Anyhow, the bunny ear photo shoot ended, and we headed up the trail via a shortcut jim had discovered while being a monkey in bunny ears, jumping from rock to rock up the river. We met
some hikers who were coming down. They said we had a ways to go to reach the temple that was the halfway point to our hut. It would take us about a half hour to get there. You will recall the young monk who told us it would take 2 hours to what we found the next morning was actually a 10 minute walk up a lovely path. You see, there are many liars on Seorak-san. Sure, they disguise themselves as highly enlightened minds, what with their robes and prayer beads and bowing and all, or as weathered, experienced hikers of the expert degree, but make no mistake – they are liars! Still, the thought of just a 30 minute walk was heartening, gave me hope, made me want to sing out loud, really. Until I saw the walk. Right. Switch back, narrow, straight up. Rocks. Nothing but rocks. I just kept thinking, damn. These monks have been hoofin’ it up and down this mountain with nothing but small sandals for centuries. I can *do* this. But of course, they usually don’t hike with a 40 pound back on their back.[An aside: but I also recalled the number of men we had encountered on the trail who were carrying a variety of construction supplies on makeshift metal frame packs on their back – generators, fuel, tools, etc. you see, a horrible flood has destroyed probably 85% of the bridges and stairs along the river trails in the park. There were orange metal bridge and stair parts everywhere along the river trail. Massive structures that had been snapped and snarled by the force of the water and falling rocks. So there were a ton of construction crews on the mountain repairing the trail, and replacing the metal with new wooden bridges and stairs. With the construction came the need for lots of supplies to be delivered and removed from the mountain. So we saw huge airlift packages at different points on the trail. And we spotted lots of helicopters flying around making the deliveries. It was a trip to see that much work being done at that altitude. I was talking to my folks about this, and they mentioned that on a recent trip to Telluride, they saw the same thing on the top of the mountain there – but that construction is of the luxury condo and hotel variety. Very disturbing phenomenon of the destruction of peaceful wilderness for the erection of high end boutiques restaurants and enormous homes at Mountain Village. There’s a great film that was made about it – a parody and media advocacy piece called “The Lost People of Mountain Village.” But I digress. Basically, if dudes can carry generators on their back, I can make this ascent, I thought to myself.]
And we did. 45 minutes later, we finally got to the temple – Bongjeongam. and it was incredible. It was nestled in high, misty peaks. Tons of people walking everywhere. Lots of construction, which, like the trails, seemed to be the case for all of the temples on the mountain. Buildings at
lots of different points on the peak. We headed straight for the very cold, much needed water fountain. After dropping our packs, we headed up the stairs (I KNOW, more stairs), to see the pagoda at the top which contains a relic of the original Buddha brought back from China by the monk who established the monastery in 643. the view was unlike any other I’ve ever encountered. Misty Asian mountain tops. Truly majestic. And in the distance we saw a small cabin on the face of the peak next to us. Could that be our hut? No, it’s too high. It’s too far. No, the monk later told us, that’s it. But don’t worry, he said. It will only take you 20 minutes to get there. Famous last words. And we already know we can’t trust the monks. Why? Because they are liars! (I mean no disrespect to the wonderful monks. I am making, how you say? A joke!)I said out loud, “Now, that’s just a lie.” And of course, it was. This trail was all rocks, steeper than the last uphill trail – there were ropes to help us up, and seemed truly never ending. For most of the hike, I had a fear of falling backwards down the mountain, pulled over by the weight of my pack. A couple of times I had some close brushes with being knocked down. But I had made it safely up. Then I had to use a rope. Man, a rope. So I grab hold. I’m exhausted. My legs have had it. I’ve had it. And this kid behind me grabs the rope at the same time. Which throws me off balance and does, in fact, knock me over. Not off the mountain thankfully. But it gives me enough of a scare to jolt me into a crying spell. So, there I am, suddenly surrounded by Korean hikers, crying on a rock while Jim berates the kid and puts his arm around me. We continue on our way. And since I opened the flood gates, it sure wouldn’t stop. So, in between positive
