Decisions, decisions

16 May 2008

Today was a wonderful day. Until about 30 minutes ago. 30 minutes ago, a simple question forced me to face my future, and started a chain of thoughts which only provoked some very unwelcome questions.

What happens when you’re forced to choose between what you want to do in the present and the possibility of doing what you dreamed of achieving in the past? What happens when you suddenly realize that everything you worked for in the past, everything that was of upmost importance, might not matter anymore? Or, though it does matter, it just doesn’t matter as much? What do you do when you feel a realignment of priorities, but are unsure whether this is a temporary or permanent shift, and despite this uncertainty, have to make a decision which will definitely be a permanent decision? What do you do when you need to make a decision that will determine your future and you don’t know what you want your future to look like?

Here’s the deal. Five months ago I applied to various law schools, naively expecting a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response. Two graciously extended a ‘no’; one never did respond; and three put me on the waitlist.

Let it be known that I think waitlists are the spawn of Satan.

They place you in a sort of damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t limbo. You can’t pursue your life because there’s the remote possibility of acceptance; you can’t remove yourself from the waitlist because then you are permanently screwed as far as that school is concerned.

A few weeks ago my co-teacher KyungHee had asked if I planned on renewing my contract. I had decided, to myself, to renew it if I didn’t get accepted into the law schools. Really, I enjoy my job: I love my kids, and my coworkers are a blast to be around. I’ll admit that there was a smidgen of hope that I could stay and work here for another year. Is that being irresponsible? Is that placing temporary desires above my future? I don’t know, but that’s what I felt.

I had asked her to give me until May 15 when I receive my response for the waitlist…or 16^th, when one accounts for the time differences. And today, May 16^th, she asked me again.

I didn’t have an answer. I had checked my email, and I had not made the first cut on the waitlist. I was re-waitlisted.

I told her of the situation and asked her if I could have a little more time to think it over, and she was nice enough to say yes. We agreed that I’d let her know on Monday.

So here I am, faced with one of the largest decisions of my life. Right now, I’m feeling pretty stressed.

17 May 2008

Today was a pretty nice day. JungMin and I decided to take advantage of the pleasant spring feeling, and took our Broadcast Club kids to a movie. We caught a 9:30 screening of Prince Caspian; it’s 4,000원 for the kids, and free for teachers. Sweet! The film was really good, but also really long; it felt a little bit weird walking around after sitting for so long! The kids really enjoyed it, and I could tell that my girls had crushes on Peter (which is perfectly reasonable, as I had to keep reminding myself that he’s much younger than I!) because their whispering always got louder when he was in the scene.

After the film we let the kids go, and I went home. No plans today, just laze around and clean up the flat. But there was one very important thing I had to do.

I called my mom.

Yesterday KyungHee had suggested that I ask my parents for advice regarding my renewal decision. I had just smiled on the inside; I rarely ask anybody for advice, and I never ask my parents for advice.

Yet as my mind went in circles, her suggestion made more and more sense. Really, neither of my parents has ever had to make a decision like this one. But I know that they’ve made hard decisions before, and they have plenty of experience; if anything, they would just be fairly objective guides who could help walk me through my thoughts.

I had mostly decided to renew my contract. Part of the reason why I didn’t want to call mom is because I was afraid that she’d disagree with my decision. Being a Korean mother, she’s the one who’s been pushing me to apply to law schools; she wants me to hurry up and settle down.

I was surprised. Mom was perfectly objective; she didn’t let any of her personal feelings lend subjectivity to the choice. As I spoke with her, I realized that, really, it’s simple logic: if I decide to renew my contract, I will have a job I enjoy and risk getting accepted by a school and not going. If I decide not to renew my contract, I will not have a job I enjoy, and I risk not getting accepted by a school and having to start all over with my job hunt and my law school applications. I risk losing more by not renewing. She felt the same way and recommended that I renew my contract.

I felt so relieved after talking to her. Sorting out my thoughts and getting backing for my decision from an unexpected quarter made me feel so much more confident. When I’m indecisive, I feel unconfident; when I’m unconfident, I feel vulnerable. Those feelings melted away as I spoke with my mother.

Thanks, KyungHee, for the wonderful advice.

27 May 2008

Whoa, I’m typing this up, and it sounds SO sappy. Eew. Apologies.

Cheollanamdo Day 3

12 May 2008

Very short log today: I had a very uneventful bus ride home. Traffic was surprisingly light, and we arrived back in Seongnam around 2p. I was lucky enough to be on the side of the bus that has a seat by itself, so I was very comfortable. No leaning away from sleeping people this time around, and no pineapple juice on my shoes. It turns out I spent two nights in Gwangju and didn't see any more of the city than what I viewed from a bus window...

Cheollanamdo Day 2

11 May 2008

The first bus left at 8:20. As I lay in bed this morning I decided to catch the second bus. Really, I'm totally not motivated on this trip. I'm lying down on a granite seat outside the Express Terminal, enjoying the sunshine. The next bus leaves around 11. I can't believe I'm actually keeping up with my journaling. Usually I'm too busy. If I was with someone I wouldn't even do this. The only reason why I journaled Seoraksan is because I started before I met 대용, and I hate leaving things incomplete. Right now I'm tempted to buy a book at the Yongpoong bookstore inside the terminal, but 1) I don't want to have to lug it around, and 2) I only want to buy books at Kyobo because then I can get rewards points.

I have nothing to say so I'm done for now.

* * *

Wait in the morning, rush in the afternoon. What fun.

I got to the Hwaeomsa bus stop around 12:30. I asked the driver what time the last bus was, and he told me it leaves at 1. I knew this wasn't true because I could have sworn that a bus left Gwangju around 16.25. He obviously didn't understand my phone dictionary Korean. I just decided to work on my own conclusions, as usual. If the bus leaves Gwangju at 16.25, it would arrive at Hwaeomsa around 18.05, giving me 5 1/2 hours of free time. Moon listed the hike to Nogodan (노고단) as 4 hours. Crunch time.

