Mountain Mama

Today was THE BEST DAY I'VE HAD SINCE I GOT HERE! It was also probably the scariest day of my life, but I'll get to that later. I went hiking at Tobaksan Mountain in Bukhansan National Park. It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. And the best thing about it was that it was only 45 minutes away by subway! I got myself in the mood by reading my Outside Magazine 2003 Adventure Guide on the way there.

This week, one of my coworkers (Korean) wrote down how to get to this place by subway. She knows I like to hike, and she said that this is one of the more popular spots in the area because there is such good hiking and because it is so easily accessible. So after church, I called all three people that I know here, and none of them were home, so off I went on my own. On the subway, I met a man who was going hiking, also, so we went together. We started off at a pretty good clip to get around all the people. Instead of thinking of a nice, quiet, peaceful trek, think of Safeco field when a game is letting out. I took a picture to prove it. Another interesting thing that I've seen at every park I've been to is that the road on the way there is lined with food vendors and kitchens. Eating is big here. But at this place, in addition to the food stalls, there must have been 20 stores selling hiking and camping gear! There was even a North Face store! The unfortunate thing is that it takes a while to get away from the kimchi smell. Then, since eating is so important, every family and group always picnics when they hike. In fact, a few weekends ago when we were at Odaesan National Park, I commented to Paul that it is unfortunate for the Koreans that they don't like sandwiches and dried fruit. Everyone we were passing going up or down was laden with tupperware for their meals. And there are ALWAYS leftovers that have to be packed down. But my point of bringing that up is that since people picnic along the way, you never truly get away from the kimchi smell until you are really far into your hike. You can smell a group eating well before you see them.

 

In this picture, you can see the food stalls and recreation equipment stores that line the walkway to the trailhead.  It is amazing.

 

I took a quick turn around on my way back to the subway, and these were all the people behind me coming down off the mountain.  I'd never seen anything like it.  And they say our national parks are overcrowded!

Back to my story. The man (Flavio) and I were heading up the mountain, and we were having the same problem that Katy and I sometimes have when we run--we were both trying to keep up with the other one. We were practically running up (and I mean straight up!) the trail, and I was a little afraid he might have a heart attack because he was sweating so profusely. And he said several times, "You're really fast." I tried to tell him I was only keeping up with him, and that I'd be perfectly happy if we went slower, but we didn't slow down. He did stop once for a rest. I told him again that we could go slower, but I'm not sure that he quite understood. He is fluent in Korean (of course), French, and Portuguese (has lived in Brazil for the past 20 years), but his English was about how my Spanish is now. So after about 45 minutes he was completely worn out, and said he was going to go back down and I should go on. I'm not sure if he continued a little ways after I left or not, but I was glad he hadn't complained of chest pain while I was there. It had been fun to have his company, though.

 

Flavio

So onward I went. The trail really started to climb. It was the kind of climb that is so steep that going up is actually faster than going down. I ended up hiking with a group of university students. It finally pays off to look like I'm 15. No one thinks I'm a high school student because I'm obviously a foreigner and alone. Everyone's first question is "Are you a student?" When I say no, the next thing people guess is an English teacher or missionary. No one ever guesses I might be in the Army.  I guess I don't look the part. I only tell people I'm a physical therapist, not that I'm in the Army. It works out well because I've yet to meet someone whose English is good enough to even know what a physical therapist is (plus they are different here), and by the time we get into that, no one has been brave enough to ask WHY I'm a physical therapist here. So anyhow, I finished climbing to the first peak with these students. Then they were going back down, and I was going to continue on. You don't have to worry. I was still among the throngs of crowds. There was no danger of getting lost--I just had to follow the person in front of me!