motivational mantras, I just cried. For most of the rest of the way up. Woohoo! Mountain climbing is fun! Jim hiked ahead of me, and suddenly I hear a whoop and a holler and an “Oh my god!” I pulled myself together, walked as fast as I could, and in a daze, emerged into a clearing with beautiful wildflowers and a dozen faces staring at me as I made it up the last set of stairs to the hut. I turned around, and the view before me made me cry even harder. It was the most breathtaking, surreal, mythical view I had ever seen. We were at about 6500 feet at that point, looking out onto the eastern stretch of the park, with nothing but peaks that seemed to float in the sea of mist and clouds that engulfed the lower portions of the mountain in the distance. It was 6:30 pm. We had arrived. 12 km. 1500 meter ascent. And we had been greeted by the most amazing payoff I could have hoped for.We were led to our little sleeping hut (a small room with a 6 foot ceiling) where 15 or so of us would pack in like little sardine Korean hikers to “sleep” for the night. We dropped our packs, got out our dinner gear and sat outside at a picnic table to take in the view and watch the sunset. I iced my knees with a strange “Magic Chilly Pack” obtained from a science project at school that involved smashing the bag with your fist to feel the cold created through a chemical reaction. They worked for about 2 minutes. But I look really hot with them strapped to my knees…(PICTURE HERE)
We met some very lovely people, ate some ramen, and generally just decompressed. Then it was lights out at 9:30. And oh what a joy that was. I was the only lady in a room full of dudes – except for one Korean couple. I think there was one other woman. Anyway, there was one dude whose snore was truly one for the record books. Ungodly, inhuman. Never disturbing him, but keeping the rest of us up all night. And then there were the 3 am departures. What? 3 am? How can you even walk at 3 am? And where can you need to be? (of course, I’m one to talk – I was a little impatient to get up and go, to say the least. But I wasn’t down with 3 am. 7 am, yes, 3, no.)
So, 6 am came. I was exhausted, but got up anyway. What I won’t regale you with here is the tale of the early morning breakdown over when we should leave to make our descent. It was a strange and silly. But it did let me break through some stuff, do some yoga on the mountaintop, and find a gorgeous flower at my feet as I looked down from where I had been practicing. And in a very hippie manner, I asked the goddess of the mountain to please help me pull it together and make it down the mountain in one piece, with a little more insight and a little less impatience when I reached the bottom.
Our way down was pretty damn hard. Despite the assurance that the day “would be easy, not at all as difficult as what we had just done coming up.” (Because, of course, since we didn’t know what the hell we were doing, we chose the most challenging course up to the peak that exists on
the mountain.) But, kids, what have we learned about people on the mountain? They LIE! All of them. Liars The way down was another 8 or 10 km on rocky paths and stairs. So, going down was not easy. But it *was* gorgeous. Nothing but huge peaks, enormous waterfalls, TONS of stairs, many bunny ear photo shoots (and mini motorcycle shoots), breathtaking river valleys and cliffs towering over our heads. The water was crystal green. The pools from the waterfalls glided into smooth rock that led back into another waterfall. It was unbelievably stunning. And there weren’t that many people around. That was the best part.We made it down to the next stopping point – another mountain hut frequented by rock
climbers due to the close proximity to two very fabulous rock faces the tower above it. And we were *beat*, legs shot, muscles quivering. Dying for food. And this hut was great – four times the size of the one on the peak. A restaurant, a store, even a whole section of crazy ginseng and other roots (like a mandrake!) in giant glass jars. We ate and had some soju, played cards with the guy who ran the place. Soaked my legs and knees in the cold river that ran right by the hut. Did some yoga on the rocks:
Made our way up to our space in the huge room. Did some yoga, and managed to get a whole audience of Korean climbers watching me by accident. Had a funny time doing some yoga with the guys that ran the place. He was clearly trying to have a yoga-off with me. It was hysterical. Here we are in my favorite stretching posture:
And we couldn’t move. Like seriously not at all. We got up the next morning, and we hiked our way out of the park, ready for a relaxing couple of re-coop days on the beach. After 10 minutes of hiking down, we found a nice, flat, rock path, and then an actual paved road! It was incredible. Just as we were lamenting that we wouldn’t be seeing any more 40 foot waterfalls, we walked across a gorgeous bridge and into another temple where there sat a tall, slate black statue of Buddha with a sunray crown. I was in awe of it. Gorgeous. Surrounded by dragons and turtles. And beneath the statue was a shrine. We spent a bit of time meditating and just sitting in awe of where we were under the belly of the Buddha. Amazing.And then out of the park. The front entrance of the park is a circus. Tourist trap galore. Bandannas. Chocolate-dipped corn dogs with sprinkles (but my guess is that they are actually squid dogs, not actual hot dogs). I left the park with a kiwi juice and some tater tots I had found near these corn dogs. Here I am. Saying goodbye to the lovely, terribly difficult, Seorak-san (me goodbye pic)
I feel like we found a secret in Korea. Sure, thousands of people travel through that park every day, but for us, as we hiked the cliffs and descended into the valleys along pristine rivers, it was as though we were the only ones there. Yes, everything in Korea is hard. There are walls everywhere – in language, in cultural differences, in trying to order dinner, in climbing 11 km of rocky trail, in finding my own space here. Little by little, the walls are coming down. And on the other side of those seemingly impenetrable walls is a beauty unlike any I have ever experienced. The intensity of the mountain, in its hardship and in its splendor, didn’t just pull a few bricks here and there out of those walls. It smashed some of them completely, leaving me feeling a little broken by the force of their collapse, but still able to walk away, unscathed save for a few scratches and sore muscles.
We headed to the beach via city bus. Got off to catch another bus and found a park with a pretty impressive sculpture garden. Seriously, Korea has the most impressive public art. Everywhere. Here are some of the sculptures we found.
naskan...
And finally, we made it the beach town. Nasksan, famous for its seaside temple. We had to walk down the main road and up a small hill to our hotel – the Naksan Beach Hotel, the oldest and biggest in the town. The hill just about killed us, but then there were stairs. F*ing stairs. We hate the stairs. But at the top, there it was, a giant white ship of a hotel. Seriously built in the Cold War. A perfect place for the president to entertain fellow dictators and their mistresses. The lobby was straight out of James Bond – chandeliers, muralesque wall art, and a map of the world that stood behind the front desk, one of those metal wall ones with tiny little lights that marked cities around the world. Some were red, some were green. Not sure what the demarcation was – wasn’t day and night since the colors were different everywhere, not along time zones. Perhaps anther hold out of the Cold War – these cities are dirty capitalists, these are our comrades.
We had a little room up more stairs which had no bed – a common style in Korea – just cushy floor pads. We immediately showered and headed to the spa in the basement. A traditional Korean spa, but with the added “only one of its kind in the country” feature of sea water hot and cold pools. A very basic spa –hot and cold pools, dry sauna, steam room, showers and little washing stations. Just like Kabuki in SF but without all the lounge space and the cucumber water and the salt scrub. But only – get this – $4.00. SO CHEAP! Had a lovely time hanging out with all the Korean ladies. Grandmas, moms with their kids, adolescent girls, toddlers. It was awesome. And lots of the ladies were very sweet to me. They were surprised to see a foreigner there. No one they had ever met who wasn’t Korean enjoyed the spa. Well, how could you not??? It was great. Took a long nap afterwards and went back the next day after our day at the beach.
Ate bbq’d clams that night and explored the little town. The beach was *full* of people lighting off fireworks. Totally great. And though I’m not sure, I think since it was high beach season, the town was going off with excitement. A total carnivalesque atmosphere. Carnival games like pop the balloon and win a giant teddy bear or shoot the target and get a bottle of whiskey. Carnival rides like the pirate ship and the tilt-a-whirl – called the “Tagdisco” in Naksan. Circus. So many people! The next day at the beach was more of the same. You see, beaches in Korea are curious places. One of the main things you notice as soon as you move here as a foreigner – at least one from the US – is that Korean folks don’t have much trouble with being in close proximity to one another. There isn’t much of a sense of personal space. It takes a little getting used to. But at the beach, it’s a pretty hilarious site. Here’s this huge beach with tons of places to sit, and here are all these people, renting little umbrellas that have been placed like two feet apart from each other, all pushed as far up to the shore as possible. We crammed ourselves right in with the rest of them.
