Gyeongju and Andong came next, and together they formed one of the most culturally dense stretches of the trip. Gyeongju, often called the museum without walls, was once the capital of the Silla Kingdom (57 BCE–935 CE), which ruled much of the Korean Peninsula for nearly a thousand years. That weight of history is felt everywhere.
From the train station, it took about 90 minutes, involving two buses and a short taxi ride, to reach my hotel. By the time I walked in, slightly travel-worn, it became clear just how few foreigners pass through this particular setup. I must have been the only one that day. The receptionist greeted me by name, handed me the key without further ceremony, and pointed out the breakfast time. No small talk, no explanations—just quiet efficiency.
The room was spacious, the breakfast very basic, but the location was excellent, which mattered far more. Everything I wanted to see the next day was close, and in Gyeongju, proximity to history is everything.
The following day, I visited Bulguk-sa, one of Korea’s most important Buddhist temples and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Originally constructed in the 8th century during the height of Silla power, it represents the kingdom’s spiritual and artistic peak. Within the temple complex stand Dabotap and Seokgatap, two stone pagodas that perfectly illustrate the balance and restraint of Silla craftsmanship—one ornate, the other austere, both intentional.
From there I continued to Seokguram Grotto, completed in the mid-8th century and now also a UNESCO site. The stone Buddha, seated calmly inside the granite grotto and facing the East Sea, is considered a masterpiece of Buddhist sculpture in East Asia. Even with modern visitor management, the space retains a quiet intensity. It feels less like a monument and more like a presence.
In the afternoon, I returned to the hotel, picked up my luggage, and made my way to the intercity bus terminal, heading north to Andong.
By late afternoon, I arrived in Andong, where EJ and Miyoung were waiting for me—an immediate shift from solo travel to shared experience. After Korean BBQ dinner, we went to Wolyeonggyo Bridge, beautifully lit at night. We took a moon boat ride, drifting slowly beneath the illuminated structure, the reflections moving quietly across the water.
That night we stayed in a more luxurious hanok, a clear contrast to my functional hotel in Gyeongju. The craftsmanship, space, and silence made the stay feel intentional rather than merely practical.
The next morning we visited Manhyujeong Pavilion, a site with real historical weight beyond its more recent fame as a K-drama filming location. Built during the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1897), the pavilion is associated with Confucian scholars and literati, serving as a place for study, reflection, and poetry. Pavilions like this were central to Joseon intellectual life, designed to frame nature rather than dominate it. Standing there, it was easy to see why the location still resonates on screen centuries later.
We then headed into Andong city for lunch. The pedestrian zone offered a brief tonal shift: alongside traditional references were comic-style figures, playful and slightly unexpected, adding a light, almost whimsical layer to a city otherwise known for seriousness and tradition. After lunch, we stopped for pastries at Mammoth, a welcome modern pause.
In the afternoon, we visited Hahoe Folk Village, another UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the best-preserved examples of a Joseon-era clan village. Dating back to the Joseon period, the village still reflects Confucian social order in its layout and architecture. Unlike open-air museums, Hahoe is still inhabited, which gives it a quiet continuity rather than a staged feel. But you also have to pay attention not to end up in someone's backyard.
From Andong, we drove back to Seoul by car, the scenery slowly flattening and modernising as we returned to the capital.
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