Fall and Falling

For the past couple of weekends, I've gone hiking in nearby Woraksan National Park.  It's a beautiful, but small (by American standards) mountain range forested with deciduous trees such as japanese maple and ginko.  The display of fall colors was wonderfully reminiscent of my New England childhood.  Full of reds, yellows, and oranges, the trees dropped leaves like a ticker tape parade. 

The hikers were many.  In Korea, it's en vogue to get decked out in the lastest, top-of-the-line hiking gear when visiting a mountain, regardless of how far or long you plan to hike.  Also, it doesn't hurt to have a ski pole or two for use as hiking sticks.  I was sadly underdressed in my jeans, rainbow sweater, and worn-out sneakers.

At the foot of the hill stands an ancient shrine called Mireuk-ri.  Having been to this shrine before, I knew it was worth seeing again before heading uphill.  You can see pics of this shrine in my past post "Rainy Day Woman."

The last time I visited Woraksan, four of us hiked up the mountain, following a well-worn and wide path through the trees.  It was incredibly easy to reach the first summit, so we decided to move along to the next peak.  Here the trail got a bit tricky.  We had to topple over loose boulders, and then, the trail stopped, and we were left to grapple up a suddenly-steep mountain side.  Slipping on fallen leaves, and falling on our asses got to be too much, so we turned back.  Heading down the mountain was just as sketchy, to say the least.  Let's just say, the leaves weren't the only things falling.  At random steps, our feet would give way and send us sliding at alarming rates down the near-cliff-like mountain.

On the way back down, we met of group of middle-aged Korean hikers who insisted on sharing their tangerines and makoli (rice wine).  By this time, we surely needed it!  We all grinned stupidly at each other for a while (mostly oblivious to each others' languages), took a couple of photos, then continued back down the trail.  Having made it past the most treachorous terrain, we were able to slow down and enjoy the breath-taking fall colors. 

I most have snapped a hundred photos trying to do photographic justice to the fall colors.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed the real thing.

A Day in Tangeumdae

Recently, I spent the day in Tangeumdae Park--one of the biggest parks in Chungju. 

Biking to the park took only five minutes, but I had to defeat the steepest drive in the city to enter the park.  The first feature of the park, is an array of modern art sculptures.  My favorite of these was a lovely figure of a woman set back in the trees.  The statue honors a group of women who threw themselves in the path of their enemy in order to save their village.  I can't tell you which enemy or battle, since the country has too many to keep track of, but I gathered that the women "allowed" themselves to be raped by their enemy thereby giving the villagers extra time to escape.  Where the men were, I can't say, but I hope they were not cowardly enough to run for their lives while the women suffered.  However, knowing the degree of respect women have historically received from Korean men, I wouldn't rule out this scenario. 

Many of the additional (and much larger and more conspicuous) statues commemorated war heros. 

An interesting sign along the trail mapped the foot's reflexology points. 

The top of park's tallest hill afforded a nice view of Chungju.  You can just make out the buildings past the trees.

A tiny valley at the foot of this hill contained a Buddist temple--one of the nicest I've seen.  So, of course, I took tons of pictures of it.

Past the temple, at the top of another hill, is the Chungju Archery Range.  This was an exciting place for me because I'd like to learn archery while in Korea.  Korean archery is thousands of years old, and Korean archers still win many Olympic archery contests.  The bows have such a lovely curvature because they are made of water buffalo horn.  Most of the archers were older middle-aged men.  I hung out long enough for one of the old guys to invite me to try his bow.  Most women in this country don't exercise and are excessively thin.  I've even heard complaints that women think muscles make them look fat so they avoid forming them at all costs!  Because of this, I'm sorry to inform you, they are quite weak.  So, when I pulled back the string with ease, the entire company of 30-40 archers let out a surprised, "AAAHHHHH!!!" and started flexing their muscles and pointing at my arms.  It was a gratifying moment.  As it turns out, the guy who let me try his bow lives only two buildings away from me.  I'm hoping for lessons once I find a bow of my own. 

Other interesting features of Tangeumdae include a two-story gazebo, a small outdoor amphitheatre, and bathrooms with Turkish toilets.  Sorry, no pics of these!

Rainy Day Woman

Just when I thought I'd escaped the rainy weather that I had come to expect in Northern California, I arrive in Korea during its rainy season...

