Lazy, but Interesting Saturday : 노성제 (noseongjea) Festival

This Saturday I decided to take it easy. My host family had informed me that they’d be in Seoul for the weekend so I had no obligations as far as they were concerned, and I was still tired from the Bukhansan hike anyway, having never had an opportunity to properly recover after the hectic Sunday following it and the usual shenanigans during the week.

So, I slept in until some obscene hour, which was actually probably the not so obscene 10:00 am (though for me this is very late). I made myself a couple of cups of dehydrated instant coffee and burned some breakfast on the stove, which the family had left for me to heat up during the different meal intervals of the day. I started some laundry, watched some television, read some. And then I noticed that some hikers were going by the house. A lot of them in fact, in long procession. Some of them even stopped by the house to ask after the family. I told them that they were in Seoul, but I was able to understand that they wanted a refill on water, so I obliged them.

The reason for all the hiking was that there was a festival this weekend celebrating various things concerning the hamlet. One of those things was the defense of a local mountain 노성산 (noseongsan) during the 16th century Hideyoshi Invasion. So, to commemorate this event, people climb the mountain. They also do the other things typical of a festival: watch demonstrations, eat food, see a concert, drink a lot, etc. These latter things I was looking forward to doing later on in the day.

However, first I decided that it might be good to take a bit of a run. I’d had such a lazy day so far after all, and I thought getting out in the fresh air, taking in large gulps of it while I huffed and puffed along the roads of the hamlet, might do me some good. I ran out to the foot traffic bridge, across the river, around the rice paddies to the Rock Park (a predictably self-descriptive name given what is in the park, namely rocks), and back. Along the way, I happened upon a group of 6 or 7 middle school students who wanted to have a chat with the foreigner, so I obliged them. They were actually surprisingly proficient. Granted, I wouldn’t want to talk to them for more than an hour, but for a 10-minute conversation introducing each other, they did quite well.

After the run, I showered, changed out my laundry, and made for the festival on foot. Unfortunately, when I arrived at the festival, it seemed to be in a transitional phase. People were recovering from the afternoon and were not quite ready for the evening rush. Booths were being cleaned out, presentations were being put away, the main stage for that evening’s amateur “trot” singer competition was still being set up and sound checks were being performed. Generally, things in the passive voice occurred. I made my way up to the hamlet’s community center and arena to find things in a similar state. I was able to see some photography in the community center however and one of the photographers, 정 Eugene, struck up a conversation with me about his photographs of Europe and his audiophilia He gave me the name of his speakers even, as if I would have heard of those particular models. (I hadn’t.)

And then he told me those words that I dread to hear from any Korean in Korea who strikes up a conversation with me in English. “I’d like you to teach a class for the hamlet’s government.” Sigh… Immediately, any offer of hospitality becomes suspect. Indeed, he later offered for me to come to his house to listen to music and talk about it, but I can’t help feel that all he wants from me is my English. Granted, I’m fully willing to use my English as a bartering tool, in exchange for Korean lessons for instance, but at the same time I have no desire to sit in someone’s house while they shower me with food and offers of money (the latter which I cannot accept) while we awkwardly try to converse in my native tongue and I am constantly asked, “Is this right? Is that the correct expression?” I teach during the week. The weekends are supposed to be my time off when I can experience Korean culture, not practice my American culture in a Korean context.

At any rate, I politely told him that I was not allowed to teach English outside of my high school’s permission, that I had a contract that I had to abide by, and that if I was discovered in violation of said contract, I would be sent back to America, thus, I could not teach the government class he wanted me to teach. He’d have to talk to the high school about that. We (unfortunately) exchanged telephone numbers. Maybe I will take him up on his offer of a visit, but as I said, I suspect his motives. I am not a fan of the so-called Aristotelian “friendship of utility” and would like to avoid it at all costs.

Though, one positive benefit of all this is that I just had my first opportunity to practice receiving a business card in Korea, something which requires a bit of attention to detail (receive with both hands, examine the card carefully, do not put it away until the person you’re conversing with is distracted, etc.). Once again though, this is a bit of a utilitarian perspective to my having met this man. Sigh…

Upon leaving the community center, I met one of my adult students outside quite by accident. She was talking with some of her friends, so I decided to say hello to her in English and hello to her friends in Korean. This was fortunate as I now had a friend for the evening. I found out from her that she went to seminary at one point, but upon meeting her husband there decided that she’d much rather be a pastor’s wife than a pastor. It seems my advanced adult class abounds with theological persons—one student, a pastor, another, a pastor’s wife, and I, a pastor’s son and perhaps one day a pastor myself.

