green (AKA easy) trail. Soon enough, it was time for the red.
I greeted two tall Dutch guys, who I overpassed. Then, at 9:35, after 1h and 50m of climbing, I reached the shelter end of the forest. One had to reach it by 13:00, before the gate to the peak was closed.
Instead of resting and re-fueling myself with food like everyone else, I continued straight up the path. I had plenty of time until 13:00, but wanted to rest on the peak instead.
From here on, the path featured mostly wooden stairs. Bit of a letdown. The last 2km to the top, with barren trees and a hazy view, were so steep, that I climbed them extremely slowly, as determined as Louisa Musgrave in Jane Austen’s Persuasion to push through my exhaustion.
Finally, at 10:41, I reached the peak.
It offered 360-degrees view of air pollution. Jeju Island had terrible air quality (“unhealthy” according to forecasts) due to factories in the east coast of China.
I joined the enormous line to take a photo. Nearly 2,000 meters in altitude, the weather was so cold and windy, that my hands began to hurt. Some people were wearing shorts and T-shirts (mostly foreigners), while some Koreans, full-length, see-through rain jackets with pointed hoodies, not unlike the KKK.
Clouds drifted quickly above us. So was a raven, flying directly above us all the while. I enjoyed the outlook of Baengnokdam, a crater lake on the peak.
My face froze at some point. Even my toes, despite my hiking boots and thick wool socks, went numb. The wind was roaring up here.
At this time, I was scouring the crowd for three Brazilians. Having started an hour before me, through the easier trail, I was sure I’d missed them, and that they’d gone down the mountain already.
My turn to take a photo came after a chilling one hour, and, after looking for the Brazilians around the peak, and even the Australian guy, I decided to go down their trail at 12:00.
Twenty minutes later, I ran into them.
“I thought you were already done!” I said.
They’d taken frequent breaks, while I hiked nonstop. We spoke for a while, until they continued to the top.
The other trail featured a rocky terrain, which I appreciated more. The first trail, with wooden stairs, was steeper and harder to climb, while the second, rocky one, was harder to traverse.
After 30 minutes, I made it to the trail’s shelter. The Australian guy was lounging on the deck, reading a book and basking in the sun.
He was half Chinese, reading a short memoir a Brazilian-Ukrainian female author I hadn’t heard of. Everything about this scene, I found curious. I ate lunch next to him (food, finally). He treated me to some of his provisions.
He had plenty of time to kill until his family came to pick him. He’d come to Jeju with them, staying in the south of the island, and leaving tomorrow (and South Korea in four days). So… that was it.
On the way down, I was nearly alone. Well past 13:00, no one was hiking up anymore.
I finished the trail at 14:55 and waited for forty minutes for the mixed guy. I wanted to talk to him some more, and ask for the name of the memoir. Having made no additional plans for today, I also plenty of time.
Finally, he showed up.
Last week, my third couchsurfing host’s Taiwanese girlfriend had taught me at the language cafe how to pronounce my name in Chinese. The half-Chinese guy, much to his resent toward his mother, didn’t speak the language, so he couldn’t confirm her pronunciation. Plus, he wanted to get going. His family didn’t come. So he took the bus south, while I returned north.
Overall, Hallasan felt like the opposite of Japan’s Kumano Kodo. Most hikers were Koreans. No vending machines were to be found. The toilets were all tap-less. For such a tall mountain, the view did not pay off.
Jeju Love Land
Back at the hostel, the Brazilian gang hadn’t returned. I wanted to rest and go to bed early. But then my Tokyo friend, having seen my pictures from the penis shrine, texted me the details of a love museum on this island.
Without thinking twice, I headed to the bus bound south.
The Brazilians had just returned, having spent a full day on the mountain. They didn’t want to tag along.
Jeju Love land stood right next to the already-closed Jeju Museum of Art. It was the attraction around open until midnight.
