Asia

Heart and Seoul: Exploring South Korea

South Korea may be best known these days for its tech companies and K-Culture exports, but a trip to the capital uncovers thousands of years of creativity with tourism opportunities that are immersive, inventive and fun

02 June 2024 - 00:00 By Elizabeth Sleith
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Visitors dress up in traditional 'hanbok' at Gyeongbokgung Palace.
Visitors dress up in traditional 'hanbok' at Gyeongbokgung Palace.
Image: Lee DongWook

It’s a late afternoon in May, springtime in Seoul, and the sun is buttering the vast courtyard in front of the king’s throne hall. Clusters of girls skitter about, giggling as they pose in their hanbok, the local name for traditional clothing. For women, that's hooped skirts and cropped, loose jackets tied with bows at the back. There are men in hanbok too: roomy pants, long, loose-fitting robes and black hats with wide brims and small crowns. 

It could be a scene from a few hundred years ago, except that almost everyone is pouting at a cellphone camera or cocking an ear to a tour guide, listening to the tales of Gyeongbokgung Palace. Completed in 1395, it's one of five palace complexes built under the Joseon Dynasty, the last and longest-lived imperial line, which ruled Korea for more than 500 years [1392 — 1910]. Their history is cherished in these parts and credited with several cultural developments, particularly the creation of the Hangul writing system by King Sejong the Great, which made literacy accessible to the common person. A public square not far from here is dominated by a giant monument to the man. 

Gyeongbokgung Palace, meanwhile, is one of Seoul’s top attractions, visited by 3.38 million people in 2022. The wearing of traditional outfits isn't just a trend among locals. Rather than being denounced as “cultural appropriators”, foreigners who do it are seen as embracing a culture of which Koreans are proud. Actually, it’s encouraged — wear hanbok to the palace and your entry is free. Seoul is peppered with rental shops, and you'll see folks dressed up, snapping selfies at any historical attraction — particularly here, and in the nearby Bukchon Hanok Village, an old residential neighbourhood famed for its labyrinthine streets and traditional houses with tiled roofs and oversized wooden doors.

The statue of King Sejong the Great, inventor of the Korean alphabet, in Gwanghwamun Square, Seoul.
The statue of King Sejong the Great, inventor of the Korean alphabet, in Gwanghwamun Square, Seoul.
Image: prakobkit / 123rf.com
Bukchon Hanok Village is an old residential neighbourhood famed for its narrow, labyrinthine streets and traditional houses.
Bukchon Hanok Village is an old residential neighbourhood famed for its narrow, labyrinthine streets and traditional houses.
Image: Lee DongWook

BOY BANDS AND BUDDHAS

These days, I imagine people think of more modern things when they think of South Korea: tech innovators like Hyundai and Samsung, or the K-Wave of inventive bands, movies and Netflix shows that have been spiking heart rates for some years now. Fun fact: the first YouTube video to reach 1bn views was Korean DJ Psy’s Gangnam Style in 2012. And yet, this 1,100km-long, 300km-wide peninsula on the eastern edge of Asia has a history of human creativity that stretches as far back as 8,000 BCE. 

For a crash course, the National Museum of Korea is excellent. Its six permanent exhibition sections are arranged by period and theme, and feature more than 12,000 objects from Palaeolithic tools to intricate examples of sculpture and pottery. Among its highlights are a gold crown from the Silla kingdom (57 BCE — 676 CE); and several hypnotising moon jars. These imperfectly rounded pots of white porcelain were first fired under the Joseon dynasty and are now a national symbol. There's also the 13.5m “Ten-Storey Stone Pagoda”, made from marble in 1348 and noteworthy for its peculiar history. It was dismantled and smuggled to Japan in 1907 but returned in 1918 thanks to a campaign by international media. 