Why am I always experiencing crunch time?!

It took me about 15 minutes to reach Hwaeomsa. It was a beautiful complex, but I wasn't really in the mood to fully appreciate it; I had to continue quickly in order to reach my destination, this was my third mountain temple in three weeks, and mountain temples just seem weak in comparison to Duryunsa. The preparations for Buddha's birthday, though, were impressive. As usual, the complex was covered in paper lanterns, but this was the first time I was able to witness monks hanging prayers on the lanterns. The shrines were beautiful. In addition to multiple gold-plated Buddhas and Buddhavistas, there were pyramids of small lit candles. Flanking the Buddha in the center were two white pillared candles with painted dragons sculpted on. This was a magnificent sight.

Monks hanging up prayers

Pretty lanterns!

The gate to the monks' quarters was open, so I got a glimpse inside as I walked by. It's a long chain of rooms, each with a wooden floor and a pile of bedding. It kind of reminded me of palace servants' quarters in K-dramas, but at the same time it looked quite modern. Walking along were some monks-in-training, about 14 or 15, with shaved heads.

Snap some pix and time to go.

Hwaeomsa to Nogodan is a 7 km hike. The first 30 minutes or so is a bamboo forest. This took a good 2 km out of the hike, and thankfully it was an easy 2 km.

The next 5k -- not so easy. I figured that if I could manage 2 km/hour, I could make it to the top by 3:30, leaving 2.5 hours to get back to the bus stop in time for the last bus.

Of course I would have to leave by 4p at the lastest. Which means that I'd go as far as I could, then turn back. As exhausted as I was, I didn't really expect too much of myself, and my tired side and competitive side were waging a battle about whether I'd summit.

How is it possible that a steep, strenuous 3-hour climb could energize somebody? But it did. About halfway up I realized that I had to reach the top. My pace quickened. Short bursts of energy hit me just as I turned a bend and got dejected by the sight of more steps. Twice on the way up I was encouraged by people coming down. One guy gave me a thumbs up. A woman said, in Korean, "Good job." Her daughter quickly said, in Korean, "Mom, she's a foreigner. Say [in English] 'Excellent.'" I couldn't help but laugh at that. I was tempted to say "맞어" but I didn't want to embarrass the mother. Those two people reminded me that even small acts of kindness can uplift and energize somebody.

Then I ran out of water. Moon had mapped a spring about halfway to Nogodan, but either it dried up or I missed it. Regardless, my mouth was dry and I was sweating out a river without replenishing it. For me, water is like a safety blanket. My aching legs, the sights of more steps and my empty water bottle affected me physically and mentally. Gawd. How pathetic. I can imagine myself in a desert; I'd just curl up on the sand and wait for the vultures...

I was actually at the point where I was seriously considering filling my bottle in the crystal-clear creek. Even the thought of people wading in the water upstream wasn't a deterrent. The thing that did stop me, though, was the thought of microbacteria and how it could adversely affect my digestive tract on the bus ride home tomorrow.

I'm naturally a fast walker, which makes me a fast hiker. A fast hiker with a time limit, determined to summit, becomes a faster hiker. I was catching up to some people, and as I got closer, I began to wonder if they were white. I finally caught up to the last person. He nodded at me, and I waved to him; we were both too short of breath to actually speak. He joined his group on a large rock, and I sat down for a break as well. It was almost 3:30, I had 1.5 km left, and I was thinking about turning around.

We didn't talk much. Just hello's all around, and I didn't really look at them. I was thinking about where I could find some water. Then he asked me if I lived in Bundang. I looked at him, and he DID look familiar. He's Geoff, a guy in a rock-climbing group on Facebook. How weird, to travel for 4 hours and run across somebody that you actually know. We talked a bit. I told them that I was getting ready to turn around so I could catch my bus, but they managed to persuade me to continue. So I got up, we wished each other luck, and I left.

It was only about 10 more minutes til I reached the ridgeline. It was beautiful. I love the feeling of accomplishment that accompanies the completion of a particularly difficult hike. But I wasn't finished, not yet. My goal was the Nogodan mountain hut, and as far as I had already come, I wasn't about to stop. The road to the mountain hut is not steep, and it was a rather pleasant walk. When I reached it, I filled my water bottle, drank half, and filled it up again. There were trails and signs leading away from the mountain hut. I checked my time: 3.30. I could make it to the pass by four, I was sure.

View from the ridgeline

The way to the pass was steep, but more relaxing. When I reached the pass another lone hiker and I traded photo shoots, then I began to head down. I could see the peak in the distance, but I knew I couldn't reach it quickly. But I had exceeded my goal, so I could leave satisfied.

Nogodan Pass

As I was coming down I ran into Geoff and his friends again. One of them informed me of a bus that actually goes from the mountain hut to Hwaeomsa. It was tempting...but I had planned to hike up and hike down; to do any less would leave my task incomplete. So I began the knee-jarring, dangerous trek back down.

I arrived back at the Hwaeomsa bus stop just before six. I stopped by a CVS nearby and picked up some water (the mountain hut water was refreshing at first but had a funky taste) and a Korean snickers, then returned to the bus stop.

Around 18.05 a bus to Gurye arrived, and I hadn't yet seen the bus to Gwangju. I decided to try my luck on the Gurye bus and try to catch a ride to Gwangju from there. The bus driver was very kind and informative; he spoke with the passengers, and when I saw the terminal and tried to get off, he told me to wait, as the bus actually stops at the terminal. At the Gurye terminal I caught a bus to Gwangju, and settled in. I had accomplished everything I had set out to accomplish. My long day was complete.

