Jagalchi Fish Markets and Getting My Feet Wet in Gyeongju

I somehow managed to drag my tired body to the Jagalchi Fish Markets this morning, mostly because, this being my last morning in Busan, I figured I'd later be pretty chapped with myself if I skipped it altogether. It took an hour each direction via metrorail to get to the markets, which in retrospect, had I realized upfront, would have blown the deal altogether.

Still, I made the trip, but either I arrived too late (@ 7 AM) to see any "real" action, or it was basically the same as any traditional Korean market, with a really, really huge critters-of-the-sea section. No matter. It was still a vivid sensory experience to take in the sights and smells of the market, to walk past umbrella after umbrella showcasing long, slender, silver-gray eel-like fish, or gigantic snails still wriggling underneath a netted tarp. It was almost a game to see if I could recognize the items for sale as seafood I had ever eaten before. (In case you were wondering, I lost the game by a landslide.)

After walking the perimeter of the markets, I returned to Marina's place to pack up my bags and head on to my next destination, a city famously known throughout Korea as the capitol of the ancient Silla empire -- Gyeongju. I had heard plenty of great things about Gyeongju; everyone from Koreans I know to foreigner teaching in Korea to backpackers working their way across the country seem to have a special affinity for Gyeongju. And I was looking forward to my three days there.

Buses from Busan were incredibly frequent, and it didn't take more than 20 minutes from the time that I arrived at the bus station to purchase my ticket and be on my way. A short hour later, we pulled into the Gyeongju Express Bus Terminal, and my backpack and I were on our way to Hanjin Hostel. Hanjin is the one (to my knowledge) backpacker spot in Gyeongju, and compared the cost of even low-end minbak (hotels), cheap as chips. Of course, as I was soon to find out, it is cheap for good reason.

Mr. Kwon, the hostel owner, met me at the door. An older man with deep-set wrinkles, wiry body, and a kind face, Mr. Kwon had been running his hostel for years. He showed me to my room, the last door on the right down a long, dim hallway, where a dingy mattress was parked on the floor and the entire hostel's set of folded blankets was stacked on a low platform against the wall. The room (more of an elongated closet) was equipped with a broken fan that could only circulate air within a 12" radius, and a large iron-barred window without a screen (meaning, I'd be taking a gamble with lurking mosquitoes if I wanted to to open it for circulation at night).

But probably the most disconcerting feature was that there was no key to my room... and no way to lock any valuables inside. Mr. Kwon seemed honest enough, and his hostel had been around long enough, that I was willing to take my chances that my backpack and belongings would be safe despite the lack of a lock. As it turned out, it was a good gamble to make.

After settling in to my "closet," I headed out to the main street where I had remembered seeing a bicycle rental shop. Though Gyeongju is a fairly large city, the bulk of its attractions are clustered in a compact section that can easily be transversed by bike. Plus, the idea of riding around town behind a set of handlebars sounded appealing. I've had a "thing" for bikes since backpacking through Europe two years ago... something about the way the wind rushes around you as your feet and legs propel you down the road, the way that the smells of fresh-cut grass or the sound of chirping birds can't escape you the way they can in a bus or a car. There's nothing to close you off from the world around you, and yet you can see so much more and go so much further than your feet alone can take you.

(to be continued)