The moon jar is a type of traditional Korean white porcelain which was made during the Joseon dynasty (1392–1910).
The moon jar is a type of traditional Korean white porcelain which was made during the Joseon dynasty (1392–1910).
Image: Elizabeth Sleith
The “Ten-Storey Stone Pagoda”, made in 1348, was smuggled to Japan in 1907 but returned in 1918.
The “Ten-Storey Stone Pagoda”, made in 1348, was smuggled to Japan in 1907 but returned in 1918. 
Image: Lee DongWook

The museum is officially the most visited in Asia and sixth most visited in the world, thanks to its determination to sexy up history for young people. So it’s not all glass cases in dim rooms - there are digital displays, VR experiences, interactive exhibits, even chill areas with cellphone-charging stations. Getting the mega-boyband BTS to film a performance here in 2020 was a coup. That and the Room of Quiet Contemplation, a star attraction built around two Buddha statues from the 6th and 7th centuries respectively, both national treasures.

Their name, “Pensive Bodhisattva”, refers to their pose: one foot over a knee, a hand touching a cheek, a mystical smile on the lips. They once lived in glass cases, but in 2021 the museum commissioned rock-star architect Choi Wook to turn the very seeing of them into an experience. It starts with a walk down a pitch-black passage alongside a surreal, wave-like image flowing across one wall. This leads into an ochre-hued room with the mystical pair in the centre, apart on plinths under a glittering ceiling. On a floor with a slight incline, one can admire them from all angles. The overall effect does feel transcendent in a way, a momentary nirvana if you really soak it in.

The Room of Quiet Contemplation is a star attraction at the national museum, built around two Buddha statues made in the 6th and 7th centuries.
The Room of Quiet Contemplation is a star attraction at the national museum, built around two Buddha statues made in the 6th and 7th centuries.
Image: Lee DongWook

Elsewhere in the city is another excellent museum, Seodaemun Prison History Hall, which focuses on a painful period in the country’s history: the Japanese colonial era. The prison opened in 1908, two years before annexation by Japan, but was soon used to imprison Korean independence activists and other political prisoners. It's estimated that 40,000 activists were imprisoned here, 900 of whom died, many of them tortured and executed.

The detailed displays in the actual red-brick buildings and cells are not only informative but also paint a moving picture of Korea’s own liberation struggle. A room wallpapered with mugshots of the dead and the execution room — where a noose hangs ominously over a trapdoor in the floor — are especially devastating.   

A room wall-papered with photographs of the dead at Seodaemun Prison History Hall.
A room wall-papered with photographs of the dead at Seodaemun Prison History Hall.
Image: Elizabeth Sleith

A DAY AT THE DMZ

It’s ironic  that the longed-for end to Japan’s control in 1945 also birthed a fissure that exists to this day. South Korea’s adversarial neighbour — secretive, authoritarian North Korea — is a point of fascination for many. Seoul is only about 50km from the border, and an entire industry exists around the security situation and letting tourists see North Korea with their own eyes. 

It helps to have a basic understanding of how the hostilities came about, especially considering that the whole peninsula was united from the 7th century until the end of World War 2. With colonial power Japan on the losing side, the Allies divided Korea into two occupation zones, with the US taking the south and the Soviet Union the north. It was supposed to be a temporary trusteeship, but the escalation of the Cold War cemented the divide with both “big brothers” backing leaders aligned with their ideologies. In 1950, North Korea invaded South Korea sparking the Korean War, which lasted three years and ended in a stalemate. With no peace treaty ever signed they're technically still at war but agreed to a buffer zone between them, a 4km stretch of no-mans-land called the Demilitarised Zone (DMZ), reportedly teeming with plants, birds and landmines and heavily guarded on both sides. 

Seoul-based tour companies do a roaring trade in day-trips to the DMZ, though the delicate situation means strict rules must be followed. We carry our passports, and at a checkpoint a soldier boards our bus and painstakingly inspects every one before we can continue. A definite sense of heaviness rises as the barbed wire, guns and barricades multiply.

The unnerving atmosphere is amplified at our first stop, known as the Third Tunnel of Aggression — proof that, despite the ceasefire, North Korea has still harboured nefarious ambitions. The so-called Tunnels of Aggression are four secret routes that have been found since the 1970s, dug under the DMZ from North Korea presumably with the intent to invade. For the record, absurdly, North Korea’s official position is, “It wasn’t me!” 