So I hiked down a bit and then back up onto a ridge trail. Basically it could be best described as scrambling. The terrain was much like Yosemite. (In fact, the first destination I got to was a rock monolith that looks very similar to El Capitan. Getting to the top of that was only accessible to rock climbers.) It was pretty nerve-wracking at times, and once I wouldn't have made it except that the man behind me literally pushed me up a boulder and then held onto my pack while I shimmied along the edge of another one. It still didn't make me very brave except that I knew I'd have company in Heaven if I fell--he'd go right down with me! So by now I've summitted another peak. I've got pictures--you'll be impressed. And as I'm almost to my destination, I stopped to take in the view, and this lady and her friend, who were resting on a rock, via hand gestures and Korean words that I couldn't understand, offer me their water! I showed them that I had two water bottles in my pack. I headed off for my destination, a high point along the ridge. The view was spectacular, but very hazy. That actually made it better because from there you looked down on the city. I didn't want to see that. It might have ruined the whole experience. Everywhere else I wished it were less hazy because you would have been able to see forever, even into North Korea!

 

Hard to believe this is just a subway ride out of one of the largest cities in the world.  This is Chaunbong, Tobongsan's highest peak.

After taking in the view... okay, I'll admit I was catching my breath from the climb... I started back the way I'd come along the ridge. When I got to where those two women were, they asked me to eat with them! (I know I've said before that people are really friendly!!) I begged off, rubbing my stomach like I was already full, and thanked them several times. Then I thanked God that one of the three words I know in Korean is thank you.

Now comes the part that was the scariest day of my life. You might want to close your eyes for this part. I wanted to summit the last peak in the area, so I took a slightly different route about halfway back. I started to climb, and then got to a point where there were steel ropes anchored like a rail to the mountain. They were VERY helpful for the climb. Then I got to a place where I had to go down. Straight down. Straight down a rock cliff. Kids, don't try this at home! I was literally hanging on these ropes to shimmy down. Yes, I had two feet OFF the ground several times. All it would take was one slip of my sweaty palms and it probably would have been 200 feet before I ever hit the ground! Let me tell you, I was already drenched with sweat because I had been working so hard, but I know my hands got even sweatier due to my fear. At this point, I probably would have turned around, except there was absolutely no way I could safely do that! I went for about 20-30 minutes like this, up and down rock walls with no handholds or footholds, clinging for dear life to the cable, using it like a rope ladder to go up, and like a fireman's pole to go down. I didn't feel like a wimp because everyone else was doing the same thing. Luckily, this was basically a one-way route (it had to be) because I was not going to let go to let someone by! I'm amazed that I had that much upper body strength--adrenaline is a good thing! The summit was kind of anticlimactic after that. It was actually really spectacular, but the journey was definitely more eventful than the destination. Luckily, not too eventful, though! :) But I have to say, I felt more of a sense of accomplishment than almost any other time in my life.

This is a rather tame part of the trail, at the end of the near-death experience.  (You can tell because I let go of the cables long enough to take a picture.) But at least you can see the cables, and the fact that even this far up, there are still a ton of people.

 

The imensity of the park was breathtaking.

Once I got down to the trailhead, I stopped at a big stream that was really pretty because it was cascading down the mountaiinside. I put my weary feet in and read an article in my magazine and decided I had done my own adventure travelling today. Yet again, more friendly Koreans. The place was packed with picnicers, and a group of three men nearby asked me where I was from, and one of them was trying to say something in English, and it came out in Spanish, but I understood and answered him anyway. I finished my conversation with them in Spanish because it was our best common language!

Land of 10,000 Budhas

The following weekend we tried again, and this time we made it to Odaesan National Park... The Land of 10,000 Budhas. 

 

 Paul and Laura Lorenson in front of the pagoda of the Woljeong-sa Temple.

 Architecture typical of the Korean Budhist temples.

This part of the park reminded me a little of Zion National Park with trees.  We hiked to a waterfall that was so tall that it was impossible to get into a picture.  It had three tiers, and we hiked to each one.  This was a beautiful day with terrific company, and was even worth braving the infamous traffic getting back into Seoul (a two hour trip turned into four, which we learned on later trips was actually a good night).

In Which I Break Bread with a Monk

... Or, Remember That Umbrella?

So now for the most interesting and amazing part of this story.

Paul and I are on our way back to the car from our hike, and I mentioned we needed to return the monk's umbrella.  When Paul tells this story, he starts it with, "You know Holly.  She can't just leave the umbrella on the porch."  Of course not!  How then could I thank him? 

