Busan! Forward!

Busan is an ambitious city. Its motto, Dynamic Busan, is a spot on description of its topographical features. Whether it was planned to house a city the size of Los Angeles or it was simply a historical accident, a last refuge at a time when the war seemed all but lost, the citizens of Busan have ignored the geographical shortcomings of their native space. Buildings, increasingly shorter, rise halfway up the impossible slopes of miniature mountains only for nature to take over on the crown, like an urban tonsure. The city resides on the slopes and crevices of the sharp hills spiking their way through the land to the harbor guarded from the tides by Youngdo island, which houses the 5th busiest port in the world. The city has a more eclectic population, unlike most areas of Korea its international freight traffic attracts and forces it to sustain an international population. Waegook sonsaengnyms, military pricks, international sailors, Pilipino guest workers, Russian… Russians, all populate in an abundance even Seoul lacks. A megatower is being built among the arcologies typical in Korean megalopolises, planned to be the third highest in the world when completed in 2013. I genuinely like Gwangju as a city, but I was reminded why my first choice location in Korea was Busan.

We arrived on Friday night around 1 and went right to a hotel in Gwangan. The hotel was on the beach, not the famous one but a damn nice one, with a large window overlooking sea and the massive suspension bridge that connects the two promontories that guard Gwangan’s inletted beach. Sober as we are, early as we rise, under the influence of headcolds as we were, we opted to nod off upon arrival set to rise at 10 to begin the next day. A new city with a rabid nightlife, and we’re in bed when the cab drops us off; my six months ago self is crying with disappointment right now. So we discussed our plans for the next day with Adam and Alison, our traveling companions and guides to this city that they had resided in just a year and a half earlier, and went to bed.

Saturday we woke to find that our hotel, which had been 40000 won on Friday was now 85000 won because… Korea. Well that effectively kicked us out of the Marina Hotel. We were homeless for an hour or so before the love motel around the corner agreed to lodge us for 40000 won.

Coffee, pretzel, ride the subway on the green line past Haeundae, get in a cab, tell him to take us to the sea temple, 6000 won, sea temple. Lines of stalls selling snacks, trinkets, dried fish, bundaegi (the smell was to be a theme of the excusion), stone statues of the Chinese zodiac, an eight tiered pagoda, we entered the temple; the crowd was reasonable. There was a strange statue of a woman/beast, that was a fertility goddess, boulders leading down to the sea the tide lapping into crevices, a red bridge, devotionals, and a bowl on the back of a turtle about 20 yards from and below a bridge where people tossed 100 won pieces in the hopes that a true shot will grant them a period of enhanced luck. Birthday vibes guided Amanda’s peerless arm to hurl a small coin with miraculous precision, so we may now empirically test the efficacy of the sea temple’s ability to grant luck.

Cab, subway, Haeundae, Mexican food, burritos, cab, Nampodong, bus, Youngdo island, walking along the beach. It started blustery, but the walk warmed us up. It was a nice reprieve from the city, which we would never have thought of or found without our companions. There were plenty of stairs, but we’re in pretty good shape despite the fact that we haven’t run in three weeks, right now with jeans on I’m 73.8 kg. I climbed up a little tower that may have been a primitive lighthouse. Though obviously manmade, it almost seemed a part of nature, like the cement between the stones predated human hands. The swirl of the slope up the phallic tower seemed a Fibonacci sequence, too perfect and too often found in nature like a conch shell. There were some stairs that may have made Rocky shit his pants, but we forgot to take a picture of that.

This is inappropriate.

Bus, Nampodong, Jagalchi market, overpowering nausea. My distaste for fish notwithstanding, the idea of soggy, mostly dead fish parts, and octogenarian Korean women who are also mostly fish parts hawking them squawkingly, should be enough to turn anyone’s stomach whether they eat seafood or not. Alison’s insistence that we witness it was certainly well founded, it was a marvel. Outside a seafood restaurant a waitress let Amanda hold up a crab bigger than she was, I stood across the street.
We went to the dry goods market. I can’t recall its name (someone should really write a Wikipedia for Nampodong). I bought some extra cool aviator sunglasses. Adam and I can now play good cop bad cop on any misbehaving kids once my school gets closed, and I get moved to Kumho-dong.

Subway, Busan station, Russian Texas street, sketch, Pilipino food, pretty good, no Pilipino beer. Sinus, cough, sore throat, getting harder and harder to ward off. Subway, Haeundae. Do you know where a bowling alley is? No. Do you know where a bowling alley is? No. Rinse, repeat. Some pictures on the beach. Seven eleven, outside table, wind growing colder, sickness. Cab back, sleep uneasily, at least there wasn’t much sex noise at the love motel. Sex noise is bad enough, Asian sex noise is unbearable.

Up and out the hotel at 12:30 or so. Woke up late, Adam and Alison are already out. They’d checked out at 11, knocked on our door but we didn’t hear, I sleep like a ton of bricks anyway. Walked on the beach for a minute, a few more pictures. Subway, bus station, run, bus, Gwangju, Vietnamese FOOD.