On the Floor
Whenever anyone asked me where I was heading next, I would immediately get nervous, stumble over my words... and eventually announce that I was going to "that place that starts with a G."
Gyeongju.
I couldn't pronounce it. I couldn't remember how to pronounce it.
Life is hard for me.
Gyeongju rejuvenated me. I was feeling pretty worn out. Worn out from Seoul... worn out from the summer... worn out from life in general. Just... worn out.
So many people had told me that Seoul was this incredible metropolis that I was absolutely going to love. I really wanted to love it. I did. But somehow, I just couldn't get into the groove.
Maybe it was me. Probably.
Maybe it was the jet lag. Probably.
Maybe it was that disappointing DMZ tour. Absolutely.
Maybe I was simply exhausted before I'd even arrived. 100%.
I don't know.
Seoul just wasn't my vibe... and I have to be okay with saying that.
I have plenty of favourite places around the world that other people wouldn't give a second glance. We don't all have to love the same places, do we? I guess that's part of the beauty of travelling. One person's paradise is another person's "get me the hell outta here."
Anyway... moving on.
When I first arrived in Gyeongju, I still carried that same attitude. I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but it was pretty piss-poor. I just wasn't particularly impressed with South Korea at that point. I was tired, frustrated... and cursing myself for coming in the first place.
Nope... I was NOT the enthusiastic, wide-eyed traveller I usually like to think I am. In fact, a little part of me just wanted to shuffle through the motions, tick off the remaining destinations... and get myself home. Not really a great mindset to have when you're travelling through a country you've never visited before.
But there you have it.
I arrived at Gyeongju train station and immediately called an Uber to take me as close to my accommodation as possible. I couldn't check in yet, so I figured I'd find somewhere to have lunch, relax for a bit, and wait until my room was ready.
Simple enough, right?
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I found coffee shops. Lots and LOTS of coffee shops.
Coffee shops and dessert shops.
But actual restaurants? Not so much.
Perhaps it was just the particular stretch of street I was wandering along, but I was beginning to wonder whether anyone in Gyeongju actually ate anything other than cookies and cake.
And here's something that has been baffling me throughout South Korea.
How on earth do some of these little cafés survive financially?
I'm genuinely curious.
They'll have a perfectly decent-sized shop... perhaps four to six tables... and then they'll sell coffee and maybe three varieties of cookies.
That's it.
Sometimes I'll wander into a place, and there won't even be enough food to fill a single shelf in the display fridge. Madness!
And yes... before anyone suggests it, the thought has crossed my mind that perhaps they've had an absolutely slammed busy morning... heavin' with customers... they sold out of absolutely everything... and I've just happened to wander in after the great rush.
Nope. I'm not convinced.
The maths just isn't mathing.
Anyway, after what felt like an eternity of wandering past coffee, cookies, sweet breads... and more coffee, I finally stumbled upon a Thai restaurant. It had diaper-like padded tablecloths and chairs that looked as though they might collapse if I breathed too heavily, but it was perfect. I snuck inside, ordered myself some vegetable fried noodles, and settled in to kill a little time before check-in.
Eventually, check-in time was approaching... and I decided to be a little cheeky and head over early. I'd received many emails from my accommodation... all very firmly informing me that under NO circumstances was I permitted to arrive before check-in time. Not even to leave my luggage. Rude! But I figured a few minutes wasn't going to bring the entire establishment crashing down... so off I went.
I was greeted by the loveliest lady.
No stern looks. No scolding. No being banished to the street for arriving early.
She welcomed me inside and kindly walked me to my room.
At the entrance, I was instructed to remove my shoes and slip into the little slippers provided.
Of course. No problem. I dutifully kicked off my shoes, put on the slippers, and followed her inside as she opened the door. And then...
Ummm...
The room was bare. Bare.
There was nothing inside apart from a small shelf against the far wall.
And... that was it.
No furniture.
No chair.
NO BED.
Not a bed in sight.
I stood there in complete disbelief, desperately trying to keep my face from revealing what was happening inside my head. Because inside my head... there was absolute chaos.
