The Black Sand Beach Resort

The reason we wanted to get to Yeosu is that in The Lonely Planet and in other tourist literature we randomly picked up, “a black sand beach resort, Korea’s only one!” was touted. A must see. Beautiful. Relaxing. The thought of relaxing by the sea, getting a massage, sunning on warm black sand, well, it was very appealing to both of us. So we rode the bus 2 more hours to Yeosu. Then flagged a taxi, “Manseong-ri kajushipshee-yo.” The taxi driver took us there. Pointed. “Beach-chee.” We got out and looked around. Calling what we were standing on a “beach” was, well, a stretch. Okay, technically, it was a beach. It was the bit of land that could be considered a shore next to a body of water. Calling it a “beach resort” – I’m calling foul. There were no hotels. At all. I don’t remember seeing restaurants. The bit of sand stretched for maybe 200 meters. The sand was not black. It was dirty. A little bit grey. There were numerous oil tankers anchored offshore, very close. We both speculated how the sand became the color it was. There were many dead things along the water line. Dead fish. Dead crabs. Dead seaweed. Crushed shells.

I looked at Ida. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Let’s just go now. Cut our losses. We’ll go to Pusan tonight. I’ve been there. It’s really there. We’ll get there late tonight and have a great day tomorrow.

Ida was surprisingly not upset. “Well, the sun is setting, let’s take a couple of pictures, then figure out what to do.” We walked closer to the water, snapped a couple of pictures of the sun going down, documented the not-black sand, then walked the 10 steps back to the road. To the beach’s credit, there was a huge “tourist map” posted beside the one lane road. We looked at things to see in the area. Pretty much nothing. As we were standing there, the only two people there, two old women were approaching. Carrying bags of groceries, maybe? Rags? I noticed them out of the corner of my eye, they were on the opposite side of the road. A minute later both Ida and I were knocked in the backs. The two, 4 foot tall, 90 year-old, toothless women had run into us. Smack dab checked us into the boards. Ida and I looked at each other in disbelief. Her only comment, “It’s not as if they didn’t have the whole road to walk in.”

The bus came. I flagged it. We returned to the bus station. I bought 2 tickets to Pusan. I looked at them. Oh, geez. We have 2 1/2 hours to kill. Ida, I am so sorry. This is turning into the vacation from hell. I’m really sorry. We wandered onto the street. We spied a big “E-Mart,” the Korean version of Wal-Mart. A good as place as any to kill 2 hours. Things we discovered while shopping:

1. I have no fashion sense anymore. Ida has already planned a bonfire upon my return to the States.

2.They don’t sell anything even close to resembling an Asian Barbie. Rows and rows of blond hair and blue eyes.

3. Don’t eat chicken wings at McDonald’s.

We headed back to the bus station, boarded, and settled into our seats. Ida jokingly wondered how much time we spent on some form of transportation today. As I began calculating, she asked for The Lonely Planet.

Here is what I came up with:

11 hours on some type of transportation (4 taxis, 6 buses, one private car).

5 hours not on transportation (2 of those spent in E-Mart)

Here is what she came up with (from an analysis of pictures in The Lonely Planet):

There’s not much to see in Korea. Unless you really, really enjoy temples and mountains. Roughly half of the pictures were “natural” – farmland, rivers, mountains. Beautiful for pictures, but not so exciting to travel hours and hours to see. About 30 per cent of the pictures were of people (serving food, carving a mask, fishing). 10 percent were “city shots” – mostly of Seoul, and the remaining 10 per cent were of temples.

So, we decided for the rest of her time here, we would do things we enjoy, whether those were a “Korean” experience or not. I had given up hopes of us experiencing an “off the beaten path” adventure. And I promised her no more buses.