Three weeks of mostly rainy days have turned promising weekend excursions into less promising movie-download sessions.  Luckily, the weekends have not been without their charms (not the least of which have been a Jane Austen-themed movie marathon companioned with the actual reading of Jane's books).

All Jane aside, I did manage to venture forth into the greater Korean unknown, armed with umbrella and not-so-trusty phrasebook.  I made it, in mostly-dry condition, to the intercity bus stop.  It's just a couple of blocks from my apartment.  As I am becoming wise to the ways of Korean time-keeping, I was not surprised when I had to wait nearly 90 minutes for a bus scheduled to arrive every 30 minutes.  I boarded the bus after my awkward how-much-does-it-cost? and is-this-enough? hand-signal communication system (my new language) and rode from central Chungju to the very outskirts of town.   

The bus ride was lovely with views of forested hills and tiny Asian-roofed houses interspered with farmland.  The smells were not so lovely.  One man smelled very strongly of old cornflakes (probably his naked feet), and many people had the smell of kim-chi-induced flatulence.  I guess bad bus smells are a universal grievance.  The good news is that the bus ride did allot enough time for the rain stop (temporarily).

I took the bus to Jungwon Mireukrisaji, which promised a charming many-hundreds-of-years-old Buddha statue.  Fair weather holding, I followed a path toward the temple site.  The path led me along a thriving apple and peach orchard, and all my faith in beautiful scents returned on breezes sweetened with freshly bathed wild flowers and fruit trees.  The path also basked in the gorgeous views of Woraksan National Park.  Even the swiftly moving black-as-coal rain clouds were a sight to behold as they swept across the Suess-ian mountain tops.

The temple was small but ancient and, therefore, impressive.  Greeting me at the bottom of a stone pathway was a large, ancient stone tortoise.  Passing a few stone pagodas (yes, there is a lot of stone here), I stopped at the only vender braving the weather and purchased a bamboo contraption with which to blissfully beat myself on the back in true Buddhist-monk fashion.  It also makes a really cool noise!  A few more steps and I'd made it to the statue.

The standing Buddha was carved in stone around 900 AD and has remained in the same spot since its creation.  A small and modern offering-shrine rests at the Buddha's feet.  People have left money, food, and some strange swamp-water-looking bottled beverages there.  To one side, a row of miniature plastic Buddhas have been lined up in offering to the bigger Buddha, and these, in turn, have also received coin offerings of their own.  A loud speaker system boomed out chanting-monk music.  The atmosphere was refreshing, and as the drizzle increased and scared off the other handful of visiters, I soon had the place to myself and enjoyed the blissful peace and quiet eminating from the stone Awakened One.

However, not having truly reached Nirvana, I was mostly annoyed when the black clouds released their torrent of typhoon-condition rain.  I made it back to the bus stop and, curled up in a ball in the one tiny dry spot available, waited for the return bus which was to pass by in about 30 minutes.  Two hours and ten minutes laters, I boarded the bus for home, looking forward to retreating into the splendid Victorian fantasy of Jane Austen's world (where rain has only seriously affected the plot twice in all six books--which is fewer than this heroine's altered plans in Chungju).

Liberation Day

Last Sunday was Liberation Day in South Korea.  It celebrates the day (Aug. 15, 1945) when Japan surrendered to the USA, thereby releasing South Korea of occupation by Japanese forces. 

To properly celebrate the day, I went to the official Liberation Day Park in Cheonan (a 3-hour bus ride from Chungju) and learned all about this period in Korean history.

Upon entering the park, it's impossible not to be impressed by the Reunification Monument that towers overhead like some strange concrete bird.  Koreans see themselves as one nation divided (North Korea and South Korea) and wish to reunify and live in harmony with all of Korea.

Following the path from the Monument lends views of the beautifully landscaped park, including water fountains and many flowering trees.  I stopped on the bridge over White Lotus Lake to watch families feed the turtles and giant coy.  One or two coy are cool, but an entire lake swarming with giant coy of all colors is truly impressive.

Moving along, I came to a field of Korean flags (called Taegeukgi), and along this field where archway-covered paths.  The arches were laden with growing squashes that hung down like lanterns. 

 Entering the Independence Pavilion, I lucked upon traditional Korean dancers/drummers.  This troupe was so good!  Each male dancer drummed the rhythm with several types of drums, and even the costumes were incorporated into the movement.  Check out the hats on these guys!

