Capital: Seoul … 51,740,000 People … 100,210 km² 
The Country
Renowned for kimchi, K-pop, and ancient palaces, South Korea is a captivating peninsula boasting a diverse landscape that spans from vibrant urban centres to serene coastal havens. With a history deeply rooted in dynasties and traditions, South Korea has seamlessly merged its ancient heritage with a modern, high-tech society.
Fun Facts
Until 2023, everyone was considered a year old at birth in South Korea.
During the Suneung standardized test for high school students, planes across the country are banned from landing and taking off to minimize distractions.
Almost 70% of South Koreans have a Bachelor’s Degree.
My Experience
Day 1
Sailing through smooth seas and with Japan in the distance, the shoreline of Busan slowly came into view. Skyscrapers jutted out from lush hills and massive grey bridges connected islands and peninsulas. Passing under the Busan Harbour Bridge, I was suddenly surrounded by thousands of shipping containers. Docking in the Port of Busan and making my way through immigration, I found myself steps away from a grandiose highway.
My time in Japan spoiled me. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t able to take a train directly to my hotel. Biting the bullet, I took a cab and arrived at Gwangalli Beach. The golden-sand beach, lined with hotels, bars and restaurants felt more reminiscent of Los Angeles than anything I expected South Korea to be like. The Gwangan Bridge stretched along the horizon of the beach as jet skis and yachts meandered close to shore. Groups of beachgoers were relaxing under colourful umbrellas, and kids were splashing in the water. Steps away from the beach, I dropped my bags off at my hotel and admired the view of the city and the sea from my room.
Wandering back onto the street, I walked along the beach spotting supercars, tiny dogs and incredible fashion (juxtaposed quite severely by my casual travelling attire). I climbed up the Millak-dong Breakwater and spotted kittens stealing freshly caught seafood from fishermen. Overlooking the beach, bridge and skyscrapers, I took a moment to relax along the breakwater.
Looking to escape the heat for a moment, I found a mall serving bulgogi burgers and sweet bread stuffed with ice cream. Walking back along the beach, however, I realized there was no better way to beat the heat than jumping in the ocean. Swimming around shortly before sunset, definitely worked up an appetite that only one menu item could resolve. I made my way to the other side of Gwangalli Beach before night fell, and stumbled upon something I had been dreaming of for months prior to my trip: Korean fried chicken.
Nestled between a selfie studio and a coffee shop, I watched the sun dip below the horizon while enjoying a platter of succulent chicken. An issue I routinely encountered in Korea was accidentally ordering too much chicken (if you can really call that an issue). Maybe orders were meant to be shared, but regardless, on my first night in South Korea, I faced a mountain of fried chicken. Thankfully I was up to the challenge.
Stumbling back to my hotel, the neon lights of the buildings surrounding Gwangalli Beach pierced the night sky. I went to the roof of my hotel to look down onto the congested traffic and bustling beach. More people were on the beach at night than during the day; groups of musicians gathered around speakers and sang into the night, performing for eager onlookers. The summer air, coupled with the cool sea breeze snaking through the rooftops and live music gently playing below me, set the perfect ending to the day.
Day 2
The sun was shining, the streets were empty, and the yearning for fried chicken was back. Before that, though, I arrived at Busan Tower. It was only 8:30 a.m., but it was already 26°. I trekked up through Yongdusan Park, which provided a great amount of shade, before arriving at the base of the tower. As I arrived at the main gates, I was greeted by a few friendly cats sleeping under picnic tables, but not a single person in sight. I’m often notorious for checking opening times, flight times, and just generally being meticulous when I travel. But this time I found myself more than an hour early, with nowhere to go, and only a few cats to join me.
After an hour of getting a mild amount of heatstroke, the doors to the tower opened and I stepped into the paradise of an air-conditioned lobby. As I purchased my tickets, I was invited to take part in a scavenger hunt, with an “exciting prize” on the line. Was it meant for kids? Absolutely. But I was sold.
At the top of the tower overlooking Busan, painted rooftops and gorgeous green spaces filled the landscape. In the distance, dozens of cargo ships were docked in the harbour. Every few steps on the observatory deck was a skill-testing question leading to the scavenger hunt prize. Back on the ground, with a filled-out scavenger hunt card, I received my “exciting prize”: a children’s purple bandana. It was worth it.