The sun had already set. It was growing rapidly dark. I showed up to Love Land, expecting to find plenty of adults out on a nightly adventure. Instead, traffic cones blocked the entrance to the parking lot. The building was closed.
“Maybe it’s a little further ahead,” I thought, and crossed the side of the building, through a path I wasn’t supposed to cross.
Then I came face to face with a penis statue. I was in the right place.
Beyond it, I spotted large, erotic sculptures in a garden. The ticket office was closed. No one was there.
The museum was abandoned, I realized. No entry fee, nor visitors, let alone staff members.
But the sculptures. As racy as they could be. In positions I hadn’t known existed. I ran around them, shocked by each one. The lights weren’t operating, since the museum was forsaken, and the sky was practically dark by now.
The garden was dead silent.
The late hour, preposterous imagery, and feelings of abandonment, dereliction, and trespassing, added a twinge of panic to my entertainment. Quick snapshots, childish chuckles, illicit groping, and I was out.
I dashed back to the bus stop. The bus I’d taken, which Naver instructed me to board again, did not appear on the ETA screen of the bus stop. Only a different one to another location, stuck forever on “4 minutes”. Great.
A cab flashed its lights at me. I hopped in, unable to ask the driver for an estimated price. This dark adventure cost me 9,400 won, the price of a meal in Korea. In Japan, it would’ve cost between 30,000-50,000.
Safe and sound in my hostel, I couldn’t help but smile at this incident. Risky, perhaps, and a little mad – but more memorable than the mountain I’d planned to hike.
Those unexpected moments and discoveries along the way always stood out in the end. Had I known I would take a cab on the way back, I would’ve stayed there longer.
Today’s highlights: the view of the crater lake; visiting an abandoned sex museum alone at night.
24 May 2023
- 9:40-10:50 Jeju bus terminal to Seongsan Ilchulbong entrance bus number 211
- Seongsan Ilchulbong (~40m)
- 14:00-14:30 women diver show
- 14:50-15:25 Seongsan-ri to Manjanggul cave entrance bus number 201
- Manjanggul cave (40m)
- 16:55-17:05 Manjang cave to Gimnyeong transit station number 711-2, then 17:20-18:30 bus number 201 to Jeju bus terminal
Seong-san Ilchulbong
I woke at 7:30, so sluggish. Slowly got out of bed and ate breakfast. My body was sore from yesterday.
The tourist information center at Jeju bus terminal proved extremely helpful. The guy there was told me of a bunch of places, wrote down exact bus routes, made a reservation for me for a famous attraction that required a Korean social security number, by calling them on the phone.
While waiting for the bus, I noticed a Romanian woman from my hostel, who was going to the same place as me. Plump, long-faced, and redheaded. She’d hiked the same trail on Hallasan as me yesterday morning, an hour and a half I’d shown up.
We boarded the bus together. She informed me of a famous women diving show at our destination, which I hadn’t heard of. Good to get recommendations.
Seongsan Ilchulbong, AKA Sunrise Peak, was a famous tuff cone on the east coast. With a bowl-like crater overlooking the ocean, it was a must-see.
I thought the weather would be 18 degrees and cloudy. It was sunny and hot.
It took us 10 minutes to hike up instead of the specified 20. We spent 10 minutes on the beautiful summit, with a pure green crater covered in grass, and descended for another 10. Too many people asked us if we wanted our picture taken. Why, whenever I was alone, no one asked me that, and I spent half an hour looking for a volunteer?
Umutgae Coast
After descending to the beach, we killed two hours until the women diving show. The black sand, colored such due to volcanic eruptions, reminded me of my week in Tenerife.
I soaked my feet in the cold water. Algae caressed them so soothingly, that it felt like a massage. Tiny green sea snails. Women selling huge raw abalone, still alive and squirming on the plate.
Then, I ventured into the sea. My companion took pictures of me. I started back toward her, and slipped on the rocks, right into the water.
