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| A semitranslucent figure stands in the hallway of an abandoned mental hospital in Gonjiam, Gyeonggi Province, that has become the setting of the surprise hit film "Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum." / Image courtesy of R. Bandun |
By Ron Bandun
The abandoned mental hospital in the movie "Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum" is a real place, but the risks of visiting it are underreported. The threat isn't ghosts, but the living ― police, neighbors, even ourselves.
The hospital first surfaced on my radar in early 2010 on a ghost-hunting online cafe named in English, "Masculine Pride." Their thing was trying to stay overnight in a "haunted" place to prove their manliness.
A companion of this writer registered on the site and said we wanted to photograph the hospital, to which the members cautioned us: if we bring our camera gear there, the ghosts in anger will make them stop working.
I first visited in February 2010, inviting four or five friends along. It was a 90-minute bus ride from Seoul. Finally we showed up at the front gate, a twisted old metal thing, and walked right in. But the trip ended in instant failure when the property owner, who'd been doing landscaping work nearby, accosted us right at the front gate.
I returned a week later with two other friends, with expectations lowered. I brought an American friend and his Korean girlfriend, who assured me she was ready for the challenge. This time we got in unseen, and there was the hospital ahead of us, a decaying old white building.
While we were upstairs, we could hear men's voices below, aggressive and yelling every Korean curse word I could name. It gave us a scare thinking it was the owner, but it turned out to be high school kids looking for ghosts.
Later on during that visit, we went to the second floor where a strong crosswind would occasionally slam one of the doors closed or open. This was too much for our Korean companion, who ran all the way back to the bus stop, forcing my friend to desert me to go after her. I spent about 10 minutes alone in there, enjoying the breeze.
I recognized this very "supranatural" phenomenon could very well induce people to believe in supernatural causes. Now every time I find a door slamming in the wind, I wedge it open or closed and say I exorcised the building. Perhaps future visitors will benefit from my action and not conclude ghosts are slamming doors.
Over the years, there were three more visits to show friends from overseas. I've seen more graffiti, increased security features, vandalism to create new entrances, and signs out front threatening maximum punishment and 5 million won fines.
Others have shared their own stories of bad encounters. One friend joined an ill-prepared expat meetup group, and as they were climbing out the front gate, a local resident reportedly assaulted one of them. I know a couple guys who hid in the bush from the police, who patrol the area regularly.
Another foreigner I spoke to claimed he went there to take pyrotechnic photos using steel wool in the hospital's very flammable hallway. The only reason he didn't burn the whole place down is because he brought silver-colored dishwashing pads instead of real steel wool. He instead started a bonfire on the roof with abandoned hospital records.
Around 2012, a now-defunct online source claimed the hospital received 1,000 visitors annually. That's shockingly high, yet still probably an underestimate. Shortly after that, the hospital hit the expat blogosphere and CNN named it one of the seven "freakiest places on the planet." Directions on how to get there are all over the internet, but not information about visiting safely and responsibly.
Rumors swarmed about the mysterious circumstances of its closure, of deaths there and hauntings. But those sorts of stories start from online speculation among the superstitious. I know how they can be made because I've made up and propagated a few myself, before I knew better.
Nowadays, now that "Gonjiam" is a surprise hit film, now that it practically has its own station on the Seoul Metro system, I expect another upswing in visitors to the area. The movie was not filmed there, and it may well be because the same property owner I met eight years ago still strongly opposes any recreational trespassers visiting there.
Ron Bandun is a self-described "anarchaeologist." No abandoned buildings were harmed in the making of this article.
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