Gongju or BUST!

Saturday afternoon, my friend Lissette, her friend Dale (from New Zealand) and I intended to meet up with our friends Missy and Clint Shaw to explore a "World Festival". I was under the impression that the festival was taking place at the Expo Park here in Daejeon. We arrived to find Expo Park nearly deserted, so I called Missy to get the coordinates. She informed us that it was actually taking place in a town called Gongju, 20 minutes outside of town. Since we don't know the area well and are unfamiliar with the buses, we decided to take a taxi there. 40 minutes and 60,000 won later, the taxi driver dropped us off at a Baekje Cultural Village. There were World Festival signs all around, so we bought tickets and headed in. The complex was really cool, featuring a museum that told the story of the area and the Baekje dynasty, a real palace and several villages showing the living conditions at different times in the area's history. Missy and Clint were with a larger group of co-workers, so it was difficult to coordinate with them. No worries, we had lunch and sipped on some Makoli in a little restaurant in one of the model villages. We climbed up to a cupola atop a hill that provided sweeping views of the gorgeous landscape and palace complex. After goofing off in the villages for a few hours, we heard an announcement that the cultural center would be closing soon. We still had yet to see our other friends.






A text from Missy informed us that they were planning to attend a performance at Gongsanseong Fortress at 7:30pm. "Where is this place?", we wondered. After wandering around bewildered for awhile, we encountered some friendly looking paramedics who were hanging out beside their ambulance. I showed them the text message and asked if they knew where it was. "About 45 km from here in Gongju," they said. We thought we were already in Gonju. "Can we take a bus there?" we asked. After conferring amongst themselves for a bit, one of them opened the back doors of the ambulance and motioned us to get in. So there we were, in the back of a Korean ambulance riding from Who-Knew-Where to somewhere else we were unsure of. But hey, the sunset was gorgeous and it was really fun to wave out the window at other people on the highway and see the looks on their faces. The ambulance pulled up in front of a bus station and when the EMTs came to let us out, they had their camera ready and wanted to take a picture with us! We took one with one of our cameras too, of course. Then, one of them walked us inside, took us to the ticket counter, ordered our tickets for us and showed us which platform to use. I really can't believe how nice and obliging these people were.








Approaching the town, we saw the fortress Missy spoke of. We were finally in the right place. After disembarking from the bus, we made our way to the festival grounds and across a bridge covered with intricate phosphorescent archways and paper lanterns that changed colors. It was absolutely beautiful. Upon seeing the multitude of people and the labyrinthine design of the fortress, we gave up on finding Missy and Clint and settled down in an outdoor cafe to feast upon a heaping plate of Sangyupsal (bbq pork).




Then we made our way up the battlements of the fortress and found ourselves in a lantern garden. There, we met a Buddhist monk and the man who designed all the lantern statues. These two escorted us through the garden, explaining the symbolism and creative process behind each lantern. The garden culminated in and arbor with hundreds of small lanterns hanging from it. From the lanterns hung strips of paper. The monk explained that these were people's prayers and wishes. They took us to a table and gave us strips of paper to inscribe our own wishes on. We watched as our strips were hung on lanterns and began blowing in the breeze, our wishes being released to the world.





The drop off that battlement was pretty steep.






The Ride of Death


 From the top of the battlements, we could see a floating bridge that appeared to have life-sized figures of mounted warriors on it. We asked how to get down to it and were informed that it was closed after sunset. Thus, we gave it up and began the treacherous descent down the battlements. Back on the other side of the river, we found some carnival rides. We decided to ride one of those centripetal force, spinning saucer rides. What looked benign turned out to be one of the most terrifying rides I have ever been on. The operator turned the saucer so that we were at the top and began to jolt the ride so much that, at one point, I was actually dangling form the railing completely off my seat, screaming bloody murder. In the background we could hear the man cackling into the microphone saying something about America and being scared. Mission accomplished, buddy.

After that, we needed some more Soju to soothe our aching bodies. In our cups, we had a long discussion about New Zealand and American history, imperialism, slavery, and Darfur. To cheer ourselves up, we decided to try accessing the forbidden floating bridge from that side of the shore. We walked down the bank only to discover that the final 15 feet of the bridge were actually a separate barge/raft that had been detached and was tethered out. My rebellious side was in rare form, so I started tugging on the line, guiding the raft toward us so we could float across to the bridge. Dale and Lissette ventured out onto the raft while I held it steady, only to find that it still wasn't quite long enough. We talked of jumping and swimming, but the distant sound of sirens brought us back to reality so we aborted to mission. We stood on the shore looking wistfully at the warriors. It would have been great to see them up close, but swimming inebriated in dark waters wouldn't have been a good choice.

We headed back toward the bus station where we had seen some cheap Love Motels earlier. Alas there was no room at the inn. At any of the three motels we went to actually. By now it was 2 am and we were very tired. We hailed a cab and headed to a Jinjilbang (a public bathhouse where, for 6,000 you can spend the night). So at 3am I found myself sleeping in large cotton pajamas on a mat on the floor in a room with my friends and 30 unfamiliar Koreans. I was out like a light.

The next morning we had coffee, wafflles and gelatto for breakfast before heading to the bus station. Smelling of BO and river water, we returned to Daejeon. We never did find Missy and Clint and I'm sore and very tired, but I wouldn't trade a moment of it. I'm sticking with my "just say yes" policy.