Park, Lee, and Kim...oh my!

Have you ever wondered why such a staggeringly large slice of the Korean population is named Park, Lee, or Kim? 

So have I. In fact, it used to be the most burning question I had about this peninsula, right behind what "Seoul" means. 

But not anymore. I found the answer. 

First, let me introduce you to a building:

                                                                                                               from Wikimedia Commons

It's called Gyeongbokgung ("Palace Greatly Blessed By Heaven") and it stands in central Seoul, near the intersection of Lines 3 and 5. Up the hill behind it is a famous Buddhist temple and the Blue House, the official residence of the Korean president. Gyeongbokgung was the largest and grandest of the Five Grand Palaces built by the Joseon Dynasty. Originally constructed in 1395, right after Joseon's foundation, and then later burned and abandoned for three centuries, it was reconstructed in 1867. 

Now here's where things start to get controversial. 

The official word is that Gyeongbokgung was burned to the ground by Imperial Japan shortly after their annexation of Korea in the early 20th century. But various reports and accounts I've heard tell a different story. Let me back up and do some more explaining.

Korea's surnames, like Scotland's, were all clan-based in antiquity. The Kims were a clan unto themselves back in the day, and a very powerful one. So were the Parks (or Bak, as I prefer to romanize it). The Lees, too. But there were hundreds of others: Choi, Bae, Woo, Lim, Jang, Jeong, Bang, Go, Min, Hong, Seo, Gang, Yoo, Heo, Yoon, Gwak, Gwon, Yang, Hwang, Myeong, Dong, Ryu, Noh, Na, and Pyo come readily to mind.

Here's the thing, though. Korea used to have a caste system. The Kims, Lees and Parks got so powerful that they became the rulers of some of the peninsula's mightiest kingdoms: Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo, and Joseon. Everybody else got the shaft. The Gangs and Yoos and Yangs remained commoners. Granted, any commoner could sit for the gwageo (civil service examination) and become a yangban (civil servant), entitled to an estate and aristocratic privileges...but hey, noble names were still noble names, and common ones common.

When the Japanese annexed Korea in 1910, one of the first things they did was abolish the caste system. Suddenly a Kim was no better than a Choi, and Park no worthier than a Jang. But the names themselves still retained some time-honored clout. It was a mark of prestige to be a Kim or a Park, even if the Japanese had barged in and said it didn't count for beans anymore. 

So, according to what I've heard, Gyeongbokgung wasn't burned down by the Japanese. It was burned down by the Koreans. See, Gyeongbokgung was where the Hall of Records was. Everybody's birth certificates and genealogies were in there. With those reduced to ashes, a lowly Pyo or Hong could waltz right into the nearest Japanese registrar's office and say "Hello there. I'm Mr. Kim." Or "Howdy doody, ilbon saram! I'm Mr. Lee!" 

I don't know if that's true or not, but I have to admit it's a compelling theory. Korea suffers from a deplorable excess of Kims, Lees and Parks because their granddads all wanted to put on airs and had no qualms about committing arson to do it. This is why I secretly rejoice whenever I see an extremely rare surname (such as Gwak, Yang or Pyo) because I know that that person's ancestors had enough pride in their roots not to torch the royal palace and then fake their names during the next census.

And now you know the rest of the story.

P.S. Can you think of anybody else who might be using the name "Kim" to give themselves some street cred...?

departure plans for Seward's icebox

Time's running down on my Korean sojourn. Soon the final curtain will fall, and I'll be off to Alaska to meet my destiny.

Preparations are already underway; Jacob has already reserved my flight (China Airlines all the way, ugh) and given me my itinerary; I've sent off two mammoth packages' worth of stuff to my folks so I won't have to cart it around manually; and I'm finishing up my travel plans for the two weeks' furlough I'll have after my last day at work. My visa extension paperwork checked out, and I'm now legally allowed to stay in the country two more weeks, until July 8th.

What am I going to do with those extra weeks?

Well, I'm enthralled that you inquired (glad you asked; the Meticulous Grammarshal loves synonyms).

