When the Camellia Blooms | Guryongpo Park Staircase — The Poster Steps

A stone staircase climbing away from the street, one figure on it, the sea somewhere behind. That frame sold the drama, and it is the shot every visitor comes to reproduce.

The stairs run from the top of the Japanese house street up to Guryongpo Park, where a memorial tower and a small Dragon King shrine sit on the plateau. It is five metres above sea level at the bottom and something like twenty at the top — short, steep, and considerably harder than a photograph makes it look. Dongbaek and Yongsik sit partway up and talk; Dongbaek climbs it carrying groceries and a child.

Look at the pillars flanking the steps, because they are the reason to come even if you have never seen the show. They were installed by the Japanese residents of Guryongpo, each carved with the name of a donor who paid for the park. After 1945 the names were erased, the stones turned around, and Korean names cut into the reverse. The same rock, two administrations, one chisel. Nobody hid the join.

Free, open, no gate. The climb takes two minutes.

Turn around halfway up and stop. The harbour is below you, the tiled roofs between you and it are Japanese, and the names under your hand were replaced by somebody standing exactly where you are standing. The drama put a woman on these steps carrying shopping. The steps were already carrying more than that.