Korea DAY 4: (Pt. 2) Traditional Korean Meal + Jeju Stone Park

Read Part 1 HERE !

While it may seem surprising that I embarked on this trip without a comprehensive list of POIs, the main objective was, simply, to move freely. 

For the Jeju leg, in particular, I hadn't scheduled beyond the Hallasan hike and O-Sulloc Tea Museum/adjacent Innisfree boutique. My goal was to enjoy a scenic coastal drive along the perimeter of island, regardless of which side, and I requested in earnest for this to take place at every possible opportunity. Not being the driver though, I had little control over how things would unfold.

​My browsing partner had expressed an interest in roaming the Jeju Stone Museum, to which I had no oppositions. We selected an eatery in close proximity to the museum and made our way over from Gimnyeong Beach. Again, the asphalt was remarkably smooth and intact, while the pavement markings sharp and pristine. Within the boulevard was a multi-use path, distinguished with blue line paintings and separated from the roadway with planters and an abundance of signage.

​Nangtteule Shimpang involved an approximate thirty-minute drive, leading our eventual arrival to be past the 1 PM mark. We parked across the street in a vacant gravel lot, but there was a total of seven spots directly in front of the eatery as well. Parking beyond the designated rectangles parallel to the direction of travel wasn't uncommon either. In true suburban fashion, parking appeared possible where plausible.​

The menu was posted outside the sliding doors of the restaurant as well as within.

Upon being greeted at the door, we were gestured towards a four-person table. Tissues and utensils were already present at the table's edge. Warm water, individually packaged wet wipes, and cups would soon follow. An ordering slip was also presented on a narrow clipboard, presumably corresponding to our table number.

The front-line staff comprised of a few young men clad in black t-shirts and at least two middle-aged men. One of the older staff neared our table to take our order, though we hadn't yet decided at this point. The situation would be repeated with a younger member of staff, until I finally relayed our request of the Nangtteul Jungisk.
At first, the server responded with concern, as there was a minimum order of two Jungsik sets. I nodded my head in acknowledgement and changed the count on the order slip from one to two. Traditional Korean meals are often configured to have minimum order requirements, though I had initially believed my markup automatically indicated a two-person portion, each priced at 15,000 KRW.

​Orders of jeon were foregoed, for the size described was larger than our appetites could stomach. That said, I adhered to a single order of makgeolli, not knowing 3000 KRW would entail a cauldron-sized portion. 

While sixteen dollars would earn me a Stainless steel teapot at best, my mouth dropped agape at seeing the ceramic vessel and accompanying wooden ladle. Thankful to have a chauffeur, I summoned my grandest efforts to deplete the medium-sized pot.
Past experiences with homemade makgeolli had informed me of its staggering strength. Meanwhile, I had never met a bottled or canned version that hadn't led to nausea and discomfort.

But this rendition was unlike any of the aforementioned varieties. For starters, it was delicious! - a balanced, milky composition with neither excessive sweetness, bitterness, nor grittiness. Three bowls vanished with ease. I even managed a fourth and part of a fifth before reaching capacity. After all, I would require sustenance in conjunction with the alcoholic beverage. Had I been sharing the pot with another appreciator of liquor, it would have been depleted swiftly.

The assortment of banchan was nothing short of incredible. From spinach-tofu, kimchi jeon, pickled radish and seaweed, marinated lotus root, tofu with gochujang-marinated romaine, and more kimchi, the hextet of Stainless steel dishes alone would have sustained me for the afternoon.

I had disappeared into the bathroom momentarily after ordering, then returned to my browsing partner telling me that side dishes were self-serve. Glancing over at the cart behind the chimney, I naturally got up and neared the cart. As I began to place kimchi into my dish, however, a member of staff approached me to inquire whether I had ordered.
I responded in the affirmative. He then followed up with "May I ask what did you order?".
"The two-person Jungsik"
And then I learned that the Jungsik set included banchan, nixing the need for self-service.
Reinstating the tongs and dish, I headed back to the table, embarrassed. Slinking into the greyish fabric chair cover, I scolded my browsing partner, "Those aren't for us! Ours comes with side dishes! Why did you tell me to go?!"
Alas, there were no apologies received, but a mere shrug.

Beyond the banchan were two sources of protein: Black Pork Stir-Fry and Grilled Fish.
The duo offered the most formidable dining experience one could experience in a traditional Korean fare.

