I flew from Jeju to Busan which is Korea’s second-largest city and its most important port, a place shaped by trade, industry, and the sea. During the Korean War it served as a temporary capital and a refuge for millions, and that sense of urgency and expansion still lingers in how the city feels today.
Getting into town provided a challenge. Taking the train from the airport turned out to be more complicated than expected, mostly because the final stops of Line 2 are called Jangsang and Yangsang—names that look and sound far too similar when you’re tired and moving quickly. I even out travelled the final wrong stop and the cleaners came to prep it for the next ride. Soon after, the train moved back into the station and I was finally heading in the right direction.
I had booked a self-serviced apartment in a small skyscraper near Haeundae Beach. Since I arrived before check-in time, I left my luggage and went out to kill time in the most efficient way possible running sushi. Plates kept circling, decisions were easy, and it was exactly the low-effort comfort food I needed after days of constant movement.
Once I could finally check in, I did very little. The apartment was functional and anonymous, the kind of place designed for short stays and minimal interaction. I relaxed, slowed down, and let Busan come to me rather than chasing it immediately.
The next day, I walked down to Haeundae Beach, where large sand formations created by artists lined the shore. The sculptures added structure to the wide open beach, turning it into something between an outdoor gallery and a public playground. People stopped, photographed, and moved on, while the sea remained largely indifferent.
From there, I took a bus out to Haedong Yonggungsa Temple, dramatically located right by the sea. Unlike most Korean temples, which are tucked away in mountains, Yonggungsa sits directly on the coastline. It was founded in 1376 during the Goryeo Dynasty and has long been associated with wishes for safety, prosperity, and calm seas. The setting explains its popularity: waves crashing below, stone paths winding toward the main halls, and the ocean stretching out behind the statues. It was very crowded, with wishing papers tied everywhere, but the combination of devotion, location, and spectacle still worked. I also left a wish there - let's see if it comes true.
On my ways toward the train station, I made a detour to Jagalchi Fish Market, only to discover that it was closed. Tuesdays, apparently. One of those travel lessons learned too late but remembered forever.
With that, Busan ended more abruptly than planned. I boarded the next KTX and headed on to Gyeongju, trading port city energy and coastal crowds for history once again.
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