My right knee got hurt. I struggled to position myself up, and limped back to the sand.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It hurts a little, but no blood.”
On March 23, I injured my left knee in Japan, blood streaming all over it. Now, on May 24, I injured my right one.
“That’s okay, it’ll pass,” she said. “It’s a memory.”
It was.
My pants and jacket were waterproof, so they dried quickly. I collected shells on the shore, like in Okunoshima. Some were truly mesmerizing, with beautiful blue shades. I also found a heart-shaped emerald green glass that I wanted to tie a string around, to turn into a bracelet. The rocks were infested with what seemed like the sea version of a cockroach.
For lunch, I bought a bowl of abalone porridge, the local specialty. Basically, stir-fried giant shellfish and rice with green sauce. Very hot, very comforting. Perfect in winter.
Then the women diving show began. Four Haenyeo, elderly Korean divers, performed a dance with their baskets and dived without oxygen supply to fish. They didn’t even take off their socks. This had been a daily ritual for them for years – no, decades. A cultural phenomenon unique to Jeju, an island mainly comprised of women; men had fled this island in the 17th century, to escape their duties. The new generation of girls wasn’t as keen on preserving it, however, so it was rapidly fading.
I heard Hebrew being yelled all around me. A group tour of 28 loud, elder Israelis had come to watch.
“I’m telling you, it was prepared in advance,” one of them yelled.
20m later, the divers returned with their prey.
A fifth woman opened up the shells and served to people. This included an orange, sea pineapple.
By the time we left, the sky had gotten cloudy. So we had gotten lucky with the weather. Our next destination, a cave, wasn’t outdoors anyway.
Manjanggul Cave
The bus took us to Manjanggul Cave Entrance. It wasn’t really the entrance.
We crossed the road to transfer to bus number 711-1 or 711-2 to the cave, yet the two were so infrequent, that it was faster to walk for half an hour on the straight road.
So we walked for twenty minutes, during which I failed to hitchhike. I was too tired by this point.
But the cave was worth it. Cold and large, water dripping from the walls. Quiet, like in another world.
The temperature inside was 11.9 Celsius. The humidity, 99.9%.
The temperature difference with the outside had led to the growth of unique vegetation and organisms. Many sections in this 7.5k-long lava tube, the largest one in the world, were off-limits for safety reasons. On the walls, lava flow lines, all perfectly straight, were hard to believe that they were natural. Lava rafts and shelves with protruding lines. On the ceiling, lava stalactites. On the floor, lava ties, reminiscent of an elephant tie. Lava flow stones, in vertical lines, down the walls.
Finally, in the end: the longest lava climb in the world, 7.6m high.
While exploring all this, I learned my Romanian companion was an avid hiker, having climbed to 3000, 4000, and even 5000 meters in the past. She was a dentist on a short vacation from work.
“Wait,” I said, “you just gave me a piece of gum.”
“Oh, don’t listen to doctors,” she chuckled. “I’m not chewing it all the time, it’s just in my mouth. I like the flavor.”
We made it to the terribly infrequent bus 5m in advance. We were alone, and the driver told us to get off at a different location than what Naver had instructed. Departing in front of an elementary school, the second bus was so full, that we stood next to the driver.
After an endless bus ride, we returned to the hostel. I was so fatigued, that I went straight to my dorm in order to sleep. I exchanged a few words with the Austrian guy in the bunk under me. He had studied computer science in Tokyo for the last six months, and visited the Sapporo Snow Festival a day before me.
“Today’s the day I finally go to bed early,” I said in an apology for him, to explain why I was cutting our conversation short. And indeed, I did so at 19:30.
Two days in Jeju Island had taught me a lot about it. It was a volcanic island with unique rock formations, beautiful beaches, farms, wind turbines, casinos, seafood, impatient bus drivers, a hiking trail through the entire coastline, and intense air pollution. Having dedicated yesterday to the center and today for the east coast, I decided, right before going to bed, to visit the west coast on the next day.
