A ‘City of Gold’ Shines On

Atop her tower here, Queen Seondeok must have been pleased. In the year 640, her capital of glittering palaces and pagodas spread out in all directions from the Cheomseongdae observatory, an architectural star in its own right.

Foreigners called Silla, the ancient kingdom of what is today South Korea, the “land of bright silver and gold” and spoke of its wealth and culture. Seondeok had ordered this stone tower built to assist her royal astronomers in mapping the heavens, but it also provided a splendid view over her domain.

Fourteen centuries later, I stood gazing up at that observatory in the heart of Gyeongju (formerly spelled Kyongju), now a city of about 300,000. The kingdom of Silla endured nearly a thousand years, from 57 BC to about AD 935, a center of arts, science and philosophy. It was from Silla that the young nation of Japan learned Buddhism and the art of ceramics. Today the remains of Silla’s capital are one of Asia’s cultural jewels.

My husband, Kevin, and I spent four days last autumn exploring the city once known as Keumseong, the “City of Gold.” I lived in Seoul during the boom years of the 1980s and wanted to return to trace the historic roots of this dynamic nation.

Many Silla landmarks, like the star observation tower, lie in downtown Gyeongju. Cheomseongdae, we learned, combines two Silla obsessions: beauty and science. From a square base, the tower curves up gracefully and tapers to a square platform. It’s an elegant design crammed with symbolism.

The base is made of 12 stone blocks, representing the number of months in a year. The tower walls are made of smaller blocks stacked horizontally in 28 layers, representing the number of major constellations. And the total number of blocks used in the tower’s construction equals the days in a lunar year. These details and the observatory’s other astronomical features are particularly impressive given it was built more than 900 years before Galileo devised the world’s first optical telescope.

Modern Gyeongju (pronounced kyoung-joo) makes the most of its Silla ancestry. We stayed at the Silla-Jang Hotel, a modest, Korean-style place where we slept on thick mats covering a heated floor. We bought snacks in the Silla Grocery. We almost had lunch at the Silla Restaurant, but the wait was too long. (Instead we ate a delicious rice-and-vegetable dish called bibimbap two doors down at Cheonmaweon.) Then there’s the Silla Cinema, the Silla Bakery, the Silla Shooting Gallery

The most renowned Silla site is Bulguksa Temple (formerly spelled Pulguksa). In case there was any doubt, the Korean government has named it Historic Landmark No. 1. On the Sunday afternoon we visited, we seemed to be jostling along with half the country.

At the end of a lane of flame-red maples, the temple’s vibrantly painted wood pavilions floated above a terrace of golden stone. Bulguksa means “Buddha Land,” and when entering you make a symbolic journey from the everyday world into the celestial realm. Stone bridges and arches banded like rainbows soar from Earth to the heavenly temple. In the courtyard, two huge granite pagodas--one square and austere, the other as ornate as a wedding cake--enshrine the sacred remains of the holiest monks.

The temple’s graceful curves are pictured on the Korean 10-won coin. But Bulguksa, we were astonished to learn the next day, was not Silla’s most important temple--or even the largest. In the Gyeongju National Museum, we saw a diorama of an enormous temple, since destroyed, with a wooden pagoda reaching 20 stories high, another accomplishment of the ambitious Queen Seondeok.

The display cases of the museum are stuffed with gold. Kings and queens wore branched crowns of gold filigree, each piece dripping gold spangles and pale jade teardrops. Massive gold belts were decorated with gold streamers that trailed gold pendants hung with gold balls. Even Silla horses wore gold ornaments, and palace retainers ate with gold-plated spoons.

Archeologists excavating the mud of a palace pond found gilded Buddha statues, ladles, even scissors. Silla’s prosperity and opulence were based on ever-expanding trade, advances in technology--and the labor of slaves.

At noon in the museum courtyard, we joined the crowd around a 12-foot-high bronze bell, waiting to hear its thunderous recorded voice. The Emille Bell, cast in 771, is a monstrous instrument with a monstrous tale behind it.

Legend has it that after several attempts to cast the bell failed, a baby girl was thrown into the molten metal as a sacrifice, and the new casting succeeded. (Scholars debate the truth of this tale.) The name, pronounced EM-ee-leh, meant “mommy” in the language of Silla--supposedly the voice of the murdered child calling.

