Journey to Gunsan - The Korea Times

Entrance to the Gunsan Modern History Museum in North Jeolla Province / Courtesy of Shin Hye-suk

My recent trip to Gunsan, North Jeolla Province, began with a surprisingly luxurious ride. Boarding an express bus with two friends on a hot summer morning, we were struck by its high-end, almost first-class interior — reclining seats, privacy curtains, personal screens and even complimentary bottled water. It was hardly the bus ride we had expected.

Upon arrival, our first stop was Iseongdang, the city's legendary bakery. Even in the sweltering summer heat, waiting in line for fresh pastries and coffee felt like a joyful ritual before heading out for brunch.

Our afternoon walk took us to the historic Gyeongnam-dong Railroad Village, where the nostalgic atmosphere and old-fashioned shop fronts felt strangely reminiscent of a Japanese “omatsuri,” or festival. It was fascinating yet surreal, as though a time machine had transported us to another country while we remained firmly in Korea — a true paradox of nostalgia and historical pain.

That superficial charm, however, quickly gave way to a sobering reality at the Gunsan Modern History Museum. A neon sign bearing the words, “A nation that forgets its history has no future,” set the tone for what followed.

Learning how the abundant rice harvests of the Honam Plain were systematically and forcibly exploited under the 1910-45 Japanese colonial rule, along with the institutionalized oppression of local workers, left us heavy-hearted and deeply reflective. The history was no longer something distant or abstract. It felt embedded in the streets we had just walked through.

Japanese house in Sinheung-dong in Gunsan, North Jeolla Province / Courtesy of Shin Hye-suk

That tension followed us to Sinheung-dong, where we visited a historic Japanese house built in 1925. Its serene cedar architecture, delicate lattice doors and tranquil garden pond were undeniably beautiful. Yet that beauty stood in stark contrast to the painful historical context in which the house existed. It was unsettling to admire something aesthetically while knowing what its presence represented.

Carrying that historical weight with us, we continued to Mallaengi Village, a hillside community built by Koreans, with its humble thatched-roof homes, and then to Dongguk Temple, Korea's only remaining Japanese-style Buddhist temple. These places reminded us not only of the hardships of the past, but also of human resilience — the ability to endure, rebuild and keep moving forward.

As the afternoon faded, we drove across the Gogunsan Archipelago, passing through Munyeo, Seonyu and Jangja islands. The sun slowly sank into the West Sea, casting a peaceful glow across the water. After a day filled with difficult history, the quiet beauty of the sunset felt almost like a wave of calm.

The question captured the suffocating complexity I had felt while wandering through Gunsan's historical sites. At times, the weight of it felt almost like eating 10 sweet potatoes without a drop of water — heavy, dry and impossible to swallow.

Sunset in Gunsan, North Jeolla Province / Courtesy of Shin Hye-suk

Gunsan teaches us that true beauty can coexist with profound sorrow. It is a place that demands to be felt, not simply seen — a place that asks us to look backward with honesty so that we can walk forward with purpose.

With that quiet resolution, my friends and I are already planning our return to Gunsan's islands this coming autumn.

Shin Hye-suk (sinesu@naver.com), who also goes by Shindy, completed a doctorate in sociology and has devoted two decades of her life to academic pursuits at a university in Japan. She is also a florist and currently serves as an adviser to the Seoul JoongAng Rotary Club International, Korea.