Today’s highlights: the view from the crater; the algae massage; collecting shells on the black sand beach; abalone stew; and the various lava formations in the cave.
Stray observations:
- Everywhere in Jeju, I see the cutest tangerine hats. Apparently, this is another local specialty.
- Buses here play western pop music. They stop at every station and move laboriously slow.
- Laundry is more expensive in Korea than in Japan. Literally the ONLY thing that isn’t cheaper.
25 May 2023
- 8:50-10:10 Jeju bus terminal to Hyeopjae beach
- Hyeopjae beach (~1.5h)
- Geumneung beach and Geumneung stone park (~1.5h)
- Back to Hyeopjae beach (~2h)
- 16:10-16:40 Hyeopjae Beach to Handam-dong bus number 202
- Aewol café street and Handam coastal trail (~30m)
- 17:35-18:50 Gwakjimounul to Jeju bus terminal bus number 202
Hyeopjae Beach
I woke up at 7:00 after nearly 11 hours of sleep. My habit of documenting this aspect of my life had become somewhat obsessive, I feared.
Breakfast with the Romanian dentist before her flight. After her departure, I noticed the staff had put on sad piano music.
Then, a bus to Hyeopjae Beach – among the most beautiful ones I’d seen. Clear water. White sand. Sheer turquoise. I ventured inside the cold water and went far away from the crowd, into waves and silence.
It was yet another perfect day, at least at this hour, with everything shimmering under the sun.
I stood on algae. So soothing on my feet. Fish swam away from me. Waves were undulating. I felt calm, as if I’d had no cares. Soon enough, algae on my feet became one of my favorite physical sensations, alongside onsen dipping.
Not five minutes went by without an airplane flying overhead.
The rocks in this area of the beach were extremely slippery. I treaded cautiously, not wanting to repeat yesterday’s mishap. They were so jagged and pointy, that my feet hurt, and I nearly slipped multiple times.
The beach was so attractive to me, that I could have spent all day there. But there were other things on my list.
Geumneung Park
I walked for fifteen minutes through Geumneung beach (a less interesting version of Hyepjae) and a campsite (seemed like a fun idea) all the way to Geumneung stone park, recommended to me by the tourist information center. I had no idea what was there.
The ticket office was unmanned. I walked in.
It was a tiny place, with some interesting Buddhist sculptures, both outdoors and inside a cave. Small, gushing underground waterfall. I wouldn’t have paid for this.
Then I noticed a large outdoor section with some… cheeky statues.
I laughed out loud. What? Juicy asses? Here? Why?
Korea could be so quirky and unapologetically inappropriate sometimes. Ass chairs and statues presenting bountiful posteriors. A gigantic old woman with fallen breasts being held by people. Needless to say, the stone park started off as nondescript Buddhist statues, and then became something else.
I recalled my surprise at Jeju Love Land. It was the same vibe of visiting a place unknown to me and discovering entertaining brashness along the way.
Hyeopjae Beach… Again
By 13:00, I was finished, so I happily walked back to the beach. I checked out Hallim Park, but didn’t feel like viewing more flowers and tiny caves. Plus, the ticket was expensive. So instead, I found a random seafood restaurant, where I ate a shrimp and green onion pancake.
I spent the following two hours at Hyeopjae. Again ventured into the freezing water and just stood there, trying to catch some color. My neck and forearms looked like they belonged to a different ethnicity, while the rest of me was sickly white.
Standing in the water, a Korean guy soon approached me. He was 23, a former navy from Busan. We chatted, until he dared me to go deeper. The water wasn’t cold for him.
He splashed me and dragged me with him. My teeth were chattering. He said some stuff about Koreans being not very initiative when it came to foreigners.