Near the museum, local friends treated us to one of the most spectacular meals I’ve enjoyed. Weonpung Restaurant serves hanjeongsik, or “Korean set meal”--hardly a name that does justice to the dazzling array of 41 fish and vegetable dishes placed in front of us. It was such an elaborate banquet that waiters carried in the entire table, already set. We were relieved to hear later that such feasts can be quite reasonably priced--less than $10 per person.

But in Gyeongju, such pleasures of the present are still overshadowed by the aura of the past. At Poseokjeong, the royal garden, we walked along the stone-lined watercourse where kings and courtiers played a poetry game. One person floated a cup of wine downstream to another player. If the second person couldn’t finish the verse before the wine arrived, he had to drain the cup.

At Gyerim, an ancient grove of terrifically gnarled trees, we learned the answer to one nagging question: Why are so many Koreans named Kim? According to legend, a Silla prime minister was passing this forest when he saw a mysterious gold box hanging from a tree. Inside he found a little boy, whom the childless king declared crown prince. He gave the boy the family name Kim, meaning “gold.” Today an estimated 20% of the population bears the name of that royal clan.

Everywhere in Gyeongju we saw huge grass-covered mounds, the tombs of Silla monarchs. There’s even a small one on the main street, between a car-rental office and a coffee shop.

Tumuli Park (spelled Dumulli in some books and maps) in downtown Gyeongju, the resting place of 20 kings and queens, is a chain of artificial miniature “mountains,” the largest nearly 75 feet high and 400 feet in diameter. It felt like time made visible, each green shape representing a reign, a life’s work.

Gyeongju’s broader landscape is a wide plain surrounded by low mountains, with bike routes fanning out to Silla sites. The brick paths are ideal for leisurely cycling except, we discovered, in fall, when they become handy spots for farmers to dry their crops. Dodging mounds of rice, we pedaled rented bikes to Bori-sa temple, not a tourist attraction but a monastery founded during Silla times.

In Korean Buddhism, female clergy don’t like to be called nuns. Men as well as women are called monks, living in separate monasteries but sharing equal status. Inside the Buddha hall at Bori-sa, a female monk stood before a swirling heaven of gold, a carved panel of the Buddha surrounded by 24 celestial beings. From the ceiling hung hundreds of yellow and pink paper lanterns shaped like lotus blossoms. The only sound was her chanting and the temple cat meowing for its lunch.

Fifteen more minutes of biking brought us to a recent Silla revival, the Hwarang Educational Institute, opened in 1973. Silla’s hwarang (“flower youth”) was an elite corps of young men who studied warfare and martial arts, plus literature, dance and Buddhist doctrine.

According to the sign, the present-day school aims to train “new Hwarangs who will glorify their fatherland in every respect.” But the complex gave me a chill. Built under Park Chung Hee, who ruled Korea with an iron fist from 1961 to 1979, the fortress-like tile-roofed buildings and military-precise trees looked and felt like the legacy of a dictator.

Farther up the road is Gyeongju Folkcraft Village, with studios and shops in traditional Korean houses. We watched artists at the Silla Kiln reproduce the delicate gray earthenware of the ancient kingdom. Seated at foot-powered potter’s wheels, they shaped the clay while consulting photos of museum pieces. Just as in the National Museum, the pottery is unglazed, decorated with complex patterns of incised lines.

Stopping for lunch at the snack bar, we noticed that Korean ramen barely resembles those bland packets in U.S. supermarkets. Our bowls of noodles were sizzling red with chili flakes, thickened with egg drops and vegetables.

As we pedaled off on the last part of our circuit, the road turned steep. I didn’t realize we had been gradually climbing all day until we reached the top of an incline. Suddenly we were roaring downhill so fast my sunglasses nearly blew off. We rocketed past Bomun Lake Resort, a grandiose complex of luxury hotels, raced through Gyeongju’s suburbs and found ourselves back downtown in no time.

But Silla’s spiritual heart can be visited only the slow way--on foot. Mt. Namsan, just south of Gyeongju, was a long ridge covered with temples, tombs, pagodas, hermitages, statues and rock carvings. Nearly 300 religious sites remain, with a spider web of trails linking them.

