I woke up not in the least bewildered by the previous night's circumstances (it was only one beer, for Pete's sake). After some deliberation, I decided not to re-up for a fourth night and promptly checked out, hefting my heavy bag down to the main road to decide what to do next. It was here that I encountered my only real delay in regards to navigation. The dang tourist map was all out of proportion. Instead of being sensibly printed to scale, it was one of those nasty cartoonish affairs with sights and landmarks and activities all blown up and expanded, so they look closer together than they really are. The upshot of this irksome tendency is that blockheaded tourists like myself attempt a leisurely stroll to the nearest attraction, only to discover it's much farther away than anticipated.
That's what happened to me when I set out to find Bunhwangsa (according to Wikipedia, that means "Fragrant Emperor Temple"), in which is housed a pagoda built by Queen Seondeok to commemorate a dead husband. Evidently she thought he smelled good.
This pagoda...
...used to be nine layers tall, in fact, but due to weathering and wars and whatnot it's been reduced to a humble three. Nonetheless its architecture is unique. There are no fewer than two stone guardians carved at each entrance, and the whole design of the thing, though based on Chinese Tang Dynasty models, is Korean at heart.
But that's neither here nor there. First I had to find the damn thing.
My map said it was pretty much straight across from the National Museum. I strode out, bold as brass, and before I knew it I was out in the middle of nowhere, nearing the sticks. I couldn't detect the slightest trace of a temple anywhere, sweet-smelling or otherwise. Hot, sweaty and irked, I directed my steps eastward, and once I finally neared the National Museum I set my portmanteau down in the shade of a tree, plonked myself down on it, hauled out my map, and reconsulted it. Newly discovering that my destination was, in fact, a twenty-minute walk down a tree-lined road from the museum, I hailed a cab in disgust and peacefully handed over the several thousand won, just for the sake of getting there faster. It was a lovely sight, if not a very lengthy one. There were one or two buildings, a well, some lanterns strung up, the obligatory gift shop, a few trees and that was about it.
Having spent less time in viewing this sacred artifact of a bygone time than I'd planned on, I vacillated. Head back to Gohyeon now, and spend the rest of the day vegetating? Or stick it out? Maximize my time in Gyeongju, the historical nexus of the Gyeongsang Provinces? Naturally I opted for the latter. I caught a cab back to the bus station (quite a distance, I was irritably gratified to learn) and then hopped on the next bus for Bomunho.
What's Bomunho, you ask?
Well, I'll tell you. It's a lake. Some kilometers east of Gyeongju proper, not quite as far as Bulguksa or Seokguram Grotto but a decent distance nonetheless, is a large, man-made lake set in between some scenic little hills. This area is the more hoidy-toidy, idealized version of grubby, short-stack downtown Gyeongju. (Seriously, the tumuli are the tallest buildings in that town.) That is to say, this is where the rich people go. The whole place is pretty much a resort. There are fancy hotels all along the lakefront (Hyundai, Lotte, even the Gyeongju Hilton). A fountain in the middle of the lake is nice and pretty and pointless. Shops and paved paths dot the shore. Paddleboats scud slowly across the water. Korean teens blow all their savings on rides and cotton candy at Gyeongju World, the theme park replete with Ferris wheels and roller coasters.
And...there was this place.
This is Gyeongju Expo Park, which I happened upon during the Millennium Car Show. After a little deliberation and some tantalizing glimpses...
I caved and forked over nine thousand to get in. I wouldn't soon have cause to regret it. In addition to some of the killer cars they were showcasing...
...not to mention a few gorgeous Korean supermodels who were softening up the hard edges of the vehicles a bit...
...there was Gyeongju Tower!
The sight of it alone titillated me into entering the park. It sat like a vast, jagged tooth, rising out of the ground as though newly upthrust from the craggy jaws of a dragon, looming over Bomunho Lake like a sentinel. I knew the view from up there was bound to be dynamite, so I hopped the elevator and went up.
As if the view from the top of Gyeongju Tower wasn't good enough, the view of the top of Gyeongju Tower wasn't all that bad either. They had some archaeological exhibits set up that looked like they'd been scooped up from the National Museum a few kilometers over...ornaments, trinkets, roof tiles, platters, plates, carvings...plus this amazing diorama of the entire city when it was at its prime. I took a picture of it not only because it was phenomenal but also because I thought I might use it for the comic book later.
After gawking for a while, inside and out, I headed back down and back out. I thought I'd take a stroll over to the lake and see the fun. To get there I had to cross the main drag, and then the river, in the bed of which people were happily renting ATVs and scooting up and down to their hearts' content.
Soon, however, I'd bridged this gap and was under the comforting shade of the lakeside trees. I strolled along for a while, admiring the Western-style restaurants, the foliage, and the indulgence Koreans see fit to partake of whenever they've been sufficiently productive. The beautiful day was in full swing. Multitudes of children were riding around on little motorized cars and jeeps, bumping into each other and sending adults scurrying for cover. People sat on park benches and stared off into space. Families in minivans cruised slowly up and down the narrow, shady streets, searching for a parking spot. I threaded my way through all this and finally, overcome by the laid-back mood, settled down outside a small shop, bought two ice cream cones, and took the receiver off the hook for a bit.
That was the end. I walked away from the lake, past the Gyeongju Hilton (where one of my students, whose father is some Samsung bigwig, was staying at that very moment), and back to the bus stop which would deliver me to Gyeongju, there to board the bus for Tongyeong (a three-hour ride, ugh) and another from thence to Gohyeon. I arrived safe and sound, if a little travel-worn, impressed at my travel prowess and resolve.
In three days I'd seen what it took the Silla Dynasty the better part of a millennium to build.
I'd walked in the shadows of history, stood in the hallowed halls of antique memory, been privileged to gaze upon the worn but untarnished past.
My soul was wrung out, my mind singing.
I won't soon forget it.
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