Day 9-11: Jeju

My last morning in Busan, I took a taxi to Gimhae Airport for my flight to Jeju Island, the small “Hawaii of Korea” just off the southernmost part of the peninsula. I’d tried to go to Jeju in September, but a super typhoon spoiled my plans. I canceled my hotel and flight, and spend a rainy weekend in Seoul instead.

I booked the same hotel as before, The Seaes Hotel near Seogwipo, close to Jungman Beach, one of the main surfing spots. Given it’s April, I wasn’t planning to do any surfing but I figured cool people/things might be nearby. This time, too, I’d reserved a rental car through Hertz, but as soon as I arrived at Jeju’s tiny airport, I’d become regretful of this plan. I hate driving. It stresses me out.

So then, I took it as a sign when I couldn’t find Hertz listed in the airport directory of rental cars, then again when, after taking a taxi to the address listed in the confirmation email and finding no Hertz there. I called the number in the email. Connection failed. I panicked. My taxi driver was kind and patient as I quickly figured out my next move. At first, I directed him back toward the airport. I knew I could take a bus. But then I looked up the cost of a taxi to the hotel—a 45-minute drive, but somehow only $20ish dollars. I asked him to take me there instead—all in very poor, tiny Korean. Still, he understood.

When we finally arrived at Seaes, I wanted to collapse. But first, I had to procure food for later. I wandered through the lush, tropical landscaping of the resort and across a small bridge to the beach and watched the surfers for a few minutes before walking back to the GS 25, my favorite Korean convenience store chain. I left with the essentials: instant noodles, honey sesame crackers, and a strange corn-flavored puffy, crunchy snack I hadn’t tried before. By the time I got back, it was nearly dark. I ate, then watched the somewhat unsatisfying last episode of my dear Hospital Playlist. Then bed.

Saturday brought hotel breakfast with a solid spread and an ocean view, followed by a fairly tenuous bus journey to Bonte Museum, another Tadao Ando gem—he designed both the Benesse and Chichu Museums on Naoshima that’d I’d fallen for back in 2016 and it felt like fate that this third space was within an hour of my Jeju hotel, though unplanned by me. The first bus was easy. It showed up right on time, and after 20 minutes or so, off I hopped. The second, though, had no ETA. I waited. And I waited. Finally, Naver Maps gave me an estimate: 48 minutes away. Nope! I used Kakao Taxi to hail a car and within 10 minutes, I arrived at the museum atop a small hill with views of both the volcanic Mt. Hallasan and the ocean below.

How to describe a Tadao Ando space beyond perfect? The lines! The light! The maze-like paths! The raw cement! All of it, buildings and landscaping and art combined, create an atmosphere that inspires contemplation. As if the serene structures weren’t enough, it turns out there is also a Kusama Infinity Room on the grounds. I got in without a wait, and had it all to myself for two whole minutes. Bliss.

I had no clear plan for the rest of the day, so I took another taxi to Jungmun, the small town just north of The Seaes and walked until I found a restaurant that had good reviews. Of course, it also had a massive line. So instead, I went to the copycat noodle restaurant next door, sat down right away, and ordered 몸국, which Google Translate told me is “body soup” but a subsequent search revealed something less sinister: pork and seaweed soup, a Jeju specialty.

After lunch, a bus back to the hotel, and some rest, I went out walking again, then called it a day. The previous eve, after finished Hospital Playlist, I switched to BEEF, a new Netflix show starring Steven Yeun (!) and Ali Wong. I was immediately hooked. So Saturday night, I watched the rest of the episodes in a fit of streaming before collapsing into the pillows.

Today, following another good but more meager breakfast and writing session, I walked immediately to the beach. The previous two days had been overcast and chilly with a persistent wind but today, Easter Sunday, was gorgeous and sunny—no wind, no clouds. I sat on the beach and read my second book (Trust by Hernan Diaz), occasionally looking up to see a baby boy trying to escape into the sea only to be snatched up at the last minute by his young father, or to see a slightly older boy gingerly dipping his toes into the surf. His parents sat up in a gazebo overlooking the beach, but the mother called down to her son in Korean.

“Sarangheyo!” (I love you!)

“Na doh!” the little boy yelled back. (You too!)

“ChinCHA sarangheyo!” (I REALLY love you!)

“Na doh!” he repeated, lifting his pale blue shorts slightly as he continued to tip-toe to the water’s edge.

Hearing this exchange, I melted. But then realizing that I understood all of it, despite it being in Korean? Resurrected.

By the time I left the beach, it was time for food. I walked 30 minutes to a cafe by the water called Vadada. They only had coffee and cake, so I settled for an iced americano and my book because the sun was warm and the view nice.

Eventually, though, my stomach protested, so I walked another 45 minutes back to the same area where I’d had lunch the day before and found a barbeque spot that had some people in it despite the odd hour (after 2 p.m. at this point). Jeju is famous for its black pork (funny, given it’s an island surrounded by, ya know, fish)—even my dad managed to hear about it. So in his honor, I had an Easter brunch of black pork Korean barbeque, half of which I grilled myself, then cut with scissors and folded into small bundles of lettuce, perilla leaf, bean sprouts, scallions, and chili paste. So good, I no longer resented the double portion I’d been pressured into ordering.

Stuffed and tired, I walked another 30 minutes back to the hotel and flopped onto the bed to start a new drama (another starring the best boy from Mr. Sunshine and Hospital Playlist) and watch the sun set through my window and a sheet mask.