You Sure Got a Lot of Cranium Accesories!

Last month, Dennis asked me what the strangest thing about Korea is. I still am not sure how to answer that question. There are a lot of strange things going on over here in the Hermit Kingdom, but what is the weirdest? Perhaps it is the physical affection between boys (they hold hands, play with each other's hair in class, and engage in other behavior which wouldn't necessarily make an American feel uncomfortable, but would surely make them look askance). Perhaps it's the fact that every sign -- whether corporate or official -- has to reach a certain threshold of cuteness (Tom has said that he doesn't trust any smiling Korean cartoons with heads bigger than their bodies...there are a lot of untrustworthy mascots here then).

However, I can tell you what I think the stupidest thing about Korea is. As silly as I think it is every time I see the spectacle of people walking down the street screaming into their Bluetooth headset, it can't compare to this:

(I didn't take the picture, only found it on Google.

 It is, however, something I see at least eight times a day.)

Yes, that is the Samsung Galaxy Tab, Korea's answer to the iPad. People use their Galaxy Tabs here to do everything -- including taking phone calls! Imagine trying to have a conversation with an iPad on your head. Even better, imagine trying to have a conversation with a book on your head, because that's what you look like every time you commit this technological faux pas.

Did the '80s come back without me noticing?

A Whole New World of Advertisement

Here's how I imagine the interview for a Korean commercial actor goes:

Recruiter: Well, your qualifications look pretty good. Do you have any acting experience?
Applicant: No.
Recruiter: Well, can you look shocked at a bottle of fabric softener?
Applicant: I certainly can.
Recruiter: Can you be flabbergasted by a bowl of Ramen?
Applicant: Definitely.
Recruiter: Can you yell at household cleaning supplies?
Applicant: Are you kidding? I do that in my spare time!
Recruiter: Great, you're hired!

Daewonsa (Chuseok Part 2)

On our way out of Jirisan, we stopped by Daewonsa, a Buddhist temple right on the edge of the park. With the exception of Bangnyeonsa, in the foothills behind my apartment building, this was the least crowded temple I had seen since arriving here. This may have been due to the fact that it was a holiday, but it was peaceful and quiet, and had the added advantage of being much larger and more beautiful than Bangnyeonsa. Also, despite the gift shop and parking lot, Daewonsa seemed to me to have a much more traditional feel than the other temples I've visited. Perhaps there is a smaller portion of modern technology and comforts there. I like to think though, that the keepers of Daewonsa have simply done a better job of seamlessly integrating nature, tradition, and modernity.

Here is a photo just begging to be turned into an advertisement for Osprey Packs:

And a few more:

One of the temple buildings was also undergoing renovations, and visitors are able to help finance it. For a small donation, you are allowed to write your name and your wish or philosophy or motto on one of the tiles which will be used on new roof. Of course we had to make our marks. A Korean family was taking advantage of the incentive as well, and made us feel very inept and unsatisfied with our penmanship. The father's writing was so beautifully calligraphic and symmetrical, meanwhile we were struggling not to bleed the letters together and to get an entire sentence to fit on the tile. We blamed it on the broad-tipped markers, but perhaps Buddhist prayers just aren't meant to be written in the Roman alphabet. Here is our handiwork:

I keep hoping that I will catch wind of some information about a secluded Buddhist temple way up in the mountains in rural Korea, accessible only by foot, protected by an impenetrable barrier to all cell phone signals, and populated by enlightened and friendly monks. Unfortunately, a very large portion of the oldest Korean temples were destroyed during the Japanese occupation. Most of the temples are very well built and very beautifully painted, but some are not older than 50 years. It's even a more depressing story in China, I'm told, where temples are destroyed simply because they are relics of the past and because such tradition gets in the way of economic progress. Clearly, I am holding on to my own preconceived fantasies of medieval Asia. Furthermore, I am fast realizing that such solitude is not something easily attained in a country the size of Indiana with a population of 50 million people.

In the meantime, I can enjoy the temples for what they are: often beautiful and blissfully quiet (relatively speaking of course) retreats.

Hiking in Korea (Chuseok Part 1)

The first part of my Chuseok vacation was of course a trip to the mountain fastnesses of my new home. I've done a bit of day hiking around Daegu since I arrived, but this was to be my first overnight trip, and it had been far too long since I spent a night in the woods. So along with Tom and Lisa (two other teachers from Avalon) and Tahirih (a friend from Potsdam who is also teaching in Korea), I packed up my trusty Atmos 65 and headed off to Jirisan National Park.

