Korea Part 3: Sun, Sand and...Sexiness?

Our final day in Jeju would be without Jonjon, and at first us tourists were like lost puppies wandering around for scraps.  There was a tang of tension in the air too: not with each other as such, but with ourselves; after piecing together enough knowledge of Japanese to get by in everyday situations and between us pretty much anything, it was frustrating to be stripped of that.  After we ordered breakfast, however, our confidence grew, and we headed to the beach.


Now, I'm not normally a beach person, but I could see the benefit of enjoying a lazy afternoon on Jeju's famed sands before we barrelling into the megapolis of Seoul the next day.  What wasn't such a good idea was to go walking around on volcanic rock barefoot, and sure enough my, sole of my foot was split open.  I deserved the mockery that followed, to be honest.

Anyway, after a romp across the rocks, Grant and I went old-school and built a sandcastle.  We fought the tide and ultimately won, while Marcos worked his Miami charm on the locals and made a new friend.  Together we drank a few beers of the national brew - Cass - and added the cans to the battlements of our castle, thus christening it Cass Castle.

After a quick recharge at the guesthouse, we grabbed a taxi to Jeju Love Land.  A whole park filled with - well, let's just say it's not the platonic kind of love celebrated here.  We all had a vague idea of what to expect, but what threw us off was just how explicit it all was.  Innuendo wasn't the word.  Sculptures and statues all about doing the down and dirty in the most imaginative ways possible, and although it was palpably awkward at first, it soon shed the inital shock value and became the most bizarre place I've ever visited, and will provide many an anecdote for a long time.

We returned to Jeju City one last time for a final round of revelry.  We pitched up at a Korea BBQ resaturant, instantly identifiable by the long extractor vents hanging over every table.  Afterwards we wandered, in awe of the nightlife and how - well - lively it was.  Outside the urban masses of Tokyo, Osaka and the like, Japanese nightlife can leave a lot to be desired.  Not here: Jeju City isn't a big city by any means, and it was a weekday night to boot, yet the streets buzzed.  Perhaps price has a great deal to do with it: even the import beer bar we stopped at, three words which would be a hotbed for eye-watering charges in Japan, were merely average by Japan's standards.

The next morning we left Jeju in high spirits and full bellies.  Already we had seen (and eaten!) so much, but were we barely halfway through our time in Korea.  Our next destination: Seoul.

Korea Part 2: Jeju Rocks

The next day was a deliciously slow start: the extra sleep was very much welcome, and made for a far perkier group.

Our first stop was Hallim Park, a garden famed for it's lava tube caves and Jeju Island's famous dolhareubang, or 'stone grandfathers'.  The caves were fascinating, full of telltale signs of Jeju's volcanic genesis, with equally interesting mythical explanations.  The grandfather statues are equally mysterious, mainly because nobody knows what they're for: Korea's very own Easter Island-esque enigma.  Their real appeal, though, is that despite their age they're downright adorable, with oversize expressive faces.


The park also had a little folk village, with huts recalling the lifestyles of a bygone era.  You could play simple games that were also played at the time, such as tossing bamboo sticks into urns.  Less authentic but just as much fun was a huge block of ice: bragging rights go to whoever can keep their hands on it longest (Jonjon, in our case).

The meal was a pleasant surprise.  Having had a late breakfast, we were after a little bite to eat to tide us over, nothing more.  What we ended up with was a gastronomic epic, with an army of side dishes (all refillable for free, as per Korean custom), two huge plates of pork, and beer.  All for the price of 'a little bite to eat'.  Although it's a hard call on what was the best meal  in Korea, I look back at that one as the most memorable, because that's when it hit home how, in Korea, one cat eat like a King for the price of a pauper.

