Anyone who spends much time in South Korea will quickly notice the name Silla appearing on shops, hotels and businesses. The ancient Silla kingdom is an enormous part of Korean history, and for nearly a thousand years its capital was here in Gyeongju.
Silla began as one of the Three Kingdoms of Korea and eventually conquered its rivals, Baekje and Goguryeo, during the seventh century with assistance from China’s Tang dynasty. The period that followed is generally known as Unified Silla, although its control did not extend over the entire territory of today’s Korean Peninsula.
That history has left Gyeongju with an extraordinary concentration of temples, royal tombs and archaeological sites. While the city might not be as well known internationally as Seoul, it is one of the most important historic and cultural destinations in South Korea.
One of its greatest treasures is Bulguksa Temple. Originally established centuries earlier, much of the monumental complex seen today traces its development to the eighth-century Silla kingdom. Bulguksa and nearby Seokguram Grotto are together recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The photograph above shows the famous Cheongungyo and Baegungyo, or Blue Cloud and White Cloud Bridges. Despite their names, they’re actually monumental stone staircases leading toward one of the temple’s gateways.
After climbing several sets of stairs and making my way deeper into the complex, I reached the heart of Bulguksa. The temple contains several of South Korea’s designated National Treasures, including its famous stone pagodas, stairways and Buddhist statues.
The pagoda above is Dabotap, one of two celebrated Silla-era pagodas standing in the temple courtyard. Dabotap is designated National Treasure No. 20, while the simpler three-story Seokgatap opposite it is National Treasure No. 21.
Even more impressive to me than the Buddha statues were these intimidating guardians at one of the temple gates. They represent the Four Heavenly Kings, Buddhist deities traditionally placed at temple entrances to protect the Buddhist teachings and guard against evil.
I had seen the same tradition at Buddhist temples in North Korea, where similar guardian figures stood at the entrances. Seeing them again at Bulguksa was another reminder of the cultural traditions shared across the Korean Peninsula.
This HDR photograph gave me one of my favorite views of Bulguksa’s colorful rooftops. I had seen similar traditional temple architecture elsewhere in South Korea and even at a few temples in North Korea, but this was probably the best opportunity I had to look down across an entire complex from above.
I could easily post dozens of photographs of Bulguksa alone, but then I wouldn’t have any room for everything else there is to see in Gyeongju. I especially liked the landscaping around the temple, with pine trees, stonework and carefully maintained gardens surrounding the historic buildings.
I left Bulguksa around dusk and was rewarded with some beautiful views of the surrounding mountains. The photograph above was taken looking out from the temple grounds, while below is one of the many lanterns I saw around the complex.
The swastika visible on the lantern has an ancient meaning completely unrelated to Nazi Germany. Variations of the symbol have been used across Eurasia for thousands of years, and in Buddhism it remains an auspicious symbol associated with the Buddha and Buddhist teachings. Its appearance at a Korean temple therefore has a history extending back long before the twentieth century.
Another of Gyeongju’s most famous monuments is Cheomseongdae, whose name can be translated as “star-gazing tower.” Built during the reign of Queen Seondeok in the seventh century, it is generally regarded as the oldest surviving astronomical observatory in East Asia and one of the oldest surviving observatories anywhere in the world.
There is plenty of symbolism traditionally associated with its construction. The tower has 27 courses of stone above its base, which has sometimes been connected with Queen Seondeok being Silla’s 27th ruler. Other interpretations connect the number and arrangement of stones with calendars and astronomy, although not every one of these theories can be proven.
When I later returned to the palaces in Seoul, I saw plenty of couples dressed in traditional Korean clothing. It seemed fairly common around Seoul’s historic sites, but in Gyeongju this was the only couple I noticed wearing hanbok. They were braving some pretty cold temperatures while walking around Cheomseongdae.
On this trip I spent roughly a month in South Korea, and it seemed like nearly every day brought strong winds. Cheomseongdae is surrounded by large open fields, and plenty of people were taking advantage of the conditions to fly kites. This woman didn’t exactly look like she was having fun, but she was another person who wasn’t going to let the cold stop her.
Something else impossible to miss around Gyeongju are the enormous grassy burial mounds scattered across the landscape. Hundreds of ancient tombs have been identified throughout the region, including many associated with Silla royalty and elites. Their size and number give parts of modern Gyeongju an appearance unlike anywhere else I visited in Korea.
In another part of the city I explored some of Gyeongju’s royal tomb complexes. The region contains tombs from different periods and associated with different rulers and aristocratic families, so I wouldn’t pretend I knew exactly who was buried beneath every mound I passed. Some were enormous and carefully landscaped, while others appeared almost casually beside the walking trails.
I saw more tombs than I could possibly keep track of. Some occupied their own landscaped grounds with gates, ponds and gardens, while others were simply grassy mounds rising beside the trail. Even without knowing the identity of every person buried here, walking among monuments that had survived for so many centuries was an experience in itself.
The wooded grounds made the tomb areas enjoyable even apart from their history. Pine trees have long held important symbolism in Korean culture, including associations with longevity, constancy and the natural landscape. Pines are common around many Korean burial sites, although the traditions and symbolism surrounding them are more complicated than the simple explanation I had originally heard about trees connecting a person’s soul with the sky.
I didn’t know much about that symbolism when I visited anyway. Instead, these little tree huggers were what caught my attention.
Elsewhere in Gyeongju, I photographed this hoopoe resting in a tree. I had never seen one before, so I was hoping I had discovered some bird unique to Korea. No such luck. Hoopoes have an enormous range extending across parts of Europe, Africa and Asia.
They’re still fascinating birds and have appeared in the mythology, art and folklore of numerous cultures for thousands of years. So maybe finding out it wasn’t uniquely Korean wasn’t such a disappointment after all.
