This month’s plan was simple: go on the moonlight tour of Changdeokgung Palace and grab some killer night shots. Easy, right? Yeah, sure. Like most things in Korea, it started with good intentions and spiraled into a caffeine-fueled test of endurance.
When you’re juggling multiple jobs, life becomes a series of half-baked logistics and Hail Marys. I’d booked the tickets back in September, sitting in my countryside office in Gyeongju, thinking I was ahead of the game. Moonlight tour? Check. Historic palace? Check. Good vibes and great photos? Absolutely.
Then my wife dropped the hammer:
“You realize that’s on the last day of the Mega Chuseok Holiday, right?”
Cue the mental record scratch.
For those who haven’t experienced a Korean holiday exodus, imagine every man, woman, and halmeoni in the country hitting the road at once. The Mega Chuseok was one of those freak cosmic alignments where red days collided with sandwich days, creating a weeklong migration. KTX tickets? Forget it. By the time I checked, the only ones left were in early October.
So yeah, my perfect plan had a gaping hole in it.
The Great Escape to Seoul
The new plan: leave from Gyeongju, hit Seoul mid-morning Sunday, shoot, crash overnight, then train it back at dawn and head straight to work.
No problem.
(That’s what I told myself, anyway.)
After parking my car in my coworker’s secret “free parking” spot — the kind you tell no one about — I blasted up to Seoul. Treated myself to an overpriced American diner-style brunch because self-care is real, even if it comes with mediocre hash browns.
Wandered around, killed some time, and hunted for a traditional-style café to set the tone before the palace tour. Found one in Ikseongdong — Silla Dang. Beautiful spot, perfect vibe, the counter is run by a lovely woman who recommended me a plate of homemade juak that tied the whole article together.
Hit café number two — Sangguk — perched on the edge of the palace with a rooftop view that makes you forget you’re surrounded by a million people holding selfie sticks.
Into the Moonlight
The tour itself hasn’t changed much since the early days, except now it’s sold out thanks to every K-drama junkie wanting that “Joseon night magic” experience. Tickets run about $30, and they’re gone before you can say Annyeonghaseyo.
Once you check in, they hand you an earpiece, herd you through the gate, and that’s when the real fun begins.
Now, here’s the deal for photographers: tripods are “not allowed.” Also no flash photography but if you are using a flash here, then I have some questions.
But here’s the other deal: no one actually checks after the gate.
If you’re slick, you can pull a little “don’t ask, don’t tell” operation like I did. Keep it collapsed, move fast, stay invisible. The key is to shoot quick and not hold up the group. Blend in, pop out, get the shot, vanish.
My targets were the flute player in the Saryeongjeong Pavilion, the reflecting pool, and the finale performance. But the lighting was darker than expected and the tour moved faster than a Seoulite on a lunch break. That meant chaos, missed shots, and ISO levels high enough to fry a sensor.
Thank God for Lightroom’s AI noise reduction. It saved some shots that looked like they were taken through a potato.
The Night Ends in Myeongdong
Just when I thought I could call it a wrap, my editor threw me a curveball:
“Can you add a bit about the Myeongdong night market?”
Sure. Why not throw myself into the modern pit of tourist/consumer chaos after a peaceful moonlit tour through an ancient palace? Those two themes go together, right?
So, I dove in. Myeongdong was pure madness — tourists inhaling blow-torched marshmallows, buying socks with K-pop faces, and clogging every square meter of sidewalk. I snapped what I could, weaving through the crowd like a man on a mission, before limping back to my hotel with 20,000 steps and a head full of caffeine.
That’s when the second email hit:
“Can we get the article by tomorrow?”
I hadn’t even looked at the shots yet. I just paced my hotel room like a man waiting for a revelation that never came. Realizing the time, I tried and failed to force myself to sleep. Eventually, exhaustion took the wheel and I passed out.
The Long Ride Home
I crashed after midnight, woke up around 3:45 a.m., and somehow found myself standing in front of the Gyeongju train station in a half-conscious daze, double-fisting coffee and regret. The next day was a blur of 20 classes, few breaks, and one desperate promise to myself: never again.
By the time I stumbled through the door that night, my wife took one look at me and said, “Shower. Bed. Now.”
Best advice I’d heard in days.
The Takeaway
Photography isn’t all golden hours and perfectly balanced compositions. Sometimes it’s caffeine shakes, sleep deprivation, and editing in a fog of exhaustion. But that’s part of the gig — part of the grind that keeps you coming back for more.
You push your limits, get the shots, write the story, and pay for it later. But when it all comes together — when the photos looks just right— that’s when you remember why you do it.