Walking back through Yongdusan Park, I eventually found Gwangbok Underground Shopping Center; a much-needed haven away from the sun. Comprised of long, fluorescently lit corridors, I found myself walking for close to an hour in a single direction, admiring huge varieties of shops.
Emerging from the sprawling underground system, I found myself on the outskirts of Jagalchi Market, Busan’s largest seafood market and famous for its vendors being primarily older women, known as Jagalchi Ajumeoni.
Vibrant umbrellas shielded the raw fish from the sun, and plump eels were wriggling around in tanks. From octopus and herring to flatfish and pufferfish, the variety was seemingly endless, although not extremely appetizing.
Ready for a less fishy experience, I walked North to the Gukje Market. After the Korean War, refugees would set up stalls within the market to sell smuggled goods. Today, it’s filled with clothing, tools, and just about any household goods you could imagine. I found myself alone in one massive section that only had pots and pans. It honestly was a bit eerie.
Up until this point, I was feeling quite confident in my navigating abilities. From market to market, I could roughly tell how long it would take to get to specific landmarks. Google Maps wasn’t reliably working, but my confidence was high just by looking at That until I was heading to the Gamcheon Culture Village. Based on directions, I thought it would take me about 15 minutes to get to the village. The flat streets of Busan began to rise just as the heat began to rise, surpassing 30°. Sweating buckets along a busy roadway, it took more than an hour to push to the top. Exhausted, I bought a bottle of ice at the entrance to the village and sat in a shaded alleyway to catch my breath.
The Gamcheon Culture Village, known as the Machu Picchu of Busan, is built on the slope of a steep mountainside. Bright pink, green and blue buildings were built up over the layered streets with a maze of tight alleyways connecting them all. Built in the 1920s to house labourers working in Busan’s port, the village has been restored to a hub of culture.
Looking for something sweeter than a frozen bottle of ice, I walked into a cozy cafe overlooking the port I arrived into the day before. After one of the best strawberry smoothies I’ve ever enjoyed (possibly due to a touch of dehydration). From there I was able to walk across the rooftops admiring the vibrant rooftops and buildings. With unique murals, boutique shops and a sleepy golden retriever named Honey Jar, the village had something interesting to discover on every turn.
Whenever I travel, I often get caught up in seeing the most things I can. On most of my trips, I’m usually up from sunrise to sunset (and oftentimes past sunset) exploring. After a full itinerary in Japan earlier in the month and the intense heat, all I wanted to do was relax. So, after dropping my things off at the hotel, I spent the next few hours swimming and lounging on Gwangalli Beach. Like bathwater, I almost fell asleep being pushed by gentle waves.
The rest of the evening was spent restaurant-hopping to enjoy shrimp and cheese toast, Korean BBQ, and you guessed it, fried chicken. One particular bar I visited had tablet computers attached to each table; you placed your order, swiped your credit card, and a few moments later they would deliver your order. Overlooking another gorgeous sunset and having on-demand food and drinks, it was hard not to feel spoiled.
Day 3
My time in Busan had come to an end. Arriving at the train station, I strolled through groups of travellers and soldiers in fatigues. Descending to the lower levels of the station, my train ominously arrived shrouded in darkness, with just the dim yellow headlights coming into view.
One of my favourite horror movies is Train to Busan, an action-packed zombie thriller directed by Yeon Sang-ho. The film involves passengers trapped on a train during a zombie outbreak on a high-speed train from Seoul to Busan. Without any zombies in sight, I boarded the train and settled into my row. I planned on watching the movie during my journey, but while I was looking it up, I discovered an animated prequel: Seoul Station. I was thrilled. As the countryside of South Korea passed me by, and the riveting zombie movie kept me on the edge of my seat, I realized that in less than three hours I had travelled across the country and arrived in Seoul.
Exiting onto the platform, stretching my legs and facing crowds filled with a significantly larger number of soldiers than Busan, I made my way through an underground tunnel in search of my next train. In Japan, I was used to using local trains with my JR Rail Pass or by tapping my phone. Here, however, cash was king. Dispensing a one-way ticket with a cute cartoon on it, I quickly traveled to City Hall Station and walked to my hotel: uniquely named Hotel Thomas.
