Rain and Cereal

Two things:  I am an awful gorcery shopper.  Also, it's raining.  This is why I am sitting in my living room, looking out on the city of Gwangmyeong with a bowl of cereal for dinner, thankful that because of the rain I can enjoy the cool breeze of my door being open without mosquitos flying in.

Lately I've been wondering how much longer the city will be comfortable for me.  Plans, as they tend to do, have morphed into something I don't quite recognize yet.  I've always, I think, preferred the complicated city where there's always something to do--always noise to out the noise in your head.  Now I'm a new person, open to growing, accepting of who I am in this moment. In moments like this, with the hum of my lightbulbs and the patter of the rain, I can just barely make out a faint outline of this new life that might be waiting for me.

Before I left the states, many people were curious about this suspicious year gallavanting in a faraway land and were genuinely concerned about my "life plan", something, it seems, that is really only heard in America.  In a sharp reaction to something someone said about "after Korea" I retorted that of course I'll come back to New York and persue a "real" career as soon as it's over.  After Korea.  To me and to this supposing stranger Korea seemed like magical land where time would be spent in a dream.  As if I were leaving the world to go to Korea, and afterwards I'd re-emerge in some English-speaking metropolitis, hustling for the best job, apartment, and boyfriend in search of "success". 

After two months here I find myself in what seems like some sort of drug-induced haze only because I'm writing this: I find myself questioning what it is that makes us who we are, and what we will become. Is it what we have, what we want, or what we need? I'm questioning not only who we are, but what it means to be happy.

Chungpyeong, where I realized that
slowing down was kind of nice.

I have an old, farily shitty, but full-of-character apartment in a suburb of Seoul, a job where I get to act like a kid, and a bunch of alcohol-loving friends.  I want an endless adventure that's always stimulating me physically and mentally with someone who cares about the things I do but also challenges me, and a job that allows me--no, wants me--to seek that adventure.  I need someone on the sidelines, telling me that it's all okay. 

Korea is not some black hole where one magically reappears on the 365th day of their contract headed back home on a plane with some souveneirs.  It's very, very real, and it took me two months but I have Korean classes I'm expected at, a boxing gym I belong to, a convenience store on my corner that recognizes me, but always speaks fluent Korean to me regardless as if I'll understand. A phone contract and a bank account.  An alien registration card. I'm meeting people that are coming and going in and out of my life at an alarming rate.  I'm suprising myself at just how much I'm capable of.  I'm exploring relationships, messing them up, and figuring out how to (or whether I should) piece them together.

Ten months left of this particular contract to go, and I have no answers.  There are no plans--only that faint outline that's forever morphing, depending on what angle I look at it from.  At my highest, lowest, most shallow and most introspective the shape has yet to choose a set formation.  And I'm left with only my thoughts, from the most abstract to the most mundane.  And to those wondering about this so-called "after": it's okay.  Turns out, there is no after, no fabled ending to try to arrive at, no specific dinner your supposed to have.  If you have cereal, enjoy the cereal, and tommorrow is another day to learn, grow, and evolve.

Cheongpyeong (정평)

Last weekend I stayed at a pension in Cheongpyeong.  It was a heavily wooded area, with rolling hills, with wonderfully refreshing resevoir and a lovely river running around town--and we got there by subway.  It continues to amaze me the vastness of the public transportation here. 

It might take a while, but it's less than three thousand won ($2.80-ish) so it's simply wonderful.  Most of the ride is above ground, so the view from the window passes the time as I continue to be blown away by life outside of Seoul, in the Korean countryside, just inherently more engulfed in nature than I ever saw back in the states.

The night before we had been "good", and we were on our way on the subway at 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning.  Impressive.  Because of our early start, we were in Cheongpyeong by 11:30 a.m.  In a blur of Korean I didn't understand we found ourselves at a supermarket, stocking up for the night ahead at the pension where we would set up some BBQ. Remember when you were ten years old at the supermarket?  What would your cart look like if your mom didn't take everything out to put back on the shelf?  Now: imagine that, but with a bunch of 20-somethings.  We got some watermelon, peaches, meat for the BBQ, some mushrooms to grill, some Korean seasoning, marshmallow cookies, beer, more beer, soju, more soju, chocolate... 

We soon found ourselves at the pension, climbing out the van: five adults and their goods.  We walked into our home for the night--a large, empty room equipped with one bathroom and one kitchen.  Not wanting to sound as ignorant as I was, I didn't ask where we were going to sleep.  Into another van and we were headed to the dock.