WHAT. A. SHITHOLE.
WHERE WAS THE BED?!
Surely there had been some sort of mistake? Folded neatly on the floor, was what appeared to be a very thin mattress pad, two blankets, and a pillow. That was it.
I stared at it.
It stared back at me.
Then I spotted another door.
Aha!
Of course... Silly me!
This must just be the foyer... duh!!! How wonderfully traditional!
Behind that door was probably the actual bedroom. The one with the BED.
I'd have a good laugh about this later.
Imagine me thinking the foyer was the bedroom.
Silly goose!
Nope.
Bathroom.
One of those little three-in-one specials. Sink, toilet, and shower all crammed into one tiny square, where you can practically brush your teeth, shower, and use the toilet without moving your feet. I’m actually a little terrified of these all-in-one loos. First of all, I somehow manage to soak absolutely everything when I shower… including the toilet paper. Nothing is safe.
Second, I ALWAYS forget that the sink tap and shower hose are connected. So when I innocently go to wash my hands… BOOM! A full blast of water straight to the face. Because, of course, I’ve forgotten to flip the switch back from shower to tap.
I’m all for efficiency and saving space, but honestly… I like my showers, sinks and toilets to have their own personal space.
Is that really so much to ask?
I turned around and looked at the room again.
Still no bed.
WHAT WAS I GOING TO DO?!
I smiled politely at the lovely lady, thanked her, and waited until she'd left before immediately grabbing my phone and frantically pulling up my booking confirmation.
Surely I'd missed something.
Surely there had been pictures of a bed.
Surely I hadn't deliberately booked a room with absolutely nowhere to sit, let alone sleep.
And there it was.
Right in front of me.
I'd booked myself into a traditional Korean hanok.
A traditional Korean guesthouse where sleeping on a mattress on the floor is part of the authentic experience.
FML.
Seriously.
Here I was... standing in the middle of an empty room... staring at a glorified floor mat and wondering how on earth I was going to get through the next two nights.
There wasn't even a chair.
Where was I supposed to sit? Where was I supposed to relax? And more importantly, how was I supposed to get myself up off the floor every morning without requiring assistance?
My lower back and knees weren't up for this! There weren't even any mounted safety handrails.
I'd signed myself up for a survival challenge.
What was I going to do???
Did I mention it is also a CAT hanok? Ya...
I survived... yes... because apparently, survival is my strongest instinct.
While sleeping in a traditional Korean hanok had never actually made it onto my bucket list, I can now officially tick it off anyway. Been there. Done that. Slept on the floor.
And I think it's safe to say that once was quite enough. Twice, actually. Two nights.
Some experiences really are worth repeating.
Ya...
I decided to tackle some laundry while I was in Gyeongju. A little laundromat was just around the corner from my floor accommodation, so I figured it would be a quick, easy task.
Well... this was, without question, the most confusing laundromat I have ever set foot in. There were machines everywhere. Some I recognized. Others looked like they belonged in a spaceship. Every available inch of wall space seemed to be covered in instructions, warnings, diagrams, and signs. All in Korean. Not a word of English anywhere. I really should have taken a picture, because it’s difficult to explain just how chaotic this little place was. There was so much information that I didn’t even know where to begin translating. Buttons, knobs, levers, handles, machines within machines. It was sensory overload. Eventually, I figured out which contraptions were the washing machines... and that I needed some 500-won coins to run them. How many? No idea... and unfortunately, all I had were bills.
Off I went to a little corner store nearby... bought myself a couple of drinks and a bag of chips... and asked the girl behind the counter if she could give me my change in 500-won coins.
Back to the laundromat.
Except… I hadn’t gotten enough coins.
I'm an idiot. Truly.
So... back to the corner store...
At this point, the girl was a little annoyed with me, but she was really kind. Rather than simply handing over more change... which she didn't have... she followed me back to the laundromat with me to show me how everything worked. And wouldn’t you know it? There was a bill-changing machine right there in the laundromat.
