Temple Stay Part 2: Aesthetic & Architectural Korea

Korea Travel • Temple Stay • Art & Design

Temple stays aren’t just about silence and ritual. They are also some of the most beautiful architectural spaces in Korea. This part of the series looks at the colours, materials, roofs, fog, and spatial rhythms that shape a temple’s atmosphere, and why design-minded travellers often fall in love with these places before they even sit down to meditate.

Baekyangsa at dawn, when mist, mountains and rooftops quietly agree to slow everything down.

Baekyangsa at dawn: how the temple really wakes up

If Part 1 was about remembering how to breathe again, then Part 2 began in the moment I finally looked up. Properly. Baekyangsa at dawn does not arrive with drama. It seeps in. The mountains release a pale blue mist as though exhaling after a long night, and the rooftops catch the light slowly, like they have centuries of practice in waking up gently. I stepped outside still wrapped in the last warmth of sleep, and the world felt rinsed clean.

The first sound was not chanting, but sweeping. Somewhere in the courtyard a broom moved across stone with a soft, rhythmic hush. A moktak echoed in the distance, wooden and steady, like a metronome for the valley. Temple mornings are not silent. They are carefully edited. Every sound has a role. In the city I usually wake up to phone alarms, car doors and coffee machines. Here, the day begins with wood on stone and monks moving through light.

It was only then that I understood how Korean temples are designed for this specific kind of awakening. Not the cinematic, epiphany-style transformation films love, but the slower one that happens when your senses are finally rested. Baekyangsa’s architecture embodies that subtlety. Nothing here shouts. Nothing demands to be framed. Each angle, each roofline and each narrow corridor patiently loosens your grip on the hurried logic of modern life.

Daeungjeon, Baekyangsa’s central hall, where the day quietly gathers itself.

Walking through Baekyangsa’s main halls

My feet carried me first to Daeungjeon, the temple’s central hall. It stands with the sort of grounded confidence only ancient buildings possess. Its colours have softened into a palette that looks more like brushed watercolour than paint. The wood, smoothed by time and bare feet, has that honest texture designers try to fake with sandpaper and Instagram presets. Behind it sits Geungnakbojeon, the oldest building in Baekyangsa, its quiet gable roof carrying the steadiness of something that has survived fires, dynasties and whole new eras of Korea without losing itself. True architecture ages, it does not expire.

Myeongbujeon, where Baekyangsa quietly experiments with more contemporary lines.

Myeongbujeon appears next, and you can feel the timeline shift. Its more recent reinterpretation blends contemporary design sensitivity with centuries-old function. The result is not flashy. It feels thoughtful, as if the temple has paused to consider the present moment without breaking its relationship with the past. Standing inside, I had the odd sensation that history and possibility were sharing the same breath.

A stone pagoda holding the courtyard steady while the weather changes around it.

A stone pagoda anchors the courtyard with quiet gravity. Cheonwangmun, the guardian gate, marks the psychological border between everyday life and this slower interior world. Stepping through it felt like crossing into a different operating system. On one side: messages, schedules and search results. On the other: cedar, cold air on bare ankles and monks walking with a level of focus I usually only reserve for deadlines.

The monks’ quarters, where architecture turns into everyday rhythm and routine.

Where architecture turns into everyday life

Yet the place that stayed with me most was not any of the architectural celebrities. It was the monks’ quarters, a modest row of wooden rooms along the hillside. These spaces smell faintly of timber, tea and early mornings. Slippers sit in a neat line. A broom leans against a wall, not forgotten but ready. A kettle cools beside an open door. This is where the temple’s architecture stops being theory and becomes infrastructure for daily life.

Watching a monk cross the courtyard that morning, sleeves tucked, steps even, I realised the buildings and the people share the same design language. Nothing rushed. Nothing wasted. No decorative movement. Temple architecture is not there to impress visitors. It is there to support the act of living deliberately, every day, for years.

Baekyangsa influences your body before it influences your thoughts. Your steps soften. Your voice lowers. You start automatically sliding doors with more intention. Even your phone begins to feel oddly heavy, as if the mountains themselves are quietly requesting that it stays in your pocket. Without being instructed, manners just appear. You bow lightly at thresholds. You breathe more deeply because there is finally room to do so.

How temple architecture quietly slows you down

I wandered without a plan, which is the only correct way to read this kind of space. Every doorway framed a different slice of forest, as if the architects had been secretly storyboarding each view. Some paths were long and straight, others curved softly around rock and tree roots. The dancheong patterns above me, in greens, reds and blues, changed character throughout the day. In the crisp morning they looked almost graphic, like a poster. By late afternoon they softened into something closer to watercolour. Symbolism on paper. Mood in real life.

One of those wooden corridors made for sitting, listening and doing absolutely nothing.

It reminded me of my stay at Nostalgia Hidden Jae in Bukchon, where a hanok’s beauty folds inward like a secret you share with only a few people. Baekyangsa is the opposite. It opens. It stretches beauty across the valley and lets the mountains do half the work. Where a hanok whispers, a temple exhales. Where a hanok protects you from the outside, a temple introduces you to it again.