"That was nice of the pension to drive us to the lake," I said.

"This is the water company," said Jamie.

"Then who drove us to the pension?"

"The supermarket."

"The supermarket drove us?"

"Yes, because we bought things there."

I just stopped asking questions, thankful for the free rides for seemingly no reason at all.  Could you imagine that in New York City?  "I really appreciate your business.  Let me get this cab for you."  Ha.

The dock could not have been more perfect.  We ordered some fried chicken, and enoyed the view until we were brave enough to try the "Fly Fish".  That might be, as far as feeling, be one of the highlights of my life so far.  Pulled by the boat, you end up in standing position, holding on for dear life, as you become airborne for 5-10 seconds, looking out over the wake, into the mountains, over the water as it rushes beneath you.  We went on three rides throughout the day, alternating between tanning, swimming, boating, sleeping, drinking, and in general having the time of our lives. 

Because we were meeting two more of our friends at the pension, we dragged ourselves away from the water and headed back to start preparing for our BBQ.  Someone put the meat we had just bought in the freezer, so Rachel and I were in charge of melting the block with a combination of knives and microwaves.  Poor Gretchen was a victim of not being in the city, and was last to shower and use up all the water, so she was busy bathing out of a pot of water.  Eric was doing crazy things with the grill, and Jamie--the resident Korean in the group--was making sure we were doing everything correctly.  Looking around, it was nice to have these people around, making Korea a make-shift home full of happiness and laughter.  Even though we all know eachother to different degrees, we can somehow just appreciate where we are, and the wonderful opportunity we have to enjoy the moment we're in.  We set the table with the grilled, defrosted meat, the vegetables, the soybean paste, the beer, the soju and cheered. We had a great night filled with the fresh air of the mountains on our own deck looking out over this small, quaint town.  Jamie taught me the Korean motto that you pour someone as much soju as the amount you love them.  So, so much love that night.  So much.

The next morning I saw a line-up of the offenders.

We spent the next hour getting up, moving to a bench to lay for a while, over to a deck chair for a while, and back in bed, trying to get our day started.  It wasn't until we dragged ourselves back to the lake and into the water that we woke up.  Something about dumping your entire body into cold water wipes any hangover away instantly.  One more round of the Fly Fish and tanning and we were ready to head back into the busy metropolitan of Seoul, another great weekend in Korea.

Hangul (한 굴)

When I first started to see Hangul (한 굴) on a daily basis, I knew I wanted to start Korean language classes as soon as possible.  It's easy in this city to get by with only a few basic phrases but part of this decision to move to a foreign country wasn't to hide in my own little world, and I want to challenge myself to look at life from a different point of view.  As Nelson Mandela said: "If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart."

That being said, I've been going to Korean language classes for a month now...but unfortunately the class is 1pm on a Saturday during the summer, so amazingly awesome things keep coming up.  First I missed a class for Busan, then I went to Nami Island with Brian to see Jason Mraz, and this next weekend I will be going to a lakehouse.  The summer months are heating up, and my apartment seems to absorb heat and seems intent on containing it.  I definitely could use a weekend on the water, and I'll drink some soju with some Koreans instead of class just this one time. 

 

It's so deceivingly complicated.

There has been progress, however, and I'm slowly but surely learning  to speak backwards. The real adjustment one must make when learning Korean  is in the sentence structure itself.  Instead of asking "What is your name?" I have to think that, reverse it, and essentially say "Name what is?".  Instead of "Where are you from?" I ask "Which country person are you?".  It's fun but tricky, and answering takes a long time, but I have a friend on the same level as me, so practicing is something I look forward to.

Actually, even these "you"s and "I"s aren't said in these cases.  Subject markers will be used at some point (I think) but for what I'm learning now I don't say "I have".  I'm actually saying "Is had".  Instead of "are you" you are simpy saying "that exists".  

Oh, really? It's nice to meet you.

I'm really having fun memorizing these new words and sounds, and it helps that I'm picking them up faster than I thought possible.  For instance: see those upside-down, square-ish A's in the last word on the bottom right?  Those make the "B" sound.  In this phrase, which is the polite form of "It's nice to meet you", that symbol actually makes three different sounds the three different times its used: a "buh", then a "puh", then a "muh".  And you know what?  That is actually starting to make sense.

