The Art of Going with the Flow: A Journey Through Magical Caves and a Futuristic Wave Park

There are clear and vivacious moments in my life when the world seems to un-fog. The glass is wiped, and for a brief second my surroundings become more vivid than before. There is a sudden overwhelming feeling of ‘aliveness’ that overtakes me. I never know what will bring upon this sudden emotion, sometimes it comes from witnessing something outstandingly beautiful, sometimes it comes from being placed in an adrenaline-filled environment—all I know is that I never expect the feeling to come until it is already present. I find that there is a true and special kind of spontaneity that accompanies these “I am alive” moments. During my brief weekend trip south of Seoul, to a wave park near Ansan, the days were filled with a spontaneous mood that gave me this 'alive feeling' that I adore. I wanted to write about it, so, if anything I can have a written memory of not only what we did, but how it felt.  

My two friends and I met at Holly's coffee shop near Hapjeong Station, armed with backpacks stuffed with clothes for the weekend and giddy moods. We had few plans besides going to the world-famous Wave Park so that my friends, surfers who are used to catching waves daily in Hawaii and California, could get out on the water at least once while here in Korea. They were ecstatic to surf somewhere new with an endless supply of perfect waves, and I was just happy to tag along and see something new (I have no surfing skills and did not want to risk re-injuring my shoulder). I sat at the table, dazed and gripping my Americano in a delicate way with the hopes that this cold caffeinated drink would wake me from my drowsy state, and we all began to discuss where we should go from there. We had booked accommodation, but no train tickets. Excitedly we looked on a map, chose a random city on the route south, and researched things to do there online. We ended up discovering a crazy-looking cave that we could visit and explore. Motivated, we stoop up and began our journey.

We took a train, tried using Naver Maps, and then ultimately ended up jumping on a random bus that had "Gwangmyeong' written in English on its corner. We drove for a while, unsure if we were even on the right bus, and eventually, the bus stopped and the driver told us to 'get out' because this was the last stop. Ahead of us was a small electric ticket booth and what looked like a bus stop. An open-air yellow bus pulled up, dubbed the 'elephant bus' due to the plastic ears and trunk protruding from its front. I remember this moment strongly in my mind; I felt very present. The way the sunlight felt on my skin; warm and infinite rays of gentle golden light. The ticket I held was rough on one edge, freshly printed by the kind driver of the ‘elephant bus’. My friends and I struggled to use the ticket machine, and the driver generously used his own card to buy the tickets. These types of unspoken, kind gestures never cease to amaze me. Driving up to this ‘magical cave’ I felt like I was in a movie. I had no expectations, I did not know where the plot would lead to, but I was okay—even invigorated—by that.

The caves were truly were magical. The smell of earth, moisture, and shrimp (from its time as an old salted-shrimp production sight) filled the air. The darkness of the caves was vast and made the neon lights shine with great beauty and confidence. The cave was filled with history. It was once a hide-out for refugees during the Korean War, a large mining site during Korea's industrial era, and in the present day a tourist attraction and a winery. We bought some wine on our way out of the cave drank it outside while eating some soft flavorless cheese that we had also bought to fill our stomachs slightly.

After our cave endeavor, we continued on to Ansan, got a good night's sleep, and took a 40-minute taxi to the Wave Park. The town that that Wave Park was located in felt a bit lonely, there was a deep yearning in the town that could be expressed in the large half-constructed infrastructure scattered around the neighborhood. People wandered around, but most of the shops seemed empty. The overcast weather made for a sleepy feeling day. The Water Park was huge, the man-made waves perfect, and the building very luxurious. It cost 40,000 won to enter, and another 40,000 won per hour of surfing. My two friends entered the facility and came out beaming. They raved about the waves and how fun it was, making plans to go again. I was happy to hear them speak so passionately. After this big afternoon, we headed back to Ansan for dinner, relaxation, and dessert. We roamed the streets leisurely, and at one point heard jazz music wafting from the second floor of the building to the left of us. Intrigued, we took the elevator up and entered a new reality. A small warmly lit room filled with elegant decorations and quietly chattering guests drinking wine and whiskey awaited us. The windows of the wall facing the street were wide open, creating a balconing feeling. The jazz band played together in a frenzy, their group chemistry apparent. Every time a member would play their solo, something I see as a true act of spontaneity and skill, the rest of the band members would cheer them on supportively, sharing glances and smiles with each other. We headed back to Seoul the next day, tired but also refreshed from the change in scenery.

I am so glad that we did not make any serious plans for this trip and instead decided to really just go with the flow. It made every experience all the more exciting, mystical, and surprising because we had no prior expectations. Once again Korea had exceeded my expectations.

That's all for now,

-Barritt