Bungee Jumping in Bundang

Wow, my blog already has twenty solid followers and has accumulated over 400 hits in the course of a week. I realize that this is a minuscule figure in comparison to more established periodicals but it is far more readers than would have digested my college research papers and it’s flattering to know that so many people have read all or parts of what I have to say. Thanks guys.

Ever since I’ve landed in the country I’ve wanted to find some recreation on the extreme side of the spectrum so this weekend Tony and I decided to do a little bungee jumping. We heard about a decent jump at Yuldong Park in Bundang and after meeting in Seoul Station we searched for the 9001 Bus. Seoul Station is enormous, being the central hub for the world’s second largest metropolis, and finding the right bus stop was a daunting challenge unto itself. There were eight or nine stops for the red line buses and they were spread out in sporadic locations over a course of several city blocks. It took nearly an hour and a good deal of guessing while traversing back-and-forth over a huge avenue, but we finally found the conveyance we had been searching for. Neither of us had bungee jumped before so we spent the hour-long bus ride hyping up the expectation, speculating about the height, the drop, the stop, telling each other that we must make graceful, well-seasoned swan dives and not simply flail about like amateurs. Upon arriving in Bundang we hailed a taxi to the park. Opening the door to the white cab Tony inquired, “Yuldong Park?”
The driver didn’t understand.
“Bungee jumping?” tried Tony.
“Oh bungee jumping,” laughed the driver with understanding while motioning for us to get in. Either many foolish tourists had come to this neck of the woods for the same reason or he too enjoyed needlessly risking life and limb.

It was only a short walk into the park before the bungee jumping platform came into view on the other side of a wide lake. We casually made our way around the shoreline, taking in the warm afternoon, wildlife, flora, and sublime demeanor of passer-bys. There was plenty of time to consider the elevation of the platform as we wound are way closer to the structure but so far I was unable to fathom any nervousness or cowardly tendencies. I promised myself that I would not come all this distance only to chicken-out and so far, from this perspective, I felt only eagerness. Strutting up to the admission booth in regal anticipation we declared, “Bungee jumping please.”
“Do you have ticket?” The attendant asked in an exemplary degree of English.
“Um…no,” we replied hesitantly.
“Bungee jumping sold out,” he said coldly, “ come tomorrow.”
Awww…what?! You gotta be kidding me. I was displeased to say the least. We just spent the last two hours on public transportation, building up the excitement, only to be flatly rejected like so much crumpled refuse. How could it be sold out? What is there to be sold out of? Did they run out of bungee? I mean there were four guys sitting behind the desk doing absolutely nothing and it was only three in the afternoon. My frustrations were abundant. We tried to make the best of the situation, wandering the park, taking funny pictures, attempting to appreciate the littered examples of public art (only a small percentage of which were actually any good), but the mood was crushed. The highlight of our weekend had been stripped from us and we could not help but be pessimistic.



