Busan Fireworks Festival Guide: Everything You Need to Know

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Fire in the Sky Over Busan

A single firework shoots into the sky from one of the barges anchored off Gwangali Beach in Busan. It’s 7 p.m., the sky is overcast, a dull canvas for the show about to begin. More than a million and a half people crowd the 1.4-kilometer stretch of sandy beach, waiting for the countdown to start. Fire in the Sky Over Busan is about our experience at the Busan Fireworks Festival in South Korea—a great day trip from Camp Walker.

Fireworks in Busan, South Korea

Gwangandaegyo Bridge

Three warning shots fire into the air every fifteen minutes. Find your seat, make your neighbor happy, and get ready to be entertained.

The sky clears as darkness falls. At 8 p.m., the curtains of night open, revealing the Gwangandaegyo Bridge glowing in brilliant state-of-the-art lights. Excitement fills the air.

The bridge, Korea’s longest ocean bridge, stretches 7.4 kilometers from Namcheon-dong in Suyeong-gu to Centum City in Haeundae. For more than ten years, it has been the dramatic backdrop to the Busan Fireworks Festival. This year’s theme is Love, expressed in red heart-shaped fireworks bursting above us. Pink, orange, blue, green, and silver explosions follow, crackling and fizzing across the sky in perfect harmony.

Gwangali Beach

Every inch of the beach is covered with blankets and plastic mats sold by buskers for 5,000 won. We bought ours earlier in the day at a Korean dollar store. By 2 p.m., six hours before the show, we had secured a great spot.

This year, Gwangali Beach is divided into seven sections. For the first time in the festival’s history, Busan sells tickets for beach seating—100,000 won for prime spots with a chair and table. Each extra chair costs 70,000 won. The other six sections remain open to the public, first come, first served.

The festival features dancers, singers, games, and other attractions, but for us, it was all about the fireworks. We spent the day guarding our mat. It was worth it.

Surveying the Beach

Our original plan was to camp out in one of the restaurants overlooking the beach. Many were closed for private watch parties, and we were asked to leave by 4 p.m. A seat at these restaurants costs between 70,000 and 140,000 won and doesn’t include food or drinks.

Instead, we surveyed the beach from Sharkey’s and found a decent spot near a wall and a roped-off area. It felt slightly separated and had an easy exit route. Unfortunately, someone beat us to it, so we laid our mat right next to theirs.

We chatted with our new neighbors, Christa and Doug, who travel as much as we do. Our conversation was interrupted when a Korean family squeezed in next to us. Their mat overlapped ours, and “Mama” sat on the corner of our mat without hesitation. We exchanged curious glances but said nothing.

By evening, Mama’s family shared their food with us—grapes, persimmons, kimbap, and songpyeon, the sweet rice cakes eaten during Chuseok. We washed it all down with soju.

Get There Early

The Busan Fireworks Festival attracts huge crowds. Arrive before 4 p.m. to get a good spot. By 6 p.m., you squeeze in wherever you can.

The late arrivals caused chaos. People walked across our mat with sand-covered shoes. Some tried to claim the space we had guarded for hours. We had to pull the mat from under a few bold squatters. Security eventually gave up trying to evict people from the roped-off areas.

Old Korean Men Make Me Laugh

Mama’s family kept offering soju until my husband had to politely decline. Just before the fireworks began, one of the men moved Mama aside and gestured for me to join their circle. He waved Steven off as if he wasn’t invited.

Steven held up his phone with “20” typed on the calculator, joking that I was twenty years old and not available for trade—not even for rice cakes. The man just laughed and nudged me again.

Nearby, two old men staged a fight. Their wives held them back, no punches were thrown, and soon they were back to sipping soju. But the drama ended the moment the first fireworks exploded over the bridge.

Final Words on the Busan Fireworks Festival

The grand finale built to a roaring crescendo before fading into silence. For a moment, no one realized the show had ended.

If I regret anything, it’s choosing a section with few speakers. We didn’t hear much of the music, and later I learned the fireworks were perfectly timed to it.

Still, it was an unforgettable night. We waited thirty minutes for the crowd to thin before heading to the Metro. Despite the chaos, the Busan Fireworks Festival remains the best fireworks display I’ve ever seen.

 

 

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