Jeju: Korea's paradise island

JEJU, South Korea — This vacation island off the southern tip of the Korean peninsula is part Hawaii, part Atlantic City.

The volcanic landscape is dramatic, the subtropical vegetation lush, the offshore waters warm in summer. Pineapples, oranges and tangerines grow here. Honeymooners and other tourists flock to Jeju to hike, ride horses, golf, swim, scuba dive and watch the sunrises and sunsets.

For more citified pursuits, there's Jeju City, the island's urban hub, with a seaside boardwalk, casinos and clubs.

Jeju City stays up late, for all kinds of reasons: When we took a stroll on the boardwalk at 11 one night, a roller-hockey game, with players in full pads and referees in zebra shirts, was just getting underway.

The city also sleeps late: Finding a cup of coffee before 9 a.m. was a recurring challenge.

My wife, Carla, my two teenage stepsons and I spent three days on Jeju last August as part of a two-week tour of South Korea designed for Korean adoptees and their families. Other parts of the journey were emotionally intense: visits to hospitals where the children had been born, tours of the agencies that had handled their adoptions, reunions with foster mothers.

Jeju was pure fun.

Visiting Jeju

Jeju tourist office

Get information on lodging, activities, weather and more in Jeju province (sometimes spelled Cheju) at http://tour2jeju.net

Korea tourism

Contact the U.S. office of the Korean Tourism Organization, 800-868-7567. Or go to www.tour2korea.com.

The island is about the size of Maui, its population slightly smaller than Seattle's. There's direct air service from Seoul, Tokyo, Hong Kong and other Asian cities, as well as ferries from Busan and other Korean mainland ports.

Don't expect to find English speakers routinely on Jeju. Do expect to encounter some familiar sights. The boys ate dinner at a Pizza Hut one night. I finally found my morning coffee at a Dunkin' Donuts.

Halla-san, the 6,400-foot extinct volcano that is South Korea's tallest peak, sits in Jeju's center, dominating its topography and dictating its climate. For most of our visit its summit (which can be reached on trails) was obscured by clouds; I only saw it once, during an early-morning jog on the Jeju City boardwalk.

Western-style luxury resorts and hotels dot Jeju. Our tour organizers wisely booked us into the Jeju Palace, a less ostentatious edifice with an unbeatable location: right on the boardwalk, where there was always something going on.

One night we listened to a local Navy band play a cha-cha version of "Stars and Stripes Forever." The next night my stepsons and two other teenagers in our group challenged four young Koreans to a pickup game on one of the half-dozen outdoor basketball courts.

One evening, Carla and I selected a fish from a live tank at one of the seafood restaurants at the end of the boardwalk, then settled down at a table on the sidewalk while our meal was prepared.

The fish was delicious — but I gulped when the bill came and I learned I had picked about a $70 dinner.

Not every meal on Jeju was so expensive. The next night, for about the same total amount, 20 of us feasted on mandu, Korea's version of pot stickers, and soup.

There are two large markets a few blocks inland from Jeju City's boardwalk. The crowded underground arcade stocked mostly with women's clothing didn't hold nearly as much appeal for me as Dongmun Market, an old-world, open-air bazaar with its mounds of colorful peppers and spices, shiny displays of fish and glistening, smiling whole pigs' heads.

Volcanic scenery

Jeju's volcanic origins have graced it with some spectacular scenery. Perhaps the best-known lava formation is jagged Yongduam Rock, on the coast in Jeju City. It looks like a snarling dragon, rising from the sea, if you stare at it long enough. A rocky, notch-like inlet a few hundred yards away is reputed to be the dragon's lair.

On Jeju's south coast, we climbed down to the base of Jeongbangpokpo, an unusual waterfall that plummets straight onto the beach. We walked along a bluff above the Jusangjeolri Seashore, where erosion has exposed peninsulas of hexagonal basalt columns that resemble a stonecutter's work.

Jeju's basalt is the raw material for its historic and ubiquitous harubang — carved "stone grandfathers" whose original purpose is as big a mystery as that of the Easter Island monoliths they vaguely resemble. Today these whimsical figures, with their bulging eyes and protruding bellies, are to Jeju what Mickey Mouse is to Disneyland. You'll find reproductions at every souvenir stand on the island.

One of Jeju's best-known attractions is Seongsan Ilchulbong — "Sunrise Mountain" — a worn, secondary volcano at the island's eastern tip, connected to the rest of Jeju only by a narrow isthmus. Many Koreans take the short hike up a paved trail to the crater rim to watch the sun rise. When we got there, closer to midday, dozens of pilgrims still were snaking their way to the top.

This was no backcountry trek. Trailside speakers broadcast syrupy arrangements of "Feelings" and Pachelbel's Canon in D. A shop near the top sold film and bottled water. Some South Korean women with small children in tow managed the climb in sandals with tiny, spiky heels.

At the summit, we scanned the sea in vain for haenyo, Jeju's famed women divers, who harvest abalone and other shellfish from the deeps without benefit of scuba gear. Even without them, the view was stunning.

Rocks thrust from Seongsan Ilchulbong's rim like points on a monarch's crown. Below us, the crater floor was a tangle of green. The rugged coast of Jeju stretched for miles to the north and south: more small volcanoes, offshore islands, churning seas and the occasional tour boat.

Eric Pryne: epryne@seattletimes.com