I recalled how every evening in Jeju so far, the hostel staff, all twenty-somethings, had thrown a dinner party with their friends / fellow Korean guests. They’d told me and another girl that this was a daily ritual for them. Sitting at a nearby table, unable to converse with them in their own language, their large dinner table had seemed like a closed club.
The former navy went to swim, while I froze on my spot. Surfers were paddling their boards and practicing next to me. When the navy guy was finished, we returned to the beach.
He didn’t seem very intent on continuing the conversation, however, and took off. I covered my face with my jacket and tanned for a while.
The day was blue. My mood, pink and gray. I thought about nature and life on this planet. I no longer needed to ponder on my past and who I was. I didn’t need that person anymore.
By 16:00, the temperature had gotten cold enough to push me to take the bus north to Aewol, my last stop.
Aewol Coast
Aewol Café Street, with trendy, beachside cafes, led me to half an hour of a pleasant walk along the coast. I found Hyeopjae and the stone park the focal points of the day, though, and soon enough returned to my hostel.
Bus rides in Jeju Island really ruined the experience. An hour and a half of traffic, the same three commercials playing over and over again, and frequent honking. The drivers were fond of honking.
Back in the hostel, I approached a German-born, New Zealand-raised woman from Australia. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and the angular features of a surfer/model. We ate and recounted our trips to Japan, where we had both come to Korea from. Wide smiles and jokes – it was fun from the first moment, all the more evident after her complaining of the girls in her dormitory.
“No one wants to say hi here,” she said. “Like they’d rather stay in their bubble and not talk to anyone.”
We both reveled in coming together, and grinned a lot.
“Living in Japan is my dream,” I said at some point.
“And marrying a Japanese woman?”
“Also a dream,” I joked. She broke into laughter.
The day ended early again. Tomorrow: the south coast.
Today’s highlights: the beauty of Hyeopjae beach; algae massages; and the sculptures in the stone park.
Stray observations:
- Bus stops and convenience stores are everywhere in Jeju. This isn’t an underdeveloped countryside.
- In the afternoon, the main buses get filled to the point where they do not stop for alighting passengers. This happened to me only in Israel.
26 May 2023
- 8:00-9:15 Jeju bus terminal to Jugong apartment 3,4 bus number 281
- Jeongbang falls (1h)
- Crossing Seogwipo town- Cheonjiyeon falls, Lee Jung Seop street (~1h)
- Seogwapo Maeil Olle Market
- Walking the Jeju Olle-gil route 7 (~1h)
- Seonnyeotang natural cliffside pools (2h)
- 16:15-16:55 Sammaebong Peak Entrance to Jeju international convention center bus number 510
- Daepo Jusangjeolli (30m)
- Cab to Cheonjeyeon falls (10m)
- 17:55-19:10 Cheonjeyeon Falls to Jeju bus terminal bus number 282
Jeongbang Falls
After going to bed at 23:00, I woke at 6:30, before my alarm. Slow breakfast – peanut butter and jelly toast, plus two boiled eggs – the same every day, the only food offered at the hostel.
Jeju was cloudy today. I’d picked the south coast for this weather. Waterfalls didn’t need sun to strike my fancy.
I made it to the first one at 9:30, half an hour after opening time. 23 meters high, 8 meters wide, 5 meters deep. The only waterfall in Asia that fell directly into the sea.
The tide was huge, the waves forceful. I stood on the rocks facing the waterfall, crashing so hard that water was spraying me.
The roars of both waterfall and waves made for such a rare combination, that this waterfall immediately stood out from previous ones I’d visited. I lay down on the rocks, closed my eyes, and listened.
If I lived in Jeju, I would come here whenever feeling down.
Instead, in the future, I would simply play the video I took and listen to the sound. This and a mountaintop: “my natural happy places,” as I put it to a middle-aged Australian woman.
She was a redheaded and energetic retired lawyer, who had practiced Asian law and used to live in China. Thus, she possessed varying knowledge of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean.