First, I plan to grab a flight from Busan to Jeju-do, the aforementioned holiday island, the largest island in South Korea and a magnet for vacationers and beach-goers all over Asia. It's quite famous, apparently, and attracts more than just Korean visitors. Why, Erica told me a story today in the teacher's room about a Russian immigrant who journeyed to Jeju as a tourist and was so enraptured with the place that he stayed on as a guide. He really threw himself into it. He now speaks better Korean than some Koreans do, and knows more about the island than some people who live there! He's popular with tourists, as I'm given to understand, because he, in Erica's words, "sees it with foreigner's eyes."

Jeju does have many unique sights. There's the largest lava tube in the world, for example. There's also Hallasan, a mountain in the middle of the island, a scenic hike and a great view from the top; there's also miles and miles of beaches, where one can rent truck-tire inner tubes and bounce around in the waves. Scooters are also dirt cheap to rent, Charles tells me. So that's how I'll be getting around, buzzing from one palatinate to another aboard one of the mopeds whose morning ignitions throw me into such fits in the early morning around here.

Beyond that, I haven't done much more planning. I haven't taken the time to consider every nit-noid detail. I'm just going to land in Jeju City, get transportation to Seogwipo (the town on the southern shores of the island, where the cheaper accommodation is to be found according to fellow expatriate Chris Forte), grab a motel room and then play it by ear.

Following my six days in Jeju (less if I see everything or it's too expensive to stay, but no more), I'll advance directly to...I'm not sure. I'm vacillating, you see. My original plan detailed a four-day stay in Daejeon, the city halfway between Busan and Seoul, and of some size. It's known as the "science city," where all the research labs and scientific institutes are, Korea's R&D department if you will. It's unremarkable apart from that: no distinguishing cultural characteristics, but for an art museum, Expo Park (the remains of Korea's great science exposition some years ago, still retaining a few curiosities) and some assorted balloon and airplane rides. That is looking less and less attractive with each passing day.

I think I might really go bold and go to Gwangju instead. That city (not to be confused with Gyeongju, in Gyeongsangbuk-do) is the largest city in the province of Jeollanam-do, directly west of Gyeongsangnam-do, and its mortal enemy, or at least arch-rival. There has been some traditional, deep-seated resentment between the two provinces due to some political strife a few decades ago, and perhaps even longer, when Gyeongsangnam was Silla and Jeollanam was Baekje (see Korean History 101).

I don't know much about Gwangju other than that it's massive, has some interesting temples, an open-air night market, and a thriving downtown area. Gwangju really isn't the point of going to Jeollanam-do, though. It's just got an airport and is conveniently close to several other interesting sights, like Damyang. I was put onto that one by Erica. It's apparently a real Korean traditional village, not a tourist trap like Gyeongju or Andong. Here the customs are preserved for the sake of their preservation, not moon-eyed vacationers'. The whole place, small as it is, is tucked away in some valley somewhere just waiting to be discovered, or so I gathered from Erica. I might check it out. There's also a tea-brewing village somewhere southeast of Gwangju, too.

Mokpo, another city of some size, is one of Jeollanam's western ports (from which there's a ferry service to Jeju and back again...hmmmmm), and might also be worth seeing. I don't know what I'll do and what I won't. I'll have plenty of time to plan in my motel in Jeju. I just want to go to Jeollanam-do, pretty much. I avoided the place like the plague all the time I was here because I'd heard there were malaria mosquitoes all over the place in the hotter months due to the wider profusion of rice paddies. Charles dispelled that notion, saying that Korea didn't have a problem with malaria, period. To you, sitting in front of your computer, that might seem like a prejudiced or even propagandist answer, but I would trust Charles with my life. If this works out and I hit the Jeolla Provinces, then I'll have been to pretty much every Korean province except the far northeastern one, whichever one that is. Then I'll feel a little better about my time spent here.