She eventually introduced me to a poet from the area, 엄기종 (another religious figure, as I believe that all people who devote their lives to poetry believe in some kind of God or at least muse), who ended up treating us all to sam-o-something, a delicious entrée combining the fattiness of samgyeopsal and the chewy-ness of squid. I actually felt rather bohemian during the entire evening. I was after all sharing food and drink with a poet, bleary eyed about life and love and nature and the founding of his hometown. He was a fantastic storyteller (or maybe it was my student who was a fantastic translator of his stories), and it was during this time that I discovered the true meaning of Noseongjea.

There are apparently two stories that accompany this festival, which acts as a sort of founding day for the hamlet. The first story is this:

Hideyoshi, a great Japanese shogun, decided to invade Korea in the 16th century. Korea, at that time, had no standing, organized national army. Why should it? It was not as if invasions happened every day, and most military power was feudally organized so that the king could call on troops if absolutely necessary, but with a benevolent China to the north protecting Korea as a tributary and a “dwarfish” people (the Japanese) safely across the East Sea, the was no reason for the king to ever actually call on them. (A Confucian scholar, however, had warned the king a few decades before the invasion to raise an army of 100,000 troops. The king did not listen.)

Hideyoshi easily overran much of Korea as most of Korea’s soldiers had rested in bellicose idleness (i.e. they’d become farmers). But the magistrate of the hamlet I’m living in decided to try and make a defense. He built a fortress atop Noseongsan and there fought the Japanese to the last man. They lost, of course, but the people of the hamlet still celebrate the event as the county had the will to fight the Japanese, even if they had not the means.

Another story associated with the Noseongjea Festival is one that is fairly similar to many Native American legends, especially that of Princess Wee-no-nah near Winona, Minnesota, in that a woman decides to kill herself to preserve her honor.

Three Japanese generals in Busan had made a wager about which could arrive in Seoul first during the invasion. One of these generals chose to go through my hamlet’s area, though I am unsure if it is the same general that fought the Koreans on Noseongsan in the story above.

Now, the Japanese soldiers were of course enjoying the spoils of war as any invading country did in the 16th century. In particular, they were enjoying the Korean women they had captured at the expense of their and their husbands’ honor. One woman in particular, the most beautiful woman in the county, of course, and the wife of the county magistrate decided that she would not allow her honor to be sullied, however, and instead threw herself from a very high cliff.

Now, the general happened to see this, and was so moved by this woman’s desire to preserve her chastity that he stopped his army in the hamlet to bury her himself. Thus, he lost the bet, but showed honor to the Korean spirit despite the travesties his soldiers wrecked upon the land.

I was also informed during the course of the evening that my hamlet’s name means “Way of Peace” or maybe more accurately, “Gateway to Peace”. (Earlier this year, I had plugged the name into Google Translator and got back “Window of Criticism”. Google Translator for Korean to English is still in BETA, so I guess I can cut it a break.) With such a name, the Poet was of the opinion that the county, which goes by the same name, would be a perfect candidate for the International Winter Sports Competition featuring a flag with five rings, and thus was sure to win the bid for 2018. One can only hope.

It turns out that the Poet ended up being my host for most of the rest of the evening, despite the fact that he could not speak English. We had fun using my phone’s dictionary to learn new words though, especially 뿔꽃 (bbulggot, sparkle) to describe the lone professional singer’s dress. My student and her family dropped us off at the festival where we watched some of the concert. Here, a little girl from church approached me with a dried squid head, which I politely nibbled on until I could throw it in the grass. (It was a little fishy…) My host grandmother saw me with the Poet and we had to assure her that I was alright where I was and didn’t need an escort for the rest of the night.

The Poet was apparently bored with concert and ushered me over to the soju tents where we met some of his friends, my TKD kwanjangnim included. Drinking is apparently the main event at these festivals. Many of my students were around that night, so I told the old men that I could not drink a lot, but I still shared a few shots with them. Eventually, the woman administering drinks noticed that we were neither eating nor drinking, but merely loitering and insisted (politely, I’m sure) that we pay and continue on our way. This we did.

