Mother’s Day last month was a beautiful, beautiful crystal clear Sunday, and I told the family I wanted Starbucks and a drive. The closest Starbucks is down in Samcheonpo, so I don’t get there very often (not a fan of their coffees but they have the best chai around). There’s also this bridge we pass on the drive down there and I’ve always wanted to know what’s on the other side.
So, after a quick stop at Starbucks for my drink and some snacks for the kids, we followed the bridge west across Sacheon Bay. There was not much in the area immediately past the bridge: a rest stop with a large tourist map of the region; some homes; what we thought was a historical site but turned out to be a pension and a love hotel on top of a hill; a couple of concrete piers; lots of fishing boats sitting on the mud while the tide was out. The view across the bay to Sacheon was lovely, however.
On the large tourist map, the kids noticed a statue of a bunny riding a turtle on one of the nearby islands, and they insisted we investigate.
We continued down the road to Seopo, and I did my best excited-dog-in-the-front-seat-with-the-window-open impression, yelling “It’s so prettyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!” into the wind while admiring the gorgeous views. Vibrant green deciduous trees mixed with darker pine trees along the tops of the hills, farms and homes cascaded down into valleys where terraced rice fields had recently been flooded in preparation for planting. Rows of mountains faded into the distance in lighter and lighter shades of blue. Yellow wildflowers were popping up along the road. And Koreans have a thing for tree-lined roads, so the narrow highway we followed, curving along the hills, was covered with a leafy canopy much of the way. In between patches of trees, we could catch glimpses of the bay behind us sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.
After a cold, leafless, and mostly smoggy winter, the green trees and flowers and clean air were almost magical.
And as the land warms up, people get to work. More than once, we had to pass an old Korean man driving his tractor between fields (and play chicken with oncoming drivers along the narrow road). Elderly couples and some families were tending their fields and gardens. One young boy carried freshly-plucked and characteristically massive Korean green onions (daepa) to his mother while the family pup trotted alongside him.
We turned south, back towards the bay, and we could see long stretches of mud flats exposed by low tide. Poking out of the water – and found all around islands in the bay – are bamboo weirs. This traditional fishing method, known as jukbangnyeom, involves driving long wooden beams into the sea bed and stretching bamboo screens along the top to catch fish in the fast current of the incoming tide. Apparently, anchovies comprise most of the catch, and these Jukbang anchovies are supposedly one of the best regional products. Anchovies are commonly used for making soup stock in Korean cooking; you can buy large bags of dried anchovies in the grocery store. They also sell bags of a much smaller anchovy, which is used to make anchovy stir fry, or myeolchi-bokkeum – quite literally a pile of tiny dead fish, sadly adorable beady eyes and all (so small they look like noodles, but one bite and you realize how wrong was that assumption).
Following the road over a couple of bridges, we arrived on Bito Island. We honestly didn’t know much at the time. We just kept driving along, looking for that whole turtle/bunny thing. On the south side of the island, we took a wrong turn, and came across a harbor full of fishing boats, a long footbridge to a small island even farther south, a group of ajummas cleaning some kind of fishing net, and a pile of clam shells that was literally the size of a house (I’m not even joking… I thought it was a huge pile of sand before a closer look revealed it to be shells). Naturally, we had to stop and walk around.
After our kids charmed a few of the old ladies with their “annyeonghaseyo” and Lena’s formal bow, we walked along the edge of the concrete-enclosed harbor to the big footbridge. Turns out, that little island is a fishing park: the Bito Marine Fishing Park. For a small fee, you can take your gear across to some floating docks out on the water and waste an afternoon hoping a hungry fish comes your way. For an even smaller fee, you can just walk around and take pictures. And for what I assume must be a not-so-small fee, there are dome-shaped huts, each with a kitchen and bathroom and an outdoor picnic table and each on its own platform out in the water, available to rent.
According to an advertising poster of the island hanging on the wall outside a bathroom, somebody has/had big plans for the place. Fancy little hotels, some kind of sports field, something that may or may not be an amphitheater. I’m not sure if all that is still in the works, but as it is it’s an interesting little park. The kids spent some time romping on what must be one of the most beautifully situated playgrounds I’ve ever seen. But other than that and fishing, there wasn’t much to do.
Unless you’re also into clams. Because I hear this place has the best oysters in Korea. And if that massive pile of shells is any indication, raking for clams – clamming?? – is pretty popular. A few of the ajummas were wandering along the edge of the water, bucket in hand. And as we drove away from the harbor, we saw an entire family – grandma, grandpa, mom and dad, two grade school kids – hobbling into the rocks and mud with buckets and rakes. I read somewhere that these are Manila clams, a large clam species found in Korea’s coastal marshes and yummiest in their spring breeding period. Apparently, the locals make a soup out of them.
Continuing down the (only) road on Bito Island, we immediately noticed a large bunny statue at the base of a forested hill. Nearby was a parking lot – sure sign of a tourist site. Upon closer inspection, we discovered that the large bunny statue was of a standing, hanbok-clad, concerned-looking mama bunny holding a swaddled baby bunny and surrounded by several small bunny and one small turtle statues. Behind the statues, slightly up the hill, was a large fenced enclosure with at least a few dozen bunnies. Real bunnies. Real, fluffy, and adorable bunnies. Big, fat, and lazy. Palm-sized, fluffy baby bunnies. Fast bunnies. Hungry bunnies. Bunnies, bunnies, bunnies. Only, in Korean. So it should be tokki, tokki, tokki.