Served on a hot plate like bulgogi, the Black Pork Stir-Fry was flavourful, tender, and nowhere near as fiery as its hue would imply. Between spoonfuls of grain rice and ssam wraps, it ensured a delectably hearty meal with impressive complexity.

Meanwhile, the Grilled Fish was as crispy as could be. Charred to perfection on the outside, yet supple and fleshy within, I devoured nearly half of the specimen alone before transitioning to the tofu, veggies, and a spoonful of the Doenjang Jjigae.

Nearby tables turned over at least three times during our stay. I watched as my browsing partner continue eating at a leisurely pace, gradually growing impatient at the loss of daylight hours and anxious for the timing of our next meal.

In the meantime, I hurriedly messaged a local for help: "How do I say 'Can I take this to go?'"
She replied with tremendous speed, allowing me to repeat the same words to our server.
Before I had even finished my sentence, he noddled gladly and returned with two items for the half portion of grilled fish: A single sheet of aluminum foil and a black plastic bag. The compact solution was impressive.

Finally, we departed the restaurant about 80 minutes later, routing to Jeju Stone Park.​

​My expectations for the park were nonexistent, having not researched the destination beforehand. From the minimal signage but ample parking, I presumed it to be a tourist attraction of sorts.

​My expectations for the park were nonexistent, having not researched the destination beforehand. From the minimal signage but ample parking, I presumed it to be a tourist attraction of sorts.
Seeing English signage on nearly every post and poster, I knew I wasn't wrong.

Unfortunately, handwashing could only be performed with ice cold water. Overcast conditions paired with strong winds had resulted in a chilly environment to start. Shivers would only be worsened following the washroom visit.

It should also be noted that I was severely underdressed for Jeju in mid-March. A transitional fall/spring jacket did not supply enough warmth; layering cotton leggings underneath stretchy cotton pants would not compensate for the wardrobe blunder either.

Admission was a ridiculously affordable 5000 KRW per person. But, to my horror, Jeju Stone Park was far larger than expected.

​Within seconds of setting foot on the trail, I direly wished to suspend the walk in favour of retreat to toastiness. My browsing partner, on the other hand, would not budge. For majority, if not all, the upcoming joint adventures, this issue will persist as an ongoing trend.

View the full album HERE !

Jeju Stone Park comprised of three "Courses"

Course 1 led us to 하늘연못, which was translated into "Sky Pond". Emerging as the singly most innovative attraction of the park, visitors were allowed to wade into the pond and step onto the platform at its centre. Rubber boots were provided for communal use, and, admittedly, maintained exceptionally well. The soles persisted a vibrant orange, adorned water droplets but not a speck of grey or filth.

​Fingers fearfully frigid, I was against the idea of removing my gloves to unlace my shoes, then having to repeat the process in reverse order. That said, the concept would have been amazing in practice! Images captured at ground level would showcase a nature scene where the subject of the photo virtually floated on water.

While I lingered briefly in deep contemplation, neither of us went into the pond in the end.

Looping about a reservoir with exposed concrete walls, we found the entrance to the Jeju Stone Museum. The dimmed glass doors camouflaged seamless into its surrounding environment.

​The entrance led into the administration level on the second floor, but the museum components were largely located off the first floor.

At the centre was a projection sequence depicting the formation of Jeju Island. Descending down to the perimeter of the centrepiece enabled a closer view of the contoured 3D display residing within the circle.

Surrounding the projection were info boards on plate tectonics and relevant geography matters (You caught me - I didn't even bother reading!).

Certain sections incorporated glass displays of basalt columns, a natural resource of the island, and a chart showing the correlation between Na (sodium) and other rock-forming elements/compounds. One of the museum guides excitedly explained the information to me - in Korean no less! - while I nodded in silence at the plethora of vocabulary lost on my cold, fatigued mind and body.​

​Adjacent rooms and corridors housed an assortment of asymmetrical volcanic rock. Some sizable pieces obtained their own display stand and angled spotlights, as various images could be seen in their shadows.

Suffice to say, I was happiest when we chanced across the gift shop. Its positioning near the museum rather than at an access/egress point was somewhat peculiar.

​Within the wood-toned fixture, shelves were graced with reasonably priced items in spite of its prestigious display. Fragile objects such as figurines and glass were staggered along the perimeter, while plush keychains, charms, and accessories were placed at the centre and back of the shop.