I was a little worried about getting home at this point, as my ride, the Poet, was clearly sloshed. Fortunately, my friend from church H.W. and her sister H.J. came to the festival to meet me. We walked around a bit and talked about our weeks and how I would have to leave early on Sunday afternoon, so the tutoring may seem a bit much. Just idle conversation really. H.J. does not speak very good English, so I practiced a bit of Korean with her. Eventually, we said goodnight and I began my sojourn back to the house on foot, regretting that I had not rode my bike to the festival instead. This gave me an opportunity to talk with Glypie G. about her adventures in Busan at the international film festival—apparently navigating the mainland’s mass transit system is much harder than navigating Jeju Island’s—and the possibility of her visiting the hamlet, which we decided was impossible. Ah, well. I will see her and everyone else at the upcoming Gyeongju Conference.

And then came some unexpected trouble. I knew that my host family would be returning Saturday at some time, but I was not sure when. Since it was past 10:00 pm, their car was predictably in the driveway, but much to my surprise, both locks on the front door were locked. I only have a key for the one. Well, perhaps they’re inside, I thought. They do tend to lock both locks when they’ve gone to sleep, and I’m sure they were tired from the trip to Seoul. So, I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. No answer. I tried the side window and the back door with similar results as well as shouting into the house a very formally polite annyeonghashibnika into the house to no avail. Well, perhaps they went to the festival on foot (parking was a nightmare after all) and chose to lock both locks on their way out for some odd reason. Presumably, they’d have a key for both after all. No ill will towards me, I’m sure. They must’ve just forgot that I don’t have a key for both locks.

Rather than wait outside for their return, I decided to sneak in via my usual path when I’ve forgotten my keys. I’ll not go into the details on the off chance that a hamlet resident is reading, but let’s just say it involves a bit of awkward free climbing. I finally made it into the house, only to discover my host mother and father sleeping soundly on the living room floor.

Well! I never!

At any rate, I retrieved my effects from outside (I’d removed them for the sake of the climbing), and made my way as quietly as I could to my room a little perturbed. The next morning, I surprised the host family quite a bit when I appeared from my room. The mother turned from her hair brushing to exclaim, “Oh! Jeremy! 언제 왔어요? (When did you come?)”

What apparently had happened was this: The host family had thought that I was going to Wonju for the weekend, which was true, but they also thought I’d left Saturday and would return Sunday, which was false. I was still to leave on Sunday and would return on Monday. This may have been my fault however as my days of the week are not nearly as fluent as they could be. I suppose I may have confused 일요일 (ilyoil, Sunday) with 토요일 (toyoil, Saturday) when I was informing the family of my plans for the weekend.

Teaching: Week 5

This week teaching was pretty boring actually. I sat in the office a lot and did pretty much nothing. The first and second years were having their mid-terms so I didn’t get to teach my first high school class until Thursday, and all but one of my adult classes were cancelled. That class, in itself, warrants its own post, but I’ll include it here as well.

The high school lesson plan was a M.A.S.H. lesson working with the future tense that my friend Glypie G. created. The kids asked each other who’d they marry, what car would they drive, what job would they have, etc. They liked it, but the activity took too long and I didn’t explain it very well. I’m still thinking of using it a later week that’s fuller. I would have had three high school classes this week, but the students had to prepare a presentation for a festival on the weekend, so my Friday afternoon classes were cancelled.

Most of my Advanced Adults ended up showing up on Tuesday because I couldn’t inform them that class was cancelled for the week. I told them that I was very sorry, but we’d have to move our class back. I think some of them may have been disappointed with me or with the school, but I’m not sure. I was worried that they were paying for their lessons and thus were not getting their money’s worth, but I later found out that the lessons are a free service offered by the school to the community at large, and felt better about it then. Still, a month and half without seeing those fine conversants makes me a little sad.

The beginning adult class took me out for lunch on Thursday. The school was still in Midterms, so class was cancelled for the day. We ate samgyeopsal, my favorite Korean dish. This was enjoyable even if we couldn’t really talk to each other a lot.

Beginning Adult class on Friday would have been business as usual. We were going to do a lesson from the text book and then move on to polite expressions. But something unexpected happened.

A man, who will hereafter be described as “The Character”, came to class. His English is probably advanced intermediate level, but he mispronounces things severely and sometimes does not understand how to use a word in a sentence so that the sentence makes sense, so that I can barely understand him most of the time. Well, another student is always welcome, I suppose.