After our brief encounter with the Bito-Island-cage-full-o’-tokki, Aaron and I have decided that we absolutely must return with bags full of sliced carrots. A friendly Korean family shared some weedy vegetables with the kids to feed bunnies, which was fun, but I’m pretty sure we can kick it up a notch.
Anyway, we could see some kind of observation tower on the top of the hill, so decided to walk up and check it out. It was a short but very steep climb over a few switchbacks that ran up the side of the hill. Exhausting, but worth it. The observation tower not only offered a gorgeous view of the surrounding region, but the tower itself was constructed to look as if it was sitting on the back of a turtle. I thought it was pretty cool. Taking the path down the back side of the hill, we walked past various construction projects, some Korean picnic tables cantilevered out over a cliff, some kind of stage or amphitheater down near the water, and eventually another clearing full of statues. This time, panels told a story about a bunny and a turtle, and there were statues of the bunny and turtle, some artsy mirrored columns, as well as a boat (?) and what looked to be the bunny’s house.
I looked up the name of the story when we got home and discovered that it is a well-known Korean fairy tale, “Rabbit Visits the Dragon Palace” or “Byeoljubujeon.” The story goes something like this (shortened for your convenience)…
Long ago, the Dragon King ruled the seas. One day, he developed a seemingly incurable illness. His physicians told him that the only thing able to cure his illness was the liver of a rabbit. However, no rabbits lived in the seas and nobody had ever seen one. Nevertheless, the king asked for volunteers to go fetch the liver of a rabbit. The only volunteer to step forward was a lowly turtle, who argued that he alone was able to both walk on land and swim in the seas. So the Dragon King bid the turtle bring him a rabbit.
The turtle left the Dragon King’s palace and swam to a nearby shore, where, conveniently enough, a rabbit happened to be hopping by. The turtle and rabbit greeted each other, exchanged pleasantries, and discussed each other’s homelands. The turtle told the rabbit that the Dragon King wished to entertain a guest in his palace, and asked if the rabbit would like to visit. The rabbit agreed but wondered how he could survive underwater. The turtle explained that the rabbit could ride on his shell, and that the magic of the Dragon King would allow him to breathe.
So off they went to the Dragon King’s palace. After greeting the Dragon King, the rabbit soon learned that he had been tricked and that the king intended to kill him and take his liver. But the rabbit, being a clever rabbit, told the Dragon King that rabbit livers were so valuable rabbits had to hide them in the forest. And this, in fact, was exactly what the rabbit had done with his own liver. But the rabbit flattered the king and offered to retrieve his liver from the forest so that the Dragon King might be cured of his illness. The king agreed, and asked the turtle to take the rabbit back to shore so he may get the liver.
Back on shore, the rabbit bounded away from the turtle, saying, basically, “Haha, you losers! As if!” And neither the rabbit, the turtle, nor the Dragon King were ever heard from again.
I’ve read several versions of this story now, and there are many slight variations. Sometimes it is just a Sea King, not necessarily a Dragon King. Sometimes it is the Sea King’s daughter who falls ill. Sometimes the Sea King is merely a hypochondriac and is not really ill. Sometimes the rabbit parties hard in the palace. Sometimes he gets a government position. Sometimes the Sea King suspects the rabbit is lying and tries to kill him immediately. Sometimes the rabbit has to prove he removed his liver by showing his “third hole” (I assume belly button?). Sometimes the rabbit claims he was cleaning his liver by a stream and accidentally left it drying on a rock. Sometimes the rabbit and turtle become good friends. Sometimes the rabbit gives the turtle persimmon seeds as a “rabbit liver” and this cures the king. And I haven’t read anything about this, but apparently some versions give the rabbit a wife and/or girlfriend who waited so long for his return that she turned into an island (legend says this is Mok Island, one of the islands next to Bito). And in the storytelling panels around the Bito Island park, it looked as if the rabbit drowned on his return.
I have no idea what precisely are the origins of this story. One academic paper I read argued that it is a Korean derivation of “The Crocodile and the Monkey” tale from India, brought by Buddhist monks across China, and that it appears in the Samguk Sagi records of 1145 as an already-known older tale. But a local news article said “Byeoljubujeon” was a satirical novel written by an unknown author during the Joseon era (1392-1910). So… who knows? I’m guessing it’s an old tale that has had many retellings over the centuries.
But the latter origin story was used as justification for the whole Bito Island Byeoljubujeon thing we visited, as Bito is presumed to be the location of this novel. The Sacheon City Government even had the International University of Korea confirm that the island and its surroundings matched the novel’s setting. They designated it a tourist attraction a few years ago, and have been building it up as a themed park to stimulate tourism in the area.
I’m rather hesitant to say that a themed park based on an ancient tale of rabbit livers and turtle rides, located on an obscure island at the end of a long country road, is going to be a raging success. But, I’ll be honest: the views were spectacular, the bunnies were adorable, and I’m already making plans to return.
Well played, Sacheon City Government. Well played.
