South Korea in 8 days: a southern loop to Busan, then Seoul

A UNESCO World Heritage fortress on the hill above the Geum river, with panoramic walks along the walls.

Next, prison. Well, sort of. The Iksan Prison Set isn't a real jail but a film set, built in 2005 inside an old elementary school, and it's still the only prison set in Korea. If you've watched a K-drama with a jail scene, there's a fair chance it was shot here.

You get a prisoner's uniform (or a guard's, if you prefer power), and you're free to wander the corridors, cells and interrogation room. Not unmissable, but if you're passing by, it's worth an hour and a few silly photos.

In North Jeolla we stopped at a field of onggi, the big brown earthenware jars Koreans use for fermenting. There are thousands of them, lined up in rows as far as you can see, and the view is honestly crazy. Some are enormous. Others are kept in little houses while they do their slow work.

Small correction to my own story: I was sure it was all kimchi, but most jars like these hold soy sauce, doenjang (soybean paste) and gochujang (chilli paste). Kimchi just gets all the fame.

We spent the night in Iksan, ready for Jeonju the next morning.

Jeonju is where we tried the hanbok, the traditional Korean dress. Little shops all over the village rent them by the hour, and everyone does it, locals included. The hanbok was everyday wear until the last century. Renting one to walk around the old quarters became a trend over the last ten years or so, and many sights let you in free if you're wearing one. They'll do your hair too, and a small matching purse is included, so your phone and wallet come with you without ruining the look. You leave fully in character.

Dressed up, we walked to Gyeonggijeon, the shrine built in 1410 to keep the portrait of King Taejo, founder of the Joseon dynasty, which ruled Korea for five centuries. It burned during the Japanese invasions of the 1590s and was rebuilt in 1614.

Food report: here I ate the best fish cakes of my life, plus some remarkable lotus roots, and we had a proper Korean BBQ. We also met our first robots serving at the table. South Korea is famously ahead of the curve, and this won't be the last robot in this story: more when we get back to Seoul.

Hanbok returned and back in our jeans, we said goodbye to Jeonju and headed for the mountains, into Naejangsan National Park, famous across Korea for its autumn maples (in April it was all fresh green). Last stop of the day: Baegyangsa, a temple founded in 632 on the slopes of Baegamsan. Brightly painted halls against a backdrop of rocky peaks: a truly beautiful setting, and the architecture alone is worth the trip.

Before you even reach the courtyard, you walk through the gate of the Four Heavenly Kings: four giant painted guardians, one for each direction, with bulging eyes, fierce moustaches and their feet planted on small crushed demons. They protect the temple and the Buddhist law, and they're found at the entrance of most Korean temples, each with his attribute: a sword, a lute, a dragon, a pagoda. They're meant to scare evil away. Tourists, on the other hand, take selfies with them.

We had tea with a Buddhist nun, which was the highlight. You can ask questions, and we did, plenty. The temple is also known for its temple food and for temple stays, if one cup of tea isn't enough.

Overnight in Gwangju.

For lunch we went to a local self-service Korean BBQ: you walk along counters of raw ingredients, pick your meat, your vegetables and all the little side bits, then carry your loot back to the table and grill it yourself. Dangerous for people with big eyes and small stomachs.

Then Suncheon Bay National Garden: grass-covered spiral hills around a lake, a Korean garden seen through a moon gate, tulip fields, flamingos and a woven bamboo pavilion. Honest review: if you love flowers and gardens, it's a pleasant walk. Nothing mind-blowing, maybe the grey sky didn't help, but nice. Next to it, the wetland of Suncheon Bay has the largest reed beds in Korea, a refuge for rare birds.

In Yeosu we took the cable car over the sea, from Dolsan Island back to the mainland, with the coastline and the bridges below, then walked around town for a while.

Dinner was on the waterfront, another mega Korean BBQ, this time all seafood: octopus, prawns, abalone and a few things I couldn't quite identify. Everything was incredibly fresh and delicious. Fair warning: abalone goes on the grill alive, and it moves. Very fresh indeed.