What the Book Reading: Krys Lee

Last Saturday after Korean class (where we learned "this is what" and "pencil it is"), I went to a part of Seoul called Itaewon to What the Book?, a bookstore for foreigners.  I wasn't able to convince any of my friends it would be a good time, but there was a reading that I, at least, was excited about: Krys Lee was going to read from her collection of fiction stories "Drifting House".  I could give a review, but the work has won a significant amount of attention on its own, so all I recommend is that you experience it for yourself.  Ripe with questions about outsiders, what makes a home, and the decisions and sacrifices we make throughout our lives it's impossible to not have the book affect you.  Although it does deal with North Korean refugees and South Korean lives as well, much the book takes place abroad with people living day to day lives in clever, beautiful, captivating phrasing.  As she said, she's more interested in people who seem like they belong, but underneath are inherently displaced for one reason or another more than she is concerned about people's backgrounds. 

I was hoping that this reading would be different than those in New York--turns out the question and answer segment of these readings will always be torture no matter what country I'm in.  Half of the questions are from older men who take forever getting to their points because they're going on about some NPR show they are obsessed with.  A famous, accomplished writer is sharing her work, and she has to patiently nod as this man goes on about his favorite episode of "This American Life".  Most people aren't as aware of this as I am, but actually working for NPR for three years, I am a little jaded.  For a long time it was my job to control these grown-up children as I fielded the audience for questions, and as they tried to grab the mic from me I had to struggle to maintain control and try my best to limit their monologue to under five minutes.  Most of the time they would finish and the host or I would say, "So what's your question?"

The other half of the questions are always from a younger crowd, maybe 16-23.  They think that since writer has written a book, they can ask some asinine question about how to fix writer's block and she will have all the answers.  Again, all she can do is joke about how "there's a future writer in my audience" and make up some obscure answer off the top of her head about motivational advice. 

My question, which I tried to get in early to scare off some of these offenders, was regarding post-colonial literature and the tendency to call any book that contains minorities a "Immigration Tale".  I took an Immigration Literature class in college and was baffled: 3 of the 5 books the characters didn't even move houses.  They contained different cultures, yes, but many of the characters were second generation Americans.  Yet, because the author was a minority, the book is labelled under this genre.  This might not be the worst thing in the world, but when it stops critics from looking at more important themes like social hierarchies, family dynamics, and coming-of-age, it hurts the work.

She looked at me for a second and said it was a good question.  She answered in a socially acceptable way, only marginally hinting that she doesn't agree with her given classification, and told me to e-mail her.  (Yessah!)

Changdeokgung Palace and the Secret Garden

"...Changdeokgung is laid out in harmony with the area's topography: Changdeokgong was constructed on the base of a mountain.  Buildings were positioned naturally, taking into consideration the geographical features of the slope...Changdeokgung is a unique case in the history of palace architecture in East Asia, as it retains remarkable asymmetric beauty...and is exceptional for the way in which the buildings are integrated and harmonized with natural setting."

The main entrance

With Brian finally in town, I was excited to take him out to show him this brand new culture and what Seoul had to offer.  Maybe a little too excited.  He landed Wednesday night, and he managed Namsam Park, the Rainbow Festival, a couple of outdoor markets and Changdeokgung Palace...all on a sixteen hour time difference.  Thanks for being a trooper.

I had been looking forward to visiting a palace for a while, so Sunday we made our way to Jongo Station.  I was worried about finding the visiting area, but in such a modern part of the city it's difficult for a palace to stay hidden for long.  Approaching, it was easy to imagine the grandeur it must have held in 1405.  Bright colors, a perfect symmetry, and a height that could be seen from miles away held a regalness that brought the area to life.  We found ourselves on an English tour and explored the King's office, the King's Road (where he was not expected to ever touch the ground, and so was carried) and the various rooms to house servants, guests, and family. 

The most interesting part for me was the architecture.  It was built by Koreans for Koreans with Chinese writing (since it was originally constructed before Hangul, Korean language, was invented and Chinese was considered the language of power).  The palace was destroyed in 1592 by the Japanese, and various other riots and fires make all but two of the buildings originals from the 15th century. 