And the Koreans don’t seem to like to swim much. They like to float around on big yellow inner tubes, or be pulled around in inflatable boats, or perhaps take a ride on Shamu, which was a very popular beach toy out there. But when they do get in the water, they typically are wearing all their clothes. Some people wear suits – but even the bikinis come with these little skirts that the ladies wear to keep themselves covered. And the east and west coast differ in their ratio of clothes-wearers to scantily clad lads and lasses. I still can’t figure out which is which, but I think the west coast has less clothes. We noticed that there was this huge clump of inner tubes in one spot in the water, and I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. Again, a HUGE sea, yet only a small portion of it used to pack ‘em all in. Well, there appeared to be *one* wave. One wave that kept coming in at the same exact spot. So you’d hear this big “whoooooooooooaaaaaaaa.” And then another a few seconds later. Pretty amusing.
And in between all us beach sardines (do you detect a pattern here?) there were dudes walking around selling all sorts of goodies. Like bags of fried chicken. Because sometimes, when you’re on the hot beach smashed in between hundreds of people, you want to gorge yourself on fried chicken. Some people, apparently, did. Other dudes were selling these deceptive little bowls of ice dessert goodness. You seem you can never really tell where the red beans are going to show up. I had my first encounter with red bean ice cream on a long walk in Gwangju where I bought a popsicle that I saw a kid eating. I took a bit or two and got a funny taste in my mouth. Well, these dessert bowls are a treat called a ice flake sundae. It consists of a pile of nice ice flakes topped with a *pile* of red beans, canned fruit, chocolate or fruit sauce and some other such shenanigans and is then served with milk poured on top. Because of course, who *doesn’t* want a milk ice flake red bean sundae that eventually turns to milk water on a hot day at the beach. YUM!
But these dudes selling stuff. Beer, chicken, ice flakes, etc. They just walked wherever the felt like, trying to navigate the maze of people shoved right up to the shore. That included walking directly on our blankets. Which is kind of annoying. Like really annoying. Shoes full of wet sand and who knows what else. Thankfully they didn’t do it when we were lying down on them – no foot on the back or anything. But annoying nonetheless. I muscled a few off of my blanket a few times.
We started the night walking around, finding weird things to do, like have our feet eaten by tiny little fishes at Dr. Fish’s:
The rest of the evening was spent trying to figure out why I was having more meltdowns, playing cards, and accidentally ordering our own kiwi red bean ice flake sundae. Seriously one of the scariest food items I’ve seen here:
And so was the beach-going experience in Korea. We got some good time to relax and let our muscles heal, even though there were a few more meltdowns for me in the process. We’re hoping to get down to an island in the south in September to have a little more mellow time at the beach when no one is there.
On our long trip home – 11 hours of traveling on buses, long because of crazy traffic – I watched a strange Korean TV show that had a piece about Beijing. Mostly about street food and the building for the Olympics from what I could gather. And when Jim woke up, we decided that that it would be our winter vacation spot. So, Beijing January 2008 it will be.
And so, back in Gwangju. Back to school. Back to trying to figure out life in Korea.
Some thoughts I’ve been having after reflecting on this trip:
My tales of adventure here surely illustrate the hilarity and insanity and beauty of life in Korea. But they don’t always capture the converse or transverse or inverse of this life I’m living – the life that’s a little harder, a little more exhausting, a little less glitz and glamour. There’s always a life below the surface, isn’t there? This blog has been my only communication with the world since I’ve been here. The rest of the story is often too exhausting to share – it takes so much energy and brainpower to communicate exactly what it’s like to be here sometimes. Some words I might use: isolating, disconnected, uncentered, confused, or lost, even. I never imagined it could be true, but I *do* feel like I’m lost in translation. It may be trite or silly to say, but it feels true. And so, though I haven’t been in touch very much since I’ve been here, I know that if I am to make it here, to thrive here rather than just survive, I’m going to need to be. I’m going to need all of you.
So, here comes what I need: post that comment on my blog – it’s open to anyone now. Shoot me that email with the picture of your new (or old) puppy doing silly things (anne, bryan, amy!). Send the email about what your life is like with the new (or old) little one(s) in the house (john & jen, lisa & gavin, ruby, craig & rene, evan & jody!). Just be in touch. And I will be, too. I know I need it to get me through.
I send you all so much love from across the world.
catie
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