Following Gwangju (or Daejeon, or whatever) there's a couple days in Seoul. For only having three days, I think I got to "see" Seoul pretty thoroughly last time. (Look up my article in the late summer edition of Real Travel Adventures to learn what I mean by "see.") But still, I wouldn't mind going back again, especially in the summer months, and see what's crackin'. I also plan to light out of the city for maybe half a day or however long it takes and get a good look at the DMZ...that's if they let me. I don't know if you're keeping up with the news but things are hotter than usual between North Korea and South Korea, Japan, the U.S., China, Russia, and, well, hell...the rest of the world. North Korea's been blustering a lot more aggressively lately and firing a lot of test missiles and whatnot in quick succession, so people are all caught up in a flurry of speculation about their intentions. As far as I know there hasn't been any increase in personnel along the demilitarized zone as of yet (not on the American side, anyway), but joint military operations between the R.O.K. and the U.S.A. are still in effect. Coincidentally, though, one of my good buddies from college, who's in the army, is getting posted to the DMZ now that he's finished basic. He should be here in a few months, unfortunately well after I leave, but soon enough that I'll be able to give him some good restaurant recommendations in Seoul.

Right, that's enough long sentences. I'll do some short ones. That ought to break up the flow a little. I read somewhere in some book that you're supposed to variegate your sentence structure by interspersing long sentences with short sentences, and every time I muster the presence of mind to keep track I notice that all the writers whose skills I admire do that very thing. (Whoops, that was a tad long.) So I'm going to try a little harder to do it myself.

That concludes my grand scheme. Serendipitously I will be in Seoul at the termination of my two weeks' furlough, so I can just slide sideways to Incheon right next door and hop my flight to Anchorage, and whatever lies in store for me there, good or ill. The only flaw in my plan is this: since I will be essentially rootless during this time, my apartment moved out of and my contact expired, I will have to be toting whatever amount of luggage I may have (and my gut tells me it will be considerable) around with me wherever I go. Certainly, I can dump it off in a motel room whenever I arrive at my particular stopping point, but in the meantime, I'll be schlepping it: in taxicabs, buses, up side streets, down back alleys...whatever. That discourages me, and unnerves me more than a little. I'll keep everything I can't afford to lose on my person at all times, of course; but if I "lose" anything else, I'll be in a slight pickle upon arriving in Anchorage. Oh well, no use in worrying about something that's not even happened yet. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Those are the plans, and them's the breaks. What do you think?

Speaking of breaks, and just so the title of this post winds up being more accurate than it first appears, I'll tell you about my official departure plans for Alaska...and by that I mean the ones on printed paper. Oddly, I'm flying from Incheon to Taipei, Taiwan. After a two-hour layover I'm headed directly to Anchorage, Alaska, U.S.A. Nothing about this flight seems desirable. The Taipei-Anchorage hop is eleven hours, exactly the same as the excruciating Minneapolis-Tokyo leg one year ago. Darn, I was hoping I wouldn't be eating my knees for one calendar day this time around. To add insult to injury, I'm not even flying Korean Air, a definitely more desirable airline than Northwest, by all accounts. No, I'm flying China Airlines, a definitely less desirable airline than Northwest. And I'm flying it both legs of the trip. You should've seen how Byeong-Jun, the rich son of a Samsung bigwig and one of my students, laughed when he heard. Why should he care? His father buys him a business-class ticket wherever he goes, the lucky bugger. Meanwhile I get stuck in sardine-style accommodation on an airline that's got the same safety record as a cross-eyed bumblebee four feet above I-80.

Deep down in my heart of hearts, I truly cannot blame Jacob, my director, for booking me this flight. The man's a small business owner, and he's got to look out for number one; he's just trying to save a little dough, and in the strictest definition of the phrase, that flight will get me where I'm going. But jeez...let's hope the omelettes aren't reheated this time, all right?

NOTE: A few days after this writing, plans changed. I think, to simplify matters (and to save money) I think I'll fly directly to Los Angeles, grab my stuff from my folks' place (and perhaps even a car, and do some more job hunting) and THEN head up to Alaska. I'm going to speak with Jacob and have him change my flight plans.

Gyeongju: inhumation and indulgence

Now that I've waited so long to tell you about the rest of Gyeongju that I actually went ahead and told you about something else unrelated to it (Jirisan), I'll finally finish. What follows is the account of my final hours in Gyeongju on the morning of May 4, 2009.

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.

Korean History 103

Right, where were we? Oh yeah, that's right: the Three Kingdoms Period has just come to an end, and we've now got the Goryeo Dynasty.

