Busan Beyond the Guidebook: The Wave That Surprises You
Good morning my friends, and welcome back to another appointment with My Travel Diary Chronicles.
It's always great to have you here and it's always amazing to read the adventures Tamara shares with us.
Today, she takes us to a distant (at least for me) place, to the other side of the world: the city of Busan and its neighborhood, in South Korea.
Enjoy the trip!
I came to Busan on a winter night, backpack on my shoulders and few clear ideas.
The next morning, still groggy from jet lag, I wrap my hands around a steaming cup of coffee.
Beyond the large café window, the colorful houses of Gamcheon Village splash bright patches along the hillside.
These vivid hues now cover the gray of what was once a refugee neighborhood, transformed into a maze of alleys, steep stairways, and murals—war wounds stitched up with bold colors. There, among the painted walls, the gaze of the statue of the Little Prince is lost towards the sea.
That sea that still nourishes the city and animates the fish market of Jagalchi, where I head for lunch.
In the skilled hands of the ajumma — the ladies with rubber gloves up to their elbows — live fish and shellfish dart like promises of abundance.
I taste the sannakji, raw octopus that still moving between the chopsticks: not a ritual, but an ancient, essential gesture, full of trust and respect for the ocean’s freshness.
Here food is not told, it is offered: a bite, a discreet smile, a silent invitation to trust.
Busan flows at a different pace than Italy. We are children of the sun and long time; they are born of sea and wind—quick, essential, without frills. Nevertheless, beneath that dry sobriety, I sense a deep warmth, like a fire smoldering under ashes.
At first, Busan seemed to me a messy tangle of markets, buildings and hills.
But just stop and observe to recognize the hidden harmony: natural bows, hands outstretched without fanfare, small gestures that tell another idea of ​​kindness.
That evening, under a starry sky, I venture on a night trek up Mount Hwangnyeongsan.
As I climb, the city opens up beneath me like a sea of ​​pulsating lights, alive, throbbing.
It is one of the most intense images Busan has given me: a city that keeps breathing even in sleep.
The next morning I come at Haedong Yonggungsa Temple.
I am welcomed by a wooden statue of a tiger, painted in bold colors—flaming reds, deep greens, intense blues.
Beside it, an ancient symbol—similar to a swastika, but carrying a very different meaning of fortune and eternity—reminds me that elsewhere, history takes different paths, and every culture hides invisible alphabets we must learn to read.
The temple clings to the cliffside, suspended between the vastness of the sky and the tumultuous breath of the sea.
Pagoda rooftops chase each other, streaked in jade, sapphire, and gold. Serene Buddha statues smile with closed lips, dragons climb the wind, mythical creatures guard silent dreams and prayers, and stone lanterns seem to tremble under the weight of time.
The deep sound of the bell mixes with the roar of the ocean, creating a primordial harmony that envelops me as I sit on a rock.
I change the atmosphere at Haeundae Beach. Barefoot children run on the cold sand, elderly couples stroll in short steps, lovers laugh against the wind.
I think how different this simple, almost modest liveliness feels from the noisy bustle of our Italian summers.
I reach The Bay 101 when the sky is already black.
The skyscrapers reflect on the water like jewels melted in the darkness.
With my camera ready to shoot and the salty wind in my hair, I realize that Busan is not visited: it is passed through.
The following day I explore Nampodong, one of Busan’s liveliest neighborhoods, filled with restaurants, trendy shops and attractions.
Every year it hosts events related to the BIFF – the Busan International Film Festival – dedicated to emerging talents and Asian cinema.
I immerse myself in its atmosphere, walking between BIFF Square and BIFF Street.
Even off-season, the energy is palpable: posters of K-drama stars, neon signs, retro-style cinemas. I lose myself among the dazzling lights of Gwangbok-ro and Gwangbokjungang-ro, between the sweet smell of street food and the hum of night markets.
Between flickering neon lights, tteokbokki1 and counterfeit sneakers, the Koreans observe you, size you up—and then welcome you with extreme respect and kindness.
Busan is like a wave that catches you off guard, surprises you… and then leaves you thinking.
Take care and talk soon!
tteokbokki It is a very popular Korean street food, made of rice gnocchi cooked in a spicy red sauce based on gochujang (fermented chili paste).
Brava Tamara!!!
Foto bellissime!!!!😜😜
So lovely to see this colourful place thanks