But there is a slight problem with The Character, and that is this: He wants to learn to English through osmosis. In other words, he just wants to talk in class and not learn what I have to teach the class for the day. Thus, he ends up being more of a distraction and occupying more of my time on an individual basis than I would prefer for the classes sake. Besides this, when he does strike up a conversation in class, he is not really listening to what I say. With most students, I repeat back what they say in correct grammar and then they repeat what I just said so they can understand what mistakes they were making. This guy just responds back, “Yes!” to everything I say. He has a superior air about him, and seems to be reticent to learn at the pace the class needs to learn. After all, not everyone is as advanced as he is. (There is one other student in class who is close, perhaps more advanced, but she understands that the others need to work at a slower place.)

Very frustrating, and I fear I may let the frustration get the best of me. If that is the case, I may have to tell him that he needs to “behave” in class, meaning he needs to do the activities along with the rest of us for the sake of the class. If he wants extra work, that’s fine. I’ll give him extra work. But if he insists on being a nuisance we’ll have to work something else out.

Eating with Lauren's Hostfamily

On Thursday evening, I got a call from Lauren G., a fellow ATE placed in Wonju. Her host family and she were passing through town and wondered if I’d like to grab a quick bite to eat. I said, “Sure,” and after giving them some apparently very confusing directions (in their defense, I don’t know my house’s address and giving bridges as landmarks isn’t all that helpful as there are about 6 or so bridges in my area), they eventually picked me up and we headed into town.

We finally stopped off at a Myeongtae restaurant, which is a fish specialty for the local area apparently. Tasty, but my memory is too far gone to make further remarks on it. I do remember that it was rather expensive though, so it is unlikely that I’ll try it again. If I do, I will leave you know.

The hostfamily carted Lauren off to choir practice before she could meet my family, something which I will have to amend at some point with her. The host family was a little disappointed it seems that she left so early…

Long Term Financial Planning to Meet Long Term Language Goals (10/3)

I’ve been meaning to make a budget for sometime now so I can know how much money I will have for Winter Break traveling and language classes. On my grant, I receive 1,400,000 won every month. (That’s right! With my first paycheck, I was a millionaire! Booyah! I have a feeling a show like “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” might not work out here…) of that:

+ 1,400,000 won
-TKD 70,000 won
-Cell Phone 30,000 won
-Travel 100,000 won
-Misc. 100,000 won

+ 1,100,000 won

If I can actually manage to pocket that much per month, by winter break I’ll have about 4,400,000 won. By the end of the grant term, if I’m frugal, I could have as much as 9,000,000 won, which, at about $9,837, would be a nice cushion for when I return to the states and allow me to pay down some loans (and buy an iPhone! … Hey! Who said that?). Still, I want to be able to explore Korea a bit (and also have some fun), and I realize that will take some money. I think a more realistic goal for the end of the grant term would be around $5,000, but I do want to try and make that 4,400,000 won goal for Winter Break. Living on my own in a city with only language classes to occupy my time is going to be expensive.

[NOTE: This post is slightly ironic given what I said below about Americans coming to this country for the money...]

Weekly Letter Home - Pauline Turns to Pop Culture

Dear Family and Friends,

God’s peace be with you! I hope you are well wherever you are. For those of you in school who are tired, I’m praying that God may help you with that, but from my experience it’s a mountain he wants you to climb, not move. Bear with it. For those who are unwell, I am praying for that too (especially you, Grandma!). May God grant you comfort and may you rest secure in that comfort until you find your full rest in Him. For those who have trials of other kinds, please let me here from you.

Of course, if you have joys let me hear those as well! I just miss people in general and would enjoy your correspondence. I promise, my more personal letters are not the tomes I send out on a (semi-)weekly basis.

Speaking of which, below you will find the update for last week, accompanied by the finished account of my friends’ visit from two weekends ago.

Things are going well here. I am tired, of course, but what else is new? I’ve earned my Green Belt, been on a hike up one of the harder climbs in Korea (not the hardest, not yet, at any rate), and met some friends.

One thing that has troubled me (and this may seem silly) is that I’ve lost touch with some great American pastimes. I’m still doing Fantasy Football with my housemates from VALPO, but, without games to watch with them, it’s not nearly as fun. I’ve also missed the season premiere of HEROES, one of my favorite shows on NBC, as well as episode two. I’ll have to just stop in a PC-bang later this week to watch them online.