We spent a good half hour moping around, thinking about potential activities to offset the disappointment of the afternoon, when our vigorous fighting spirit was reignited. No, we reasoned, we didn’t come all the way out here just to be turned away. If we don’t at least give it one more shot we’ll be doing ourselves a disservice. We marched right up to that ticket counter, chin up, chest out, put our fingers on the desk and…pleaded like children.
“Oh please, please let us bungee jump,” we implored. The man stared at us unamused. We tried playing dumb, offering bribes, anything to get in a harness and up that elevator. Finally, with an exasperated sigh the man in charge asked, “only two?”
“Yes yes, only two,” we replied knowing that we were in. We signed a quick paper, strapped on some Velcro harnesses, and got weighed. We asked if we could take turns going to the top so that one of us could get video from the ground but the staff seemed rushed to get us on our way and since we were already pushing our luck, we dropped the issue of the video. Then we were riding an elevator to the top. Surprisingly, I still did not feel nervous or afraid. On the contrary, I was collected, eager, and rife with anticipation. At the top I stood behind a red line while Tony took the first jump, having won a quick game of Ro-Sham-Bo. When it was my turn I approached the edge while two attendants hooked me up to the intricate cables and weights with the enthusiasm and skill of assembly line workers. It wasn’t until I looked over the lip of the platform that the gravity of the situation truly hit me (pun definitely intended). My heart fluttered and my hands began to shake. The feeling of anticipation was replaced with gut fear. The entire scenario was a contradiction to my basic survival instincts, but I kept my promise to myself and when the man said it was time to jump I took a deep breath and stepped over the edge. It was not the graceful swan dive I had envisioned and as I plummeted I could feel myself flailing about like an amateur. The initial drop was the most intense and scary part of the entire experience. You seem to leave your stomach behind while in free fall and time slows down. You know terrified screams are issuing forth from your diaphragm but it seems a distant drone, masked by sensory overload and acceleration. The fear of death is at its climax as you near the water, all at once nullified by the comforting tension of the rope slowing your descent. Suddenly a huge grin breaks out on your face and your screams are no longer that of horror but exhilaration. Then as the elastic energy building in the rope overcomes that of gravity you are sent hurtling back up into the sky, laughing and screaming for more. Nearing the top of the throw there is a brief, awesome moment of weightlessness and then you plummet once again towards the earth. When there is no more energy in your elastic lifeline you hang dangling over the lake, laughing and clapping as they lower you onto a rowboat. The gentleman piloting the little dingy wasn’t quite quick enough in securing me and I ended up getting wet, which I actually appreciated as the cherry on my adrenaline sundae. Back on the ground I felt as high as a kite. I wish I could do that every morning before going to work. While we took off the harnesses the guys running the show gave us little cards that we could present the next time we came, allowing us to do our next jump only by the ankles if we wanted. Awesome! At only 45 meters high, this platform is clearly for amateurs, but that’s exactly what we are. Before I leave the country I’m definitely seeking out the largest jump I can find. Bungee jumping is too freakin cool!


The bus ride back to Seoul was uneventful and by the time we arrived in the city I felt very tired, theorizing that the one massive surge of adrenaline had completely drained me. We decided to get coffee but weren’t in the mood for overpriced corporate chain java. Instead we sought out the most obscure, back alley coffee house we could find. It ended up being this prissy, upscale tearoom with hand stitched couches, classical music, porcelain cups, and doilies, but it was privately owned and the coffee was superb. Rachael, you would be proud.

Having been rejuvenated we were back out on the street. We heard weird music up ahead and made our way towards it. The tune ended up being the last thing we would have expected. It was a handicapped man in an electric wheelchair/ karaoke machine hybrid. He was belting Korean Pop Music at the top of his lungs and drawing quite a crowd. Admiring the man’s courage, heart, and entertainment value I left a generous donation.

Over the mountain we could see that gigantic spire that had reminded me of a James Bond villain’s lair the last time we were in Itaewon (it's actually called North Seoul Tower), so we resolved to make our way to the top. I could go into detail about the bustling market we walked through or the thousands of steps we climbed up the mountain, but we were there for the view and the pictures tell the story better. Enjoy!




After the long hike down the mountain a beer at the nearest Family Mart seemed like a spot on idea. As we neared downtown seeking out cheap suds we happened upon thousands of police officers, getting off buses and gathering in a central square. They were all decked out in riot gear with shields, clubs, and helmets as if in preparation for enforcing martial law, and yet the city could not have been more at peace. We could have made guesses straight through the night as to what all the manpower was for but at the end of the day we’ll never really know. Still, I couldn’t leave without getting a picture.

I’d like to thank the guys at TheYeogiyo.com again because I couldn’t have found my way to Bundang without their help. You guys do great work. Thanks you. Another Korean weekend successfully seized.

Cool Thing About Korea #9: Funny T-Shirts with grammatically incorrect and largely nonsensical English phrases. Some notable examples include My Karma Ran Over My Dogma, I Am Dot Man Dressing, Living for Sneakers, One Turn Over Entirety, Stand Up and Victorious, and many more.