​Our purchases were individually wrapped in plastic then placed in a logo-bearing paper bag - a form of presentation that would be otherwise seen as "wasteful" and "unsustainable" in North America, where flimsy paper bags are provided at best.

​Next to the gift shop was a small art gallery. Instead of dawdling though, I urged my browsing partner to hurry. The sun had finally emerged, spurring motivation to continue trekking the outdoor segment before nature's warmth faded once more.

​After what seemed to be an eternity, we arrived at the entrance of Course 2. Denoted by colourful signage bearing cartoon Stone Grandfathers, rock statues, and camelia buds.

​Course 2 was completely set outdoors. It weaved through stone houses, each comprising a different element of the Joseon Dynasty. Despite their holistic, rugged appearances, each of the houses were equipped with modern technology. The lights would illuminate with our entry, then flicker off as we departed.

​Folk culture was another factor of significance to Korean history. Continuing past a bamboo-lined pathway was a winding road lined with stone statues.

These sculptures varied in size, shape, and purpose. Some served as guardians for tombs, while other some other Folk custom. Generally speaking, the larger the tomb and the greater the number of stone guardians, the more important the deceased was believed to be.

We did not proceed onwards to Course 3, nor was I intrigued to do so.

​We did not proceed onwards to Course 3, nor was I intrigued to do so. Speaking out against prolonged time in the dreadfully wintry outdoors, my browsing partner agreed to route back to the parking lot, only stopping as needed.

​By the Five Hundred Generals Group of Figures, I posed with my own newly-acquired Stone Grandfather. Unlike the others, he was evidently smiling, with a Hallabong orange in his clutch.

On our way back to the car, my gaze fell upon a café-like outpost just past the ticketing booth. The man invited us inward, smiling as I placed my order of Schisandra Berries Tea and Green Tangerine Tea. He switched to English nearly immediately, leading me to wonder whether he had overheard the conversation between my browsing partner and I, or if my Korean pronunciation was just lacklustre.

Along with our two hot cups of tea, the man gave us two Kaya Butter Buns on the house. He then began to make conversation with us from his position behind the counter, asking if we had sampled Kaya before and where we were visiting from.

My browsing partner provided the responses while I happily sank my teeth into my third meal of the day. The Kaya jam was fragrant, though the encompassing brioche too dry to properly emphasize its unique palate.
Sips of Schisandra Berries Tea and Green Tangerine Tea reinstated warmth, though the latter was deemed superior due to its refreshing zestiness. The Schisandra Berries Tea largely resembled an herbal tea with an incredulous amount of liquid sweetener.

After a final visit to the bathroom and its ice cold handwashing station, we departed the Stone Park at 6 PM. Had it not been so treacherously cold, I wouldn't have minded perusing the combination of indoor and outdoor components a tad longer.

​Fatigued but not famished, we reasoned our next stop to be a grocery store. 

​Procuring daily essentials was a must, but we also took advantage of the trip to acquire breakfast for the following morning and souvenir snacks for bringing home.

​I stopped by the washroom facilities following the transaction. Each of the stalls revealed overflowing wastebins - an atypical characteristic of Korean bathrooms visited to date. But the sign behind the door soon explained the situation: Used to toilet paper was to be disposed into the garbage bin, not the toilet. Jeju, on average, seemed to have dire issues with clogging, plumbing (inadequate water pressure), and sewage capacity.
The appalling circumstances led me to be grateful for our pension's ability to flush as needed.

Our drive back home estimated 73 minutes. During this time, I was flabbergasted to witness snowfall and hail. Jeju was, indeed, a chilly destination in March.

We received a total of three wind warnings later that evening, each announcing progressively dangerous conditions. Residents were advised to retreat indoors and securely fasten any outdoor equipment that could fly away and become hazardous.

​From within the sturdy walls of our accommodation, we prepared yet another dinner of instant offerings. Culinary Class Wars' Oden Soup was obnoxiously spicy, thus I settled on rinsing the fish cake and filling the rest of my stomach with fruit.

Let it be known that the domestically-obtained Korean melon tasted no different from its imported cousin back home. Both were rigid, expensive, and moderately sweet at its core.​

​Howling winds continued into the night. Opening the windows was an almost unthinkable act, given the Ministry's severe wind warning. Unfortunately, there was no amount of wind that could compensate for the second floor's stuffiness and lack of circulation.