Past the Independence Hall, the museum is composed of several buildings set up in a circle centered around "the Open Space for Harmony and Unity."  I went to two buildings before I'd had enough.  They were pretty heavy-handed, and I need only see one or two blood-spattered mannequins in my lifetime for it to be enough.  Essentially, during the occupation, the Japanese forced all men and boys into the Japanese army.  Only Japanese was allowed to be spoken.  Anyone speaking Korean would be murdered.  It didn't matter to Japan that no one in Korea knew Japanese!  All Korean displays of nationalism were destroyed and replaced with Japanese displays.  For example, all plum trees (national tree of Korea) were cut down and replaced with cherry trees (national tree of Japan).  The Koreans were forced into slavery, laboring for the Japanese government as it took over Korea, or they were just murdered.  We're talking straight up genocide!  The worst part, from my perspective, was that the Japanese kidnapped thousands of Korean women and girls and forced them to be sex slaves for the "comfort" of the Japanese soldiers.  This is where, sick to my stomach and crying, I ended my museum tour and retreated back outside to enjoy cheerful festivities. 

Chungnyeolsa: Shrine of General Im Gyeongeup

On a long Sunday bike ride southwest of Chungju, in search of a nearby art village, I happened upon a Buddist temple with many beautiful statues of the Awakened One.  Some were only an inch tall, but this golden statue stood about 30 feet tall.

The temple itself was quite lovely, but I didn't take a picture out of respect for the people praying inside.  I did take this lovely pic of the ajoining shrine that was not in use at the time.

Reembarking on my quest for the art village, I lucked upon an incredible shrine honoring the heroic General Im Gyeongeup.  Born in Chungju in 1594 and trained in the martial arts by Buddhist monks, the General is famous for protecting Korea from several invading peoples, including the Manchus.  The General is also said to have been able to single-handedly lift giant boulders and to leap with ease from vertigo-inducing heights.  He suffered a political assassination in 1644.  Given the posthumous, honorary title of Chungmin and enshired just outside the modern city of Chungju, he remains one of Korea's great heros.  The shrine included many buildings centered around the main shrine (including a small museum containing his original iron sword) and a small coy pond.  Walking the grounds, I very much felt as though I had been thrown in to the pages of a National Geographic magazine.

 

This colorful building is the Buddhist temple on site.  Although you can't see it in this pic, the entire ceiling was also richly painted in bright hues.

Main gate leading up to the shrine.

This is the actual shrine where I lit incense in honor of the General and signed the guestbook.  According to the guestbook, I was only the third white person to have visited the shrine this year, although hundreds of Koreans have stopped by to pay their respects.

I continued biking along the outskirts of Chungju, searching for the art village.  After several hours of nearly fainting from the sweltering heat, I finally found it.  It turned out to be a small elementary school that offered art classes to students.  It was closed for the summer. 

Cultural Exhibit Grabs Some Grub(s)

Saturday, with achy knees and blistered feet, I bought a sweet mint green bike.

Sunday, I rode 10 km south of Chungju-si to Jungangtap and the gardens at the Chungju Museum.  The road featured a wide, slow river on the right and rice paddies on the left. 

Just before the museum was a botanical garden where I got my first glimpse of a lotus garden.  Lotus leaves are about 1.5 feet wide and stand about 6 feet tall.  From the garden, I saw an old Korean man bent over the river's edge gathering some local delicacy from ankle deep mud.  The garden path led me along the river to Jungangtap.  Jungangtap is an ancient pagoda atop a mound.  It was originally built to mark the center of the kingdom.  Now, it's the center of a sculpture garden and several roofed platforms where families picnic.  The museum itself had some cool pottery and a couple of old hanbok (traditional dress) but was otherwise lost on me as it was entirely in Korean. 

Hungry and thirsty (it's very muggy here), I went to grab some grub.  I entered a small cafe where my best attempt at placing an order was to shrug my shoulders at the waitress.  She brought a fried corn pancake with veggies, kim chi, and rice wine.  In the cafe, I was approached by several Koreans who wanted to take pictures with me and offer me maps of Chungju.  Appartently, I was one of the exhibits because, like everywhere else I've been so far, I have been a muched-stared-at cultural oddity.  Still hungry, I went to an outdoor vender that was selling skewered meat and toasted grubs.  The grubs tasted like nuts. (-: