The Port City: Mokpo

Leaving the quiet of Baekyangsa refreshed and ready for more exploring. The train from the temple to Mokpo wound through mountain valleys and open farmland. This now seemed familiar as I made my way all the way to the bottom of South Korea. Agriculture not only surrounded cities it filled residential areas. Gardens to produce fresh food tucked into common spaces around apartments, by roads, and chosen over grass yards that are common in America. The idea of function over fashion is an idea that is probably deep rooted in the need to be provide for your self, family, and community in times of need and a strong connection to nature that is throughout Korea.

A port city that is a busy working town, with lots of culture and smiling faces, Mokpo sits on Korea’s southwestern coast, where the mountains meet the sea. My guesthouse, Leehakjang, was small, quirky, and perfect. The owner greeted me with a wide smile , checked me in, and when I asked about a lunch recommendation, he walked me down the street to a local family owned restaurant. After greeting the couple that owned it with another big smile and wave, he ordering for me like a parent ordering for their kid.

What arrived was the best bibimbap I’ve ever eaten, warm Korean rice, marinated vegetables, a fried egg, sesame oil. The kimchi that came with it was bright, crisp, and just the right spice. This meal was exactly what I needed in the moment. I tried to pace myself and enjoy the moment taking in each flavor as I processed my surroundings. The restaurant sat maybe 20 and was run by a middle age couple, the wife cooking and directing from the kitchen as the husband served the tables. There was a group of men enjoying laughter and soju. You could tell by the empty bottles and the volume of their voices that they had been there for a while. The restaurant itself seemed so utilitarian and gave more understanding about asian restaurants in the US. This was a lived in restaurant that was a part of their daily lives and community.

The neighborhood around the guesthouse was a mix of small businesses and restaurants, art galleries, and working supply houses full of mechanical parts and fishing gear. Closer to the water there Seafood markets that also had small kitchens to prepare the fish, octopus, and small sea creatures swimming in tanks on the sidewalk. As I walked, I found murals, little galleries tucked between cafés, and happy people that were excited to talk and greet a foreign visitor. I stopped to buy a hand-painted fans and a small watercolor from a husband-and-wife team, their shop filled halfway with jewelry and the other half with beautiful water color paintings. I watched as he meticulously boxed and wrapped each one for me. Amber and I love supporting local artists as we travel and decorating our home. I would say that is our number 1 souvenir purchase as we are traveling.

Later, I realized I’d arrived on the last day of Mokpo’s Annual Port Festival, a street festival very much like what we have a couple times a year in my home town of Franklin, Tn. I followed the port edge sandwiched between fishing boats on one side and a mix of seafood markets, restaurants, and fisherman supply houses with their wares pilling out into the street. I kept walking towards the lights and sounds of drums and cheering until I found the crowds. The entire waterfront was alive, kids activities, street vendors grilling seafood, families cheering along the performers onstage.

It was so much fun to blend into the crowd and watch them celebrate their town. There was so much to see and do especially for families. The festival celebrated the sea and the strong fishing culture of the city. As I walked in, the first group of activities was a fish auction right on the street. Fish hawkers pulling out fresh fish and holding it up as the auctioneer engaged the crowd. Next to that was a raised dock that surrounded a temporary pool stocked with fish. Participants were trying to catch the fish below cheered on by the crowd that got loud when someone successfully raised up a flopping fish. Behind this they had built a brick fire pit in the middle of the road, Something that would never happen in Franklin. People were cooking fish in different ways over the fire and prawns like hotdogs on sticks. One kind man gave me a large prawn to peel and gobble down.

The stages were in constant rotation of acts that played music, danced, and sang traditional Korean songs. The colors were bright in the traditional costumes they danced in and instruments that they played. The songs were beatiful and celebrated their culture. All ages took turns performing and being a part of the celebration.

Surrounding the stages were tents filled with various tents selling food and small crafts, kids activities, and beer. There was a video tunnel that simulated walking under the sea with sharks, fish and sea creatures swimming all around you. Kids were riding pedal boats in more temporary pools that had been set up and trying to get the highest number of touches in jegi chagi, a Korean version of hacky sack.

That night, I walked around the city, Aged but full of character, Mokpo felt like it was from a time that has been passed by in America. As the city shut down for the day markets were partially covered in tarps and some business left supply rooms and garage doors fully open. This trust in the community provided a feeling of safety and togetherness that we are loosing in America.

The next morning, I woke early, my sleep schedule was off, but I didn’t care. I tried to sneak between my guestroom and the kitchenette that was a floor down. I brewed a small cup of coffee, I worked on Song Eun Hyung, the last empty hand form in Han Mu Do. Studying and completing this form was a goal of mine for the trip. I took time to pack my bag, and get ready to board the ferry and head to Jeju island. I was ready to keep exploring but not ready to leave this town.