Of course there was. I could have spent three days in that laundromat and probably still wouldn’t have noticed it. Anyway, she showed me how to change my bills into coins... and I was finally in business. From what I could gather through my translations, detergent was automatically included in the wash. One less thing to worry about. I loaded my clothes, fed the machine my coins, pressed start (actually pressed a lot of buttons until it finally started)... and congratulated myself on navigating Korean laundry technology.
So far...
In hindsight, I probably should have spent a little more time translating the different wash options. Apparently, I’d selected some sort of deluxe, extended, royal treatment for my clothes when a perfectly ordinary wash would have done the trick. People who arrived after me had their laundry washed and finished before mine was even close to done.
More money spent. More time wasted.
And... as it turned out... less money available for the dryer.
A little foreshadowing there...
I settled into a chair in the little waiting area and decided to work on my blog. It was either that or return to my accommodation, which had neither a bed nor a chair. Just a floor. The laundromat was the better option.
Practically luxury.
I’d get some writing done, wait for the wash to finish, throw everything in the dryer... and head on. So productive! Right?
Maybe not so much...
Just as I was getting comfortable, a Japanese couple walked in. They looked every bit as bewildered as I had been about half an hour earlier. Now that I'd become something of a self-appointed laundromat expert, I stood up to help and give them the laundromat lowdown.
That’s when things took a turn.
The guy accidentally fed almost all of his money into a machine that wasn’t actually a washing machine. It was a heater. The laundromat had a pay-as-you-go heater.
AND a pay-as-you-go air conditioner.
I guess that washing and drying your clothes isn't complicated enough in a new country. You also need to purchase your own climate.
Anyway, the couple eventually figured out their laundry situation and left.
And then…
THE HEAT CAME ON.
Not a little heat.
Not a gentle, pleasant warmth.
I’m talking full-blast, industrial-strength, mind-numbing heat.
Blowing directly at ME.
The guy had apparently deposited enough money into that heater to warm a small village for the winter. There I was, trapped in this tiny laundromat, waiting for my unnecessarily long wash cycle to finish... being slowly roasted alive.
I tried everything to make it stop. I pushed buttons. Turned knobs. Looked for an off switch. Tried blocking the hot air. Opened the doors.
Nothing worked.
For the next 45 minutes, I sat there sweating like I’d signed up for some sort of extreme Korean sauna experience. I think I lost nine pounds.
This only happens to me. I swear...
Eventually... after what felt like an eternity in a furnace, my washing machine finally stopped. I pulled out my freshly washed clothes and headed toward the dryers. And that’s when I realized... I didn’t have enough money left to dry them.
Of course I didn’t.
I’d spent too much money on drinks and chips at the corner store... and even with the bills I had left, I was still short. There didn’t appear to be an international ATM anywhere nearby... and there was nothing I could do. I was done.
So I gathered up my soaking-wet laundry, rolled it all into one enormous ball... and headed back to my floor. You know, the one with no bed and no chair.
Just a floor.
Well... having a large, empty floor does have its advantages. I laid out all my wet clothes all over the floor and left them to dry...
Off I went to explore!
Gyeongju is often called a "museum without walls," and after spending a little time wandering around... I get it.
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The entire city feels like one enormous outdoor museum, filled with ancient temples, royal tombs, historical ruins, and reminders of a kingdom that ruled for nearly a thousand years.
Gyeongju was once the capital of the Silla Kingdom, which existed from 57 BCE to 935 CE. For centuries, it was one of Korea's most important cities, and today its extraordinary history is scattered throughout the streets, parks, and surrounding countryside.
Everywhere.
You can be wandering down the street, looking for a place to have a coffee... and suddenly find yourself standing in front of a 1,500-year-old royal tomb. Gyeongju is full of enormous, perfectly manicured grassy mounds... known as tumuli. They just look like giant green hills. But they're not hills at all. They're tombs. Kinda like the pyramids.
