Andrew Farrell marvels at the strange erections of South Korea’s Haesindang Park
At first glance, Sinnam looks like any of the dozens of tiny fishing villages in the sparsely populated province of Gangwon-do, backing up onto the Sea of Japan. Located some 280km east of the South Korean capital Seoul, and just a stone’s throw from the communist north, Sinnam is one of those places that will soon cease to exist. The town’s youth have packed their bags and abandoned the traditional forms of industry for the high tech buzz of Seoul, leaving behind a small, aging population.
Old men and women lay out under the draining summer sun selling whatever produce can be taken from the sea. Some are so hunchbacked from decades of toiling in the nearby fields and harbours that to look straight ahead requires they stop moving altogether. The only people under the age of 40 are tourists from other parts of the country (the village is a popular tourist spot). Tour buses block up the small fish markets where locals try to offload their goods and communication between those with new cameras and those with old wellington boots is non-existent.
And yet belying its rather unremarkable appearance, Sinnan is also the location of arguably the world’s most unusual park. The locals call it Haesindang Park, which roughly translates as the ‘God of the Sea’, and forms part of a famous Korean myth. Its origins are tragic, for it is claimed that a young couple, soon to be married, were split when a terrible wave swept the poor bride-to-be out to sea, in full view of her fiancé. The following day, the fish catch dwindled off the coast, and disappeared altogether soon after.
The town’s people were convinced the town was cursed after the young virgin’s death. Then one day, a fisherman decided to relieve himself in the sea, and suddenly the fish returned. The town’s residents took note, so they erected some peculiar statues overlooking the sea to appease the young woman’s inability to consummate her marriage.
The erected statues have afforded Haesindong Park am unfortunate nickname uttered by the foreigners keeping shelter under its many trees – Penis Park. There are indeed over 50 sculpted phalluses, in all shapes and sizes, dotted around the park.
For Koreans, a visit to the park is a matter of learning more of their mythical past, concluding with a gift offering at the shrine, normally a written statement or a bottle of alcohol. But for the majority of foreigners, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime photo opportunity that will undoubtedly be splashed across their Facebook pages.
Haesindang is not an easy place to navigate. The inclines are steep, the walkways are packed with worshippers or photographers and, of course, whatever solid ground is left has a giant penis planted on it. The tops of the fences are shaped like penises, the wooden park benches too. There is even a golden waterfall - you can use your imagination as to what is happening there.
Oddly, older married women are often seen bouncing up and down on top of concrete penises with their daughters or granddaughters. Children pose for photographs beneath a penis that hangs over them like a canopy. For those interested in the Chinese Zodiac, you can see the animal from the year you were born carved into a giant penis.
And on the way out of Haesingdang, no doubt wondering if a real world actually exists, visitors are flanked on both sides by souvenir stands with bottles of wine, key rings and other such items, all shaped like penises. It makes a big change from Disneyland, that’s for sure.
Andrew Farrell worked as an English language teacher in Korea.