Cheollanamdo Day 1

10 May 2008

I'm getting a little travel-weary. To be honest, I kind of miss 서울. I'm not sure if it's because I miss our usual haunts, or if it's the very agreeable person whose company I suspect I'll miss. But I digress. I really miss Seoul. And I'm really tired. This whole morning discipline thing is getting to me. Five hours of sleep a night for over a month...I'm fatigued. Apparently I have the am discipline down (mostly -- I still run the last 15 metres to work!) but am having issues with the pm discipline; I've been reading some really interesting books lately and it's hard to force myself to go to bed.

I decided three times not to go anywhere. The important thing, though, is that I decided four times to go. A three-day weekend is just too much to pass up. So here I am...

In the little town of Hampyeong (함평). I woke up at 6 to catch the 7.30 to Jinju (잔주), decided it wasn't worth it, and promptly went back to sleep. The problem with waking up, though, is that one can never really go back to sleep. So I intermittently dozed on and off before I finally just decided to end my misery and get out of bed. The misery wasn't so much not sleeping; it was the indecision of whether I really wanted to go. I had packed my bags last night, and that ultimately was the deciding factor.

When I got to the bus stop I learned that the 10 o'clock was full and the next bus would leave at 1. Granted, I'm a foreigner, but who's even heard of Jinju?! I certainly hadn't until yesterday when my coworker 석남 told me to go there to reach Jirisan (지리산) Park. But apparently a whole busful had heard of it and had been diligent enough to buy a ticket before I could...

So I got one to Gwangju (광주). There are two Gwangju's: one in Gyeonggido just 15 minutes from my house, and the one in Cheollanamdo (천라남도), which takes a bit longer to reach. I'm talking Cheollanamdo. I figured I'd just hit the western side of the park rather than the eastern. Looks like actually reaching Jirisan summit will have to wait until a later trip.

Unlike most trips, I consulted neither Moon nor LP en route (I brought Moon with me, as it seemed to contain more details). Instead, I pseudo-dozed. It seems like everytime I was about to sleep my mind would snap and wake me up. I know that I did sleep once, because I woke up to a different song on my mp3 player.

The man sitting next to me obviously had no problem sleeping on the bus. I had the problem with him sleeping on the bus. He tended to lean. Being in the window seat, he usually rested against the window, but occasionally he would reposition himself and I would find myself leaning as well. At one point he was practically horizontal; consequently, so was I. He woke up, saw me leaning away from him with a rather bemused look, and immediately settled himself against the window and fell back asleep. It reminds me of the Mr. Bean episode where he falls asleep in church.

The trip was shorter than I had expected. Traffic was nasty around Seoul but surprisingly we were speeding along within an hour. 대용 texted me at a rest stop in 정주. I told him I think we were still north of 대전, but later when I looked at a map I realized that Jeongju is about 2/3 of the way through the trip. The whole ride lasted less than 4 hours.

At the Express Terminal I was indecisive once again (looking back, this seems to have been the theme of my weekend). When I'm with other people, I'm not domineering, but alone I know what I want to do and I do it. Unfortunately, the only thing I wanted to do was go back to Seoul and see... I've never really felt alone when traveling before, but it was an acute feeling this time; I think it's just the fact that my companionship last weekend is such a contrast to my solitude this weekend. Three too-short days managed to spoil me.

Originally I had planned to go to Gurye (구례) today, which is only a short bus ride to Jirisan Park. But that leaves the issue of my baggage. I could sleep there tonight, but I wanted to sleep in Gwangju Sunday night so I could make an early bus back to Seoul; 대용 and I had agreed to meet up if I could make it back early enough. If I didn't purchase a room for two days, though, I'd have no place to leave my extra bag; I think Gurye is a small town and I doubt its Express Terminal will have locker storage.

I finally decided to get a room in Gwangju for two days, and just go to Jirisan and return in the same day. That left me with another decision: get a room near the Express Terminal and take a bus home, or get one near the train station and take a train home? The train would be more convenient and comfortable, there was a variety of lodging around the train station, and traffic wouldn't be an issue, but would there be an available seat? More importantly, would I want to sleep near the train station and wake up earlier tomorrow in order to get the earliest ride to Jirisan?

대용 helped me make a decision. He suggested I hit up Hampyeong tonight to see a festival there. I know that I wouldn't want to go to the train station, get a room, return to the bus terminal, catch a bus to Hampyeong, return to the bus terminal, then go back to the train station, only to wake up early tomorrow morning and return to the bus terminal. Bus terminal lodging it is.

Apparently the only lodging within walking distance is of the love motel variety. I looked for the least seediest (the one without the curtained garage doors) and booked a room. I did have to call a few times before the owner came down; I'd imagine she usually doesn't have renters before 9 o'clock. I'll admit, though, the frosted windows and red & black curtains certainly lend a welcoming, homey feel...

Back to the bus terminal. I bought a ticket for Hampyeong and tried to get one for the 8:20 to Hwaeomsa (화엄사) tomorrow, but I can't purchase it in advance.

The scenery en route to Hampyeong was as picturesque as other areas in Cheollanamdo, but I was too tired to take it in. I mostly dozed.

There as a teenager sitting next to me, with a group of two friends. Around the beginning of the ride -- while we were still in Gwangju, actually -- he tried putting his pineapple slushie in the cupholder in front of him. I saw this just as he was turning back towards the aisle to talk to his friend and thought, "That's going to fall out." Maybe I jinxed it, because just then it did.

It was like slow motion. I don't know if I could have stopped it, but I didn't try. Maybe it was that my fatigue had put me into zombie mode and I didn't even think to react. Or maybe, just as likely HA!, I subconsciously wanted to punish him for being stupid enough to put his cup in an obviously too-small cupholder. Either way, it came crashing to the ground and erupted pineapple juice all over the floor.

He didn't know what to do. His friends laughed at him, then managed to scrounge up some tissue which couldn't even begin to clean up the mess. So I spent my ride in a half-zoned state surrounded by yummy pineapple juice scents.