Next up was the visual icon of Jeju, Ilchulbong, a volcanic bluff on the eastern tip of the island, now long extinct.  It is famed for it's views of the sunrise.  Luckily for us afternoon arrivals, it offered much else besides, and the climb up to the crater was made more palatable by the curious rock formations on the way up.  The crater itself wa covered in a wild meadow and a singular tree, the sea stretching out beyond - beautiful, but at this time of day the sunset in the opposite direction, with the hazy outline of Hallason (South Korea's highest point) in the distance, was the choice view.

We descended right down to sea level, to a little inlet where the was a hut dedicated to the fabled women divers (a cunning form of tax evasion turned tourist attraction) we were too late to see the diver's in action but it was still a great place to do a bit of rock-pool spying and take some moody photos for an art rock album.

Then it was back to Jeju City for the evening's feeding and drinking.  Once again it didn't disappoint, and by now I was able to hold my own with Grant and Marco's more spice-atuned taste buds - just as well, because I mistook the chilli paste for tomato sauce at first.


A pleasant, well-earned drowsiness set in, and we took a far less heart-pounding taxt back to the guesthouse.  That evening, we cracked open a bottle of Blue Label whisky and had a suitable refined conversation about alcohol.  At least, that's what it felt like.

Korea Part 1: Sky and Speed

The unknown has always appealed to me.  It's one of the many things that attracted me to Japan: no country is as different to the UK (though there are similarities: island nation, a bizarre inferiority-cum-superiority complex, casual racism etc.)
I'm going off an a tangent here, sorry.  The point is, as Japan has become more familiar, so my search for my next unknown 'fix' has widened.  Cue South Korea.

This summer, a long-discussed tip to Korea with my friends finally came to fruition, and the grand journey started with me curled up on a bench in Haneda Airport.  Because I'd frantically reshuffled my holiday plans at the last minute, I'd booked flights and accommodation far later than my fellow travellers, so I had to settle for an earlier flight. meaning taking a late train out to Haneda the night before and trying to catch some shut-eye: mot easy when the nearby escalator reminds you to please watch your step EVERY 5 seconds. 

But arrving early was the right thing to do, and so I caught my flight with ample time and waited at Gimpo Airport in Seoul for Grant and Marcos.  In the meantime, I readjusted to the fact that I was once again in square one: no language, no knowledge, no clue.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't frustrated, but there was also an element of relish to be had.  I felt that same tingle I felt when I first set foot alone on the streets of Japan.  And no longer am I a stranger to finding ways to communicate with poor language skills: I conjured up the courage to buy my first coffee in Korea far quicker than I ever managed in Japan.

My companions arrived a few hours later, joined soon after by Marco's Korean friend, Jonjon.  She was an absolute legend throughout our time in Korea, helping us clueless tourists with everything from flights to food, and she was a fantastic person to boot.  Our time in Korea would've been far poorer without her.

As our second flight to Jeju burst through the drizzly clouds, the crew engaged the passengers in a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, with the incentive of prizes.  I was as useless 30,000 feet up as I was in a Japanese classroo, falling at the first hurdle every time.  Before I could embarrass myself any further we descended to the first leg of our Korean trip: Jeju Island.

By now all of us were exhausted: it's a quirk of public travel that it saps your energy despite being effortless.  Our fatigue, however, was stripped away by a taxi driver with a death wish.  Averaging a speed well over 100kph we hurtled through red lights and squeezed through traffic that dared to stay in lane.  Even when we arrived and staggered out with motion sickness, the guy was keen to be off before we'd even unloaded our luggage, trunk open n' all.

We checked in, dumped our bags, and stepped out.  It was a cool night and the sea breeze was fresh.  The walk along the seafront was the perfect anecdote to our transit tribulations.  Finally, at a little inlet of beach we found a string of earthy restaurants, and we savoured our first authentic Korean food.  It didn't disappoint.  It was spicy, moreish and, though you had to pull out a dozen bones for every mouthful of fish, absolutely delicious - cheap too, a common theme in Korean food.

A trip to the conbini later and we were armed with roman candles, sparklers and beer.  It wassimple, brilliant fun, and the perfect way to see in our first night in Korea.