The real star of Yeosu, though, was the hotel room. It had a styler: a wardrobe that steams and presses your clothes while you sleep. Everything was in Korean, so we decoded the little symbols with Google Translate, with mixed confidence, and tested it on a shirt. It worked. An object of desire for anyone over thirty, I'd say.

We took the train back to Seoul and moved neighbourhood, to Myeongdong, the shopping district, all pedestrian streets and shop signs stacked ten storeys high.

South Korea is also very high-tech, so we checked in at Henn na Hotel, a chain born in Japan where robots handle reception. Great central location, highly recommended. The room was small but fine. There's a little video assistant in the room, a sort of Alexa with a face that pulls expressions, where you can ask questions and order things. And what you order arrives with another robot that takes the lift on its own. Very, very fun. Honestly, I'd like one at home.

In the evening we headed to Gangnam for the first of many speakeasies. Seoul is famous for them, and we'd shortlisted a few before leaving.

Le Chamber is in Cheongdam-dong, in a basement behind a bookshelf: pull the right book and the wall opens. The owner-bartenders are Diageo World Class champions, and it shows.

The detail I loved: the cocktail menu is drawn as a flavour map, bitter to sweet and aromatic to fruity, a bit like the maps we make in service design. It helps you choose, and it's a little gem of customer experience. The cocktails come in very unusual glasses too.

Next morning: Nuldam Space, a café that became famous because you can write a letter to your future self. You seal it with wax, file it under a date, and they post it a year later. Small spoiler: a year later, the letter really arrived.

I already do something similar at home: when I decorate the Christmas tree, I write a letter to myself and hide it in the box with the ornaments, so I read it the following December. It's a lovely way to keep track of what you've achieved and what you want next. If you don't do it yet, try it.

Insadong, full of little shops, street food and souvenirs. Its centre is Ssamziegil, a building of shops around a courtyard, with a ramp that spirals up four floors, so you shop all the way to the roof without noticing the stairs.

Nearby, yes, there's a poop café. South Korea doesn't do things halfway.

HiKR Ground, by the Cheonggyecheon stream, is the Korea Tourism Organization's free showcase of the country, and it's very experiential: five floors with a giant media wall, art, K-pop sets where you can shoot your own music video, alleys with photo booths and coin karaoke, and a travel lounge at the top. Worth an hour, even if you're not a K-pop fan.

As everyone knows by now, South Korea means skincare. We kept plenty of time to dive into Olive Young and get lost in it, and flew home with literally a suitcase full of products (photographic evidence below). K-Mecca for K-pop merch, if that's your thing.

When the shops start closing, Myeongdong's streets fill with food stalls: skewers, egg bread, tornado potatoes and fried everything. My favourite was a stall selling sweet-and-sour fried chicken under the name Starchicken, with a green round logo that looked very, very familiar. Trademark lawyers, look away.

In the evening, the second speakeasy: Zoosindang, in Sindang, very famous and probably the easiest of all to find. The front looks like an old fortune teller's shrine, with no door handle in sight: you push the cat statue and the wall opens. Inside, a jungle of plants, glowing lanterns marked with the zodiac signs, and very good cocktails.

Back in Seoul we threw ourselves into street food: fish-cake skewers in hot broth, tteokbokki (chewy rice cakes in red chilli sauce), hotteok pancakes and bungeoppang, the fish-shaped waffles. The classic filling is sweet red bean, but go for the custard one: eaten hot, it's paradise.

And of course, another speakeasy, this time inside a fridge. Jean Frigo looks like a fruit and vegetable shop with a row of fridges: open the last one and you're in. You order from a vintage payphone (they give you a token, you step into the booth and call your order through), and the seating is sunk into the floor, so you feel like you're walking on the tables. Small bar, huge attention to detail.

