[Book Sip] The Joy of Traveling in the Intimate Season 'Naemilhan Gyejeol'

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This book contains stories of 40 carefully selected travel destinations by a travel journalist with 10 years of experience. For the author, the joy of travel is the accumulation of meaning. The pleasure of travel sprouts from listening to the stories held by the people, nature, buildings or places, food, and lifestyles encountered at travel destinations. Even well-known famous places are viewed through the author’s personal perspective, revealing new stories. He shares his intimate stories of finding enlightenment in forests, art in lakes, joys and sorrows in villages, and people in flowers. The author explains, "Nature always welcomes me in the same place with the same appearance. It looks at me as I am, without any judgment or urging me to do better."

It is raining. There are two ways to enjoy traveling on such days. One is to avoid the rain by going indoors to places like museums or art galleries, and the other is to step directly into the rainy scenery. There is a reason for this. The forest deepens on rainy days. The color of the forest, its scent, and even the hearts of lovers walking in the rain... The reason I visited the bamboo grove on Gijang’s Namsan in Busan was the latter.

In early winter, the lake produces a mist every morning, creating an oil painting-like scene. The early morning mist is trapped over the lake, rippling like waves. The view unfolding beyond the faded mountain ridges across the lake resembles an oil painting by an Impressionist artist. It may not happen every day, but the early morning misty lake scene I encountered on the day I visited was truly enchanting. The memories of the five villages submerged whole seem to unfold like a mirage.

At dawn, I go down to the lakeside. Pushing through the darkness thick as bushes, a faint water mist drifts like gentle ripples from afar. Countless mists rise above the windless surface and gather, shimmering together. A lone swan tirelessly moves back and forth over the calm water. Before I know it, the mist dominates the lake, swirling around the mountain slopes and spreading like whispers through the valleys. The performance continues until the sunlight shines on the ridges. It is the silent morning performance of the autumn lake, changing scenes without a sound.

Lowering my body, I crouch down and bow my head modestly. You have to get close to see properly. Still, it’s barely possible to see inside the petals. It’s agonizing. It’s different from the alluring beauty that reveals its innermost flesh. Seeing the world must be like this too. Sometimes you have to willingly lower yourself to see.

Intimate Seasons | Written and photographed by Kang Kyung-rok | Edaily | 272 pages | 18,000 KRW

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.