Ribbons representing prayers for peace are tied to a fence at Dokgae Bridge.
Ribbons representing prayers for peace are tied to a fence at Dokgae Bridge.
Image: Lee DongWook
A display at the Third Tunnel of Aggression imagines the tunnel's creation.
A display at the Third Tunnel of Aggression imagines the tunnel's creation.
Image: Lee DongWook

At the Third Tunnel, there's a small museum with displays and maps filling out the backstory. There you can enter the tunnel, which is 1,635m long, 2m high, 2m wide and reaches a depth of 73m. It's estimated that 30,000 soldiers could move through it per hour, though that’s hard to imagine when you’re actually in it. Even with the tourist-friendly flattened path, handrail and wall lights, it’s steep, claustrophobic and slow going, demanding a stooped back for large parts of it. I'm sure I'm not the only one who, after the umpteenth bump of my head, said a silent thank you for the compulsory hard-hats. Eventually, the path ends at a barricade, one of three installed by the military to close the tunnel off. There, you turn around and the long trudge out begins. 

Back on the surface, we take a walk on Dokgae Bridge, heavily damaged during the war and now home to a bullet-riddled train, another casualty of combat. Alongside the bridge, thousands of ribbons — representing prayers for peace — flutter from a fence that faces north. The eeriest visit, though, is to the Dora Observatory, where a soldier stands in front of a giant window, looking onto the DMZ with North Korea in the distance. He points out several places of interest: mountains, a flagpole flying the NK flag and a fake town known as “Propaganda Village” which the north is believed to have put there as a sign of prosperity, to lure South Korean defectors. Mostly, they're only hazy shapes to the naked eye, but you can go up to a deck where binoculars invite a better look.

Seoul-based tour companies do a roaring trade in day-trips to the DMZ.
Seoul-based tour companies do a roaring trade in day-trips to the DMZ.
Image: Lee DongWook

BRIGHT LIGHTS & BLESSINGS

Back in the capital by nightfall, it’s a relief to shake off the heavy tone of the day with bright lights, shopping and eating. With a population of 10 million people, Seoul feels youthful and edgy but also organised, clean and safe to stroll about, even after dark. 

Every night in the tourist area of Myengdong, the main pedestrian thoroughfare is lined with sizzling food stalls. Crowds sweep along like schools of fish snacking on fried squid, lemonade or pancakes oozing with cheese. In the doorways of shops on either side of the street, salesgirls compete for tourists’ attention by pointing out their wrinkles and waving packets of miracle skin cream. Of course, the K-Beauty industry is the next big thing filling up the world’s wanted lists.

And yet, maybe the real key to eternal youth lives a little way outside the city in Bukhansan National Park. Covering an area of 130km2, it's a lush land of hiking trails with forests, streams, gorges and granite peaks. Our last stop before leaving is here: to visit the Jinkwasa Buddhist Temple. It's more than 1,000 years old but since the early '80s has been run by Buddhist nuns. With shaved heads and grey robes, these women are world-famous for their cooking, epitomising the ancient art of Korean temple fare. 

Buddhist nuns Venerable Seonwoo, left, and Venerable Beophae, the abbot, talk about traditional temple cuisine at the Jinkwasa Temple.
Buddhist nuns Venerable Seonwoo, left, and Venerable Beophae, the abbot, talk about traditional temple cuisine at the Jinkwasa Temple.
Image: Elizabeth Sleith
A special tofu dish made for guests at Jinkwasa Temple.
A special tofu dish made for guests at Jinkwasa Temple.
Image: Elizabeth Sleith

Visitors can immerse themselves in temple stays, or short tours and meals. Their home-grown, vegan ingredients and methods of cooking are so highly prized, they say, that the world's chefs flock here to transpose their skills back home to their Michelin-star restaurants. After a demonstration on some of the techniques, our guide, Venerable Seonwoo, is charmingly impish as she cracks jokes at lunch. Delights spin before us on a gigantic lazy Susan, and our guide confides that “the most important seasoning is the mind”. In other words, pure thoughts are the most important part of cooking.

The point is driven home later by a meditation session in a room overlooking a mountain. All in all, the visit is the perfect nightcap to a fascinating few days on the other side of the world. We visitors exit with happy, grateful hearts, and a silent prayer for seconds, some day. 

Sleith was a guest of South Korea's Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism.


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