Hampyeong is a very interesting place. It is like a huge city-wide carnival. Right now it's hosting the 2008 World Butterfly and Insect Expo. I'd like to see it when it's not in festival mode; I bet it's a sleepy hamlet contrasting the bright and loud atmosphere I witnessed.

It was amazing. Outside the Expo the city is a sea of white food tents. One particularly large dining area featured a performer to entertain the guests. Her crooning (I believe it's a she...sounded like a man, but wore a dress) could be heard across the grounds. The band was good, she wasn't, but it was still fun. The Expo itself was beautiful. The grounds were colourfully decorated, and the lamps even had giant plastic caterpillars which housed speakers for public announcements. I'm sure it would have been so much nicer if I could have gone inside.

Entertainer at a dining tent

That's right. I arrived around 7; it closes at 5. Just as I found this out at the ticket gate, 대용 called me to let me know. He must have been checking it online and found out. He apologized, but I told him it's OK; there are still plenty of other things to enjoy.

Butterfly Expo...from outside the gate

It seems the town had spent a fortune to prepare for the Expo. The roads were freshly paved and the sidewalks freshly laid. There was still dirt everywhere from the construction work. Flowers and small conifers had recently been planted beside the sidewalks; the grass hadn't begun to grow yet. On the top of a small hill near the Expo was a large rock that was brightly lit. I headed there. The hill, and the view it provided, were both lovely.

Carnival outside the Expo

At one point as I was walking down the road a car pulled over and a woman stuck her head out the window to ask me where the Expo is. Her face registered surprise when she saw me, and she almost stuck her head back in to drive away, but I gave her directions, also informing her that it's closed. Weird. That's the second time today that somebody has asked me for directions. I feel like Sammi. How can they mistake me for a Korean girl? Kory girls are never scrubbed out like I am. Scrubbing out for them takes a considerable amount of preparation to make themselves appear scrubbed out. I just scrub out because I'm lazy and want to be comfortable.

After about two hours I headed back to the Express Terminal to catch the last bus. That's something to get used to out here. All the buses shut down so early.

Gangwando Day 3

5 May 2008

This morning I slept in...til 8. I washed up, finished my packing, and left for Sokcho. As I waited for the bus I got a beautiful glimpse of the mountains, their peaks shrouded in low-hanging clouds. In Sokcho I got off the bus at the Express Terminal to drop my bag off at a locker, then went to the beach. On the way I saw a NesCafe coffee shop and walked up the stairs to try it out. Closed. So it was downstairs to Family Mart for a warm can of coffee.

Shot of the mountains from Seorak-dong

Facing west from Sokcho Beach

Facing east overlooking Sokcho Beach

It had rained during the night and in the morning, but it was sunny by the time I arrived. I don't know if the sea is rough on this side, or if it's just because of the weather, but the breakers were pretty powerful; they actually crashed onto the beach. The beach sloped down gently until the point where the waves hit it; this was probably a 45degree angle.

The air was full of the sound of waves, punctured by the screams of kids as they played chicken with the waves. They'd walk towards the water, then run back, trying to outrun the waves. A man came down the beach, blowing his whistle and motioning the kids to go inland; the waves were getting higher. As soon as he left, the kids returned to their games. Another man came over and used all his authority as an 아저씨 to get the kids away from the water. Good thing. I guess these parents don't know what an undertow can do to a 40-lb kid.

I spent a bit of time journaling, then decided to hit the city part of Sokcho. I didn't want to do much sightseeing; I just wanted to hang out.

As I passed the NesCafe I looked up and saw that the door was open. Cools. A hazelnut cappuccino and some more journaling. I left around noon to try the side of the city across from the lake. This is less tourist-y and more business-related; here the hotels are replaced with City Hall, the police station, Coast Guard, and houses.

Fishermen mending their nets

Fish drying. Yum!

I took a ferry across the neck of the lake, which is about 15 metres at the most. A half hour walk brought me to Dongmyeong Harbour (동명항). By this time it was nearly 2. I was hungry. I found a restaurant that serves 회덥밥, the dish 데용 and I tried to get Sunday night. I ordered some. Then I asked for the bathroom. The 아저씨 led me to the door and pointed around the corner of the building.

I rounded the corner and an elevated port-a-potty greeted me. I braced myself, drew a deep breath, and opened the door.

And came face-to-face with a very shocked man.

I apologized and turned around. I heard him drew the lock. I had my back turned to him when he came out to spare us both additional embarrassment.

The port-a-potty was a squatter. And, all things considered, I actually prefer a squatter port-a-potty over a sit-down, as it allows for less germ exchanging. Furthermore, it's much easier to squat over a hole in the ground than it is to squat over a toilet seat, which is usually my only option in public stalls.

I returned to the restaurant and waited only a few minutes before the 아줌마 brought out my meal. It was so good. 회덥밥 is like 비빔밥 but with raw matchstick-sliced octopus, pear and lettuce. The lettuce reminded me of 비빔밥 back in the States when we didn't have any 반찬 in the house; mom just tore pieces of romaine and threw them in to give us some vegetable content. Hahahaha

Speaking of 반찬, this restaurant had good stuff. As usual, I ate half my rice but almost all my 반찬. I think henceforth I'm just going to ask for a half portion of rice. No need to contribute to an international food shortage by wasting rice.

Let me tell you about the restaurant's other patrons. Only because I'm very fond of them. When I walked into the restaurant I was greeted with the shouts and laughter of a noisy group of 아저씨s sitting at a table loaded with food and soju. Soju at 2 in the afternoon?! Their noise didn't dissipate throughout the meal, but instead of detracting from my culinary pleasure, it in fact enhanced it.

They were mostly of the fisherman/coast guard variety, and in the midst of the 이씨s and 개새끼s strewn throughout their conversation they were a close group of jovial people -- not drunk enough to be disgusting, but not sober enough to be demure. At one point an 아저씨 was expounding on a particularly long soliloquy, and the table erupted with relieved laughter when another 아저씨 finally exploded with "아 시끄러!" Yet 아저씨 #1 took no notice of #2 and continued to talk, only raising his voice to be heard over the sudden laughter and conversation that attempted to drown him out.

