Busan and where we went wrong

When you picture a far-flung voyage, you don’t picture yourself hunkered down in your hotel room eating a fast food burger. And not even a particularly good burger, but one that proudly declares itself to be good enough. Yet here we are.

So where did we go wrong ? We didn’t really. At least, the decision to come here was good and like the burger, that is also good enough.

I like to review decisions. Outcome isn’t the only metric, there’s too much chance in everything. So much is out of control, which is to say shit happens. So why are we in Busan? It kept popping up in things I was reading or listening to, largely young people who came here to teach English and who became smitten with the place.

Busan is South Korea’s second city, and being a Chicago girl, second cities are dear to my heart. It doesn’t have any must-see tourist attractions, and that was appealing. We wanted to see « real » places. It’s on the sea, and close to a cluster of UNESCO sites we wanted to visit.

So the decision was good; Busan is a fascinating city. Our timing was where we went wrong. This whole trip has been a complex of scheduling challenges. There are seasons to avoid: typhoon, monsoon, burning season, and these vary greatly from country to country, or even within a country.

We pushed our luck coming to Japan and Korea in late summer. We landed smack in the middle of a heat wave and it has smacked us upside the head. We knew high heat was part of the bargain of coming to this part of the world, we didn’t fully count on how affected we’d be. Our last time in Japan and SE Asia was nearly 10 years ago. Memories fade, especially memories of discomfort.

Busan is a big splat of everything: noise, smells, color, trash, markets, excitement. There are hawkers in the grocery store. The food is amazing and so very spicy (thus the reprieve fast food burgers). People speak in a register that’s more American than French or Japanese, which is to say loud. Stores pipe K-pop into the streets, even when they’re closed. The smells are distinct, they have their own address. We know where we are by our noses. Turn right at the second smell. There’s frying food, fish, perfume, mothballs, sewer gas, hot sugar, and crushed gingko fruit. And those are just the smells we can identify.

Our hotel is a stone’s throw from a street/night market. Street food !

In the other direction, the fish market

Busan is a busy, industrial port city. Mark took this video on a bus ride, so you can see for yourselves

More photos, taken in between swelter

I told Mark that we’ll never know if we love or hate Busan. We certainly can’t do it justice. The heat is exhausting. It feels cumulative. With each day we feel less resistant, not more. We fade more quickly with each outing.

The heat has caused us to change plans. We’re crossing Malaysia and Indonesia (where it is persistently hotter than this) off our list. I realized I was dreading it, and dread isn’t what I signed up for. We shook on that decision, to fix it in our minds, lest the disappointment of not going there overcome our pain recall once we’re finally cooler.

We’re due for a break in the heat, plus we’re heading north. Next up: the historic city of Gyeongju

Onward!

Maer