As it was being rebuilt here and there, western influences can be seen popping up in various rooms.  I didn't notice until the tour guide pointed out something as simple as a the view to the outdoors:  "You can see the western influence strongly here as there is glass in the window."  There were also lamps with electricity and western chairs (that were not just cushions for the ground).  I asked the tour guide, a plump Korean woman in traditional dress, why there are two palaces right next to each other.  Geography, a "back-up house" for royalty, more room for the King's concubines are all cited as legitmate reasons, but it's easy to see that the king had ulterior motives.  Having killed a couple of people he wanted the option of not living in "the scene of a bloodbath" ...that he made himself.

The royal library and lotus pond

It's hard not to like a king, whatever he did in his spare time, when he was the one who established the Secret Garden.  A beautiful, lush 75 acres of forest, pavilions and lakes are established.  Once strictly for the king and his personal guests, it is now a one and a half hour tour offered in four different languages.  Despite its lost purpose, it was refreshing to be completely enveloped in so much nature in the middle of a busy city.  My favorite part was the Ongnyucheon area.  A rock with Chinese calligraphy becomes part of a small waterfall that used to turn into a brook that lead in and out of the various pavilions.  Unfortunately due to industrization the water has since dried up, but it was easy to picture a calm, cool, serene area to enjoy.  The tour guide mentioned private meditation, an escape from daily life, and a place to mull over brilliant political ideas while every one in the tour group nodded and snapped some pictures.   A closer look at the guide book, however, paints a different picture of the kings idea of escape:

Palaces look good
on us.

"They held parties there during which they composed poetry while sending wine cups afloat on the waters.  When a wine cup was sent to a specific person, the recipient had to drink the wine from the cup then compose an impromptu poem and recite it.  If the person could not recite the poem, he had to drink three cups of wine as punishment.  This type of party soon became widely popular among high society."

More than anything, I love pretentious drinking games.  Especially when they involve wine.  Although more money and a seperate entrance fee from the palace, the Secret Garden is more than worth a visit, and the palace is a wonderful way to spend a Sunday.

A Juniper tree believed to be over 750 years old, used for incense for ancestral rituals

Injeongjeon, the "main attraction", although it was last rebuilt in 1804 with heavy
western influence

Nami Island: The Rainbow Festival

I. Love. Bonnaroo.  Every year in June for the past eleven years Bonnaroo has been taking place in middle-of-nowhere Manchester, Tennessee.  I have gone, lived in a tent covered in mud and bug bites for four days, listened to great music from Weezer to Ani Difranco to Jay-Z, and gotten enough free Garnier products to last three years.  It's hard not to say this pretensiously but: the past two years it's gotten way too mainstream, so I was feeling more nostalgic for old school Bonnaroo than I was legitmately sad to miss it this year.  Turns out, on the same exact weekend, there was a music festival right here in Korea.  The Rainbow Festival on Nami Island this year featured Jason Mraz, Christina Perri and a bunch of Korean bands like Ego-Wrappin', The Weekend, and The Koxx. 

Brian and I explored the terrain before settling down to wait for Jason Mraz (his favorite artist). Beautiful birches and other trees surrounded the island in the middle of the Han River.  Even this little island is full of history, being the burial sight of a prince and military general falsley accused of treason.  Bonnaroo is only some patches of grass and dust, but Bonnaroo has it's own special reasons for being amazing. In that spirit, I ordered a whiskey sour.  They put it in a plastic bag with a string attached for logistical reasons:

The bands, like everything in Korea, ranged from awesome to interesting.  Overall it was a festival with a few scheduling holes, a few late performances, but full of life.  The only blog giving directions to the island somewhat clearly was still a mess, and when people asked him to clarify, he was equally unhelpful and smug so here is a simplified version with everything you need to know:

From Seoul:

By ITX: Probably the most efficient, but it sold out before we could take it.  Easily enough, you get on at it's two central locations in Seoul, get off at Gapyeong.  This method still requires you walk or take a cab and take the ferry afterwards.                    

                    

By subway: Take the 7 to Sangbong then ITX (no extra ticket/reservation needed) then exit at Gapyeong.  From Cheolson on the 7 it took about 2 hours to get to the station, and another hour to get to the island.                    

                                                                

From there:

Cab: "Nami Sam" to the cab driver will take you there in about 5-7 minutes and will cost you about4,000-6,000 won depending on how much your cabbie takes advantage of a foreigner.                   

Walking: It takes maybe about 20 minutes walking, just follow the road from the station (towards the pond), make a right at the light, and when the road splits at the next light go to the left.  Following that will lead you right to the ferry.                                 

                      

Bring I.D., since The Naminara Republic is technically it's own nation (?) with it's own currency and policies because some rich people privately own it.