By the time I finished my meal I had 45 minutes til my bus' departure. I began booking it for the main road.

Sokcho is a small city with a lake in the center. I had two options. I could return to the bus terminal by retracing my route, walking to the ferry, crossing over, and walking back to the Terminal, as taxis and buses are very limited between the lake and the Express Terminal. This could take me about 45 minutes, I estimated. Or I could hop on a bus that would skirt the lake. I had no idea how long it would take, as I knew neither the city's size nor the frequency of stops.

I decided to take the gamble and hop on a bus. Traffic was horrid. Though it's a small town, the streets are mainly of two-lane variety; any additional lanes were eaten up by stopping buses and parked cars. Stoplights meant long lines. By the time I began to worry and contemplate alternate options, though, I realized we were on the west side of the lake. From my bus experiences Saturday, I presumed that the route would move along much more quickly once we hit the south side of the lake, as it is a multi-lane avenue with few bus stops.

I was right. All in all, the ride took 25 minutes tops. I had time to spare.

The ride back to Seoul was mostly uneventful, with one exception. Because of traffic, the bus was obliged to stop twice for the sake of overworked bladders. The first stop was fifteen minutes. The second one, though, was unscheduled, so there was nothing on the TV screens to indicate how long we had. The thought to ask the driver occurred to me, but I rashly brushed it aside, assuming it would be like the first time.

I was getting hungry and knew that another few hours on the road would produce loud growling from my stomach. I decided to get some food.

As I approached the bus it struck me as odd that there was nobody standing outside like usual. The driver was inside the bus. My pace quickened.

They were waiting. For me. As I boarded, the driver addressed the bus and all I caught was "위국인." I think he was trying to evoke understanding for the foreigner who obviously hadn't received the memo that it would be a shortened stop.

Awkward. To exacerbate the feeling, it seemed every eye was on me to get a glimpse of the offender as I speed-walked the eternal aisle to my seat at the rear of the bus.

Now imagine how ridiculous I felt when, shortly thereafter, I began to recognize my neighbourhood and realized we were only an hour from our destination: a distance that my stomach surely could have handled.

허걱

Gangwando Day 2

4 May 2008

Breakfast was delicious. 대용 had everything ready by the time I came down (I had told him to text me so I could help, but he hadn't). He had different kinds of his mom's 반찬, and he had made soup and fried our fish. The soup was salty and he kept apologizing, but the flavour was good. He had given me a full bowl of rice, which I never finish at restaurants, but I felt obligated to eat it all. It wasn't too much of a chore, though; the delicious 반찬 was a wonderful accompaniment. Keeping in mind my travel issues, I made sure to eat a lot of the greens.

After breakfast we had some coffee and agreed to hit up Sokcho for dinner. He told me to text him when I'm on the bus home.

I got to Seoraksan around 10. I headed over to Sinheungsa (신흥사), the temple complex near the park pavilion. After snapping some pix, I headed back to the road which would lead me to Diamond Cave. Diamond Cave is a small, shallow cave which had been used by the monk Wonhyo as a meditation spot. I can see now how it could be very conducive to meditation; I can't imagine anybody in his right mind climbing the whole way there just to interrupt somebody's prayer time.

The first 25 minutes were easy: a slight incline running alongside a rocky creed. Around Biseondae (비선대) the trail began to get steeper. The last 30 minutes or so were fairly arduous, and just beneath Diamond Cave the stone steps ended and were replaced with metal stairs, complete with handrails.

When I reached it there was nothing to do except snap some pictures, drink some water, consult Moon for my next stop, and head back down. I had wanted to follow the 마등령 Pass, but I believe it was closed. Moon was a bit vague on this, I thought. I was looking for the trail near Diamond Cave as indicated in the book, but the actual sign was near the base of the mountain, and it was closed. Unless there's a hidden trail from the Cave, it was closed.

I backtracked to Sinheungsa, stopping by the creek to sit on a small boulder and have some 떡 and water, catching some sun and dipping my feet in the cold water.

The road north of Sinheungsa leads to Ulsanbawi (울산바위). Like the trail to Diamond Cave, the beginning was a wide path packed with people and teeming with small children, including those who like to jump in front of you and stop. Of course, adults do that too, but with adults, a 'why are you this stupid?' bump can make a point without serious injury, whereas with children I actually have to stop to avoid stepping on them. If I ever have kids and decide to go hiking for the Children's Day weekend, I think I'll leave them at home for some bonding time with Dad or Grandma or some other responsible adult.

About 1/2way to Heundeulbawi (흔들바위), or the Rocking Boulder, the trail began to get steeper. I was decently tired by the time I reached Heundeulbawi. A person, with a single, forceful shove, can make the boulder rock. A group of 20 people, with a single, forceful shove, can make the boulder rock. But no group can actually push hard enough to make the bouldter move permanently.

A quick water break gave me some energy and I continued. The beginning of the trail from Heundeulbawi to Ulsanbawi was beastly, and it only got worse. The last part was torturous. We'd climb a huge column of metal steps and turn a corner to find...more steps. Scramble up boulders to find...more steps! Moon cites over 800 steps in the last part alone, and I totally believe it.

At one point as I was walking up I looked up to see two white women coming down. One had a dog in her shoulder bag. Its ears were dyed blue. French people, I swear. I don't know if they made it up to the top, but it doesn't matter. At that point, still so far from the summit, if it had been me I would have been tempted to throw it off the mountain to rid myself of unnecessary weight. I jest...mostly. I just had a vision of Jack Black kicking Baxter off the bridge. Hahahaha

A nice trick is to go hand-over-hand on the rail, using your arm strength to save your legs a little work. I employed this frequently because I'm lazy, practical, and at the time I was dead-tired. For a while I was right behind a woman about the same size as I, and it was kind of funny; we actually worked in sync in stepping on the stones and moving our arms up the rail. No, it wasn't that funny. It was just interesting. No, it's wasn't even that interesting. It was just something that stuck out in my mind.