At 10:00, the place got really crowded, so we left. She chuckled at my excitement over Hyeopjae. Apparently, it could not hold a candle to the beaches in her homeland.
Seogwipo
From here on, we said farewell. I crossed through the site of the Jeju 4.3 incident, a bloody uprising whose massacres had killed 10% of the local population, and Cheonjiyeon falls, all the way to Lee Jungseop Street, named after a famous artist. Saw the hut where he’d lived. The museum didn’t speak to me.
But then I found the most inviting little souvenir shop, with amazing boho trinkets. Pocket watches, bracelets, owl ring holders, old school wrist watches – I wanted everything from there. After at least half on hour of browsing, I got two rings, one snake and one dragon.
At the market, the non-meaty things I could find were tempura squid, octopus, shrimp, sweet potato, and vegetables; a crab and cream salad sandwich; twisted sweet rice bread stick; black sesame cream donut; black rice and sweet potato donut; a sticky rice donut; and the local specialty, tangerine juice.
This should keep me going until the end of the day.
When I left the market, the sun emerged. The temperature got very hot. I descended an endless winding cliff to the coast, crossed a bridge to a small island, looked around, and climbed back up, by now a puddle swimming uphill.
Seonnyeotang Cliffside Pools
Then I continued west on the famous Olle number 7 trail, until I reached natural cliff side pools.
Wow.
I couldn’t recall if I’d ever seen a sight like this. Natural pools with a stubborn tide, on a cliff, by the ocean. Clear turquoise water.
I circled it, treading on more jagged, slippery stones. People braved the cold and went in for a swim. I felt a bit weird, my body type clashing with the other males, but nonetheless lay on a boulder and tanned (my chest was still red from yesterday).
More centipedes crawling around me.
I talked to a Korean guy who worked on the island, a professional diver. He liked to swim here even in winter.
It was always interesting to hear that I was the first Israeli / Jewish person someone had met. Even wilder was when someone didn’t know what the word Israel meant.
Then we noticed a girl climbing all the way up the rocks.
Angry whistling from above. The guards were furious at her. It was indeed dangerous. I, on the other hand, wanted to follow her suit.
She slowly climbed down, and all of a sudden jumped. I thought she would get hurt. She didn’t.
So cool.
Two dudes from California took photos with me on the cliff. The same brave girl dipped a melted chocolate bar it in the cold water, for it to congeal.
She was Croatian, a business major, and together with a Norweigan friend, did a semester abroad in Gwang-ju. They let me a bite of the chocolate (sea salt, yum) and we exchanged tips about Korea. They mentioned another sex museum in Jeju, with more statues of phalli and the like, yet the one I’d been to seemed better – free, abandoned, with crazier artwork.
They inquired after my trip, and how I was affording all this.
“So now I’m wasting every last dime,” I finished by explaining my decision to exhaust my savings.
“Well, not really, because there’s inflation,” the Croatian girl said. “If you don’t use your money, you’re basically losing it. So just spend all of it, you’ll make more in the future.”
“Wise words from a business major,” I said.
Finally, at 15:30, I left.
Jusangjeolli Cliff
Things got cloudy again. Also, humid. I was dripping like a puddle, until I took the bus to Jusangjeolli cliff, one of the famous rock formations on this island.
It was yet another unique, natural sight, especially now that the sun was setting. I met three foreign exchange students from Busan. The four of us shared a taxi to Cheonjeyeon falls, known for featuring three forks. (It was cheap, and better than a 40-minute walk uphill.)
Yet the waterfall had already closed. We missed it by 15 minutes. So I said goodbye to them, with the possibility of seeing them in Busan.
I took the bus back to my hostel, where I ate my pastries for dinner. The staff was throwing their daily, lively dinner party. A sad Korean song was playing. I looked up a translation of the lyrics to English. It was about an unrequited love. I wondered if I’d experience it someday.
