Gwandong Byeolgok (Song of the Gwandong Region) — Filming Locations & Real Places

I always thought Gwandong Byeolgok was just another classical poem we had to memorize in school — rhythm patterns, 3-4 syllable meter, all that.

Turns out, looking at it again years later, it's not just a poem. It's an actual travel record.

In 1580, 45-year-old Jeong Cheol was appointed governor of Gangwon Province, and this poem traces, almost step by step, the route he genuinely walked.

It opens well too. Jeong Cheol, moved by the king's summons, sets out for the provincial office in Wonju — so from the very first line, this poem never leaves the frame of 'a trip I actually took.'

The second section moves into Inner Kumgang. He climbs Manpokdong, Geumgangdae, Jinheoldae, and Gaesimdae in awe — and it struck me that every one of these is a real coordinate.

낙산사 경내 전경, 양양(관동팔경) · Wikimedia Commons

Same with Hwaryongyeon and the Twelve-Bend Waterfall. It's not just 'wow, a nice waterfall' — he names each specific spot as he goes.

From the third section on, he passes through Outer Kumgang and Haegeumgang and follows the East Coast through the Eight Views of Gwandong — and this is where it gets a little complicated.

Two of those eight, Chongseokjeong and Samilpo, can't be reached today no matter what map you pull up. They're in North Korea now.

Knowing that Chongseokjeong — where he marveled at the sunrise ringed by stone pillars rising out of the sea — now sits on the other side of a border completely changed how that passage read to me.

Same with Samilpo, tied to a legend of Silla-era warrior-monks. You simply can't go there anymore.

낙산사 원통보전, 양양(관동팔경) · Wikimedia Commons

The other six, though — Gyeongpodae, Naksansa, Jukseoru, Cheongganjeong, Mangyangjeong, Wolsongjeong — are all still there, exactly as he described.

The most famous passage of all is the one about Gyeongpodae — the moon in the sky, the moon reflected in the lake, the moon caught in a wine cup — the 'three moons.' What got me is that if you stand at Gyeongpodae today, you can still see this exact scene play out.

The sunrise from Uisangdae at Naksansa Temple, Jukseoru perched over the cliffs of the Osip Stream — all of it is unchanged. The scenery Jeong Cheol saw 440 years ago is the same scenery I could see today.

The poem's final section ends with him, having finished the real journey, dreaming of wandering with immortals. I think it's his way of saying the trip is over but the feeling isn't — and apparently there's a quiet undertone of political worry folded in there too.

And once I learned that Kim Man-jung praised this work in Seopo Manpil as 'the Li Sao of the East,' it stopped feeling like some old textbook poem and started feeling like a genuinely major work.

Realizing this one poem was a real 440-year-old travel itinerary completely changes how you look at a trip along the East Coast. Next time I'm in Gangneung, I want to stand at Gyeongpodae and actually look for those three moons.