 

Jason Mraz wearing, of course, a shirt that says "peace" in Korean.

The map is also a fan.  Sorry Bonnaroo....

Busan: Seokbulsa Temple (서 크 볼 라)

Somewhere, nestled into the side of Geumjeongsan Mountain is Seokbulsa Temple (literally meaning "Rock Buddha Temple").  This is where I finally had my "Oh wow I'm in South Korea" moment.  The two girls I was with both had that moment of realization on the plane ride here, either calling a family member for the last time before taking off or using their visa to enter the country.  For me, all that was a blur of unfamiliar sounds and images.  It wasn't until I had spent the entire day hiking, looking for an elusive temple that most Koreans didn't even recognize, and finally exploring a Buddhist Temple looking down on the entire, sprawling city of Busan that zig-zagged in and out of the foot of various lush mountains that I thought, "I'm here." 

It seems like a lame set of directions, but I'm still not sure how to get to the actual park, so the best thing to do would be to take Line 1 to Oncheonjang Station and simply take a cab to Geumgang Park.  Me and my friends took the other, most reliable form of directions: get lost, and ask a random woman where to go, who will walk the twenty minutes with you up hill leading you directly to the entrance.  Another reason to love Korea.  From there you take the cable car one way.  Gretchen's eyes widened a little when I said that.

"Brianna," she said looking up at the giant mountain before us, "are you sure? One way?"

The only other option is to find the paved road that leads directly to the temple.  It's got vans passing every few minutes, it's very steep, and that way does not involve a cable car, which would truly be missing out on something. It was beautiful.  Seeing Busan sprawled out before you as you climb thousands of feet is worth the trip to Geumgang Park alone. 

Once at the top, my two friends looked at me expectantly.  "What's next?"  I fumbled with my directions, a conglomerate of various blogs that had super helpful tips like "make a left when it gets rocky".  I was nervous and suprised that these two women trusted me enough to follow me into these vast woods to find what was a fairly unknown temple, but excited by the sense of risk, responsibility, and adventure that it brung.

"It says to find the South Gate, turn around, and take the path that you didn't use to get there," I said.

"That sounds like a riddle."

"Well, from there we should find Namman Village, so once we get there we will re-evaluate."

Thankfully it was a holiday, so in typical Korean form, many people were out hiking and enjoying nature.  No one knew what Seokbulsa Temple was, but everyone knew South Gate and Namman Village, so we found our way eventually through a series of following pointed fingers.  The South Gate is definitely a wonderful place to stop to rest.  Like most everything else, the fortress was destroyed in the Japanese Occupation from 1910-1945, but it was originally built in 1701 as a defense against, ironically, the Chinese.  Just down the path a couple of minutes is the village.  Although we didn't, I wish we had stopped for lunch at Namman.  Every place greeted us with a friendly "anyang" and offered us a place to order traditional Korean food.  We knew we were getting close because the people there started recognizing the temple name. 

For about twenty minutes after the village we fell down the mountain.  It was so steep, "hiking" would be an innapproriate term.  There were ropes to hold on to and you could definitely stop if you had the willpower, but going too fast was not an option with so many boulders in the way.

"Didn't you say if it got rocky we were going the right way?" asked Rachel.

"We definitely have to be going the right way."

From there we found a paved road, made a right, and went uphill.  Very uphill.  To mistake the last climb as "not worth it" would be an gross misunderstanding.  Entering the area is nothing short of breath-taking.  Truly in-sync with nature, the temple is built within the side of the mountain.  Stone steps take you to various rooms to pray in, and an precarious crawl through small openings of stone will lead you to yet another place of prayer, reflection, and breath-taking views.  Huge statues are carved into the sides of the walls and in various corners of the cliff of both Buddha and protectors.  Because of the holiday, vibrant lanterns were hung and many of the images were decorated with other bright colors.  After wandering around in awe, we wandered back through the entrance for some free bimimbap and tea in honor of the holiday.

Rachel turned to me and said, "You realize we were at a Buddhist Temple in Korea on Buddha's Birthday right?"

The original entrance

I smiled. Having it said out loud I suddenly felt a sense of truly owning my life.  For so long I've wanted to travel the world but it seemed a fleeting, impossible whim.  Something that was too good to be true.  Now I found myself with new friends on the side of a mountain in a foreign country, sitting at a typical Korean table with traditional food honoring Buddha on a mountain in Busan.  It was one of those rare moment in life where you can actually see how your actions led you to exactly where you are.  It was a wonderful view.

