Welcome to Gyeongju

Phase two of the vacation: here we go. The whole idea of a trip to Gyeongju came from a British friend. We had bought train tickets weeks in advance, but my traveling partner overslept this morning. Thus goes the old expression: "Never trust a Brit when they ask you to go to Gyeongju." I'm not one to abide by old cliches, but this well known maxim proved to be true in this instance. Actually, I was happy to be relieved of the burden of another person's agenda and looked forward to experiencing this spot for myself.

Gyeongju is a UNESCO world heritage site that is essentially a huge outdoor museum of the Silla dynasty. There are tombs, shrines, pagodas, temples, and buddhas everywhere. Knowing this, I figured I would just wander around the first day and see what I'd run into. I checked into the Hanjin Hostel (more on that later) just after 12:00, and set out wandering immediately after.

Having no agenda or time frame, I happened upon this river path. It was a beautiful windy fall afternoon, and I savored the sound of the wind which drowned out the children's' shrill voices still pounding in my head. On my left side was the city, while some enticing mountains lie just across the river. Hmmm... How to cross the river?
Perhaps the best idea would be to find a dry patch and walk across. There seemed to be some places where I could cross without getting my feet wet. I'd just have to walk until I found one of these spots. Use the bridge, you say? I'd have to walk all the way back to the road--how much fun would that be?
I found a seemingly dry path until I came to a spot where I had no choice but to wade through the last twenty meters. The wet shoes would certainly make for a comfortable hike up the mountain. I did make it to the mountain (where I am pictured in my Yankees cap), but my hike was cut somewhat short due to soggy feet. Why do I choose to kill my feet every time I go on vacation? I didn't see much historical stuff day one, but I did see this stunning mound. The hike was very relaxing, however.















I went back to the Hostel around 5:00 and chatted with the owner, Mr. Kwon. The Hanjin Hostel is a family business that has been around for thirty years. The younger Mr. Kwon, who had spent twenty years living in the States, moved back to Korea when his father turned 80 to take over the business. His father is in spectacular shape for a man his age. He practices yoga every day and could pass for a man 20 years younger. These fine gentlemen have a passion for foreign travelers and have made many friends from all over the world. The hostel's rooms are bare, but there is a community kitchen, television room, and rooftop veranda; all geared toward travelers communing, socializing, and exchanging ideas and stories. That evening I ate dinner with two American English teachers from Suwon, and two German med-students from Seoul. When we came back from dinner, we sojourned to the rooftop where all the other foreigners gathered. This weekend, I would meet people from Germany, France, Switzerland, New Zealand, England, U.S.A., and, of course, Canada.