Prologue: The Traveler and the Stranger
As I’ve traveled to various places across the globe, I’ve come to realize that there are many places where life is genuinely good. The air is clean, the people are kind, and there’s a sense of leisure. Although I was born and raised in Seoul, I’ve found numerous towns that, in many ways, seem better than Seoul.
One of the difficult things for a person to do is to "keep quiet after returning from a trip abroad." So, I occasionally find myself talking about these places:
“Bømlo in Norway is such a pleasant place to live.”
“There’s an island in Nicaragua called Ometepe; I could see myself staying there for months.”
However, when someone asks me, “Is there a place you’d like to live in the future?” my answer becomes more certain as I grow older: “Korea. I want to live in Korea.”
The background of childhood memories, the language you’ve spoken all your life, the culture you’ve lived in, and the food you’ve eaten - all these first experiences in life leave an imprint that’s hard to ignore. No matter where I go, I always feel like a foreigner. I remember once thinking this while exploring ancient Mayan ruins in the jungles of Central America: “This is fascinating, but I can’t picture a place like this full of people like me living here. I’m not a descendant of the Mayans, after all.”
The path I’ll travel this time is the *Royalty Route* in Seoul and its surrounding region. This route has accumulated the grandeur of Korea’s royal family over centuries, with traces of royal authority, culture, prosperity, and moments of crisis woven into it.
I expect this journey will not only tell rich stories about our country but also help those walking the path reconnect with their identity.
To begin this journey, let’s travel back to prehistoric times, long before the dawn of human civilization.
Humans began living on the Korean Peninsula around 700,000 years ago, during the Paleolithic Age, a time when people lived in groups, hunting and gathering. Hundreds of thousands of years later, around 8000 BCE, the Neolithic Age saw the beginning of agriculture, and by the Bronze Age, societies ruled by tribal chiefs began to emerge. It was during this time that powerful chiefs began uniting surrounding tribes, leading to the rise of early states—and this is where the *Royalty Route* begins.


Korea is home to one of the world’s largest concentrations of dolmens. Nearly 40,000 dolmens -almost half of all the dolmens in the world - are found on the Korean Peninsula. One of the best-preserved dolmen sites is in Ganghwa Island, where you can see various types of dolmens, including the “table-style” dolmens we often associate with ancient burial sites.

On the northern slopes of Goryeosan Mountain in Ganghwado Island, a massive dolmen stands alone on a wide hill. Is there any monument as strikingly symbolic of power and authority as an ancient megalithic monument? The capstone of this dolmen weighs a staggering 50 tons - about the weight of three large buses. I stood there, staring at the stone in awe. How did they manage to lift this enormous stone onto the supporting stones so many centuries ago? It’s also amazing that the dolmen has stood in this position for thousands of years. When I visit ancient sites or see the effects of erosion over time, it often makes everything else seem insignificant in comparison to the eternity of time.
Just as I was about to leave, a group of kindergarten children arrived for a field trip. They clambered up the hill, exclaiming, “Wow, it’s huge!” They ran around the dolmen a few times before lining up again to head back down. They didn’t seem too interested in the stone.
“To think that my life of thirty-something years already feels long, yet this is a relic from thousands of years ago,” I thought.
The children didn’t seem to be having such philosophical thoughts. But then again, I wasn’t like that at their age either. I wondered if, when I’ve lived fifty more years, I might find myself shedding a tear at the sight of such immovable stones. With that thought, I descended the hill.
Before leaving Ganghwado, there was one more royal landmark I had to visit.
As we all know, the first state established on the Korean Peninsula was Gojoseon, founded by Dangun, the son of Hwanung and Ungnyeo. There are two important sites on Ganghwado related to Dangun: Manisan, where Dangun performed ancestral rites at Chamseongdan, and Samnangseong Fortress, said to have been built by Dangun’s three sons.
This time, I was visiting the Jeondeungsa Temple within Samnangseong Fortress, a temple with a history of over 1,600 years. It’s one of the oldest temples still standing in Korea today.


I parked my car outside and walked past the walls of Samnangseong into the temple grounds. The path to Jeondeungsa is lined with towering pine trees, but on closer inspection, you can see that these trees are scarred with deep cuts and even patches of cement. These scars are remnants of when the Japanese extracted pine resin during the Pacific War to use as a substitute for fuel in their weapons.


The scenery around Jeondeungsa, surrounded by mountains, is beautifully harmonious. The temple, originally built during the Goguryeo era, has long been a temple where the royal family prayed for peace. Its original name, Jinjongsa, means “pursue true religion,” but it was renamed Jeondeungsa in 1281 after Queen Wongyeong, the wife of King Chungnyeol, made donations to the temple. Jeondeungsa means “to transmit the light of Buddha’s teachings.”

Despite the suppression of Buddhism during the Joseon Dynasty, Jeondeungsa was protected as a royal temple. It also served as the guardian temple of the *Joseon Annals*, which were stored in the archives of Samnangseong Fortress.