The Austrian student told me he’d stayed in Busan at the hostel I’d be volunteering at for the following month. He said it was big and friendly. Yay.
He also agreed that Koreans had struck him as a closed club.
It was just us the two at the dormitory tonight. Strange, considering how big, cheap, and convenient this hostel was for budget travelers without a car. Did people visit Jeju more during the humid, rainy season? I wondered, as I went to bed.
Today’s highlights: the crashing water and waves of Jeonbang falls; the souvenir shop; lunch at the market; the cliffside pools; Jusangjeolli cliff at sunset.
27 May 2023
- 8:00-8:40 Jeju bus terminal to Geomun Oreum entrance bus number 221 (211 also goes there)
- Geomun Oreum (3h)
- 12:40-13:20 Geomun Oreum Entrance to Jeju bus terminal bus number 221 (211 also goes there), 13:30-14:15 Jeju bus terminal to Cheon Wang Temple bus number 240
- Celebrating the Buddha’s birthday at a random temple (40m)
- 16:05-16:45 Jeju national cemetery entrance to Jeju bus terminal bus number 240
- Picking up my bag from the hostel
- 17:15-17:30 Suburban bus terminal (the station across the street from Jeju bus terminal) to Jeju airport bus number 331 (many buses go there)
- Flight to Gimhae airport
- Bus to guesthouse- bus number Gangseogu13 (no idea about the times)
Geomun Oreum
I woke at 6:20 before my alarm. New circadian rhythm unlocked.
I was the only guest eating breakfast, not for the first time. Either there were no other guests, apart from the Austrian and me, or they started their day late. Which was just as odd, since buses took at least an hour to get anywhere, and one had to start early in Jeju, if they wanted to explore it.
The island was cloudy and misty. It drizzled a little.
I showed up to Geomnu Oreum, the attraction the tourist information center had booked for me, at 8:50. They let me join the 9:00 group instead of waiting for my 9:30 reservation. One of the staff members had been to Israel 15 years prior. “The airport was very difficult to go through,” he said.
I was the only foreigner. The guide spoke Korean. He was wearing a summer hanbok, just like me. The first time I saw someone wear it.
A Korean man was wearing the widest brimmed hat I’d even laid eyes on, stretching all the way to cover his shoulders.
We walked silently up the mountain. Every time we paused for commentary, I got stared at. I understood not one word.
But I did know that Geomun Oreum was a celebrated volcanic cone, known for its black rocks and dirt. One of the most famous natural attractions in this country.
The moss on the trees was so soft, like a pampered kitten. I focused on it while the guide talked and talked endlessly. Sometimes one of the women explained some things to me, or asked what I was doing here.
We saw tunnels dug by the Japanese army and stones covered in thick moss, wet with dew. The guide stopped frequently to lecture about the hundreds of plant species found in this subtropical and temperate forest. A rare, vertical lava tube was featured in our trail.
The 1h tour ended up lasting 2.5h, much to my irritation. Not only did I not understand anything – I didn’t find anything worthy of all this time. The landscape was basically a forest.
At the end of the tour, I chose to go back, rather than continue uphill to the crater. I preferred going back to Jeju city for the five-day market, and perhaps a temple. It was getting extremely windy anyway.
The bus stop didn’t feature an ETA screen, nor Wi-Fi. I stood there alone for 40m. Gusts were blowing. I was wearing a thin summer hanbok. Shivering. No one who had visited the Oreum had come without a car.
I gave multiple cars the thumbs up. No one stopped for me. Like in Japan.
Exasperated, I decided to hop on the next cab, when the bus arrived.
Cheon Wang Temple
I headed straight to the tourist information center, to ask them about a temple for the Buddha’s birthday. They told me to skip the 5-day market.
“You can see it everyday, everywhere in Korea, but the Buddha’s birthday is only today. Go to this temple, the bus departs in 3 minutes.”
I rushed to the bus.
