We missed our bus to Gyeongju, which was just as well. Instead we went to Daegu, a more populous city en route to Gyeongju in hopes of making an easy transfer to our intended destination. This was a lucky inconvenience because it gave us the opportunity to have lunch at a restaurant that Nikki likes in Daegu. Oh so tasty bulgogi (beef cooked in a really tasty way), with pumpkin jeon (pancake) and perfectly cooked bean sprouts, among other side dishes.
The next bus drove through rain to take us to Gyeongju, an ominous sign for the coming weekend.
After dropping off our things at the hotel, Nikki went to her first conference event and I went to town to see the sights. It had not stopped raining. My feet got soaked as I wandered around the center of Gyeongju (as I would later find out), hopelessly turned around. I finally turned in the right direction and found the trainstation, and from there headed in the right direction towards Anapji Pond, a park that had been built for kings.
I found what I thought looked like a pond, filled with dead lotus stems. I headed for the pavilion in the center for a break from the rain and heard quiet strains of music floating from the woods across the pond. Maybe this is not Anapji Pond.
I circled around the pond, down the street, and sure enough, I found the real Anapji (turns out I had just been in the "lotus production area," as I discovered upon more careful scrutinizing of the map). The real Anapji Pond had more striking buildings than that tiny pavilion (maybe better fitting a king) although all of the original structures were long gone and only a few had been reconstructed. It was raining harder by this point, so I quickly appreciated the beauty of the area, then continued on.
Across the road, I walked through the grounds of an old fortress. The only building still remaining was an ice storage building which looked warm and cosy lit up with a glowing orange light.
Further along I sighted my first tombs, huge rounded piles of earth covered with perfectly groomed grass. They looked like an odd cross between artificial and natural.
Across from the tombs I found Cheomseongdae, an ancient astrological observatory built in the 5th century (by the way it was still raining).
At this point, it was getting dark, I was wet, and I wanted to go back to the hotel, but I had come this far, so I carried on.
The last place I wanted to go to in this part of town was Tumeli Park, a large walled park with 23 huge tombs, one which you are permitted to enter. The low hanging clouds, the falling rain, and the dwindling light cast a somber atmosphere about the place.
In the darkness, the rain shining in the streetlights, I found the bus, warm and cozy, straining my ear to hear my stop announced.
The next bus drove through rain to take us to Gyeongju, an ominous sign for the coming weekend.
After dropping off our things at the hotel, Nikki went to her first conference event and I went to town to see the sights. It had not stopped raining. My feet got soaked as I wandered around the center of Gyeongju (as I would later find out), hopelessly turned around. I finally turned in the right direction and found the trainstation, and from there headed in the right direction towards Anapji Pond, a park that had been built for kings.
I found what I thought looked like a pond, filled with dead lotus stems. I headed for the pavilion in the center for a break from the rain and heard quiet strains of music floating from the woods across the pond. Maybe this is not Anapji Pond.
I circled around the pond, down the street, and sure enough, I found the real Anapji (turns out I had just been in the "lotus production area," as I discovered upon more careful scrutinizing of the map). The real Anapji Pond had more striking buildings than that tiny pavilion (maybe better fitting a king) although all of the original structures were long gone and only a few had been reconstructed. It was raining harder by this point, so I quickly appreciated the beauty of the area, then continued on.
Across the road, I walked through the grounds of an old fortress. The only building still remaining was an ice storage building which looked warm and cosy lit up with a glowing orange light.
Further along I sighted my first tombs, huge rounded piles of earth covered with perfectly groomed grass. They looked like an odd cross between artificial and natural.
Across from the tombs I found Cheomseongdae, an ancient astrological observatory built in the 5th century (by the way it was still raining).
At this point, it was getting dark, I was wet, and I wanted to go back to the hotel, but I had come this far, so I carried on.
The last place I wanted to go to in this part of town was Tumeli Park, a large walled park with 23 huge tombs, one which you are permitted to enter. The low hanging clouds, the falling rain, and the dwindling light cast a somber atmosphere about the place.
In the darkness, the rain shining in the streetlights, I found the bus, warm and cozy, straining my ear to hear my stop announced.
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