During my random walks around Gyeongju I came across a few interesting houses. High-rise apartment complexes are common throughout South Korea, so these detached homes incorporating elements of traditional Korean architecture immediately caught my attention.
At the other extreme, I came across this tent pitched beneath a gazebo. I had no idea who was staying there or what their circumstances were, but it was certainly an unusual setup.
Gyeongju also has several traditional markets. According to the map I was using, this large covered market wasn’t even the biggest one in the city, which was difficult to believe considering it seemed to stretch across several blocks. The entrance above led into an area filled mostly with produce vendors, while elsewhere I found tanks filled with live seafood.
I’ve never been much of a seafood fan, so Korea was occasionally challenging for me when it came to food. Needless to say, I didn’t purchase any of the squid. At one restaurant in Gyeongju, I was served these tiny fish as one of the complimentary side dishes. No thanks!
Kimchi was something I had been fairly neutral about when I first encountered it. After being served it with nearly every meal during my trip through North Korea, though, I had become pretty accustomed to it. I remember wondering how much cabbage the Korean Peninsula must go through every year. Then I came across this enormous pile and felt like my question had been answered.
It wasn’t until after leaving Gyeongju that I realized I had barely photographed the modern city itself. There were endless historic and natural places competing for my attention, while many ordinary streets looked similar to those I had seen elsewhere in Korea.
If anything, what stood out was how much lower and less dominated by high-rise development central Gyeongju felt compared with many other Korean cities I visited. I wish I had taken more photographs of that contrast.
One thing Gyeongju definitely didn’t lack was coffee shops. Just like Seoul, there seemed to be cafés everywhere. I remember one block with two practically next door to each other and another only a few doors farther down.
One morning I ordered something involving mango, cinnamon and banana, assuming I was getting fruit for breakfast. Instead I received mango-flavored ice cream with a banana on the side. Not exactly the healthiest breakfast I’ve ever eaten, but definitely a tasty one.
While I was eating my dessert-for-breakfast, this utility worker happened to pass directly outside the window.
During one of my walks through Gyeongju, I somehow ended up passing through an elementary school. The decorations caught my attention, especially this mural combining recognizable pieces of Gyeongju’s history, including Cheomseongdae, with dinosaurs, spaceships and aliens.
Somewhere in the world, a conspiracy theorist is probably prepared to use this as definitive proof that aliens built the ancient monuments.
One of the best mistakes I made in Gyeongju came after taking a wrong turn while leaving a temple. I was trying to return to the city center when an enormous structure in the distance caught my attention and convinced me to investigate.
I had stumbled across Gyeongju Expo Park. The grounds contained gardens, exhibitions and other attractions, including a series of giant sculptures representing the twelve animals of the East Asian zodiac.
The enormous structure that originally drew me toward the park was Gyeongju Tower. Its most distinctive feature is the huge cutout through its center, shaped like the famous nine-story wooden pagoda that once stood at Hwangnyongsa during the Silla period.
From the observation area near the top I could look down across the surrounding gardens. Inside were exhibitions exploring the history and culture of Gyeongju, including this large model showing how the Silla capital may once have appeared.
The exhibitions included armor, historical displays and interactive attractions. I originally described everything here as “medieval,” but some of the exhibits actually represented different periods and kingdoms of Korean history rather than Silla alone.
One display I photographed reproduced imagery from the Muyongchong, or Tomb of the Dancers, a Goguryeo tomb dating to around the fifth century. Goguryeo was a separate Korean kingdom centered much farther north, so it wasn’t actually an artifact from Silla-era Gyeongju.
Another of Gyeongju’s great treasures is the Bell of King Seongdeok, also known as the Emille Bell. The original was completed in 771 during the Unified Silla period and is designated National Treasure No. 29. The bell photographed here was a replica; the original is preserved at the Gyeongju National Museum, which I somehow managed to miss.
The original bell is enormous, standing more than 3.6 meters (12 feet) tall and weighing roughly 19 tons. It’s famous not only for its size and craftsmanship but also for its remarkably resonant sound.
After exploring temples in the mountains and historic sites in the center of Gyeongju, it was easy to forget that the sea was only a short drive away. Gyeongju extends all the way to Korea’s east coast, and several important historic sites are located near the shoreline as well.
It was still chilly outside, but the air was fresh and the color of the sea was beautiful. After so much time inland, it felt great to see the ocean again.
The beach was a little different from most of the others I had visited. There was some trash scattered along the shore, but the real surprise was finding several animal remains that appeared to include the heads of sheep or goats. I had no idea how they ended up there and wasn’t going to invent an explanation. The crows, however, didn’t seem bothered by them at all.
A year before visiting Gyeongju, I had fulfilled a childhood dream of buying a live lobster from a grocery store in Virginia and releasing it into the ocean. So when I saw live octopuses and squid being sold from tanks in Korea, naturally I started thinking about doing the same thing again.
I never managed my great Korean squid rescue, but I unexpectedly watched three men carrying buckets of live eels and releasing them into the sea. I didn’t know why they were doing it at the time. One possibility is the Buddhist practice of releasing captive animals, known as life release, but without asking them I can’t say whether that was actually their reason.
A few gulls immediately became interested in the newly liberated eels and tried to grab them, but the men doing the release chased the birds away before they could turn the rescue into an easy lunch.
Much of the shoreline here was dark sand, interrupted by large boulders and small rock formations. I saw someone fishing from one of the rocks while I simply enjoyed the scenery and watched the waves crash against the coast.
This little beach excursion was a perfect ending to my time in Gyeongju. I still hadn’t made it to Jeju, an island filled with volcanic landscapes, waterfalls and some of South Korea’s best-known natural scenery. That would have to wait for another trip.
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Gyeongju • Naejangsan • Seoul