I'm not sure what was worse -- the steps (I probably stopped three times on one particularly brutal staircase) or the rocks. The path on the rocks was so narrow we frequently stopped because it could only fit one person and we had to wait for a column of people descending the mountain before we could continue. If walking on smooth, slanted rocks isn't hard enough, the person in front of you would suddenly stop while you're mid-step and you have to find new footing to avoid falling on him or her.

As we climbed, though, we developed a sort of camaraderie unusual in don't-talk-to-strangers Korea. We were all in it together, and nobody would turn back --in fact, in some spots, nobody could turn back if they wanted to because the path was too narrow.

The summit was amazing. I say this for most summits, but this one was more amazing than all the rest. It wasn't just the view, which was spectacular; it was the knowledge that you just took on a particularly difficult task and successfully completed it.

A Red Cross worker, young but weathered by the sun and wind, was kind enough to photograph people at the top. He must do it often, because he even positioned people to make for the best picture. He called it his 아라바잇, or part-time job, though he didn't charge. He must be bored, and I hope he's often bored, as it means that nobody met a catastrophe en route.


The way down was typical of mountain trails: much less taxing, but much more dangerous. Falling up can bark your shins, but falling down can break your neck, and maybe the necks of the people in front of you. So I employed the hand-over-hand method again.

I bought a bottle of water at Heundeulbawi and sat a minute to recoup. My legs were shaking. They were shaking on the way down from Diamond Cave, but I could make them stop within seconds. This time it took awhile, and they were prone to start up again immediately.

When I reached the creek approaching Sinheungsa, I stopped on a rock for some much-needed protein. I LOVE Korean snickers!

I had thought of heading to Allak-am (알락암), a small hermitage, and Gwon'geum-seong (권금성), a fortress, but it was nearing 5 and I didn't think I could take anymore climbing. It was time to go home.

When I reached the bus stop there was a long line. I wasn't too psyched about standing around, but I also didn't want to walk back to the entrance to hail a cab (at this point, yes, walking back to Seorak-dong was completely out of the question). Luckily, they're smart. Two bus numbers service Seoraksan, and instead of going the whole route, they designate each bus a stop on the route and pack it with people going there; then the bus returns for more people.

I texted 대용 to tell him I was getting on the bus, then grabbed the bus for Seorak-dong C, but apparently I had the wrong one. It stopped about a km past my 역원, so I had to backtrack a bit.

I grabbed my key at the front desk and hit my room for a desperately-needed shower. I was getting ready when I received a text from 대용: "Where are you?" I told him I was in my room and I was almost ready.

When I went down he greeted me with a can of Pocari Sweat; he had been waiting for me at the bus stop to give it to me. I felt slightly guilty. We headed up to the roof to hang out and he started telling me the meaning of Ulsanbawi. When the Geumgang Mountains were being created, Ulsanbawi wanted to be one of the required 12,000 peaks, so it traveled north from the southern city of Ulsan. It found that the requisite number of peaks had been met, so it ended its journey. Its sorrow, as well as the crying sound one hears as the wind blows past the rock, led to its name: Crying Rock Mountain. I knew the legend behind the rock (via Moon), but didn't know how the rock's name corresponded with the legend. I guess long ago somebody crazily decided to climb to the top for fun, heard the crying sound, and created a tale to explain it.

As he was speaking, the vegetables hit. If he noticed my sudden tenseness and 'oh crap!' (literally) look, he gave no indication. Eventually he finished the story and asked if I was hungry. I told him I had to pack a little (lame!) and I would return soon. I hurried upstairs but was dismayed to learn that I had waited too long; it had passed. My digestive tract is so temperamental!

We left around 7. When we walked out the door his mom called out to us to return early. I kind of wondered what she thought of me, whether she thought I was a loose American out to seduce her son, or a nice woman who's her son's friend. hahaha As we were driving the digestive tract exacted its revenge; the vegetables u-turned and hit again. I decided I could hold it. We were heading to Naksansa (낙산사) to see the temple grounds. It's located at the top of a small hill right above the beach.

대용 asked me what I wanted to eat, but I don't know any of the regional foods out here, and as far as regular Korean food is concerned, I'm good with anything, except donkatsu. He asked if I had tried 회덥밥, rice with raw seafood, smothered in sauce (in this case, red pepper sauce). Sounded good, so we began looking for restaurants.

We found one close to the beach that advertised the dish on the outside. When we went inside, though, it wasn't a menu item. 대용 asked if I wanted to go elsewhere, but I said it's ok to stay. I got some fish soup and he got 비빔밥.

As we wrapped up our meal, he told me that his grandma had always told him not to waste food. One swat would make him resume his meal when he stopped. I laughed. Sounds like my mom. He picked up his metal bowl and ate the last grains of rice. All I could do was grin; I still had 1/2 my bowl of rice and there was no way I was going to finish it.

He tried to pay, but I beat him to it. After all he had done, there was no way I was going to let him pay, especially after I left 1/2 my rice.

There's a batting cage across from the restaurant. He asked if I wanted to go. Now, I had been wanting to go for awhile; I had actually suggested it to Anna just on Friday and received a very noncommittal response. Yet keep in mind that I hadn't been to a batting cage since seventh grade. Dad had taken me, and though I can hit slow pitch, I had managed to connect with the ball twice, max, at a pathetic 45mph, both fouls.

We tried the slowest ones first. I don't know how fast they were, but they were still too fast for me. An improvement over last time, though; I think I hit five, and one was even fair! He was much better (he had played baseball in high school). One hilarious thing happened. The first time I cut, I flatulated (I'm serious, this is a tell-all blog). It just came out; I couldn't stop it. And it wasn't even an SBD, but a loud little popper. I don't know if he heard it, but I swung with clenched cheeks after that.