At one point I ended up sitting on the wooden corridor outside the hall, feet tucked under the borrowed temple trousers, simply listening. A monk passed by and paused for a second to adjust the lanterns hanging from the eaves. No words, no performance, just a small movement so precise it almost felt choreographed. It was in that moment I realised how much design exists in the decisions we never notice. The height of a lantern. The curve of a roof. The way a step is placed to make you slow down without thinking about it.

By late afternoon, sunlight slid low enough to gild every rooftop. The beams glowed as if lit from inside. Shadows stretched long and thin across flagstones that have met thousands of feet long before mine. There was no dramatic enlightenment. No sudden life plan downloaded from the clouds. Just a quiet recalibration, a feeling that some internal dial had been turned back to a more humane setting.

Part 1 helped me hear myself again. Part 2 showed me exactly where I was standing, both in the landscape and in my own head.

Everything you need to know before your temple stay

Temple stays in Korea look serene on Instagram, but they are also practical, structured and very real. Understanding a few basics makes the experience calmer, more respectful and much more enjoyable, whether you choose Baekyangsa or another temple.

What a typical temple day feels like

The day usually begins well before sunrise with a moktak and chanting. ( watch video) You wake in the dark, wash quickly and move to the main hall for meditation or service. Breakfast follows, then quiet time, light work, more practice, tea and an early night. The mood is steady rather than strict. Even if you are a beginner, the rhythm slowly carries you.

How to move through the space
Think of yourself as a guest in someone’s working home, not a tourist at a monument. Walk slowly, keep your voice low and let your phone stay on aeroplane mode as much as possible. When entering a hall, pause for one breath, bow lightly and step in. If you are unsure what to do, simply watch the monks or volunteers and let them set the pace.

What to wear to a temple stay

Comfort is more important than style. Bring loose, breathable clothing that allows you to sit cross-legged on the floor, warm socks, and shoes that slip on and off easily. Most programmes provide simple temple uniforms you wear over your own T-shirt or base layer, so keep what is underneath lightweight and modest.

What temples provide

Almost all Templestay programmes provide bedding, towels, basic toiletries and the uniform you will wear during scheduled activities. Rooms are simple but warm, with underfloor heating in the colder seasons. You do not need sleeping bags or camping gear. Luxury is not part of the experience, but you will not be uncomfortable if you pack sensibly.

What to pack (and what to leave at home)

Bring a light jacket or hoodie for early mornings, a small scarf if you like a softer pillow, minimal skincare for dry mountain air, a water bottle you can refill and a notebook if you enjoy reflecting. Leave heavy make-up, strong perfume, jewellery and anything noisy or flashy at home. Less luggage makes temple corridors much easier to navigate.

Food and mealtimes

Temple food is plant-based, clean and intentionally simple. Garlic and onions are often avoided, which means flavours are gentle rather than intense. Meals may be silent or very quiet, especially if you participate in a traditional barugongyang meal. You are expected to finish what you take, so serve yourself carefully. It feels unfamiliar at first, then unexpectedly comforting.

Common first-timer surprises

Floors can be cooler than you expect, even with heating. Pillows are firmer than hotel ones. The wake-up time may feel painfully early on day one and perfectly natural by day two. Nights are dark and very quiet. If you are used to city noise, the silence can feel as loud as traffic at first. This is normal, and yes, your body will adapt.

How to book a temple stay in Korea

The easiest way is through the official Templestay website, where you can search by region, programme type and language support. Many temples offer “relaxation” programmes (more free time) and “experience” programmes (more structured activities). Book weekends and holidays early, as Koreans also use temple stays as a mental reset.

Getting to Baekyangsa
For Baekyangsa, most visitors travel from Seoul by KTX or SRT train towards the Jeolla region, then transfer to a local bus or taxi for the final stretch into the mountains. The journey is straightforward but not last-minute friendly, so check train times and give yourself extra buffer in case of delays. Arriving before dark makes everything easier, especially on your first stay.

Behaviour, manners and photography

Temples do not expect you to know every rule, but a few gentle habits help: avoid loud laughter in halls, do not point your feet directly at Buddha statues when sitting, and always check before taking photos during ceremonies or inside prayer spaces. Outdoor photography is usually fine, as long as you are not blocking pathways or turning it into a fashion shoot.

Accessibility and who this is for

Many temples have uneven stone paths, stairs and slopes. If mobility is a concern, look for city temples like Jogyesa or Bongeunsa, which offer gentler access and shorter distances between halls. Baekyangsa is better for those who do not mind some walking, steps and mountain air. Solo travellers, couples, friends and older teens do well here; very small children may find the early mornings and quiet rules challenging.

If you are nervous, that is completely normal. Everyone is a first-timer once. Temples are not looking for perfect behaviour, only a willingness to be present and to share the space respectfully. The rest you will learn as you go.

In Part 3, I will take you into the world of temple food and rituals, where even a bowl of rice becomes a meditation. 

Temple Stay Part 1: Wellness & Mindfulness Escape

Begin the journey where it all started, with the quiet reset at Baekyangsa that pressed pause on my city brain.

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