Luckily, my sister has been keeping me up to date on all of the youtube.com videos of Justice League Unlimited, Batman, and Superman that I could ever hope for. I’ve also rediscovered my love for listening to Five Iron Frenzy albums straight through, which has been far more uplifting than the habit I’d developed here of listening to Linkin Park albums. The music is just as loud, and the screaming from both bands is phenomenal, but the more sonorous tone and jazz keys of Five Iron’s punk-ska sound is just plain happier than Park’s head banging cacophony.

At any rate, enjoy the letter!

Love,

Jeremiah

The Sunday After—Unintended Hiking, Slightly Awkward Tutoring, and Very Little Recuperating

During my bus trip back to the hamlet, I finished what homework remained for my tutoring lesson. I arrived at my destination around 10:15 am, and instead of troubling my host family, who were probably preparing for service at that point, for a ride, I decided to walk back via the trail. One would think I’d have had enough hiking by now, and my legs certainly complained about it, but it would be sorter than walking by means of the road.

Then, I did something very stupid. I took a look at a fork in the trail and said, “I’ve never been this way before, I wonder if it goes to that footbridge I’ve wanted to get to for a while…” Well, it did, and about forty minutes later, I was in completely unknown territory and an unknown time from my house. So, legs sore, body tired, and lacking water, I started taking trails that would lead me back to the river, if not my house. So much for taking it easy after that Bukhansan hike, but I did gain some valuable knowledge about the deer paths on the mountains, and even found a trail to a peak that I’ll want to try someday.

I stumbled my way into the house, fell asleep for about twenty minutes, changed into something more suitable for church, and, because it looked like rain, began my walk, this time along the flat road. I called my friend, H.W., to tell her I’d be late for tutoring, and she told me to meet her at the parsonage behind the church. I did well on the grammar constructions for tutoring, but need to bone up on my vocabulary, something which has been the bane of my existence with every language I’ve tried to study. The lesson was in her bedroom this time, which was slightly awkward. I don’t want to give anyone at the church the wrong impression, so I’ll have to ask if we can remain in a slightly more public setting next time.

After nearly falling asleep a couple of times in the afternoon service (I was running on about 6 hours of sleep plus a catnap after an all day hike and I couldn’t understand the sermon as it was in the Korean, so my eyes were rather insistent), I walked home. I have a feeling H.W. would have liked to talk for a bit more, but I was really too tired for more socializing. I’ll have to make it up to her next week. After all, if I’m not paying her, we should make this at least a language exchange.

I picked up some bananas on the way home to get some potassium to help with the cramps. There were about fourteen in the bunch, so I ate four on the way home and gave the rest to my host family. At that point, I believe I tried to write some, but I was too tired to do much. (It is Wednesday now, and I still have not recuperated.) I tried reading then. Still to tired. Watching T.V. was also taxing. So, I gave up, bid the family goodnight, and hit the hay. Finally.

(Incidentally, the family is well now. My host brother used improvised sign language to proudly tell me, “Eye! No!” (He pointed at his eye, then waved his arm wildly in a back and forth motion.) I can now touch things again. Hooray!)

Weekend in Seoul – Climbing Bukhansan (9/28-9/30)

After school on Friday, I biked home as fast as I could and packed for my weekend in Seoul, being very careful about choosing only items I would want to carry with me for the entire weekend as we would not have a place to keep our things during the day. For a couple of weeks now, a fellow ATE, Jon F., and I have been throwing around the idea of going hiking. Originally, we wanted to climb Seoraksan, which is supposedly the most beautiful and most difficult mountain in all of South Korea. (There is one in North Korea on the border with China that is rumored to be even more beautiful.) It’s a two-day hike, but supposedly well worth the time commitment. Both of us have 3-day weekends, so it shouldn’t have been a problem, but unfortunately his 3-day weekends start on Friday and mine end on Monday. We decided to pick another mountain. His communications back to me were fairly sporadic, but he finally discovered a couple of good mountains right outside of Seoul. One was supposed to be a five-hour hike, the other a six-hour, so if we were really ambitious, we could do both in one day!