Daylight was fading, but there was still enough time to see a few sites. I walked past the Seoul Finance Centre, surrounded by poster boards describing the Korean War and containing graphic photos and inscriptions of atrocities committed. Heading North, I passed the Statue of Admiral Yi Sun Shin, a Joseon Dynasty general famed for his victories against Japan in the late 1500s. Standing with a sword in his hand and a stern look on his face, the bronze statue was juxtaposed by a gold statue of King Sejong holding a book and smiling benevolently.
Tucked around Gwanghwamun Square, apart from featuring massive statutes, were a collection of grandiose cultural centres and government buildings, including an American embassy ordained with the typical cameras, barbed wire and extensive security team. Continuing North, I made it to Gyeongbok Palace, the royal palace of the Joseon dynasty built in 1395, just as they were closing the gates. I was a few seconds late for the last entry of the day. Sighing, I took solace in a phenomenal violin player performing in Gwanghwamun Square.
Walking back, I saw a small glass entryway built into the back of the King Sejong statue. Walking down a nondescript staircase, I found myself in a sprawling underground museum which stretched throughout Gwanghwamun Square, showcasing artifacts and written accounts from the Joseon dynasty.
As I emerged from the museum, the sun began to set. Racing against time I bought a last-minute ticket to enter Deoksugung, a walled palace on the corner of Seoul’s busiest downtown intersection. Home to Korea’s royal families until Japan’s annexation of the country in 1910, the palace features a mix of traditional and Neo-Renaissance-style buildings.
Without another person in sight, I wandered the grounds, taking moments to relax within calming gardens. Although relaxing, I was being called to a higher purpose. It was time for what had become a beautiful tradition; “accidentally” ordering a massive amount of fried chicken.
Day 4
Bright and early, I hopped on a tour bus heading North. Four years prior, I spent a week in North Korea and had the unique opportunity to visit the DMZ and look into South Korea. Today, I planned on visiting from the opposite side.
Travelling through Paju, my group and I arrived at Imjingak Park. Built with the anticipation of unification, the park sits at the bank of the Imjin River; 7km away from the border. Our guide ushered us over a wooden bridge to observe a barbed wire fence with hundreds of prayer ribbons left by visitors who have family separated in the North.
Beside the fence was an old train, riddled with bullet holes, in the process of being restored. In 1950, the train hauled ammunition, soldiers, and equipment to the front lines. It became the last train to cross the border during the war.
The park was filled with unique monuments, statues and opportunities to purchase memorabilia and souvenirs. One particularly busy vendor was selling North Korean currency, as eager tourists congested her small cabin. Taking a different path, I wandered up through the park to discover sites neglected by the other tourists.
The Stones of Peace Wall from a distance doesn’t appear like much; simply a collection of rocks in different shapes and sizes. Upon closer look, however, each stone had an inscription describing its historical significance. These rocks were gathered from battlefields around the world such as the Punic War in Italy, the Greco-Persian Wars in Greece, the Gulf War in Iraq, WWI, WWII, and dozens of others. Nearly 100 rocks were gathered that have “witnessed the suffering and grief of war.”
Continuing along from Imjingak Park, we arrived at our first military checkpoint on the Unification Bridge. Young soldiers boarded the bus, verified our passports, and sent us on our way. We were the only vehicle on the road as we weaved along winding roads shrouded in overgrown trees. The anticipation started to grow as we passed a simple white sign labelled “CAUTION - You are entering (approaching) the Demilitarized Zone, which is under the jurisdiction of the UNC Military Armistice Commission”.
After a few more twists and turns, we arrived at The Third Tunnel: one of four known tunnels North Korea was allegedly using to plan a surprise invasion of Seoul. Dug under the DMZ, the tunnel was discovered in 1978 and spans 1.6 kilometres in length. After watching a short documentary about the Korean War and the discovery of the tunnels, we were given hard hats and were allowed to descend 240 feet into the tunnel.