The Austrian student was already at a different temple in the south. “They have free food,” he texted me.
“Yay I’m starving,” I replied.
After a grueling climb uphill through a forest, and past Jeju National Cemetery, I arrived at the temple. Cars parked everywhere. No one had taken the bus.
But there was free bibimbap (vegan, obviously) and tea. Lots of lanterns. Inside the main hall, a prayer underway. 108 prostrations, yet again.
More golden Buddhas and incense. Monks in Korea wore more gray than orange. One lady went past me, noticed my face and let out a cry of surprise. I was the only foreigner.
Now that I thought of it, I hadn’t seen a single non-Korean face today.
I wolfed down the bibimbap on an orange carpet under a canopy of colorful lanterns. No shoes allowed. Afterwards, I received a chocolate biscuit for dessert.
Then I rushed uphil to check out the halls of prayer. Heaps of fresh food laid as an offering to Buddha.
There wasn’t much else to do though. Like the previous temples I’d been to, this was a 10-minute visit. I returned to the food court and asked for a second portion of bibimbap. The ladies gladly gave it to me. A small boy wearing the cutest purple summer hanbok stared at me. I recalled seeing this color at the hanbok market right after buying my blue one, and resolving to return at the end of my trip there for it.
I returned to the bus stop, so tiny and remote that it was just an ETA-less sign. It began to drizzle. Tomorrow onwards, it would rain all day. I was leaving Jeju at the right time.
Somehow, I found myself waiting again alone in the middle of nowhere for forty minutes.
At the hostel, picked up my bag and bought a tangerine bucket hat. I couldn’t leave this island without it. My short five days on this island had come to a close.
Flight to Busan
I showed up to the airport 1.5 hours before my flight. No baggage to check in, no passport to check: I went straight to the security line, where everyone was standing.
It was the Korean-only line.
The foreigner line was completely empty. So going through security took me one minute.
After boarding, I noticed that once again, the only other foreigners on my flight were French.
Also like my previous flight, they played K-pop before takeoff and after landing.
I took the bus to my guesthouse for the night. The same line went in two different directions. I boarded the one bound south by mistake. The driver had told me he wasn’t going to my stop, but I’d figured he’d misunderstood me. Unlike the buses in Kyoto, it was not a loop bus.
Growing slightly paranoid owing to my diminishing phone battery, I asked the French guys from my flight for help. Their hostel was down south, while mine was up north. An elderly man saw us struggling and gave us instructions in Korean. It was all very confusing. In the end, I got off at a random station in the middle of a highway, just like February 28, when I’d gone to Kawaguchiko. Except now it was night, and I didn’t speak the language.
I crossed the road and took the same line headed north. The driver didn’t even answer my question about my desired stop. He yelled something in Korean, and waved his hands in resistance.
Koreans could be wildly different from the Japanese sometimes.
Today’s bus rides were all full of uncertainty, whether at the Jeju buses’ belated arrival time, or their direction in Busan. I resolved to study Hangul next week, and some basic navigational sentences.
The location I got off at reminded me of my latest couchsurfing experience. Not very nice. Dark streets and old garages. I found the guesthouse with 1% of battery left. Inside, a note with my name and room key was waiting.
The time was 22:00. My suitcase wasn’t inside my room. (An expectation I’d come to develop after Japan.) I examined the four floors of the guesthouse; all empty. Was I the only person in this building?
After resolving to ask for my suitcase in the morning, a guy emerged from a staff door. He shook my hand and asked me how to say “hello” in Hebrew. Then he brought out my suitcase, which had been waiting for me here since Tuesday. Tomorrow, a month of volunteering in a hostel would start.
I went to bed with the same song stuck in my head since my visit to Hyeopjae.
“Was enlightenment found?” Lorde asked. “No, but I’m trying, taking it one year at a time.”
Today’s highlights: running my fingers through dewy moss; free bibimbap at the temple.
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