Now, before I begin, I'd just like to point out an interesting tidbit. The name Goryeo is where we (that is to say, the Western World) get our pronunciation of the name Korea. Goryeo was a trading dynasty, like Baekje and Silla before it, and Occidental wayfarers took the name back to their own lands...bastardized, of course, but still maintaining the essence of the root sound.

Let me demonstrate. Goryeo is pronounced "gor-YUH." Say that six times fast. I'll wait. You might need to give it a couple of tries; it's a tricky one. Say it as clearly as possible, as fast as possible, and listen carefully to the sound you're making. Finished? Good. Didn't that sound pretty darn close to "Korea" to you? Splendid. On with the show.

Goryeo coalesced in 918 A.D. (founded by a king called Taejo), and overpowered the limping remnants of Silla and Baekje left after the stagnation of Unified Silla. Goryeo would eventually come to dominate the entire peninsula for 474 years. This dynasty seemed a bit more imperialistic than its forebears. Instead of seeing themselves as a kingdom, they viewed themselves as an empire. For one thing, its rulers called themselves the Supreme Kings, and were addressed as "imperial majesties." That having been said, Goryeo accomplished some rather stupendous things, equal or superior to what had come before. For one thing, the fourth supreme king, Gwangjong, passed laws that emancipated slaves and (perhaps coincidentally) instated exams for the hiring of civil officials. Goryeo is also well-known for its celadon pottery (celadon being a kind of greenish glaze, quite beautiful), and the Tripitaka Koreana, the entire Buddhist scriptures inscribed by hand onto eighty thousand wooden blocks. These blocks were so well preserved (with a combination of salt, coral, and lime) that they have withstood buildings burning down around them, not to mention Korea's seasonal fluctuations in humidity, and have lasted for about a thousand years. They are still stored at Haeinsa, a temple north of my position, where they are housed in a cleverly built storage compartment with different-sized windows on its upper and lower parts, to regulate humidity and temperature.

Goryeo is perhaps best remembered, however, for inventing the world's first movable-metal-type printing press, in 1234. The Jikji, a Buddhist text, was printed in 1377 using Goryeo's press, predating the Gutenberg Bible by more than seventy years. It is the oldest surviving book printed with movable metal type; it currently resides in the National Library of France.

East Asia is not a peaceful place, nor has it ever been. Goryeo, like all of its predecessors, went to war many times. This time, the aggressors were the Liao Dynasty, also known as the Khitan Empire, which controlled bits of Manchuria, Mongolia and Northern China. They invaded first in the year 993, with a staggering 800,000 men. That attack was called off, however, after the Goryeo king Seo Hui negotiated with the Khitans and agreed to cease relations with the Chinese Song Dynasty. Khitan peacefully withdrew. The lines of communication to China were kept open, however. But then, in 1009, a rogue general led a military coup against the current king of Goryeo, Mokjong, killing him and establishing military rule. The opportunistic Khitai people invaded again with an army 400,000 strong. Gang Jo, the rogue general, fended them off as best he could until he died; the new king, Hyeonjong, had to beat feet south to Naju in Jeollanam Province (far south of the old Goryeo capital). However, Khitan was unable to establish a foothold and had to withdraw once again.

...until 1018, when they invaded again with 100,000 men. This time the Koreans had had enough of their act. The Korean general, Gang Gam-Chan, had his men dam a river. As the Khitai began to cross, he then ordered the dam destroyed. The ensuing flood did enormous damage to the Khitai forces. General Gang then initiated a tremendous counterattack that all but massacred the invaders. Barely a few thousand survived to see the final Khitai defeat at Kwiju a few years later.

Not long after this, the Jurchens (a loose conglomerate of tribes dwelling north of Goryeo) became dissatisfied with paying tribute to the Koreans and invaded. They were defeated in the early twelfth century by a force of 17,000. Fortresses were built along the northern borders to prevent this sort of thing from happening again...but it was during the Jurchen invasions that schisms in the leadership of Goryeo began to make themselves apparent. The rest of the twelfth century was taken up with a series of power struggles, coups, assassinations, puppeteering, and wholesale wangling between the kings, the military and the ruling aristocracy, most notably the Inju family.