The heat of the day quickly dissipated as the cool air of the tunnel hit my face. After 20 minutes of walking down a gradual slope, questioning why I was wearing a hard hat, the real tunnel began: a small, damp tunnel not very suitable for my height. Mannequins of North Korean soldiers were displayed at the mouth of the tunnel, showing how they used explosives and pickaxes to mine their way past the border. Our guide pointed out how some rocks were painted black to provide plausible deniability that the labourers were simply mining coal if the tunnel was ever found.
I crouched my way through the now freezing passage, often hitting my head on the shallow ceiling (the hard hat really saved me here). No electronics or bags were allowed in the lower depths, so once visitors made it to the end, they simply turned around and made the trek back. At the end of the tunnel, there was an iron blockade with small warning signs. A small gap showed the rest of the tunnel, with various blockades in the distance.
We were told that if completed, North Korea would be able to send 30,000 armed soldiers through this tunnel every hour. As I repeatedly hit my head and was pushed into the wall by other tourists, it was difficult to imagine.
Hiking back up to the surface, we took a moment before driving to the final stop of the tour: the Dora Observatory. Originally I had planned to visit the Joint Security Area, an opportunity to stand steps away from the border of North Korea. When I was in North Korea I visited the JSA and was able to look at tourists across the border. So close yet so far away; it was a surreal experience. I was expecting to recreate the experience from the South, but as fate would have it, it wasn’t meant to be.
A few weeks before I arrived, a U.S. soldier crossed the border into North Korea while taking part in the very same tour I was a part of. Because of this, the JSA was indefinitely closed to tourists. My guide mentioned that they would jokingly tell visitors not to defect, but after that incident, a joke turned into a legitimate agreement we would have to make with our guide.
Instead of the JSA, we visited the Dora Observatory, a complex built strategically on a hill overlooking North Korea. As we hiked to the observatory, we were reminded to stay on the trail as landmines were present in the area. Cautiously, making our way to the top, were were greeted with storm clouds blocking our view of the North. So close, yet so far away.
After half an hour of standing in the rain, waiting for the clouds to part, I was able to see a small guard post with a North Korean flag flying beside it. The four-kilometre-wide demilitarized zone hasn’t been touched in over 70 years. Because of this, an accidental nature preserve has emerged, allowing wildlife to thrive in peace. The area surrounding the DMZ, however, is one of the most heavily armed areas on earth, with soldiers on both sides of the border standing at attention.
The clouds were able to part just enough to see the North Korean city of Kaesong, the place I (not so) fondly remember sampling ginseng liquor. Looking around at the familiar landscape brought back a flood of memories of a place I’ll likely never visit again. Departing the observatory, we stopped for a quick lunch at Baegyeon-ri. Every house in the area had a South Korean flag flying somewhere on the property, and massive barbed wire fences were contrasted with vibrant signs labelled “End Separation. Begin Unification”.
Successfully passing the final security checkpoint, we crossed back over the Unification Bridge and made our way back to Seoul. Looking to continue learning about the history of Korea, I exited the tour bus and immediately boarded a subway to the National Museum of Korea. Pouring rain, and howling wind, it was the perfect day to visit a free museum.
I spent the next few hours viewing ancient artifacts, intricate tapestries and learning about the rich history of Korea. The massive museum was easy to get lost in, and the modern steel architecture of the building made the perfect design for people to congregate to escape the storm. Wanting to learn more about the Korean War, however, I pushed through the storm and arrived at the Korean War Memorial a few blocks away… a few minutes after they closed. As I was walking up the steps, I heard the announcement that the memorial was closed. This was starting to become a trend.
Around the outside of the memorial, however, significant monuments and epitaphs are displayed within the Peace Plaza. Etched onto the black granite Wall of Remembrance are poignant words and phrases reflecting the emotions and sentiments of those who served. Inscriptions such as "Freedom Is Not Free" and "Our Nation Honors Her Sons and Daughters Who Answered the Call to Defend a Country They Never Knew and a People They Never Met.” were surrounded by the names of casualties grouped by their country of origin, including 516 Canadians. Monuments to each country circled the courtyard of the memorial with a small inscription. Canada’s inscription was:
“From cities, towns and small villages scattered across the plains, forests, mountains, coasts and northlands of our vast country, more than 26,000 brave Canadians answered the call to serve in uniform far from home during the Korean War. The great courage and sacrifice of those who put their life on the line to help the Korean people will never be forgotten and the memory of the 516 Canadians who died in service during the conflict will live”. As I was reading this, another Canadian came up to read it alongside me. The rain poured down on us, the only two people standing in the courtyard before we continued on our separate ways.