The Complications of a Fan

The most amazing thing about living in South Korea is the way my life has simultaneously been drastically simplified and complicated.  Eating, something you take for granted, is a long complicated process where I'm standing there squinting, trying to read Korean like an 80-year old woman while pronouncing and gesticulating like a 3 year old girl.  At the same time, regardless of the first alphabet translation then the translation from "jigae" to "stew": life is simple.  Whatever I end up with--whatever my various hand gestures have communicated--is what I've ended up with.  I was vegan for three years, stressing about what was in what broth, if butter was used to fry vegetables or if anchovies were used in the ceasar dressing.  Now I need to eat, and in the meantime I want to experience the food that is a major aspect of Korean culture from bulgogi to kimbab.  This is why, when my Korean friend ordered a fan for me to be delivered to my school for me to take home for me to assemble... I didn't break down.  I didn't stress and I didn't worry.  Even when I opened the directions to this:

This was going to happen.  No matter if it took 20 minutes or three days, I had no choice but to be patient with myself and simply.....do.  So there are the steps to assembling a fan in Korea...





Step 1: Look at the box for any preliminary clues.  Try not to give up immediately.

Step 2: Try to stay calm as you read what seems like the apparently "Don't Do No Matter What Or You'll Die" section.  As you sit there, trying to take mental notes based on pictures, try not to totally stress about what the heck this could possibly mean...and in the meantime try to remember not to stick an outlet into an angry piece of gum.

Step 3: Stuff a bunch of pieces together and see if they stick together.

Step 4: Bask in your genius.  You are now basically fluent in Korean.  Or if not, at least your cool.

Busan: Yonggungsa Temple (용궁사)

Our first full day in Busan my two friends and I caught the 181 bus (off of Exit 7 of the Haeundae Station) towards Yongungsa Temple.  In typical Korean (or maybe Asian) fashion, there was a mad rush for the door, general chaos, then a half hour of typical "stoptional" driving, where red lights are more or less considered a suggestion, obnoxious starting and stopping ensues because it seems no one ever has the right of way (or maybe everyone does), and on top of that you don't really know when you're getting off.  Fortunately, it being the day before Buddha's Birthday, most of the bus piled out all at once and we found ourselves off the bus at the bottom of the hill. 

As we entered we found ourselves mesmerized: through more than 50 lanterns and a natural cave we came to look out on a temple situated on the side of a cliff looking out to the ocean:

It was absolutely breath-taking.  Although somewhat crowded because of the holiday, it is so vast and so incredibly detailed than even standing in one spot I found myself enraptured.  Knowing the basics of Buddhism having researched it thoroughly all throughout college, I felt overwhelmed by all the writing and yearned for interpretation.  The chanting was both haunting and soothing despite it's audited sound through many different speakers. 

Then there were the lanterns.  The many tags attached included either a prayer, or a hope, or a resolution to concentrate on.  These were Lotus Lanterns, which are unique to Korea.  They represent not only the light of knowledge, but also the willingness of Buddhism's followers to rise from the mud into enlightenment.

What I loved most was the prayer: Buddhism is not idolistic, and the image of Buddha is there simply to remind the follower of his practices.  Buddhism is also about focusing the mind, and prayer ranges from chanting, to silent meditation, to active prayer that includes standing, kneeling, and bowing in a loop. 

After wandering for hours, lost in the sea of colors and the color of the sea, we made our way back to the top of the 180 stone steps.  On our way we noticed people throwing coins into two separate statues that held bowls.  Suddenly Rachel pushed a coin in my hand.  Not one for fantastical wishes, and inspired by the calm of the temple that was so intrinsically one with the land, I threw the coin.

It didn't even come close. I didn't need a wish though.  I felt a deep-seated happiness knowing that simply the practice of obtaining inner peace had inspired all those people to gather at Yongungsa Temple that day.  All I had wished for was the happiness I had already received that day to stay with me.

I didn't learn until afterwards that the Yonggungsa Temple Motto: "At least one of your wishes will be answered here through your heartful prayers."

