Temple Stay in Korea - Mindful Retreat, Cultural Immersion, Buddhist Practice
What It's Like to Experience a Temple Stay in Korea: A Journey into Stillness
Temple stay in Korea isn't just a travel trend - it's a profound return to presence. In a fast-moving world where our days are packed with screens, notifications, and endless planning, stepping into the grounds of a Korean Buddhist temple feels like entering a different dimension. The silence, the smell of incense, the rhythm of gongs and chants - it all pulls you gently out of modern chaos and into a space of peace. But what really happens during a temple stay? Is it too religious, too strict, too quiet? Let's explore.
① Arrival: The Moment the Outside World Falls Away
My journey began on a rainy afternoon as I climbed the stone steps to Beomeosa Temple, tucked into the hills of Busan. A soft mist hovered between the pine trees, and the only sounds were birds and the occasional distant bell. The staff greeted me with warm nods, no check-in desk, no small talk. I was handed a folded gray uniform and led to the guest quarters. There was no key. No lock. Just wooden sliding doors and a mat on the floor. That simplicity hit me harder than I expected. It made me aware of how tightly I usually hold on to control, privacy, and comfort.
Changing into the uniform was a kind of ritual. I left behind my travel clothes, my phone, my mirror. Suddenly, everyone looked the same - travelers from Germany, Thailand, Brazil - all now quiet, gray-clad people walking slowly and bowing to strangers. The shift was instant. We weren’t tourists anymore. We were participants in something deeper.
② Daily Life Inside the Temple: A Sacred Rhythm
Each day starts early - very early. At 4:30 AM, a moktak (wooden percussion instrument) echoes across the temple grounds. Still half-asleep, you shuffle to the main hall. Monks in saffron robes are already seated, chanting sutras in deep, resonant voices. You kneel on your mat, eyes half-closed, letting the vibration of the chants pass through your body. You don’t need to understand the words - the atmosphere carries the meaning.
After chanting comes walking meditation. We strolled in silence through the forest path, each footstep syncing with breath. I found myself noticing the crunch of gravel, the way morning light filtered through the trees, and the smell of wet earth. These details, often missed, suddenly felt sacred.
Meals are strictly silent, taken in rows facing the wall. You receive a bowl of rice, soup, and vegetables - all vegan, simple, and nourishing. The rule is: take only what you can finish, and leave nothing behind. No meat, no garlic, no sugar. It’s about mindfulness, not just health. Washing your own dishes afterward becomes a quiet meditation in itself.
③ Cultural Practices: Learning by Doing, Not Watching
Throughout the day, you participate in various activities designed to introduce you to Korean Buddhist traditions. One of the most moving was the 108 prostrations - a full-body bow performed 108 times to release attachments and clear the mind. My legs trembled halfway through, but something shifted by the end. There was no pride, no shame, only breath and repetition.
We also practiced tea ceremony with a senior monk. The space was serene - a low wooden table, ceramic cups, and the soft pouring of hot water. The monk spoke softly in Korean, translated by a staff member. “Tea is not for drinking,” he said, “but for seeing.” I still think about that line when I sip tea at home.
Other sessions included making lotus lanterns, calligraphy, and short Dharma talks where monks shared their stories - some of them surprisingly humorous and deeply human. It broke the stereotype of monks as detached and solemn. They were curious, kind, and often playful.
④ Tips and Insights: Making the Most of Your Stay
- How to Book: Use the official platform templestay.com. It offers English descriptions, calendar options, and payment support.
- Types of Programs: Choose between “relaxation” (flexible schedule, more personal time) or “experiential” (guided rituals, strict timing).
- What to Bring: Modest clothing, socks, water bottle, journal, and an open mind. Avoid perfume, jewelry, and anything flashy.
- Etiquette: Bow when entering prayer halls, stay quiet, follow lights-out rules (usually around 9 PM), and refrain from taking photos during ceremonies.
- Language Barrier? Don’t worry. Major temples offer English or multilingual programs. Body language and silence go a long way.
Recommended Temples for Foreigners:
- Jogyesa (Seoul): In the heart of the city - perfect for beginners or short stays.
- Beomeosa (Busan): Surrounded by mountains - tranquil and beginner-friendly.
- Haeinsa (Hapcheon): A UNESCO site - home to the Tripitaka Koreana, ideal for history lovers.
- Bulguksa (Gyeongju): A UNESCO-listed temple with rich cultural significance - perfect for combining sightseeing and mindfulness.
Each of these temples offers a unique flavor. Some are nestled deep in nature, others sit at the edge of bustling cities. What they share is a commitment to helping visitors reconnect with the essence of being.
⑤ Unexpected Discoveries: The Inner Journey
I went to the temple stay expecting silence. What I found was clarity. With no Wi-Fi, no distractions, and no need to impress anyone, I rediscovered parts of myself I had long buried under schedules and social media. I remembered the joy of watching rain fall slowly. Of eating with full attention. Of being around others in complete silence and still feeling connected.
Several travelers I met said the same. A woman from Sweden said she cried quietly during the morning chant - not from sadness, but from relief. A college student from Canada said it was the first time she had gone an entire day without checking her phone, and that her thoughts felt cleaner. These are not grand miracles. They’re quiet, soft shifts - and they stay with you.
Conclusion: A Quiet Place That Echoes Loudly
A temple stay in Korea doesn’t demand anything from you. It simply invites you to pause. In that pause, you might find what you didn’t know you were missing - spaciousness, clarity, even joy.
And when you leave - walking back down the stone steps, phone back in hand, city noise creeping in - you carry something invisible but real. A piece of stillness, folded like a lotus inside you. It waits. It stays. And one day, when the world feels too loud again, you’ll remember how quiet can be a home, too.