Yongdusan Park is one of Busan’s few quiet places in the middle of the city, a green hill rising above the crowded streets like a pause in the urban rhythm. The name means "dragon’s head," a reference to the way the slope curves toward the sea, as if the creature were watching the waves. The hill has seen many lives—fortress walls, temple grounds, and, in the last century, a shantytown of refugees whose homes were lost in a fire. After that, the land was left to grow wild, and in time, it became the park it is today.
At the top stands Busan Tower, a slender structure built in the 1970s, modeled after the spire of an old pagoda. It’s not especially tall by modern standards, but its height is enough to give a clear view of the city and the bay. From the open-air observation deck, you can see the port with its cranes and shipping containers, the long bridge stretching across the water, and the islands dotting the horizon. The mountains in the distance frame everything, their ridges softening as the light fades. The best time to come is at dusk, when the city below begins to glow.
Near the base of the tower, a statue honors Yi Sun-sin, the admiral who defeated the Japanese fleet in the 16th century. The figure stands in full armor on a high pedestal, a quiet reminder of the region’s history. The rest of the park is laid out with winding paths, flower beds, and small plazas where musicians sometimes play on weekends. There’s also a pavilion with a clock, its face visible from different angles as you walk the slopes.
Getting up the hill is part of the experience. You can take the stairs from the shopping streets below, but most people use the outdoor escalator, which runs from the base to the top and doesn’t cost anything. It’s a strange sight, this long mechanical staircase cutting through the greenery, but it makes the climb effortless. The escalator only runs during the day, though—after dark, you’ll have to take the stairs, which isn’t difficult but does feel different when the park is quieter.
The park itself is free to enter, though there’s a small fee to go up the tower. It’s worth it if the weather is clear, especially in the morning before the haze sets in. On rainy days, the indoor observation area and the café at the top still offer a place to wait out the weather. The park is never empty—locals come to sit on the benches, read, or just enjoy the shade. On weekends, families spread out picnics, and the sound of conversation carries through the trees.
The area around the park is one of Busan’s busiest. The main shopping districts and a large street food market are just a short walk away, so it’s easy to combine a visit with other plans. The market stalls sell everything from fresh seafood to hotteok, the sweet Korean pancakes filled with brown sugar and nuts. The smell of food mixes with the salt air from the nearby port, a reminder of how close the sea is, even in the middle of the city.
Yongdusan isn’t a place you’d spend hours exploring—there are no grand monuments or hidden trails. It’s more of a pause, a place to look out over the city and remember how much of Busan is shaped by the water. The tower, the statue, the paths—none of it feels forced. It’s just a hill with a view, and sometimes that’s enough.