Busan: Pobi Guesthouse, KTX, and foreigners (Part 1)

Two friends and I decided to take full advantage of the four day weekend we had for Buddha's birthday and headed to Busan.  Because Korean holidays follow the lunar calendar, the holiday happened to coincide with Memorial Day back in the states this particular year.  Because I told my sister about Buddha's Birthday and her response was "Oh he just wants a Memorial Day weekend, how's he doing by the way?", I figured I would provide a quick summary, proving that Buddha is not fine but is indeed more or less dead, and the holiday has been celebrated for signifigantly longer than any and all modern war veterans:

No one is very sure of Siddartha's place of birth or when he was born, but the most popular theory is that he was born somewhere near Nepal between 500-400 B.C.  Buddha is not his name but became his title, which simply means "enlightened one".  He was raised a spoiled, fairly ignorant prince and it is believed that it wasn't until he became a young adult that he became aware of pain and suffering in the world.  He became obsessed with the idea of eternal hapiness and tried a bunch of crazy things from running away from the palace, his wife and child, to giving away all material goods to starving himself nearly to death.  Finally he sat under a tree for something like 40 days and there he finally attained enlightenment.  In this state, called Nirvana, no identity exists perse as all ailments (including greed, regret, anger, hunger, etc.) are eliminated.  These are called "dukka", and "The Four Noble Truths" explain these, how they affect us, and how to overcome them using the "The Noble Eightfold Path". Historians are not even sure what language Buddha used but we do know that he taught his practice to all classes despite gender or ethnicity.  Hence Buddhism was established with a strong following throughout Asia, and according to the super reliable Wikipedia, there are about 300-500 million Buddhists today. 

I fact-checked on various websites, but I know most all of this because I was just about set to become a Buddhist my freshman year of college.  I then realized it was highly impractical to try and eliminate all desire when you live in a society where you are considered dead if you don't have a phone or a facebook.  Still, part of the teaching is moderation--you may not be able to eliminate all desires in life, but you can practice meditation or simply remind yourself that the human mind is above that dress or sunglasses you want and a form of happiness is indeed possible with,some level of inner  peace.  My other idol, Kurt Vonnegut once said: "And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'”

Lastly: If you are still interested and I haven't bored you to death, I highly reccomend Herman Hesse's "Siddartha".  A colorful biography of the Buddha's life, it's a simple, easy, quick read that will stay with you when you're stuck in traffic or run out of money or get sunscreen in your eye.

Back to my Busan adventure:

By bus, the trip takes over five hours, but for just a little bit of extra won we found ourselves in a comfortable train going 315 kilometers/hour (about 200 miles per hour). The KTX train split our time in half and, anxious to get my feet in some sand, I was more than happy to spend the extra money.

Our planning was last minute, so we had no choice in hostel and ended up at the only place with availability: the Pobi Guesthouse.  Expecting the worst, we could not believe our luck:  the hostel was friendly, well-organized, very clean, and super safe.  We had computer access as well as free wi-fi, shampoo, a decent breakfast, a personal locker, and clean sheets.  Not only that, but besides being directly on the beach we were the next closest building to it.  It's always a good sign when the place you're staying reads "Please wipe off sand".

The first thing we noticed walking around the downtown area was the amount of foreigners.  Being a holiday weekend, it seemed that every foreign teacher had headed to Busan...and we weren't fans.  A group that sat next to us at dinner literally flexed his muscles and pointed when we asked which way the beach was.  Then they recomended a "Foreigner Bar". By the time we got to the beach it was dark, and after sliding down a giant pile of sand with all the little kids, admiring some amateur fireworks displays, and working our way up and down the length of the beach, we found ourselves growing silent.  The ocean has something magical about it--even without seeing it you can simply feel the void it fills as the unknown.  Haeundae Beach, which is the most popular beach in Busan, has it's own mini bay with land curling up on the sides.  As we looked out we could see the hotel and building lights reach out into the sea then end abruptly, swallowed by vast darkness.  The waves lazily lapped on rocks rhythmically and we sat looking out into nothing, trying to imagine just where in the universe we where.

The weekend included lounging on the beach, mexican food at both the Fuzzy Navel and Taco Senorita, soju (obviously), Namaste Indian Food, a very neon bar called 88 in Miami, hiking, Yongungsa Temple, Seokbulsa Temple, and a free jetski ride out far enough to see the city of Busan and the mountain backdrop that protects it.  Those stories are too cool to summarize, and this post is obnoxiously long as it is, so feel free to click those links to find out what happens. It's like a Make-Your-Own-Adventure Book! Remember those?  Turn to page 5 if you decide this stuff is somewhat interesting....