In a radically different change of pace, I faced the storm once again and took a subway to the west side of Seoul. Walking through muggy alleys and by neon nightclubs, I arrived at Seoul’s Samoyed Cafe, home to dozens of my favourite breed of dog.
These fluffy creatures are known for their playful, social demeanour, and being surrounded by them was the epitome of perfection. Seeking the treats I was given at the door, the Samoyeds rushed me at the gate. From puppies to grown dogs, for the next two hours, I was in heaven.
Covered in strands of white hair and slobber, I emerged from the dog den after dark onto Red Road. I was surrounded by boutique restaurants and clubs, but was searching for something a little more quiet. Walking down a dimly lit alley, I found a small eatery with a thin red curtain over the entryway. Stepping out of the rain, I was greeted with a cozy establishment serving fried beef cutlets, served rare, with a candlelit stovetop at my table to cook the meat further if desired. With a variety of sides and sauces, this hole-in-the-wall was a great place to conclude the night. Before going to sleep, though, I stocked myself up on a variety of snacks from a convenience store and binged on this secondary meal while watching Korean TV.
Day 5
The storm had passed, the sun was shining, and it was finally time to experience the sites I missed by mere minutes in the days prior. Walking back through Gwanghwamun Square, I arrived at the gates of Gyeongbokgung Palace: a collection of residences and gardens originally built in 1395. Destroyed by a fire in the late 1500s, the palace was abandoned for 200 years before being restored. Destroyed again by the Japanese during their occupation and restored again starting in the 1990s, Gyeongbokgung Palace has a turbulent history that today is reflected by the careful reconstruction of its intricate architecture, the revival of traditional ceremonies held on its grounds, and its role as a cultural symbol.
As I entered the palace, the air filled with anticipation for the changing of the guard ceremony. The vibrant colours of the traditional hanbok costumes worn by the palace guards contrasted sharply against the ancient stones of Gwanghwamun Gate. The rhythmic beats of dozens of traditional instruments and the attention to historical detail created a captivating spectacle. For the next few hours, I wandered around the grounds, relaxing by the calming ponds, and admiring the multitude of reconstructed residences.
Hopping back on the subway, I arrived at Namsan Park. Climbing a collection of steep outdoor staircases, I entered into a packed (most likely over capacity) gondola that brought me to the base of N Seoul Tower, the second highest point in Seoul. After waiting for nearly an hour for admittance, I spent some time having a nacho cheese burger (which was terrible) and a strawberry popsicle (that I promptly dropped, which was heartbreaking). Eventually, seemingly an eternity later, I was welcomed into the elevator to the tower's observation deck.
Looking out over the sprawling metropolis of Seoul, I realized how much of the city I had left to see. On each window, large decals were placed describing how far away certain locations are: Pyongyang: 246.9 km. The North Pole: 5,893.33 km. Vancouver: 8,227.36 km. It really dawned on me how far away I was from home, travelling for the first time by myself. Any feeling of doubt or anxiety had left me during my time in Japan a week prior; in South Korea, it was nothing but excitement.
After a while looking out over the city, I hurried down the mountain so as to not miss my last opportunity to see the inside of the Korean War Memorial. As I entered the large entryway, I was met with a powerful blend of history and emotion. Candlelit corridors with messages of peace and sections with photos and paintings depicting the war comprised the first area.
Continuing throughout the memorial, other sections contained artifacts from historic battles and wars fought in Korea dating back hundreds of years. In the upper levels, artifacts from the Korean War unveiled a tangible connection to the not-so-distant past. Uniforms worn by soldiers, weathered letters from the front lines and detailed dioramas and interactive displays provided a comprehensive exploration of the Korean War.
