Lost in the past in Pusan

People-watching on a small street in Busan, 1903.

By Robert Neff

In the spring of 1891, an American missionary stationed in Japan traveled to Pusan (now part of Busan) on a two-week holiday of adventure. Like many foreigners, he roamed about the port and the immediate surrounding region alone ― wanting to get a feel for the real Korea.

On his second day, he traveled along the coast for about three or four miles. He was somewhat impressed with the Korean farmers and felt empathy for the plight of the common people ― all living in fear of the upper class taking the fruits of their labor through unfair taxes and charges. But it was not just the upper class that the common people feared.

"The cattle were much afraid of me. I met a cow laden with a pack saddle upon a narrow path winding around a steep hill. She plunged off the track and came very near rolling to the bottom. With difficulty she recovered her footing, but her driver did not seem to take it very hard. The children feared me, too. I came over a bank and surprised a young girl of perhaps 18 washing some clothes. She fled precipitately on seeing me. It is strange to find oneself regarded as an object of terror."

The next day he went out again, but this time in a different direction. Easily distracted, he soon became quite lost and by 5:30 that evening was thoroughly worried and began approaching Koreans and asking for directions (obviously in English) but they could not understand him and "would wave their hands to all points of the compass, and say, 'Mo-ah' [Korean for 'I don't know']."

The missionary became completely rattled and in desperation just started walking in the general direction where he believed the port was located. In his diary he wrote:

"It is strange how confused one will become and how foolishly he will act when he begins to suspect that he is lost. Still the prospect of a night spent in a strange country without food, among a people whose language is entirely unknown is not very entrancing. I decided to try out one more fellow with my talismanic word 'Pusan.' It worked. He gave me my bearings, and I soon saw that I was about four miles north of the Japanese [section of the port]."

Much to his great relief, he arrived at his hotel at 8 o'clock, admitting in his diary that for the last two miles he just stumbled along. It had been a trying experience and he may have feared for his life, which may account for him ending his diary entry with:

"I wonder where these people bury their dead. I have a notion that they put them under certain little mounds of thatched straw that I saw on the hillsides."

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