My trip over was an unexpectedly late one. The bus trip to Seoul takes about three hours (at 12,800 won), and I could’ve sworn there was a 5:45 bus, making my estimated time of arrival about 8:45. (I’d abbreviate estimated time of arrival, but I fear this may be misinterpreted as my job title and thus incur the wrath of the Powers that Be.) Unfortunately, the bus was slotted to leave at 6:45, so I had about an hour and fifteen minutes to kill in the hamlet. During this time, I did some Korean homework, listened to some music I had downloaded to my PDA, and also discovered some surprisingly cheap street food in the marketplace. I usually go there at night when the vendors have closed up shop until tomorrow morning because I’m just making my way from TKD to my host family’s beauty shop. I’ll have to go more often during the day, however, because I picked up some delightfully greasy egg, meat, and pepper silver-dollar sized paddies at five for 1,000 won! It makes me wonder what the other street food is selling for.

I finally arrived at Dong Seoul Bus Terminal around 9:30 pm and met Jon F. at the local subway station, where I discovered that I had left my subway pass card from Yonsei Day at home and had to purchase a new one. We made our way to a jjimjilbang (24-hour Korean bathhouse with common areas for relaxing, entertainment, and sleeping) called Siloam. It was a little on the pricey side for a jjimjilbang (around 10,000 won when most are around 6,000 or 7,000), but it was so nice that we decided to sleep there both nights we would stay in Seoul.

The next day, Saturday, we got a late start, so we decided to pick one of the mountains on our itinerary and save the other for another time. The mountain we chose was Bukhansan, which at its peak becomes very steep, bald-faced rock so that it’s nearly impossible to climb without assistance (i.e. a rope). Now, most hikes to such mountains in America will just bring you to a lookout point so that you can see the mountain even closer, or will bring you to the base of the insurmountable part and have a sign saying, “Welcome to the mountain. You’ve seen it. Now go on your way.”

Not in Korea however. In fact, at the top of this mountain was a decent sized flag, scaffolding, a heavy marble marker, and even a vendor selling Bukhansan handkerchiefs and pins for those fortunate enough to have earned them by making it to the top. All this despite the fact that you practically pull yourself up the mountain by means of a rope and metal posts that have been driven into the rock for the final kilometer or so of the ascent. (If you’ve ever climbed Half Dome at Yosemite National Park in California, you may know what sort of hike I’m talking about. I’ve heard it is similar, at any rate.)

(NOTE: The Ubiquitous Pigeon was at the top as well, which I don’t find nearly impressive, as he can fly, but still slightly impressive in that he chose to fly that high, whereas most pigeons are content to walk on the flat plazas and sidewalks near eating establishments or where people have established themselves temporarily for eating.)

Also typical of Korean hikes, it seems, the trail went straight up the mountainside, the Koreans apparently having never heard of a switchback. Even if there is a “switchback” in the trail, it is usually bypassed in favor of a more direct route. This led my friend Jon to comment that there must be a law somewhere that says Korean trails must be impossible to climb for at least 30% of the population. 60% in the case of foreigners, I added.

Koreans even wear special gear for hiking. They have synthetic fiber clothes designed for wicking away sweat and keeping the body’s temperature normal. They have matching telescoping poles that they use to keep pace and help them up steep soil, and sometimes even a third pole for when they don’t feel like coordinating two hands. They have special gloves, special hats, special bags, special shoes. The only time I have ever seen a Korean person where sunglasses (besides when my host uncle had pinkeye) was during hiking. And I’ve never been hiking while the sun was out! My point is it’s all part of the uniform. We may have all of this in the U.S., but most people will just go in shorts and a t-shirt. Korean people, when they do anything athletic, apparently have to wear the whole outfit. When they bike, there’s an outfit for that. Rollerblading is the same. Hiking is no different. At any rate, I’ve resolved to collect an entire outfit by the time I return home to the states.

These facts in consideration, it makes me think that perhaps the Korean phrase 산책는 곳 is poorly translated to English as “hiking”. It is sometimes even translated as “strolling”. In other words, the sentiment is recreational walking in general.

Given both of my experiences, first at Songnisan and now at Bukhansan, I think “mountain climbing” might be a more appropriate translation, so long as one keeps the idea of rock climbing as a separate category, which, despite the ample amount of rocks in Korea, is not a popular activity.

It was beautiful though, and well worth the climb. In total, the hike took us about 5 hours including breaks. During this time, I don’t think we covered more than 8 kilometers, and certainly not more than 10. As I said, the trails are steep, and not designed for land speed records.