Starting from Samneung, a cluster of burial mounds, we walked up through ancient, twisted pines and came to a carved stone image of Buddha. Though its head had disappeared centuries ago, someone had just lighted sticks of incense at its feet.

A hundred feet farther up, white candles and a heap of persimmons were placed as tokens of gratitude before a rock carving of Kwanseum-bosal, the goddess of compassion. When we finally turned back, a well-dressed couple climbed past with yellow chrysanthemums as an offering.

A dozen more trails awaited, but we didn’t have time. We had saved the most remarkable Silla sight for last.

At Seokguram, a stone Buddha is enshrined in a man-made cave 2,000 feet high on a mountainside. After centuries of neglect and ham-handed “restorations” that nearly destroyed it, the grotto is protected as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The road to Seokguram winds upward through miles of hairpin bends. One Korean told me that when he went there as a child, it took half a day to hike up the mountain path. At the road’s end, a simple wooden shelter conceals a sublime work of art.

The Buddha inside the cave feels as though it grew from the mountainside, like a jewel formed inside the earth. Its expression radiates power, wisdom and tranquillity; that human hands could coax this from cold stone seemed something of a miracle. Delicate carvings of disciples, guardians and celestial spirits in pale granite adorn the chamber.

We were amazed to find a service underway behind the glass barrier that protects the stone Buddha from sightseers. Dozens of bowing and chanting worshipers were packed together before the Buddha, all led by monks in flowing gray robes.

Seokguram is the pinnacle not only of Silla’s art but of its science. Unlike the caves in India it was modeled after, this grotto was not carved into soft sandstone but built from impeccably cut blocks of limestone, laid without mortar. The Buddha gazes over the Sea of Japan (or the East Sea, as Koreans call it), five miles away. It faces 30 degrees southeast--the exact location of sunrise on the winter solstice, when the sun begins to grace each advancing day with a bit more light.

After more than 12 centuries, the Buddha of Seokguram still looks out over the water, protecting this realm. And though the Silla kingdom has long vanished, swallowed by aggressive neighbors, we had found its spirit alive and well.

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Guidebook: A Window on Silla

* Getting there: The most convenient airport for visiting Gyeongju is in Pohang. From L.A., Asiana and Korean Air offer connecting service (change of planes). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $859.

South Korea’s capital, Seoul, is about 175 miles northwest of Gyeongju. From L.A., nonstop flights are offered by Asiana and Korean; connecting flights are offered by ANA, Northwest and United. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $779.

* Getting around: The Korean government only recently started assigning addresses to each building. Addresses are listed below when available, but local residents may not be familiar with them yet.

Many attractions are within walking distance of downtown. A tourist bus ($8) runs twice daily around the city and to more distant locations, including Bulguksa and Bomun Lake. Bicycle rental shops are near the train station and bus terminal. We paid $15 to rent two bikes for the day.

* Telephones: To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (international dialing code), 82 (country code), 54 (area code for Gyeongju) and the local number.

* Where to stay: Silla-Jang Hotel, 55 Bukcheong-no; 749-6622. We enjoyed a Korean-style suite (guests sleep on pads set on a heated floor) for $30.

Hanjin Yeogwan, near the bus terminal; 771-4097. Students and backpackers like its hostel atmosphere. Double rooms start at $15.

At Bomun Lake you’ll find the city’s top hotels, including Gyeongju Hilton, 370 Shinpyung-dong, 745-7788, fax 745-7799, https://www.hilton.com. Double rooms start at $150.

* Where to eat: Weonpung Restaurant, across the street from the north side of Wolseong Park. It serves elaborate feasts starting at $8 per person. Ask for hanjeongsik, or “Korean set meal.”

East on the same street, Cheonmaweon Restaurant has an English menu of Korean favorites, including samgyetang (ginseng chicken, $6) and bibimbap (rice and vegetables with egg, $5).

Ultari Eopneun Mandujip, 106 Donggan-no, near Silla-Jang Hotel. It serves quick, tasty meals of mandu (meat dumplings, $4). Watch the chef in the front window making mandu by hand.

* For more information: Korea National Tourism Organization, 3435 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 1110, Los Angeles, CA 90010; (323) 643-0025, https://www.visitkorea.or.kr.

In Gyeongju, Tourist Information Center, in front of Gyeongju Station, 772-3843.

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Kristin Johannsen is a freelance writer in Berea, Ky.