The Flood, the Good Samaritan, a Temple, a Mountain, and Definitely More Than Two Fish

No, the following is not a Bible story, but rather a detailed account of my latest whirlwind adventure- Busan. In Korea, there is a fall holiday not unlike dear old Thanksgiving back home. Chuseok, however, does not require the sacrifice of thousands of turkeys. Nope, they keep it simple: rice, rice cakes, rice noodles, popped rice, rice cream... okay, not rice cream, but you get my drift. Anyway, Chuseok brought with it a 4-day vacation from those toothless grins I’ve become rather fond of. Add on a weekend and Morgan and I had 6 days of freedom. It was time to plan a getaway.

I’m going to begin the description of our voyage by mentioning that I now firmly believe in the hunter-gatherer theory. As resident berry picker, I was soon made responsible for picking a destination, picking the price, the seats, the motel, the activities... Yeah, a true cave woman was wrought within me. Who became the hunter? None other than my handsome and strapping cave partner, Morgan Herrick. Hunter tasks soon proved to be rather infrequent, although definitely essential. Please feel free to take notes of the “hunter” and “gatherer” moments throughout the trip. Maybe even swap notes with a friend to compare interpretations. Just one idea of how you can spice up blog-reading!

Thrifty Encino woman that I am, I wanted to go somewhere beautiful and sunny, sure, but it also had to be cheap. Sounds easy given my location? Well, go look at a map. I may seem close to a ton of gorgeous tropical destinations, but they are farther than you’d imagine. And too bloody expensive to get to on such short notice. So, I was left choosing between Korea and... Korea! I finally decided on Busan, a lovely port city on the southeast coast of Korea.  Friends had raved about the place, so I knew we were in for a good time. After booking KTX (high-speed train) tickets online, there was no turning back. Departure time: 8:40pm on Tuesday, September 21, 2010. Now all we had to do was get to Seoul Station.

Well, on the evening of our departure, God decided he’d made a mistake with the whole rainbow bit and that there was to be a second flood. Specifically in Korea. Oh, Korea. What hast thou done? The streets transformed into rivers in no time and we were dragging our luggage through ankle-deep water all the way to the bus stop. Once at the metro station, we thought we were home free. Wrong. About three stops in, the metro came to a halt and stopped running. The verdict? The metro had flooded in various sections between Anyang and Seoul. We would have to take a bus. Awesome.

Morgan and I heaved our luggage back outside under a frighteningly gloomy sky. Being above ground again had not been part of our quest, and maybe this showed on our faces because we were quickly taken under the wings of a young man. He asked us what our destination was and then offered to escort us as far as necessary. And he did. We were sardined onto a bus, exchanging a few words here and there. He was originally from Seoul but had moved to Anyang due to a job opportunity. He was heading to a family Chuseok dinner and was apparently in no rush to get there. When we finally arrived at a connecting bus stop, the man got off with us to ensure we took the right bus to Seoul Station. After already showing us much sympathy and kindness, he gave us his contact information and said that we could always reach him if we needed help with anything. Needless to say, we arrived just in time for our KTX train and even had a spare moment to text our new acquaintance a heartfelt thank you.

The KTX ride leaves no real memory in my mind except that I was forced to perpetually listen to an instrumental version of Let It Be. Now, I have a special place in my heart for the Beatles, but I must admit I began frowning when the song starting playing for the third time in a row. I kid you not. By the fifth time, Morgan and I were already engrossed in an episode of Heroes.