Then Haus Dosan, the flagship of Gentle Monster, the Korean eyewear brand famous for turning its shops into art installations. Downstairs is NUDAKE, its dessert café: "a place where your dessert fantasies come alive", with desserts "inspired by fashion, art and your own sweet dreams". Totally in the vibe.

The desserts are close to works of art. We had a black croissant cake with a green matcha cream inside, and the cakes are displayed like a museum exhibition, between video screens and sculptures.

Upstairs, the Gentle Monster showroom: sunglasses displayed among giant robotic installations, at the time a collaboration with Maison Margiela.

A word on Gentle Monster, because it's not your usual optician. It was founded in Seoul in 2011 by Hankook Kim, and the idea from day one was that a shop shouldn't just sell you glasses but surprise you, more gallery than store. So every flagship is built around huge installations, sculptures and moving robots, and they're refreshed regularly, which is why people come back just to see what's new. The art collaborations (Maison Margiela, Tilda Swinton, Jennie from BLACKPINK, among others) follow the same logic: the glasses are almost the excuse, the experience is the product.

Practical tip: it's a Korean brand, so if you've been eyeing a pair, Seoul is the place to buy it. Prices are usually a bit lower than abroad, and as a tourist you can claim the tax refund on top.

Then a strange one: Sumsei Terrarium. Part art installation, part sensory walk, hard to define. You take off your shoes at the entrance and go barefoot through a series of rooms: cool sand in one, water in another, a forest of ferns, and a platform that gives you a foot massage.

After all that sensory exploration, the walk spills out into the café: a beautiful, relaxing green space full of plants and soft light, where your feet finally get a rest and your head catches up with what just happened. The ticket includes a drink. I went for a matcha, the right colour for the room. Go with an open mind, and maybe not in your most complicated shoes.

After eight days of temples, tunnels, hanbok and speakeasies, my body was asking for one thing only: lie down and let someone else take care of me. So the last stop of the trip was a truly needed moment to relax and pamper myself, with the famous Korean head spa, the scalp treatment that has taken over everyone's feed. I went to Ecojardin Gongdeok, in Mapo-gu, one of the best known names, with a 15-step and an 18-step program. Of course I went for the long one.

It starts like a medical check-up. They put a tiny camera on your scalp and show you, on a screen and in uncomfortable detail, what's going on up there: oil, dryness, flakes, everything. Then the real ritual begins. A scalp massage with a red light device that warms and relaxes, a scrub, and a suction cup treatment on the neck and shoulders that pulls out every knot accumulated in eight days of backpacks and bus seats.

Then your head goes under a cap and into the steam, while the herbal pack does its work, and you look exactly as glamorous as you can see in the photos. The best part is the shampoo bed: you lie down under a warm blanket, eye pad on, and a gentle waterfall of warm water runs over your head. At that point I stopped counting steps. It ends with a tonic, a second camera check to see the difference, and a blow-dry, so you walk out with the lightest, shiniest hair of your life.

It takes about two hours. Prices vary by branch and change often, so check when you book. As a guide, the 15-step program starts at around 180,000 won (about 135 USD or 500 AED), and the 18-step one at Gongdeok has been reported at around 340,000 won (about 255 USD or 940 AED), a little less at some other branches. Not cheap, but worth every won. Book ahead on their website, the good slots fill up fast, and arrive with fairly clean hair and a top with an open neck. English is spoken.

Then it was time for the airport, and for collecting our duty-free shopping. How it works: at a city duty-free store, like Lotte Duty Free in Myeongdong, you shop with your passport and your flight details, pay the tax-free price, and don't take anything home. The shop sends it to the airport, and you collect it at the duty-free pick-up counter after security.

It was my first time. I've always ignored tax-free shopping, not because I'm swimming in gold but because it looked like a big hassle for a small saving. Here the price difference was real, so we tried it, and it was actually very smart. Just get to the airport a little earlier: there can be a queue at the pick-up counter.