The thirteenth century had barely come along when bam! Hither came the Mongols. Thousands of warriors under the command of Ögedei Khan, the third son of Genghis Khan, came galloping into Goryeo as part of a general campaign to conquer China. Between 1231 and 1259, the Mongols staged six campaigns and four major invasions that did tremendous damage to the entire Korean peninsula (even as far south as the Jeolla and Gyeongsang Provinces), costing thousands of Korean lives. The entire Korean government had to relocate to an island off Gyeonggi Province. (These invasions were actually the catalyst for the creation of the Tripitaka Koreana...or I should say, the re-creation. The original set was burned by the Mongols, and the supreme king, Gojong, ordered their reinstatement.)

Goryeo finally sued for peace in 1259, after King Choe U was assassinated by Korean powers who, ironically, were in favor of a peace agreement with the Mongols. (Rumor has it that those militants who were still in favor of fighting the Mongols fled and hid out on islands off the coast of the peninsula, where they waged guerilla warfare...who knows but that Geoje may have been among them!) Goryeo then became a satellite of the Mongol's Yuan Dynasty and paid tribute. The Mongols did no further harm to the peninsula, but annexed the northern boundaries of present-day North Korea and incorporated it into their empire. I didn't know this before, but the Mongols also recruited some Korean help during their ill-fated amphibious invasion of Japan. I'm sure you've read about this in the history books. Japan loves to hang it over everybody's heads. When the Mongol (and, now that I'm aware of it, Korean) ships were within striking distance of the Japanese islands, and all the samurai were assembled, ready to die fighting them, suddenly a great wind blew down from heaven and smashed the interlopers' ships all to hell. Most of the men were drowned or dashed to pieces, and Japan remained free from incursion. The storm or gale or whatever it was came to be known in Japan (and elsewhere) as the Kamikaze, or "Divine Wind."

In 1341 King Gongmin ascended to the throne. He was forced to spend time in the Yuan Empire, being treated like the puppet king he was. Instabilities in the Yuan Empire (soon to fall to the Ming Dynasty) galvanized Gongmin to action, however. He removed all pro-Mongol officials and generals from their positions, and set about attempting to repel the Mongol influence from the Korean peninsula. His noble ideals were shattered with the death of his wife (a Mongolian princess), however. He became disinterested and lackluster, entrusting his political reforms to others, until finally he was assassinated by his own apprentices. In 1388, the son of King Gongmin attempted to attack the Mongols in the north, but the general he sent (Yi Seong-Gye) did an about-face and rebelled. He executed all the remaining "supreme kings" of Goryeo and established the Joseon Dynasty in 1392.

Despite the military conflicts, Goryeo kept up the traditions of Baekje and Silla and did a roaring trade in ginseng, "agricultural implements" (according to the Volunteer Agency Network of Korea) and its famous celadon ceramics, importing manufactured goods, books, and silk. The dynasty apparently acquired a worldwide reputation, for traders came from not only China and Japan but as far away as Arabia and Persia. They brought away the name of the dynasty, Goryeo, and from it (remember that little exercise I had you do?) the name Korea spread throughout the world.

Korean History 102

The Three Kingdoms (삼국시대)
Like an amoeba splitting, the old Gojoseon Kingdom fell apart in the wake of the Han Dynasty's invasion from China in the second century B.C. After some gradual reorganization (the Proto-Three Kingdoms Period), three separate principalities rose to take the place of the old. They were Goguryeo, Silla, and Baekje.

Goguryeo
(That's pronounced GO-goo-RYUH.) Apparently after Gojoseon died there was this one little kingdom named Buyeo that tried to carry on its principles. Jumong, the son-in-.law of Buyeo's king (Geumwa), took off for the sunset with a couple of buddies and founded the Goguryeo Kingdom in 37 B.C. on the banks of the Amrok (Yalu) River. Yep, that means half of Goguryeo was in modern-day Manchuria; half of it was in North Korea. Goguryeo, it is said, was the most advanced of the three kingdoms. It got into some terrific wars with the Chinese, too. Goguryeo was more than a little responsible for the fall of the Han Dynasty. Later on the Sui and Tang Dynasties attacked, but Goguryeo had some pretty bad-ass generals: Eulji-Mundeok and Yeon Gaesomun, to name a few. A few decisive victories later, Goguryeo was sitting pretty atop all the reclaimed territories of the old Gojoseon Empire (see the map in Korean History 101) and virtually in control of Northern China. In fact, Goguryeo holds the record (as far as Korea's concerned) for most territory conquered and held.