So I knock on the door to return the umbrella.  The door is answered by a woman, who looks at us quizzically.  I start explaining the umbrella to her in a language I know she doesn't understand, using the universal "Here.  Take it!" gesture.  Soon after, she is pushed out of the way by the very inebriated monk, and he pulls me into the room.  Paul follows, not sure if he's invited, but pretty certain that he'll be relieved of his command if his battle buddy is abducted by a monk in a town for which he still does not know the name.

Inside, the woman who answered the door and another older woman are standing in a kitchen area.  There are two small tables.  One has a bottle of Soju on it.  The other is occupied by a young monk.  (He is eating in the traditional style of eating while seated on the floor.)  I assume that the younger of the two women was our friend's wife, but not one person in the house spoke English.  The daughter was no where to be seen.  The monk is tripping a little (Soju is quite potent).  He says something to the younger monk and literally takes a piece of watermelon out of his hand and gives it to me.  He gestures for me to sit on the floor at the other table with him, then takes the rest of the other monk's food off of his table and sets it in front of Paul and me.  We protested that we did not need to eat, and we just wanted to thank him for his umbrella.  The monk continued to talk nonstop in Korean and we politely smiled, nodded, and tried to leave, but he would not have it.  He put his arm around me and continues to speak to the women.  Again, it is a little like a kid bringing home stray animals.  So Paul and I sit.  The women bring more food to the tiny table--Nurungji (scorched rice), tofu, and of course, kimchi.  Then the monk says something to the women and they begin searching for something in the kitchen.  Paul and I are protesting that we have plenty, but the wife leaves the room.  She returns quickly with... two bananas.  The monk beams as if he's just won a prize. 

By now the other monk is gone (since we stole his dinner), and our tiny table is so full that I am literally holding my banana in one hand and peel in the other, and the monk is clearly encouraging me to try the Nurungji.  I juggle and taste and decide Nurungji is a little too dry and crunchy for me, but he smiles eagerly and practically feeds me until I have finished what is on my plate.  He is clearly having a wonderful time.  The soju is still flowing, and Paul is trying to drink as little as possible so that he doesn't pass out on the ride home.  It is a good thing I am female because I could politely decline the soju.  It would be pretty rude for Paul to decline, so he took small sips and I knew I'd be driving home.

After at least two hours in his home, we are able to take our leave.  By now, the monk needs a little help walking and we insist that he does not need to walk us to our car.  But we (and by that I mean I) have had a wonderful time and clearly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

 

I'm not sure if the Army was using that map as a training tool, purposefully getting people lost and improving skills and confidence as people made their way back home, or if they just thought no one would actually venture that far off-post (a very real possibility as I was surrounded by people who had been in Korea for almost a year and had not been outside of Seoul). Either way, Paul and I got to be much closer friends in the way that you can only do with shared experiences, and we arrived home with a once-in-a-lifetime story, still determined to find the elusive Land of 10,000 Budhas.

Remember that Map?

Back on the road after our educational lunch, Paul and I continued driving south.  I need to back up here and explain that there are really two main arteries exiting Seoul.  Each crosses a bridge over the Han River and continues into the heart of Korea.  When Paul and I started our journey, we used the bridges to navigate which road we needed to be on.  Clearly, if you cross a named bridge and continue on your path, you are on the correct highway.  My job was to look for the specific highway where we would essentially take a left and head east until we got to the national park and Land of 10,000 Budhas.

 

We drove and drove and drove.  At first we were chatting so much that we hardly noticed the time.  However, three hours passed, and we still hadn't passed the correct highway.  I became nervous that we had missed it, and I consulted my map.  I needed to orient myself.  Most of the signs we passed were printed in Hangul, which I could not read.  Occasionally, we passed a sign with romanized letters for major cities, but I could not find any of the same cities on the map.  At about 4 hours, we passed a sign for Daejon.  I found 'Taejon' on my map.  "I think these cities are spelled wrong on my map," I said to Paul.  He looked at me like I was crazy.  Why on earth would that be?  We passed a few more signs.  "I'm pretty sure I'm right.  My map says 'Taejon', but I'm sure we're in 'Daejon'."  He didn't believe me until we passed a sign for a World Cup stadium, which was on my map. 