Throughout its long history, the temple bears the marks of time, like a history book scattered across its grounds. Each relic is a precious cultural heritage, filled with rich stories and echoes of different eras.

After leaving Ganghwa Island via the Ganghwa Bridge, I made my way to Jangneung in Gimpo.
The royal tombs, representing the authority of the royal family, are treasures of culture and symbols of auspicious sites in Korean geomancy. They are must-visit spots on the Royalty Route.


The Jangneung Tomb in Gimpo is located on a gentle slope, an ideal spot for a royal tomb. Upon entering, I was greeted by a mystical forest path lined with pine trees. Pine trees are regarded as the most important trees to plant in auspicious locations because they remain green throughout the year, symbolizing strength and vitality.


At the deepest part of the forest lay the tomb of Wonjong, the father of King Injo, and his wife, Queen Inheon. However, for a royal tomb, Jangneung might seem somewhat modest. That’s because it wasn’t originally built as a king’s tomb but as the grave of a prince, Daewongun.

Wonjong, the father of King Injo, was posthumously honored as king. He never held the title of crown prince, and after King Injo ascended the throne through a coup, he elevated his father to the status of king. This posthumous promotion stirred opposition, as some believed it was improper to crown someone who had never been a prince.
Thinking of these stories about the Joseon royal family, it’s hard to stop - it’s an endless stream of fascinating narratives. As you look into one story, it inevitably leads to the next king or the previous generation. But the rest of those tales will have to wait for the next part of my journey. After walking back through the forest, I made my way to the heart of Joseon history: Hanyang (modern-day Seoul).

In 1392, Yi Seong-gye overthrew the Goryeo Dynasty through the Wihwado Retreat and founded the Joseon Dynasty, borrowing the name of ancient Gojoseon for his new kingdom. He built his capital in Gaeseong but decided to move it less than a month after founding the new dynasty. Several cities were considered, but ultimately, Hanyang was chosen as the capital. The responsibility for designing the new city fell to Jeong Do-jeon, a key contributor to the founding of Joseon. Three years later, the new palace was completed and named Gyeongbokgung, meaning "Palace of Great Blessings."

Even though I live in Seoul and pass by Gyeongbokgung often, it never fails to catch my eye. Surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers, it always stands at the center, radiating elegant beauty.


Entering Gyeongbokgung through its main gate, Gwanghwamun, I witnessed the Changing of the Royal Palace Guard Ceremony between Heungnyemun and Geunjeongmun. Despite the sweltering August heat, both Koreans and foreign visitors alike stood solemnly, observing the ceremony. The guard system was formalized in the early 15th century, and today’s ceremony faithfully recreates the soldiers’ attire, weapons, and ceremonial gear from that period.


Passing through Heungnyemun and Geunjeongmun, I entered the central hall of Gyeongbokgung, Geunjeongjeon. This courtyard was where the most important ceremonies of the Joseon Dynasty took place, such as the coronation of the king and the naming of the crown prince. The courtyard is known as Jojeong, a name that should be familiar to us. Geunjeong itself means “diligence in governing,” a name given by Jeong Do-jeon, implying that with diligence, the kingdom will be well-governed.
One interesting detail is the uneven paving stones of Jojeong. The irregular surface was designed so that the sunlight wouldn’t reflect too harshly when the king looked down from above.


Gyeongbokgung harmonizes beautifully with Bukaksan Mountain, which stands behind it. The throne in Geunjeongjeon almost seems to float in midair, thanks to the wide expanse of dark stone flooring. This was intentional, symbolizing that Geunjeongjeon was a heavenly palace among the clouds. The stone steps leading to Geunjeongjeon are decorated with cloud patterns, and statues of celestial creatures - representing the constellations of the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise - stand guard around the hall.


I then strolled westward toward the pond at Gyeonghoeru Pavilion, enjoying the scenic reflections of Inwangsan Mountain in the water. The picturesque harmony of nature here is striking.
There’s just one thing that feels a bit bittersweet: the current Gyeongbokgung we see today was rebuilt in 1867 by Heungseon Daewongun. Most of the palace was destroyed during the Japanese invasions of 1592. You might wonder, “What happened during the centuries in between?”
In fact, Gyeongbokgung was left abandoned for a long time. After the war, the Joseon government decided that the costs of restoring it were too great, so they gave up. Believe it or not, for over 270 years, Gyeongbokgung was reduced to a habitat for leopards. Instead, in 1610, King Gwanghaegun rebuilt another palace and declared it the main royal palace. That palace is the final stop on this Royalty Route.


I walked from Gyeongbokgung past Anguk Station to Changdeokgung. It only took about twenty minutes to reach the main gate, Donhwamun.
Changdeokgung was completed in 1405 under King Taejong’s rule. Although Gyeongbokgung already existed in Hanyang, there was a reason for building another palace so soon, just a few years later. Gyeongbokgung was associated with the death of Taejong’s half-brother during the First Strife of Princes (which secured his rise to power), and it was also constructed by his political rival, Jeong Do-jeon. For these reasons, Taejong felt uncomfortable with Gyeongbokgung and chose Changdeokgung as his residence when he reestablished Hanyang as the capital.