Knowing we would arrive in Busan late Tuesday night, I had already booked a room for the night at Elysee Motel. The name and description intrigued me: “Enjoy reminiscence and romanticism at Elysee”. As some of my dedicated readers may have guessed by now, there was no crystal castle waiting for us in Busan. Nope, it was a love motel, complete with photos of naked girls taped to the doorframe. I hate to admit it, but we weren’t even disappointed. Come on, when do you ever get to stay in a place that has this kind of dualism: porn lining the shelves and frosted windows with fawns and birds printed on them? Okay, fine, maybe you have a twisted great uncle, but generally you only find such treats in a love motel. And it got better. The ceiling above the bed was a carpet with an underwater ocean scene printed on it. Special lights lit up the carpet so that at night you could stare up at your very own aquarium. There was even a Jacuzzi with seats for three people. Three people? As if there had been any doubt about it being a Love Motel... We stayed there for the next four nights.

On Wednesday, the rain which had followed us from Seoul had not let up. Yuck. Nothing like rain to make you want to stay in bed and dream of Tahiti. Well, when you can’t enjoy the ocean on your doorstep, it’s time to head to the local aquarium and play pretend! Cameras in hand we headed to Busan Aquarium. The aquarium proved enormous. Giant sea turtles, sharks, jellyfish, crabs, eels, octopi, shrimp... the place was swimming with life and colour. Although some may not believe in keeping these sea creatures in captivity, I must tell you that the more I reflected on the idea, the more I became convinced that many forms of marine life are safer behind glass than in the ocean. After seeing Jagalchi Fish Market, I will swear it.

The next morning, I was awoken by something unfamiliar around 8:00am. Wait... could it be? Sunshine had finally found its way to Korea! Sunshine- you have no real appreciation of the role it plays in mood alteration until it reappears after a long absence. With Fred Flintstone still in bed, I had time to look up some sunny-day activities. Korea is predominantly a Christian and Buddhist country, which means the cities are teeming with neon crosses and the mountainsides are sprinkled with Buddhist swastikas. I decided that it would be an interesting experience to visit a Buddhist temple, and Beomeosa was relatively close by. Beomeosa, which means “Temple of the Nirvana Fish”, was built into the side of Mount Geumjeongsan about 1,300 years ago. Legend says there was a well with gold water on the top of Mount Geumjeongsan. Golden fish lived in the well and came down from the sky riding on colourful clouds. You must see our photos to get a glimpse of this “golden well”. I definitely had a good laugh once I got over my disenchantment.

Beomeosa, although crowded by Korean pilgrims and visitors, was the perfect place to spend a beautiful day. The “temple” was actually several buildings scattered on the bottom of the mountain face. Each building was made of huge wooden logs, intricately painted in vibrant hues of turquoise, red, and blue. Swastikas, flowers, and fish had been delicately hewn into the roof trimmings. Mystical caricatures and stories were engraved on rock surfaces, while majestic statues of deities collected dust in the summer heat. Although most visitors were simply observing the exquisiteness of the scenery and the art, there were still many others who were carefully placing their shoes outside the various temples and noiselessly meditating, a subtle smile playing on their lips. Visiting Beomeosa temple was strange in that it was easy to forget that monks actually still live and work there. We did, however, witness a monk meditating (Morgan didn’t seem to believe it was an invasion of privacy) and there were several grey-cloaked men wandering around the yards by the end of the day. Two felines mischievously batting a rag outside validated the existence of a stable civilization.

After our meanderings between and through the temples, Morgan and I let the sounds of rushing water lead us to what looked like an endless riverbed of enormous rocks. Stone upon stone had settled on top of a still running river. Perhaps a glacier or landslide had brought the rocks tumbling to their resting place. Whatever the story, the sight was breathtaking and we probably could have spent our entire trip walking along that river, in complete awe of nature’s inconceivable beauty. However, instead of squatting on monk land, we eventually left. But only after we’d crawled around and found spiders, flowers, minnows... all tiny in comparison to the boulders in our midst. On our way back to the bus, we both came to the realization that we'd have to return. And we did.