 

How could this be?  By now we had been driving about four hours, and were clearly at least two hours or more past the point we should have switched highways and headed east.  How could I have missed that?  So now that I was oriented, I started looking for highway numbers.  None of them were on my map.  What?!  We were passing signs for highways, but on our map the numbers for the highways were completely different.  Not even close!

 

To be fair to me, the navigator, the map that the Army was issuing to Soldiers was out of date.  Like a couple of YEARS out of date.  Korea hosted the World Cup soccer tournament in 2002.  Prior to that, they renamed all of the major highways, giving them different highway numbers.  Also, at some point, I'm not sure if it was prior to the Olympics or World Cup, they changed the romanized letters that were used for the sounds in the Korean language.  So 'P' became 'B', 'K' became 'G', 'T' became 'D', etc.  Check out literature from 20 years ago and contrast it with literature now, and you'll see what I mean.  This is not that hard to figure out if you know what happened, but if you are taking your first roadtrip after only being in the country for a month and your only lifelines for navigation are highway numbers and occasional romanized names for major cities on the highway signs, it can be pretty confusing. 

 

But of course, all this we learned later, when returned to work and consulted with our Korean friends on Monday.  At this point, we were still thoroughly lost, well-beyond our anticipated turning point, and far too late into the day to take a four-hour detour to our original destination.

 

But we had started our day prepared for a hike, and no out-of-date map was going to stop us!  So  we took the next exit and I started looking up for the most natural (to me) point toward which to hike.  Paul wasn't sure this idea would work, but I had already figured out that outdoor spaces are treasured in Korea, and where I found a green hill, I was likely to find a trail.  It wasn't long before I spotted a hill that looked like it wanted to be hiked.  I could see a structure on the top, so I thought that made it more likely that we would find a trail.  We navigated our way through the town until we got pretty close to the hill, and parked along a side street.

 

I had no sonner opened the car door, when an old monk rushed up to me, chattering in Korean and took my hand and started pulling me up the sidewalk.  The only English words I heard were, "My home" a few times.  As Paul got out of the car, I saw him become alarmed.  Our conversation, which took place while the monk was still talking to me and pulling on my arm, went something like this:

Me: Come on, let's see where he's taking us.

Paul: Are you crazy?  Who is this guy?

Me: I don't know, but I can tell he wants to show us something.

Paul: We can't go somewhere with a stranger!  And what if we can't get back to the car?

Me: I'm pretty sure he's a monk.  I'm sure he's fine, and we won't get lost.

 

Later Paul told me he followed me out of fear that if he didn't, he'd never see me again, and it was probably safer to stick together.

 

It turned out that the monk wanted to show us his home.  Isn't that amazing in itself?  Would you ever pull a stranger out of their car to take them to your home to show it off'? 

 

But first, we needed a translator.  When we got to his house, he gestured for us to wait outside.  At this point, Paul is ready to leave, and I'm saying, "Look around; this is incredible!"  After a moment, the monk returned with a younger woman.  She was his daughter.  He had woken her up to come talk to us.  He was SO proud of her, and just kept grinning.  The poor woman was just a little older than us, and was married to a member of the US Navy, who was stationed in Okinawa.  She was visiting for a couple of weeks, and had just arrived at Inchon Airport (outside of Seoul) after a red-eye flight and had driven the four hours to get home.  She spoke excellent English and confirmed that her dad was a monk and he wanted to show us his hermitage.  She was very friendly and gracious, given the fact that she had just been woken up to greet and entertain strangers.  It was a lot like a kid bringing home two stray dogs.

 

 The hermitage.  The shrine up the steps was used as the setting of a popular Korean movie.

 

After viewing the shrine, we set off on our hike, but not before the monk insisted we take his umbrella because it looked like it was going to rain. 

 

We still don't know where we were, but our destination is on the hill in the background.

 



 We made it!  We obviously were not the only people at this spot, but we were probably the only ones who were there in search of the Land of 10,000 Budhas.
 

 We hiked for about an hour before reaching an outdoor exercise area.  I find these a fascinating cultural phenomena.  Sometimes you can hike for a couple of hours before suddenly emerging at one of these things.  That's Paul bench pressing, but truly many people use the equipment in these fitness areas.