This is unsurprising, given Goguryeo's superior military technology: its chalgap armor, a lightweight form of scale mail, was supposdly lighter than the Roman army's plate mail and a lot more flexible. (Again, this is all according to VANK. They seem to be trying to one-up the entire ancient world. So far they've claimed to have built bigger pyramids than the Egyptians, had star charts before the Mesopotamians and better armor than the Romans. What's next? Are they going to say Hangeul knocks cuneiform into a cocked hat and take a shot at the Sumerians, too?) Korean soldiers also had an edge in battle...literally. They wore spiked shoes, great for kicking out at an opponent during a sword-lock or another opportune moment. Korean cavalry also put armor on their horses and employed footstalls, special stirrups designed to hold a rider's feet better and provide more stability in the saddle for fighting or shooting.

Religion in Goguryeo (and indeed, the other two kingdoms) seems to have been shamanistic. They were a variety of sun and moon deities. A three-legged crow, Goguryeo's symbol, was believed to live in the sun. After a while Buddhism came in from the rest of Asia and largely replaced these ideas. Regardless, Goguryeo did make some impressive achievements in art, architecture and music; one frieze in a tomb at Anak depicts a 120-piece marching band parading down a city street.

Under the combined assault of the Silla Kingdom from the south and the Tang Dynasty to the west, Goguryeo eventually crumbled in 668 A.D. But survivors attempted to renew the glory that had once been theirs; one such relocation-revival resulted in the Balhae Kingdom.

Baekje
You remember the founder of Goguryeo, Jumong? Well, right after he'd got done with the whole complicated founding business, he got so comfy that he up and married the daughter of a powerful local leader. She bore him a couple of sons, Onjo and Biryu. The problem was Jumong already had a wife way back down in Buyeo on the peninsula. That wife's son, Yuri, came up to Goguryeo to visit his dad, and Jumong immediately made him the crown prince. Onjo and Biryu, seeing as they now had no shot at inheriting the kindgom, thought it prudent to hit the bricks. They got some people together, traveled to what is now Seoul and (well, heck, why not?) founded the Baekje Kingdom in 18 B.C.

Baekje (pronounced beck-JAY) had a troubled early history. Onjo settled his bunch in a place called Wiryeseong (now called Hannam). Biryu stopped in Michuhol (now Incheon). That turned out to be a bad choice. Michuhol was full of swamps and salty water. Biryu's people had a tough time of things while Onjo's were having a gay old time over in Wiryeseong. So Biryu went to Onjo and asked him for his throne. I don't know what he thought Onjo was going to say; come on, Biryu made a bad call, and now he's just going to ask his brother to hand over his own kingdom to him? Yeah, right. Onjo sent him packing. Biryu declared war on Onjo, but was defeated. In shame, he committed suicide.

All that nasty business aside, Baekje is said (by the Volunteer Agency Network of Korea) to have been the most prominent of the Three Kingdoms. This wasn't due to conquest; no, the power of Baekje was in diplomacy. Through envoys and embassies, Baekje managed to set up a system of trade and communication with the Yoseo Province (now Hebae) of Korea, the Shandong Province of China and the Kyushu region of Japan. Baekje couldn't have been more perfectly located for maritime commerce (dominating the eastern shores of the Yellow Sea and part of the northern coast of the East China Sea). Thanks to it, Baekje introduced Buddhism, scholarly texts, and the Chinese language to Japan when it sent scholars to the east for cultural exchange. There are still quite a few relics over there in the Nara Prefecture, in fact. Why, I've even heard tell the current Emperor of Japan, Akihito, is a descendant of a Baekje king. What do you know about that?

