By the Sea

by CLAIRE SOHN

By the sea is Busan, a city like no other. By the sea stands a row of great mountains—temples, the resting place of nature; valleys, where blushing camellias bloom. The crack of twigs and crunch of leaves that yield under hikers’ feet.

A breeze cuts through the blazing summer sun as I sit in the shade of the hinoki cypresses, surveying the glittering ocean in the distance. I breathe in the fresh air that Seoul does not have, the scent of fresh wildflowers mixing with the sea breeze. I wanted to get away from the cramped hustle of the capital, and— as my ancestors before me— escaped to the peace of Busan. My grandmother is excited to show me her home.

By the bay sit old fishing towns teeming with seafood and beaches—fish markets, open long before dawn; food stalls, bustling until the moon sets; tourists, baking in the sand under eternal sunshine. Voices mesh together under the dewy morning sky.

I walk past the crowds, stepping carefully to avoid the puddles of salt water as the smells of fresh skate and clams waft through the air. Never have I felt so starved. The market rests on the southernmost edge of the city, nestled in an alleyway that faces the sea. Oiled woks pop as vendors fry fish cakes and vegetables, and I start to wonder how much octopus

I can stuff myself with before I explode. My mouth waters and my grandmother laughs, her hazel eyes crinkling as she watches my cravings strengthen with each passing second.

By the sea is a city that stands larger than life—skyscrapers, glass mountains that tower over the markets; bridges and paths, connectors of the old town and new metropolis; museums, home to centuries of tales waiting to be told.

I wander through these centuries and find myself lost among the stories of long ago, where old stories come to life. I have never been a history buff, but there is something to be said about the paint strokes the masters made, the immaculately pruned gardens astride the buildings that beg me to stay, to learn the past and share the future. My grandmother smiles when I ask her about the call to the past. We pause in our path, and she regales me with stories of her childhood, when the museums had yet to host the lives of the old world and history was still waiting to be made.

By the sea is Busan, home of my grandmother. Part town and part city, new and old. Mountains and glass. By the sea is Busan, a city like no other.