 

On the way down the mountain we passed another temple and wondered if the Land of 10,000 Budhas would become our Holy Grail.

In Which I am Schooled by a Custodian

This is part 1 of 2 (or possibly 3) posts.

 

My friend, Paul Graves, invited me to go hiking with him in the 'Land of 10,000 Budhas' in Odaeson National Park.  The park is south of Seoul, and we decided to drive there on a Saturday.  I brought my trusty roadmap, which had been issued to me by the Army as soon as I stepped off the plane.  We estimated that it would take about two hours to get to our destination.  We mapped it out and started driving.

 

We stopped at a rest stop for a break and lunch.  Highway rest stops in Korea are like no others that I have ever seen in any other country.  They are really a food meccah.  It's a little like going to the foodcourt at an American mall.  So many wonderful foods to choose from.  Eating in Korea was always hard for me (more about that when I finally get to November).  As someone who does not eat meat at all or chicken away from home, it was hard for me to determine what I could eat.  I could not read menus or speak the language well enough to ask what was in a dish.  I had to guess, point at someone else's plate, or go hungry.  It was much easier in coastal areas because the diet consisted of so much seafood, which I love.  But Paul and I were not on the coast.  However, at the highway reststops there are pictures!  I'm sure this is probably a relic from the Olympics in 1988.  It felt so liberating to be able to choose what I wanted to eat without trepidation!

 

So I chose a lovely dish called bibimbap.  I already knew that bap meant rice, but the rest was a new experience to me.  Turns out, this is a very common Korean dish that is served almost everywhere.  It is made up of many vegetables and an egg served over rice, with a hot red sauce in the middle, and is served with a spoon and chopsticks.  Paul and I sat down and I began to eat with chopsticks.  Right away I decided I did not care for the red sauce.  Before long (within seconds), I noticed that a lady who was mopping the floors kept walking behind my seat, and seemed to slow down when she neared me.  After about the third pass, she stopped and gestured something to me, moving her arm in a circle and talking the whole time.  I had a hard time understanding what she meant, but I tried to smile politely.  Finally, Paul said, "I think she wants you to use your spoon."  That was odd, but I tried it.  I began eating with my spoon.  Again, she gestured the wide circles with her arms, though this time the circles were much more vigorous and her words seemed more intense.  "Should I stir it?" I asked her.  She spoke exactly zero words of English, and I spoke exactly three words in Korean, so our conversation was going nowhere, and I tried stirring my meal.  I'll admit I did this lightly, so as not to disturb too many of the vegetables or mix the red sauce into too much of my rice.  This seemed to appease the woman a little, and she grumbled something and started mopping again, keeping one eye on me the whole time. 

 

Soon, we needed napkins, so I stood up to get some.  Like in a foodcourt, the napkins were across the room, so I had to move away from the table to get them.  When I returned, the woman was actually sitting in my seat, mop propped against the next table, and was vigorously (almost violently) stirring my meal.  Paul gave me a look that clearly said, "How was I supposed to stop her?"  I waited patiently for several more seconds before she put down the spoon, stood up, handed me my chopsticks, and said something that was probably like, "There!  Now you can eat!"  I told her 'thank you' several times in Korean, took my seat, and finished my meal, definitely schooled in the manner in which one eats bibimbap.

 

Interestingly, when I returned to work on Monday and told this story to some of my Korean friends, they nodded in agreement with the custodian's actions.  One simply CANNOT eat bibimbap without stirring in the sauce!

 

What I learned (and grew to love the longer I lived there), is that most Koreans have an intense pride in their country and their culture.  Everyone, even the custodian, wants to share it and ensure that their visitors have an authentic and enjoyable experience.  And that makes living there a richer experience in itself.  And lends itself to some great stories!

 

And by the way, bibimbap became a staple dish for me, though I learned how to order it without the red sauce.  Servers always looked at me like I had three heads when I made my request, and at least twice someone refused to serve it without the sauce, but at least then I could stir away to my heart's desire (and their's) without ruining my meal.

 



Just look at this.  It's beautiful.  I'm sure you can see why I, not knowing the history of this dish, would want to eat it as-is. 

Olympic Plaza

Seoul was the site of the 1988 Summer Olympic Games.  I rode my bike from my apartment along the riverside park and trail (created for the Olympics) to get to the Olympic Plaza.  There was a decent museum and a lot of outdoor spaces to wander around during a visit. 

 

This is the World Peace Gate.

Literally EVERY person on the World Peace Grounds is on rollerblades! It is scary to walk through the plaza and I kept close to the edges.  I felt like I should keep my bike helmet on while I walked!  (Several times on later dates I brought my rollerblades to join them.)



Incheon Fish Market

Back in Incheon, I climbed a small hill, Mt. Wolmisan, for a view of the harbor. 

Then I visited the local fish market.  It turns out that the fish markets are lively places that give a great look at the culture of any Korean port city.  This was the first of many fish markets I visited as I made it a point to find them almost everywhere I travelled.  The fish market had row after row of stalls, all selling fish and other sea creatures.  Most were fresh or live, but many were also dried.  I don't remember if I noticed it here, but at many places, you can choose your live fish and it will be cooked to eat right at the stand.

 

I don't know what this is, and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out!

 

Not Dungeoness.



Sea Level on Dokjeokdo

So I'm off the mountain (see previous post).  I wandered along a road until I came to a beach.  I found a dseerted dock with a bunch of beached fishing boats and sat down to read my book.  My guidebook said that this is a popular recreation island for Seoul-ites, but so far I've barely seen a soul, and none of them have been tourists.

 

This is a great spot, though, and I'm expecting that I'll be staying here for the rest of the day.  Just me and my book.  Then I hear some yelling from a house a little ways down the beach.  I turn to see a man waving.  He must be waving at me because I am definitely the only other person within about a 1/2 mile radius.  The man ran up to me and in halted English asked me what I was doing.  I did not need a translation to understand his surprise that I was there.  His name was Sok, and he invited me to lunch. 

 

Sok

 

He ushered me to his house, went inside for something and came out with another man who appeared to have some sort of developmental disability.  I'm pretty sure the man was a little scared of me.  We climbed into Sok's small pickup truck, and he drove us to the only restaurant that I saw on that side of the island.  Once inside, we met up with another man, and they ordered several dishes to share, including a seafood soup that was outstanding.  While this island may have a lot of Korean tourists later in the summer, it was pretty obvious that they don't get a lot of foreign tourists.  While we were there, I noticed several middle-school aged children peek into the restaurant, stare at me, and then giggle and run out.  Every time they came back they had more kids with them.  Even a few adults came in just to get a glimpse of me.  Sok explained that it was very unusual for the islanders to see anyone who wasn't Korean.

 

After lunch, Sok offered to take me on a tour of the island.  I accepted.  (I'm sure this was against several regulations for US service members overseas.)  I was so glad I did.  We spent hours travelling around the island, exploring places I would never have seen without a vehicle and a tourguide.  We stopped at beaches and points of interest along the way.  I felt a little bad taking up Sok's entire day, but he never acted like he had anything else he preferred to be doing.  It was a beautiful island, and after about 6 weeks in Seoul, I needed a peaceful weekend.

 

According to Sok, this beach is packed in late July and August, but it sure is peaceful on July 4!

 

 Another beach I would not have found without Sok's kind help.

 

 We took a short hike to get to this beach on the other side of the island.  Not too far away, we met an older couple who were gathering sealife on the beach.  They had buckets of small shellfish (looked like tiny limpits) and octupi.  Sok talked them into letting me help gather the small octupi.  If I understood correctly (they spoke no English), they used some for themselves and sold some at a fish market.  It was really neat for this island-girl who is pretty comfortable pulling crab and clamming to have that kind of cultural experience.

 

Toward the end of the afternoon, Sok and I passed this house and stopped because it is unusual to see such a traditional Korean home being built.

We visited with the two women who were building the house.  The woman kneeling must have been in her late 70s and only had one eye!

 

It was a lovely day made possible by the kindness of a stranger and a little bravado on my part.  (Didn't seem so extraordinary at the time, but looking back, I see why my parents were always anxious to know I had gotten home safely at the end of every weekend.)