About half way up the trail, we came to the top of the mountain range, where we discovered a king had built a walled fortress and auxiliary palace during the Three Kingdoms period and later to fend off Mongol invasions, which he was not successful at. Just imagining carrying all of that stone to the top of the range made me wonder at the power that king must have wielding. Even if they carried it from the top down, it could not have been easy given the mountain’s steepness.

In fact, we saw some construction workers restoring a portion of the wall, which essentially involved taking perfectly cut stone and chiseling it to make it look jagged and worn. But as for the poor workers who delivered the stone to that site, I imagined this dialogue:

Deliverer: Here’s your stone. Where do you … … want it?
Worker: Oh, just put it down there or something.
Deliverer: Ok. Man, it was hard getting that thing up here! And look at that! Not a scratch on it. Had to be really careful with it to do that! A satisfactory delivery, right?
Worker: Yeah, sure. Whatever.

To be honest though, we did see a helipad at one of the rest stops, so perhaps they just had to carry the stone over, rather than up. Still, admirable.

That evening, we ate at a decent restaurant. I had teriyaki chicken, while my friend had the bibimbop, being the conscientious vegetarian that he is. We actually joked on the trail that his being a vegetarian must give him unlimited strength and endurance, as he was certainly cruising along while I huffed and puffed my lagging way behind. Afterwards, I had coffee and cheesecake at a Starbucks to get my fix of Western food for the next week or so. I never know how long it will be, so I have to stock up like the squirrels in fall preparing themselves for the winter chill.

We decided that it would be a good idea for me to check the time schedule at Dong Seoul Station before tomorrow morning so I could attempt getting back to the hamlet before my weekly tutoring lesson. I couldn’t find my town on the bus schedule, however, so with assurances from a friend over the phone that it was possible to get a ticket directly to my small little village, I made my way over to the ticket booth and said the words that ended any chance of recuperation for the weekend:

Naeil the hamletae gayo. (Tomorrow, I am going to the hamlet.)

They of course gave me a ticket for the first bus out of there at 7:10 am. We calculated the time it took by subway to get to our jjimjilbang and found it to be about one hour, meaning I’d have to wake up at 5:45 am to be safe. Sigh…

We had a little trouble navigating the green line back to the jjimjilbang (We accidentally took a spur off that line instead of the main line.), but our time on the subway had been good for catching up all weekend, so the conversation made the time pass quickly. We did the usual comparing of notes on homestays and schools. His school experience has been vastly different because he teaches elementary students instead of high school. He also told me about a Winter Korean language intensive program in his area that I may attend to bone up on my language skills. We wound up at the jjimjilbang around 10:45 and, after bathing and sitting in the cool room for a while, finally went to sleep around 11:30.

One conversation of note that we had during the weekend was on how it was always a little awkward seeing other expatriates in Korea. One always feels compelled to greet these complete strangers, but then one would be faced with the awkwardness of feeling, “I have no idea who you are, but you’re like me and perhaps have had a similar trouble in adjusting here and I’d really like to just sit and talk with you about it.” It’s also awkward perhaps because in the United States we’re conditioned not to think differently of people just because of outward appearance. Whether this conditioning works or not is up for debate, but most people still at least think to themselves, “It is culturally wrong for me to think of this person as different from any other person based on their skin color.” Thus, I always feel a little ridiculous when I see a fellow foreigner and immediately think to myself, “Friend!” After all, are not the Koreans all around me decently friendly people?

It is different in Korea at least to some extent though. One is surrounded by so much homogeneity that one is immediately drawn to the different, especially if that one grew up in what would be surprising (perhaps even overwhelming) diversity compared to the Korean context. I’m not sure if it’s something I’ll ever get past. Or even want to get past for that matter.

Sunday morning I woke up around 6:00 am, later than I should have, hurriedly changed, said goodbye to Jon, promising each other that we’d do it again sometime, and was out of the jjimjilbang by 6:10.

I was as dignified as possible, of course, but I was also practically running to each subway station in my attempt to get to Dong Seoul Terminal before my bus left at 7:10. I calculated the average time it took between stops to be 2 minutes and examined my subway map to determine when I should arrive at my stop. When I got on the green line, I fervently prayed that I had gotten on the right spur and would not be sent off one stop in the opposite direction before I could correct my mistake. I arrive at Dong Seoul at 7:02, enough time for me to get a 300 won iced coffee from the vending machine. I downed it and ran to the bus. No breakfast, no water, a spoonful of coffee, and two hours to the first resting area, but I was on the bus at 7:05. Five minutes to spare.