We decided to try again, a faster one. He went first and hit most of them, missing a few at the end.

I BEAT HIM. I got them all, and most were fair. I don't know how, but it happened! I surprised myself. He was jokingly disappointed with himself, but I kept insisting that 9 out of 10 times he'd be better. I think that's true. Maybe, though, I've experienced a miraculous improvement in hand-eye coordination. We decided on a rematch sometime in Seoul.

From there we headed up the small hill to Naksansa. He pointed out a hotel where seawater is pumped into the sauna. I'll have to try that sometime.

Naksansa closes at 8. It was 9:15. Oh well. We headed up to a small pavilion at the top of a nearby hill, then went to the base to Naksansa Beach.

It was windy and both of us had left our jackets in the car. The breeze was cold and flying sand cut into our skin, and I had a great time. Sokcho beaches are happening places at night. People ride four-wheelers up and down the beach, and the air is filled with the noise and smoke of fireworks, as well as the joyful yells of the kids setting them off.

We went to get some fireworks and I tried to pay again. The vendor had his hand on my 만원, but said, 'Korea tradition' and took 대용's 5K원. I don't know if it was 'Korea tradition,' or if he just didn't want to make change. But I was allowed to buy some nice hot cans of coffee.

Coffee and fireworks in hand, we headed back to the sand. The beach is lit, so we ended up close to the water where it's darker. We lit the 25-pack and were disappointed when, five seconds later, it was over. The sparklers were much more fun.


He told me that when he was little, he and his friends would somehow attach a rope to a can, somehow light the can on fire (I think they poked holes in the can and had a fire inside), then run down the beach, swinging the can around in circles. I don't really get the method, but I understood the result: he would go home, go to bed, and wake up with wet sheets and angry parents. Hahahaha

He said that his parents always called him 개구쟁이: rascal. He would ask his dad for money for ice cream and use to buy matches, which were the same price. Then he and his friends would play the burning can game. One time his dad caught him buying matches with the ice cream money. Ha!

As we were leaving the beach he asked me if I like dolls, pointing to the back of the car. I turned around. The rear window was lined with stuffed animals. Awkward. I didn't know what to say. He offered to get me one at a 보바 machine (I kept thinking 바보 machines like Jonathan calls them). I tried to convince him that I didn't need one, but he insisted. He didn't get any. He blamed the weakness of the claw, but I assured him that it was ok.

When we got back to Seorakdong we hit up a hof for chicken and beer. By this time my gut was screaming for relief; though I had been gassing at opportune moments throughout the evening, it wasn't enough. A beer only made it worse. Now I had a full bladder AND a full butt!

We hit the restrooms outside the hof. My purse was too small to fit toilet paper and none of the stalls had any. Wonderful. It's crunch time!

The walk back to the 역원 was physically less-taxing than Ulsanbawi, but equally as torturous. Once we arrived we said our very quick good-byes and I ran upstairs to my room.

I sincerely hope this is the only defecation-related blog I ever post. It's a little tasteless, but, to me, the situation itself is really funny.

Gangwando Day 1

3 May, 2008

Fourth week in a row. That's right. Against all odds, I haven't slept in in a month. As usual, my alarm rang at 7, and, as usual, I got out of bed around 7.30.

Last night I was up until two, packing and checking bus schedules. The 'Central City' and 'Seoul' terminals are both in Gangnam (강남), but the website did not specify which subway stop they were at, whether it was Nambu (남부) or Express (고속) terminal. I decided to go with the Express terminal and try my luck, hoping it is the 'Seoul' terminal, which I needed. After getting ready and doing some last-minute packing, I left.

I arrived just before 10. Upon my arrival I saw that I was in fact at the Central City terminal. Instead of going to Nambu, though, I decided to see if somehow there is a bus to Sokcho (속초). I don't know if Central City and Seoul terminals are both in the Express terminal, but I found routes to Sokcho. I don't get it, but that's OK.

My guidebook listed Sokcho as a 3-hour transit. The website said 4. It took 5. The traffic was horrid; our rest stop in Yeoju (여주) took two hours to reach. I imagine it'll be like that Monday as well.

I arrived in Sokcho at 4 and immediately looked for a bus stop so I could board a bus for Seoraksan (설악산). I really had to pee, but the Bus Terminal restrooms were completely out of the question. The #7 and #7-1 buses go to Seoraksan, and en route pass through Seorak-dong (설악동), where I hoped to get a room. I wasn't sure how busy it would be with the long weekend, and I was a little concerned.

A bus stopped. I stood on the steps and asked the driver if he was going to Seorak-dong. He motioned me to get on, closed the door and started to drive. He asked me where I was going and when I repeated myself, he 아이씨'd and dropped me off at the next stop, driving off without another word.

I had a little more luck with the next driver. He at least told me to go to the other side of the street.

Third time's the charm. I asked, he smiled and nodded, and we left. On the bus I heard a little boy, maybe 10, speaking very loudly. When I turned to see, it wasn't a little boy, but an 아줌마. Hahaha

I got off in Seorak-dong, a place with a fair number of 민박s and 역원s. Even though they're cheap motels, the exteriors in this tourist town are much nicer than I've seen elsewhere; they're rustic and charming, built with wood or river rocks.

I walked into one nearby the bus stop and asked if they had an available room. She nodded in affirmation, and I asked if the bathroom's attached to the room (these, of course, are my two staple questions). She grinned and nodded again, then told me my Korean's good (this, of course, is the 역원 owner's staple response). A young man nearby asked me where I'm from (in English, actually pronouncing the 'f'!). I was rather surprised that somebody in a rural area -- to me, everywhere outside of Seoul is rural -- could speak English fairly well. I told him the US, then went up to my room to unpack.

