The last few weeks in Korea have been spent without seeing or hearing a lot of
English. I have only seen a half dozen or so other travelers. To help keep
myself from feeling totally illiterate, I have tried to learn the Korean
alphabet. It is surprisingly easy, and it enables me to at least read menus and
figure out where busses are going.
Despite the language barriers, I continue to be amazed by the Korean people's
hospitality. They are constantly offering food, giving me directions, and
helping me figure out what bus to get on. All I have to do is look lost (which
comes real naturally around here), and someone is usually offering their help
within a minute or two. Bus drivers have even got off the bus to flag down a
taxi and tell the driver where I am going. About the only people I have found
that haven't been helpful are the people in the tourist information offices.
The weather has started to get a little chilly, and as winter starts to move in,
I have also had my share of rainy days. The rain started on my first day in
Soraksan National Park where it poured the entire day. While the rain
unfortunately knocked off many of the remaining leaves from the trees, it did
have its bright side as it made everything seem fresh and clean for my hike the
next day.
The scenery in the park is filled with interesting granite formations, and parts
of it reminded me of Yosemite with a sprinkling of Buddhist temples. I chose one
of the more popular hikes in the park, and as I hiked off into the
"wilderness", I passed a temple or full fledged restaurant every half
kilometer or so. I also passed many well dressed Koreans of all ages including
women in their eighties, men in full suits and women hiking up rocky trails in
spike heels.
I soon reached one of the main destinations of the trail which is called
"teetering rock" in the english translation. It is a large boulder
maybe 3m in diameter, and if you push hard you can make it rock back and forth a
few cm. Of course you had to line up with all the picture taking locals for the
privilege.
From Soraksan, a long and grueling 9 hour bus ride brought me to the ancient
Korean capital city of Kyongju. The visitor's first introduction to the history
of Kyongju is a series of parks in the city center with huge (up to 20m high)
ant hill like grass covered mounds. They don't look quite natural, and it turns
out they are one to two thousand year old tombs of former Korean kings. The
local archeologists have shown amazing respect and restraint as most of them
have not even been excavated despite the gold crowns and other treasures
revealed in the few that have.
To orient myself, I tried visiting the tourist information office to collect a
few maps and get some information about the area. The maps they handed out were
next to useless, but I saw a decent topo map under a glass case that looked
great. I asked if I could get one, and was told that they weren't provided, but
that I could buy one in town. She scribbled down the name of the shop I needed
to go to, and drew an 'x' on the map at its location.
The instructions sounded easy enough, so I headed out to procure my map. I
walked several blocks to the spot marked on the map, but none of the shops
looked like what I wanted, nor did they match up with the name she had written.
I asked a nearby shopkeeper if he knew of the place, and he pointed out my first
mistake. I was reading the name upside down! The next problem was that the 'x'
was in the wrong place. The shopkeeper proceeded to give me very clear
instructions detailing exactly where I needed to go. However, as the
instructions were all in Korean, the only part I understood was the finger which
pointed "that way".
I walked in the direction he pointed for 100m or so before asking the next
person. Again, a long and detailed description of the location was followed by
more pointing. I slowly homed in on the shop, and it only took a couple more
rounds of directions and pointing before I was finally successful.
The shop was not what I expected as I climbed a dark winding staircase into a
large office building. It was not a retail shop, but they did confirm they were
the place the lady in the tourist office had written down. I was unable to
communicate what I was looking for when luckily someone from a back room walked
out and he spoke a little english. He reached into some filing cabinets and
handed me a free map like the one I had seen in the tourist office. It turns out
that the shop publishes brochures for tour companies in the area, and does not
normally deal with the public. The whole ordeal was a bit of an adventure, but I
was pleased that my perseverance paid off.
With my map in hand, I then proceeded to search out some of the sights that the
area has to offer.
The mountains and forests around Kyongju are filled with ancient (and still
active) Buddhist complexes. Their temples and pagodas feature intricate wood
carvings and beautiful paintings of dragons, Buddha, and lotus flowers. Their
blue and green colours blend in harmoniously with the surrounding trees, and the
gabled rooves are composed of black ceramic tiles. For a fee, you can write your
name on a tile that will get used in the next round of maintenance and earn a
few good karma points.
At an out of the way temple that I visited, I was rewarded by seeing an elderly
grey robed monk visit the main shrine and begin to chant. His chanting was very
soothing, and I sat there for more than an hour mesmerized by his calming voice
and the beat of his bells and wooden drum. His endurance was stronger than mine,
however, and I eventually had to leave to try and hike the 6km back to the road
to flag down a bus back to town.
There was also a folk village near Kyongju that was a completely different
experience from the one I visited near Seoul. The one near Seoul had shuttles
that picked you up from the train station, was filled with performances and
souvenir stands, and was mobbed with tourists (and screaming school kids). This
one, on the other hand, involved taking a bus into the countryside, relying on
the bus driver to tell me which stop to get off at, and then pointing me to the
road that I had to walk down for the final 2km.
Upon getting there, I found what was pretty much a functioning village, and I
was the only tourist in the entire place. The only thing that set it apart from
any other small town village was the lack of cement and corrugated tin rooves,
and an occasional sign pointing out the historical significance of a building.
You were allowed to walk inside many of the houses, although I often felt
uncomfortable doing so as it was it was difficult to tell which houses were
still inhabited.
The highlight of my visit to the Kyongju region was a hike up nearby mount
Namsan. As I approached the mountain, a sign indicated it was like an open air
museum. This statement was not far from the truth. The hiking trail led past
numerous 1500 year old statues of Buddha along with carvings and ancient stone
pagodas. Some were not easy to find and involved scrambling down small rock
faces with the aid of the rope. The trails were popular with the locals who
would hike up to their favourite religious site to give offerings, light
incense, and perform their prostrations.