Despite this lovely cultural and commercial prosperity, Baekje, which was alternately at war with Goguryeo for territory and allied with it against Silla and China, was doomed to fall. It collapsed eight years before Goguryeo, in 660 B.C., to coalition Tang and Silla forces. There was a brief restoration movement, but that was quashed by a combined amphibious task force. It was a pretty sad affair. As the capital was overrun, over three thousand lady courtiers hurled themselves into the Baekmagang River. The rock which they leaped from is now called the Nakhwaam, the Stone of the Falling Flowers.

Baekje-goers were said to have been a peaceful, mild-mannered people. Their artwork was spectacular, particularly the Geumdongdaehyangno, a gilt bronze incense burner brought to light in 1993. The craftsmanship is so original and intricate it astounded scholars. On the lid is an exquisitely-wrought phoenix, wings raised in flight; the base is a dragon in the shape of a blooming lotus, gracefully worked. The ovoid bowl of the burner is splattered with over 42 animals; phoenixes, deer, tigers, all in lifelike poses, rendered among 74 mountain peaks, with mountain paths, rivers and streams in the intervening spaces. It is, if I may say, impressive work. You don't see incense burners like that every day, seriously. The whole affair weighs 11 kilograms and is nearly 62 centimeters tall. It'd come up to about mid-thigh on me, I'm 183 centimeters (tall). If that doesn't convince you of the worth of their civilization, consider this: most of the people in Baekje artwork are smiling. I think that says it all.

Silla
Let's talk about Silla. (That's pronounced like the English name "Sheila.") Their territory included where I'm sitting right now: all of Gyeongsang Province (North and South). Their capital was Gyeongju, a city I'll describe in more detail later. It's known as "the museum without walls," containing so many tombs, statuary, temples and graves that you could spend a week there and not see everything.

Anyway, it's appropriate that we conclude with Silla, because they ended up owning the lot. They were a warlike kingdom, but not without civilization. They fostered advancements in culture, science, and religion. Cheomseongdae, one of the world's oldest surviving observatories (touted as East Asia's oldest) still stands to this day. They had advanced knowledge of mathematics and geometry, visible in their architecture. The temple wherein resides the Bonjon Buddha (Seokguram Grotto), demonstrates adroit proportions and precise dimensions. For example, the grotto was constructed such that a monk standing before the Buddha's statue would see the dot thingy on the Enlightened One's forehead (what are those called again?) perfectly aligned with the lotus on the wall behind him. As I can personally vouch for after having seen the evidence personally, Silla metallurgy wasn't bad either. There's a whole bunch of metallic goodies that have been dug up from tombs: trinkets, jewelry, armor (for men and horses), trimmings, and perhaps most impressive of all, multiple golden crowns.

Silla got started back in 57 B.C., when it was founded by a fellow named Park Hyeokgeose, said to have been hatched from an egg laid by a white horse. The Silla Empire was quite astounding, not only for having egg-laying horses, but also for its legacy. "Park" is now one of the most common surnames in Korea, thanks to Silla's first king. Silla originally entertained diplomatic relations with Goguryeo and Baekje, but allied with Goguryeo militarily. However, when that latter kingdom began expanding southward, Silla was forced to switch allegiances to Baekje. One hundred and twenty years later, after pushing Goguryeo back north of the Han River, Silla went renegade yet again and wrested control of the region away from Baekje. As if that tergiversation wasn't enough, Silla then went and allied itself with the Tang Dynasty of China (remember them?). Allied, the two powers were unstoppable. Silla conquered Baekje in 660 A.D. and Goguryeo eight years later. It then spent an inordinate amount of time trying to kick the Tang people out, who were trying to create colonies on the peninsula (meanwhile, the remains of Goguryeo were establishing a new state called Balhae, trying to save the last remnants of their glorious empire, as was mentioned previously). Silla, now known as Unified Silla, didn't last long after this (just three hundred years or so). Internal power struggles led to their kings being reduced to mere figureheads and the aristocracy seizing power and running amok, until finally the infighting became too much and the whole outfit collapsed in the tenth century. Baekje and Goguryeo had a semi-resurgence, but this was really just armies capitalizing on name recognition.

Eventually Silla ceded power to the successor dynasty, Goryeo. But that's a story for a later time...