Friday brought us another gorgeous day, providing the perfect opportunity to explore the harbour. First we went up to Busan Tower, an observatory tower which gave us a brief glimpse at Busan’s history and an incredible view of the port. As I gazed over the immense cityscape, I kept dwelling on the same thought: Humans are pests. We have killed, burned, and cut down everything around us to make increasingly more room for ourselves. We take everything and give very little. I voiced my world-weariness to Morgan, who said: “You know, the city really does look like a manmade forest... only the trees are skyscrapers.” His remark made me smile wistfully and I sighed: “Concrete jungle.”

I said that life, sweet life, it must be somewhere to be found.

Oh, instead of concrete jungle! Illusion! Confusion!

Dear Robert Nesta Marley, thank you for your wisdom.

Once out of the tower, we established that, despite our aversion to the amount of flesh this country consumes, Jagalchi Fish Market was probably quite the sight to see. People, brace yourselves. Actually, here’s a little interlude to give you time to prepare for fishy business:

On our way to Jagalchi, we stopped at a tea shop I’d spotted on Wednesday. I had fallen in love with the hand-sewn ornaments dangling in the windows and was resolute on purchasing a few. What a charming little shop it turned out to be. The owner ushered us to bar stools at the front of his shop, offering us free samples of his tea. As we perched ourselves and settled in, he steeped us a delicious pot of Taiwanese green tea. Then the sharing began. Six pots of tea later, we knew more about this man than most people we’d met in Korea. He was a tea specialist with two brothers living in America- who unfortunately only drank coffee. His wife, who made him smile every time he mentioned her, had sewn the tea-stuffed ornaments in the window. He had even helped a friend set up a tea shop in the Eastern Townships. The Eastern Townships! To top off what was already a semi-mystical encounter, there was a stray cat being housed in the tea shop. She eats and bunks in the store, but can still come and go as she pleases. I was beaming by the time we left the shop. Good cha, good stories, good memories.

And then there was Jagalchi Fish Market.

 Let’s just say that if I had been able to move beyond my shock, I may have appreciated the market for its value as an exhibit on marine life diversity. I honestly had never seen most of these species of fish and other wildlife. Too bad everything was dead or dying. Takes the life right out of wildlife.

Anyway, the market left us awestruck. Fishmongers and their ware stretched out endlessly along the harbour front. Quivering eels, squirming sea worms, sagging octopi, lifeless starfish, gleaming squid, clams launching themselves around in their buckets by snapping their shells open and closed, oysters breathing heavily in the shallow water… Along with fishmongering, many of the women working in the market also had tiny restaurants behind their counters. Pick a live fish, get it gutted, fry it up. Morgan even watched a live eel get skinned and gutted- and then it kept moving?! The nervous system is a freaky thing. I created a buffer zone for myself about 20 metres wide. No need to throw up six perfectly good cups of tea.

Once we were seafooded out, we went venturing along the docks. Barnacle-encrusted boats buoyed in the gentle waves while leathery fishermen headed out to sea. It was a strange, almost out-of-body, experience to be standing there in the midst of it all. Of course, I had been to the ocean before- Haiti, Costa Rica, the U.S., even Canada. But there was something completely bizarre about being near the ocean in Asia… where our bloody canned tuna comes from! Nori for all your sushi rolls! This is life! This is it- that crazy circle of life, butterfly effect, globalization, all this cause-effect everyone’s talking about. The poor man’s son who follows in his father’s footsteps to hunt whale to please the palate of an overpaid CEO of a monopoly we want eradicated from the face of the planet in order to restore the fine balance and put food on the plate of the poor man’s son.

Breathe. And then I filled up my lungs and it was just gulls and fishmongers again.