Inside town, I entertained myself by walks through the market areas. While
everything was on sale there from furniture and clothing to fruits and
vegetables, it was the sea food sections that interested me the most. There were
racks and racks of dried fish, squid, and octopi, some fish on ice, and a large
number of tanks and buckets with all sorts of creatures squirming within. You
could buy live squid or octopi, fish from 1cm to a meter long, eels, rays,
shrimp, and a number of things that I couldn't even identify.
From Kyongju, I headed down to Pusan on Korea's south coast to meet up with a
high school student (Jeong-Hye) I had met earlier in the week. She had been
doing some sight seeing, and I helped her out with directions when she appeared
a little lost (which was quite a role reversal for me).
She was grateful for the companionship, and had invited me to her place to have
lunch and see inside a Korean home. I was greeted at her house by her shy mother
and talkative three older sisters who spoke varying levels of english.
The house was basic but comfortable with a wood floored living room, four
bedrooms complete with heated linoleum floors, and a small but functional
kitchen. The living room had large windows all around with various fruits and
vegetables being laid out to dry. The only real furniture in the room was a
small table that was maybe 40 cm high, and a few thin cushions to sit on the
floor with. The table functioned both as a dining table and a coffee table.
The lunch was traditional Korean style with everyone getting a bowl of rice and
a main course (spicy beef and cabbage stew), with a large number of group side
dishes sprinkled around the table such as marinated sprouts, sautéed tofu, and
various spicy pickled vegetables. There was one dish that I had tried before
which was a bowl of sweet yet fishy tasting noodles. As I sampled them,
Jeong-Hye explained where the fishy taste came from. They were actually not
noodles at all, but were tiny little fish. On close inspection I could make out
their eyes, fins, and tails.
After the lunch, I was treated to a tour of her high school where I was able to
watch some students practice Korean style fan dancing as well as a traditional
drum performance. While the dancing was good, it is the drumming that stands out
in my memory.
The students were shocked at my presence and alternated between fits of giggling
and acting very shy. When asked if they would put on a performance, they agreed
but acted extremely nervous.
Their routine was mesmerizing. There were four types of drums used. One had a
skin on each side and was hourglass shaped, and was beat with two different
kinds of drumsticks ... a simple wooden one and one with a padded end. Another
drum was simpler with a single skin and was beaten with a small cylindrical
stick. There were then two metal drums ... one that was large (40cm across?) and
sounded like a gong, and a smaller one that gave off a sound like when a bell is
struck by a wooden stick (although not quite so resonant).
The small metal drum was played by the leader, and she would start banging to
commence the next frenetic and almost chaotic burst of drumming. The drumming
was accompanied by short yet sharp yells, twirling of drumsticks, and sometimes
marching and place followed by suddenly lurching in different directions and
hopping around the room with their heads bobbing up and down (almost in the way
that the stereotypical native american dances around the campfire while cupping
the hand over the mouth and hollering). At times, it almost looked like the mosh
pit of a grunge performance with people banging drums instead of each other.
However, there was a definite order to it all as they weaved in and out amongst
each other, and stopped and paused at appropriate points waiting for the leader
to signal when to start again. It was all done at high volume, and my ears were
ringing at the end of it all. They had clearly practiced a lot as they had their
moves down perfectly, and the drumming was perfectly synchronized. It was an
experience unlike anything I have ever seen before.
From Pusan, an overnight ferry brought me to the most southerly point in Korea -
the island of Cheju. It is often compared to Hawaii, and while it is not
tropical, it does share some of the volcanic features found on Hawaii.
One of the first visits in Cheju was another folk village which showed the lava
rock and straw thatched rooves typical of the island's traditional dwellings.
Another interesting experience was a hike through a gigantic lava tube 9km long
and about 15-20 meters high and wide for much of the 1km we were allowed to
visit.
The highlight of Cheju, however, was a hike up its 2000m volcano. The day I was
to hike up it started out cold and rather dreary, and I was about to cancel my
hike. Luckily, as the morning wore on the skies started to clear and I decided
to give it a shot.
Getting to the trailhead was not easy given the infrequent bus service, and it
was after noon by the time I made it to the mountain. I had met an elderly
Korean man during the ride, and it turned out he was planning on doing the same
hike. We decided to do the hike together, but when we made it into the park,
there was a guard at the trailhead that said we were not allowed to enter since
we might not make it back before dark. My companion (Mr. Lee) used me to talk
our way in by saying that I had come all the way from Canada to Korea, and I
wanted to see the mountain.
The condition placed on our entry was that we would stop at the 1500m mark. The
hike wound along a stream through pine and bamboo forests, before climbing up a
ridge with a great view down on the clouds below and up on the jagged lava
formations that lay ahead. When we reached the 1500m line, we didn't go any
further. Mr. Lee had given his word, although he never said anything about
coming straight down. So, we took advantage of the gorgeous views as we sat and
talked for a while.
After Cheju, I headed back up to Seoul where I am spending a few days doing some
Christmas shopping, and savouring my last few meals of delicious Korean food. A
large cold front has moved over Korea leaving Seoul with a high today of -7 C
(19 F) and lows of -17 C (1 F). The weather is good for putting me in the
Christmas spirit, although I am looking forward to the hot balmy weather in
Thailand where I will be flying in a days time!
Ron
p.s. I am unsure how well I am going to be able to stay in email contact from
now on, and there are times when I know I will definitely be out of touch for
extended periods. So, these trip reports may end up coming in bursts when I get
the opportunity to actually connect and send them.