The most significant difference between Gyeongbokgung and Changdeokgung lies in their design. While Gyeongbokgung emphasizes geometric symmetry to showcase royal dignity and authority, Changdeokgung was built to blend seamlessly with the natural surroundings, breaking away from traditional formalities.
So, first-time visitors to Changdeokgung might find themselves surprised by its unconventional layout. Buildings are scattered freely across the grounds, following the natural terrain, and even the main hall, Injeongjeon, is misaligned with the front gate.


Interestingly, King Taejong wasn’t fond of these features. The responsibility for Changdeokgung’s construction fell to Park Jacheong, who was the Pan Hansungbu (equivalent to today’s mayor of Seoul). Taejong even imprisoned Park Jacheong at one point because he had disobeyed the king’s orders to make the courtyard of Injeongjeon a perfect rectangle. Park had insisted on keeping the courtyard trapezoidal to preserve the natural landscape and create a more spacious layout. In the end, what we see today as a testament to Korea’s unique aesthetic vision was the result of Park Jacheong’s resistance to the king’s wishes.

Thanks to my reservation on the Changdeokgung website, I was able to join a tour of the Huwon. The Huwon is an essential part of any visit to Changdeokgung because it offers a glimpse into the Korean worldview, reflecting our understanding of nature and philosophy. The Huwon was first created during the reign of King Taejong and expanded under Kings Sejo and Seongjong. However, much of it was destroyed during the Japanese invasions and was later restored under King Gwanghaegun.


The Huwon was long known as the Secret Garden, a royal retreat hidden from the public. But today, anyone can enjoy walking its serene paths and ponds, so the term ‘Secret Garden’ doesn’t quite fit anymore. In some ways, it’s a relief that these once-secret landscapes are no longer kept from us. Everywhere I looked, beautiful pavilions nestled harmoniously in the natural valleys.
The royal family used this space for various purposes - rest, walks, and even academic pursuits. The Gyujanggak library housed the royal books, making the Huwon a place for study and intellectual growth. At other times, it served as a place to compose poetry, enjoy the beauty of flowers, and heal in the natural environment. Like the royals before me, I wandered leisurely through the expansive Huwon, taking in its peaceful beauty.
Epilogue of the Royalty Route
Am I getting older and wiser? The history of Korea, from Gojoseon and the Three Kingdoms to the Joseon Dynasty, fascinates me as much as a well-written novel. Each relic and monument from the royal family is filled with stories that draw me in effortlessly.
This is the charm of the Royalty Route. The capital region, which was the heart of Korean history and the seat of power for over 500 years during the Joseon Dynasty, is filled with meticulously recorded stories. The more you delve into the cultural heritage found along this route, the more there is to discover. Each tale connects to another, like a spider web of interconnected stories, making it hard to stop - much like watching a gripping drama series.
In the end, I guess I’m truly Korean to the core. The more countries I travel to and the more cultures I experience, the more strongly I feel the desire to live in Korea. No river in the world stirs me the way the Hangang River does. Perhaps the reason I’m able to live this nomadic life is that I always have a place to return to.
Walking this path reminded me once again how precious it is to live in a place filled with stories I can relate to. It keeps me grounded in who I am and reminds me of the community I belong to.
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The food I recommend for the Royalty Route is Seolleongtang, one of Seoul’s most iconic traditional dishes.
There are many theories about the origin of Seolleongtang, but one of the most famous ties it to the royal sacrificial rites at the Seonnongdan altar during the Joseon Dynasty, where the king would personally perform rituals to ensure a good harvest. After the ceremony, beef soup would be distributed to the participants, and they would mix rice into the broth - this is said to be the origin of Seolleongtang.
Of course, there are other origin stories, but there’s no debate that Seolleongtang once reigned as the king of Korean dining culture. While the number of traditional Seolleongtang restaurants has dwindled, there are still several historic spots around Jongno and Cheonggyecheon where you can taste the dish today.

The rich, milky broth, garnished with green onions and thinly sliced beef. The thin wheat noodles, added to the dish after the Korean War when flour aid arrived from the U.S. A warm bowl of freshly cooked rice, paired with crunchy, tangy kkakdugi (radish kimchi).
That combination is something every Korean can instantly picture. And since Seolleongtang is served almost immediately after you sit down, it’s the original fast food—perfect for busy modern people who need a quick yet hearty meal.
When I eat Seolleongtang, I always season it with salt and take a sip of the broth before adding the rice. The subtle yet savory flavor is addictive. As I think, “Ah, this is why I love Seolleongtang,” a bittersweet thought creeps into my mind.
"I brought you Seolleongtang, but why can’t you eat it, why can’t you eat it… Strangely, today’s been such a lucky day…’Though it feels almost unfair to Kim Cheomji (the character from Hyun Jin-geon’s short story “One Lucky Day), I am simply grateful that I can take a spoonful of Seolleongtang and eat it. That’s what I always think when I eat it.