Weekend Getaway

It's July, so I bravely planned an island adventure.  There is an island called Deokjeokdo that is off the coast of Incheon.  It is a popular getaway for people living in the northwest.  My guidebook mentioned that there were great views from Pijopong Mountain.  So my plan was to spend a little time on the beach and hike to the highest point on the island.  How hard could that be?

 

I started off by making my way to Incheon Harbor, which was the site of MacArthur's Landing.  This is the veiw from Chayu "Freedom" Park.

 

From the harbor, I boarded a small passenger ferry to Dokjeokdo.  I was the only non-Korean on the boat.  When I got off, it appeared that maybe this would be harder than I thought. 

 

This is the first site that greeted me on the boat ramp after getting off the ferry on Deokjeokdo--live chickens in a cardboard box!  About 12 of these boxes were loaded from the boat onto a pickup truck.

 

It was not the touristy signs-everywhere-visitor-booth-when-you-arrive type of place that I expected. This was a quiet island without a resort or tourist trap in sight. Exactly what I preferred, but I had no idea how I would find the trail to Pijopong Mountain or even a different beach. It appeared that I might be wandering rural roads in search of a trailhead, which is exactly what I set out to do. About 30 meters down the road, a young woman and her husband caught up to me. I had talked to her a little on the ferry. She had recently returned to Korea after living in Japan for a few years, and was visiting the island for the first time in several years. She asked where I was going, and I told her I was in search of a trailhead. She said I'd never find it on my own, and she convinced her husband that they should help me find it. So off we went. She was right - I would have never found it on my own. We wound down unmarked roads, walked up grassy pathways, and eventually walked between two houses (I was nervous about trespassing) and through a vegetable garden to a trail.

And thus started an adventure that has now forever become family lore. There was a very old woman working in the garden. My new friend explained what we were doing, and more specifically, where I was going. The old woman began waving her hands wildly and saying very animated words that I could not understand. Mind you, she's still kneeling in her garden. I must have looked bewildered because she then started pinching my legs and saying, "Snack, snack!" Oh, of course, she must have thought I was not prepared for the hike. (I remember this feeling from living in Mexico. The realization that someone thinks you are not that smart because you can't speak the language fluently.) So I opened my backpack and showed her my lunch, my snacks, my warmer clothes, my water. See? I am very prepared, I guestured. She again pinched me over and over while saying, "Snack!" "I have a snack," I said. "No," my younger friend explained, "She means 'snake'." Oh, snake! Well, I don't even need to be prepared for that. My guidebook said that there are no poisonous snakes, or any other dangerous animals for that matter, in Korea. And I'm not afraid of a little garden snake. I thanked the lady, who of course did not understand a word I said, and then thanked my friend and her husband for showing me the way to the trailhead, assuring her I would be able to navigate my way back to the ferry. And away I went!

 

Trail signs on the way to Pijopong Mountain.  It's a wonder I find my way anywhere!

 

After a good hike (note the sweat), I made it to a viewpoint.  And it was a beautiful view.  But of course I like to get to the highest spot I can find, so I opted to scramble on the rocks (similar to the one next to me in the picture).  I finally made it to the highest spot I could reach.  I climbed up on hands and knees... and came face to face with the largest snake that I have ever seen in the wild!  My scream may have frightened the snake away from his sunning spot, but I did not stick around to find out.  I hurried off the rock and ran at least a half mile back down the trail.  So now, when something is tough or when we think we might actually see a snake, my family pinch each other and say, "Snack!  Snack!"

A Little Less Lost

I started using a map printed in English and made it to a real palace--Unhyeongung.  It was small and peaceful.  I was the only one there!  Although the architecture is vastly different than what I usually think of when I think "palace", there are many similarities between these palaces and European palaces.  There is a separation of male and female living quarters, quarters for the help, rooms where the work of governing took place, and large halls for hosting big events.  There were also elaborate grounds, though of course some of which have long since been crowded by the city.

 

 The same day, I went to Changdeokgung Palace, built in 1405.  I love the ornate wood work of the palace gate.

This is Huwon (the Secret Garden).  The building is the palace library.  It sits beside beautiful gardens and a pond.  What a perfect combination!