Despite having discovered so many nooks of interest where we could have spent countless hours, our vow to return to the mountain was not broken. Saturday was dedicated to just that. Now, if only we could find reasonably priced hiking boots. That turned out to be quite the joke. After browsing through umpteen hiking shops, we had become convinced of three things:

1.       Hiking is Korea’s national sport for middle-aged persons.

2.       You gotta hike in style. If it’s new, wear it. If you’ve worn it before, go shopping.

3.       If you are poor, or simply underpaid, don’t become a hiker.  

Morgan and I showed up at the base of the mountain in flip flops. At this point my mother is shaking her head. But, never fret, we had a plan: buy footgear closer to the mountain! Okay, it wasn’t a plan, but all the boots so far had proven to be too bloody expensive or made for elfin feet. Although buying our gear closer to the place of adventure seemed contrary to anything we’d ever learned about marketing, all went according to “plan”. There was a sale going on for those weird-looking hiking sandals you make fun of until you try them on, buy them, and tramp up a mountain in them. Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Those ugly, yet practical, squishy hiking sandals that physically fit 40-plus women wear… yes, with the elastic ties. Anyway, we each bought a pair and climbed aboard the bus that would take us to Mount Geumjeongsan.

To try and encapsulate the splendor we saw during our mountain hike seems futile, but I shall try nonetheless. Boulders the size of garbage trucks settled carefully against stones the size of your fist. A river running clear and fast over tree roots and eroded soil, creating steps more delicate and beautiful than any human could design. Lush trees and flowering bushes squeezing their delicate roots in amongst the rocks, taking hold, and thriving. The strangest of acorns with thorny flesh encasing them- causing me to wonder about their evolution over time. Mushrooms in all shapes and textures adorning rotting branches. My muscles burned as I challenged my body to generate that youthful bounce I once had when I went wandering in my woods back on the farm. Effortlessness was the aim, and although that wasn’t quite achieved, I did feel rejuvenated when I reached the peak. With strong winds blowing my hair into fine dreadlocks, Morgan and I exchanged satisfied grins. Korean countryside stretched out all around us, until we could see the distant outline of skyscrapers and the haze of smog.

Apparently, reaching the summit unleashed a certain insubordination within my soul, for I resolved to make the hike downhill a little more challenging. I think it’s called off-roading in some books. In mine, it’s called the best decision I could have made. Now, I know that there are reasons why people shouldn’t go off the trails (destroying wildlife, littering, building campfires, etc.), but I had no desire nor intention to do any such thing.  We drifted as noiselessly as possible, slipping through branches, hopping from stone to stone, grabbing trunks to steady our eager toes... Whenever anything struck us as exceptional, Morgan whipped out his mega-camera and snapped away at it. We stopped about every 3 minutes. At one point, Morgan and I were scrambling over a creek bed, when my Kaiser-Kid senses kicked in. I motioned for silence and felt my pulse accelerate. A fluttering. I recognized the sound. A large bird. A ground bird. We searched around and there it was: A beautiful pheasant about 40 feet from us. The connection I felt with my youth, with my life, with the very earth under my feet was tremendous.

Despite the joy our “off the beaten path” adventure brought, there was the downside of potentially getting lost. In the woods. On a mountain we weren’t familiar with. As shadows grew longer and the sunshine broke through ever-nearer to the forest floor, Morgan began to be concerned. Where were we? What way did we need to go? As he voiced these questions, I became aware of the silence. Heavy silence. I acknowledged that the silence went hand-in-hand with my quest to explore beyond the confines of the main path. Lost in Korea’s wildness, huh?

Now, it turned out that we weren’t completely off course, but that was no thanks to me. (See, I lost faith in my internal compass years ago when I followed deer into the woods behind our barn. I got so caught up in my escapade that I was suddenly beyond anything recognizable. The bedrock became more rugged, owl pellets littered the fallen leaves, and there seemed to be a murkiness hanging in the trees… all that was missing were some hobbits and fairies. Although I made it home eventually, I had felt mighty powerless against the enormity of nature. Some memories just don’t fade.) Luckily, Morgan’s internal compass is more reliable than mine and he reoriented us impressively quickly. It was quite a shock once we were back on the main trail, with middle-aged couples blasting music from their portable radios. Birds live in these woods? Really? Funny, I couldn’t hear them...

Oh Korea, you sure can be paradoxical.