As I was about to exit I realized I missed an entire section of the museum. Planes were hanging from the ceiling, and vehicles from both North and South Korea were displayed alongside each other. In a dark corner, a modest car was displayed with the inscription: “Kim Il Sung’s limousine. Seized by the Sixth Division of the Korean Army on October 22, 1950”. The car was gifted by President Syngman Rhee to the widow of a U.S. Army commander. It was eventually sold, resold, and found in New Jersey in 1982 before being purchased for a final time and sent back to Korea.
As I exited the memorial, I noticed dozens of massive vehicles and artillery pieces displayed in a promenade encompassed by a reflecting pond full of koi fish. From warships peppered with bullet holes to a massive B52 bomber, I spent the next hour climbing into transport carriers and exploring the inside of these formidable war machines.
A quick subway stop later (fighting through rush hour crowds) I arrived at the Starfield COEX Mall, just across the Han River in the Gangnam district. Walking through a side entrance, I was faced with a seemingly endless labyrinth of stores. After stopping for much-needed squid bibimbap, I pushed onwards to the Starfield Library.
With floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and ample space to relax, the library features “the Starfield," a stunning LED display on the ceiling that mimics a starry night sky. The ambiance was welcoming and comfortable, with warm lighting enveloping every reading nook.
Often described as the Beverly Hills of South Korea, Gangam is known for its affluence, massive buildings, and of course, Gangnam Style. Outside the mall, a large bronze statue sits recognizing the iconic pop song, with an interactive display that plays the song on a loop. Eat your heart out, Wall Street Bull.
The sun had set on my final day in Korea, but my energy was far from fading. Back to the subway and a few connections later, I walked through a dark residential area looking for the banks of the Han River. Under an overpass and through more dimly lit corridors, I eventually found myself on Seorae Island with a perfect view of Banpo Bridge.
In the spring and summer months, Banpo Bridge turns into the world's largest bridge fountain, shooting over a kilometre of illuminated streams into the river below.
Sitting in a small field, adjacent groups of families much better prepared than I was were setting up small tables, eating meals, playing music, and even tents.
The 20-minute show was truly spectacular. Every half hour or so, the show would start again, so I made my way along the waterfront to see the bridge up close.
Crowds of people were eating snacks and relaxing by the light show, getting gently sprayed by the mist from the splashing water. Outside of a waterfront 7-Eleven, a long line of people waiting to heat up their food in public microwaves before heading back to their picnic tables along the river.
The night was young, so I was off to Itaewon, a popular neighbourhood with upscale restaurants, bars, and a bustling nightlife scene. As I disembarked at Itaewon Station, I began seeing memorials for those who had passed away during a crowd crush a year prior.
Days before Halloween in 2022, nearly 160 people were killed in a narrow alleyway. It was one of the deadliest disasters in South Korea. Walking up the alley, hundreds of sticky notes were placed along the walls, some written in English, with messages of condolence and remembrance.
Immediately juxtaposed to this at the end of the alley were rows of vibrant nightclubs with a steady stream of excited partygoers. After walking by the memorial, I wasn’t exactly in a party mood. Instead, I ducked into a quiet bar at the end of the road, had a few drinks, and travelled back on a near-empty train back to the hotel.
Day 6
With a few hours on hand before my long-haul flight home, I quickly ran to Namdaemun Market, Seoul’s largest market that dates back to 1414. Overwhelming would be an understatement; I was surrounded by knickknacks, linens, hats and pretty much anything you could imagine. Most of the market was outdoors (and very organized), but the indoor sections were particularly cluttered; I got lost for 20 minutes in a section with nothing but Christmas decorations.
Departing Hotel Thomas one last time, I slung my hefty hiking backpack and camera bag over my shoulders and navigated my way through City Hall Station. My train, initially packed, became less and less congested as we neared the airport. Myself and two others exited the train, and I attempted to check in for my flight home. As I was checking in I ran into numerous issues, but as a consolation, the kiosk assigned me a seat in first class. That was, however, until a ticket agent informed me this was an error and I was assigned a middle seat in the back of the plane. Yikes.
Sitting at the gate with a ginseng cappuccino (much better than ginseng liquor), I realized my first solo trip had come to an end. With an exhilarating trip in Japan the week earlier, and now 6 incredible days in South Korea in the books, there was only one thing on my mind: planning my next trip.
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