It was five when I arrived at Seorak-dong and I wasn't ready to go to the park until around 5.30. My ritual in-transit itinerary planning had marked my first day with a trip to 금강굴 (Diamond Cave), but it's a two-hour hike one-way, and I was sure I wouldn't have enough time to return before it got dark. Even though I had my flashlight this time, I didn't want another twilight stroll. I opted to go with Sunday morning's path to the waterfalls, which is only an hour one-way.

I was disappointed. After the quiet, rustic peace of Duryunsan (두륜산), unadulterated by massive crowds, the touristy-ness of Seoraksan came as an unwelcome shock. There was a restaurant or tourist shop every 1/2km, it seemed. The Trail was also disappointing. It was more like a Sunday brunch walk in the park than a mountain trail.

But the scenery was beautiful. The trail led through a shallow gorge, and as it darkened it was empty enough that I didn't see too many people. Deeper pools were teal and blue, and shallow pools were crystal clear, revealing the gold and brown rocks at the bottom.

빌용 "Flying Dragon" Waterfall

I didn't feel like waiting for the bus to take me back, so I started to walk. As I passed through I saw a sign advertising 산채비빔밥. Mountain vegetables! Yum! I went in and ordered a bowl.

The server brought a tray loaded with my 비빔밥 & 반찬. There was no "맛있게 두새요" but it was served with a simple unfeigned sweetness. As she was putting the 반찬 on the table i was rearranging it to make room for my food and in so doing spilled some water into the 반찬. She picked it up and drained the water onto her tray. I thought it was a very kind act.

The 비빔밥 was good, but the 반찬 wasn't as good as what I had in Cheollanamdo (천라남도). The leeks were a little salty and the 김치 tasted like cheese (I don't know how; it wasn't sour or anything, but it just reminded me of fresh mozzarella), but I ate with the ferocity of a sailor suffering from scurvy.

Here's where I reveal all. If you're eating, stop reading. When I travel, I tend to find myself...stopped up. I usually don't poo when I'm with other people, but even when I travel alone I have issues. This time, though, I was determined to stay on schedule, so I ate as many vegetables as I could.

The walk from Seoraksan to Seorak-dong takes a good forty minutes, even without the stop for food en route. When I arrived back in Seorak-dong C, my neighbourhood, I stopped by a CVS to pick up some snacks for Sunday's breakfast and hike. As I returned I saw the young man with whom I had spoken at the 역원. He asked me if I wanted some coffee and I accepted; I never refuse coffee.

He brought out a Coke; he had run out of coffee. We sat and started talking. His name is 대용, like Big Dragon. His parents own the 역원. They're from 서울; he lives in Seoul and works in Seongnam (in 야탑동, two subway stops from me), but comes out some weekends to help his parents out.

He invited me to go fishing with him. And I did something which no sane, intelligent woman (and a CJ major, no less) would ever do: I accepted. I figured it's a chance I would probably never get again. That, and I had my camping knife in my bag, and I figured I could take him if it came to blows (not so, I found out later; he's a black belt in 태권도).

We went to Haemaji (해마지), where a number of boats are docked. He showed me how to fish. You drop the line in, and drag along slowly, trying to keep it as close to the dock as possible.

I immediately caught one -- about as long as my middle finger. It went back in. He caught two decent-sized ones before I caught another. This was a step down; it was about ring-finger-sized. Dang. But I was still really excited (I haven't caught a fish since I was 8: a rainbow trout in the Rockies that turned into dinner) and got a picture. How sad; I'm beaming like a medalist with a fish I could have swallowed whole if I wanted to. But it'll go down in history as the 20-#er I caught bare-handed.

That one went back in. I actually took it off the hook and threw it in. We were about to leave when I had my crowning moment. It was about 5 inches -- no mean size for this kind of fish. Boo-ya!

We packed up to try our luck at Oeongji Harbor (의옹지항). No dice, but I was lucky enough to be approached by a drunk guy to show me how it's done. It's times like these when I play my 외국인 status to its full extent and butcheredly say, "한국말 없어." It usually scares them away, but sometimes it'll backfire and they'll try to practice their 인그리씨 on me. Fortunately, this was an instance where the 위국인 factor played in my favour.

We headed over to Dongmyeong (동명) to check out one of the sights there. It was closed, but we did make it out to 영금정, or Sunrise Pavilion. We were heading back to the car when we passed a snack cart. 대용 asked if I had tried 오징어순대 (squid sausage?). I hadn't.

It was delicious. Most of the 순대 at Seoul snack carts aren't spiced up properly, my coworkers had told me. This was. And instead of putting the filling in pork intestine, this Sokcho specialty puts it inside the mantle of a squid [I did just look up the anatomy of a squid to find out what the 'mantle' is called; they're actually more complex than I had expected. All I knew was head and tentacles].

대용 & 오징어순대

We headed over to the Dongmyeong Fish Market, but it was closed. Fat cats scurried from mat to mat, feeding on leftovers, though. We returned to the car to head back to Seorakdong.

When we reached the less-crowded road leading straight to Seorak-dong, 대용 asked me if I wanted to drive. Of course! He pulled over and we switched seats. I drove pretty slow, despite the two cars tailing me, since I know my driver's license isn't applicable here (I cunningly failed to mention that part to him). He complimented me on my driving (I speed up on curves), but I think I scared him when I screeched in to park. I couldn't help it; it's my trademark move.

While we were out, his mother, in true Korean-mom style, called at least twice to tell him to come early. Hahahahahaha I guess all Korean moms feel it necessary, even though they know their kids will never listen.

Before we parted, he reminded me to come to breakfast so we could feast on the night's measly catch.

It was close to 1am, but I really needed to shower. Between the hike's sweat and the port water shaken on me by struggling fish, I felt filthy. I could hear the TV from the neighbouring room, so I wasn't too concerned about waking anybody up. Shower, TV, and sleep.