Beneath these mounds lie the remains of kings, queens, and other important figures from the Silla Kingdom. Many of these burial chambers were constructed from wood, surrounded by stones, and then covered with enormous amounts of earth.
Inside? Some of the excavated tombs have revealed incredible treasures, including elaborate gold crowns, jewellery, pottery, weapons, and other objects buried alongside the deceased.
But I couldn't help wondering about something. Why on earth haven't they opened all these tombs up by now?
Archaeologists must be dying to know what's inside. No?
Well... it turns out there's a very good reason. Many tombs have been deliberately left undisturbed to protect whatever might be hidden inside. Once a burial chamber is opened, its contents can be exposed to oxygen, moisture, temperature changes, and other environmental conditions that can cause ancient objects to deteriorate. When you're dealing with treasures that have been sitting untouched for more than 1,500 years, that's a pretty big gamble.
Archaeological technology is constantly improving... and future generations may have far better tools and techniques to explore these burial chambers without damaging their contents. So rather than digging everything up just because we can, archaeologists sometimes choose to leave the past exactly where it is.
It's a pretty wonderful sacrifice to make.
Imagine the treasures that might still be buried beneath them!
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Of course, Gyeongju isn't just about the tombs. I spent my time wandering through some of the city's historical sites, including Bunhwangsa Temple and Donggung Palace.
The palace grounds offer a glimpse into just how sophisticated and powerful this ancient kingdom once was.
What I particularly loved about Gyeongju was that I didn't feel the need to rush from one attraction to another. I could simply wander, stumble upon something interesting, stop for a while, and then carry on.
And then there was Hwangnidan-gil. I loved this area! It's one of Gyeongju's trendiest neighbourhoods, where traditional Korean houses have been renovated and transformed into cafés, boutique shops, restaurants, and other little businesses.
The area has a creative energy... without the overwhelming chaos of a big city. I could have spent hours just wandering around, popping into shops... stopping for the occasional coffee. As I've already said, South Korea certainly doesn't have a shortage of places to buy coffee and dessert. Still can't figure out how they all survive financially.
But... I digress.
I have to say, Gyeongju turned out to be one of my (so far) favourite places in South Korea. And considering the rather rotten attitude I'd arrived with, that's saying something. After feeling so overwhelmed and exhausted in Seoul, Gyeongju was exactly what I needed. It was slower. Quieter. More relaxed.
And sometimes, when you're travelling... that's the best feeling in the world.
Looking back, I actually wish I'd given myself more time here. I feel as though I barely scratched the surface of everything Gyeongju has to offer.
Isn't that how it goes, eh?
I arrive somewhere with low expectations, feeling tired and grumpy, and suddenly it turns out to be one of the highlights of my trip. Gyeongju completely changed my mood, and in many ways, restored my enthusiasm for travelling through South Korea.
I would absolutely go back.
And next time, I'll even know how to pronounce it.
Well...
Maybe.
Oh... and one more thing!
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A fellow traveller staying at the hanok recently brought something to my attention, and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. We were chatting about kilometres and miles, and he was trying to wrap his head around switching between the two measurement systems. Then he suddenly looked at me and said, "But that's not really an issue for Canadians, is it?"
"Excuse me?" I replied, not quite sure what he meant.
"Well, I've heard that Canadians don't really measure distance in kilometres. You measure it in time."
What?
He continued, "You know, instead of saying somewhere is 200 kilometres away, you'll say it's two hours away. Or three and a half hours away. Canadians are known for measuring in time."
I sat there for a moment, contemplating what he'd just said.
He was absolutely right!
We DO do that!
All the time!
Someone asks how far it is from Banff to Calgary? An hour and a half. Banff to Vancouver? About ten hours. How far away is your friend's house? Oh... about twenty minutes.
Not a kilometre in sight.
I've spent my entire life measuring distance in hours and minutes without ever giving it a second thought. And apparently, it's such a Canadian thing that people on the other side of the world have noticed!
Who knew?
It's funny how you can travel halfway around the world, learn all sorts of fascinating things about another country's culture, and then have a complete stranger teach you something about your own.
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