Jirisan (also the name of the primary mountain in the Park) is Korea's oldest national park and home to Cheonwangbong, the highest peak in mainland Korea, at 6,283 feet. Jirisan is one of the country's most popular hiking destinations, and the 182 square mile park gets almost 300,000 visitors every year. That's 1,648 visitors for every square mile. Compare this to the Adirondack Park, which, though it gets an average of 8 million visitors a year, equals out to only 835 people per square mile. Needless to say, the first thing to go out the window when hiking in Korea is any illusion that you might be able to appreciate some solitude in the woods. As such, Chuseok (the Korean Thanksgiving) seemed like a perfect time to visit Jirisan. On Chuseok, nearly the entire country is busy visiting and feasting with relatives, so it is allegedly one of the only times you will be able to hike through the mountains without having to wait in line on the trails.

At the crack of dawn on Saturday, we took an express bus to the city of Jinju. The timetables and transfer points were a bit daunting, but it turns out that the bus system is not too difficult to navigate. In Jinju, there are buses running every hour (sometimes more frequently) to every one of the trailheads in Jirisan, of which there are almost a dozen. This is a major point for Korea. The public transportation system here is not only astoundingly efficient, cheap, and extensive, but it also seems that the accessibility of the wilderness is near mandatory.

Where I take points off is the lack of any semblance of true wilderness, and the crippling regulations. In Korean parks -- both provincial and national -- camping is only allowed at designated campsites (which are always immediately adjacent to parking lots and made to accommodate hundreds of people) or "shelters" within the park. These "shelters" are not shelters as I know them. Instead they are enormous buildings (thousands of feet up and miles into the woods, mind you) with floor heating, blankets for rent, a cooler full of drinks, Ramen for sale, toilets, urinals, a cordoned-off smoking section, cell phone chargers, and of course a 3G signal. You pay ₩ 7,000 (roughly $6.50) to share a cramped living space with anywhere from 12 to 100 other snoring people. The berths are no more than 2 feet wide, and women and men are forbidden from sleeping in the same rooms. The sounds of birds and bugs are virtually non-existent. Instead you hear K-Pop and loud, lengthy cell-phone conversations at your campsite.

If you'll pardon the temporary mounting of my high horse, I will say it's hard to get the camping experience that I'm used to in this environment. Where I come from, this is a shelter:

This is what I'd call a house:

It's also hard to get back to nature, as it were, when helicopter rescue is only a QR code away:

As far as the regulations, of course you aren't allowed to camp anywhere except the shelters, so it is unfortunately a choice between sharing your lodging with 50 snoring Koreans, or not staying in the park overnight. Fires are forbidden anywhere except the shelters. That includes stove fires, so you can forget about a hot victory lunch on the summit. You are also forbidden from hiking at night. Hiking hours are from two hours before sunrise to two hours after sunset. We chose to ignore this particular rule, in pursuit of a sunrise from Cheonwangbong. We got fogged out of the sunrise, but did get some spectacularly clear night hiking in anyway:

The downsides of the "shelters" notwithstanding, the park has absolutely beautiful scenery. The trails are a healthy mix of wooden and metal steps, roped up rock scrambles, and the the intense, vertical, scoff-at-even-the-idea-of-switchbacks type of terrain that I have come to know and love hiking in the Northeast U.S.

The views, thanks to the gorgeous fall weather, were stunning.

 

And here we are at the highest point in the Korean mainland:

I ended up revising the route several times before entering the park, after realizing, as I usually do, that I was far too ambitious at first. It was a good thing too, because the terrain was just as tough as any I've hiked. Our first day was 3.7 miles in to Saeseok Shelter, which took a lazy 5 or 6 hours. Our second day was 5.6 miles and five peaks in the course of 10 hours (with a long nap and breakfast in between). The third day was 4.2 miles, all downhill (and thankfully we picked the right way to go down, it would have been a nightmare in the other direction!). Our second night was spent at a much smaller, much less crowded, and much nicer shelter. The shelter had an amazing view, a considerably nicer manager, and a dog for a mascot. Overall, it was a much better experience the second night (though I still would have preferred to set up my tent or hammock somewhere else).

On Monday, we spent a lazy morning enjoying the sunrise from the picnic tables, and a nice Korean couple struck up a conversation with us. Koreans, as a rule, don't have the same hang-ups as we Americans do about friendly and even intimate conversations with strangers. We were offered food -- Korean barbecue with fresh meat and vegetables -- by no less than four other groups of hikers, and accepted graciously though we had nothing but paltry trail mix and oatmeal with which to reciprocate. This particular couple was excited to practice their English and advertise their camping shop on Goeje Island (which I will certainly have to make a point to visit).

All in all, Jirisan was an outstanding experience. The terrain was similar enough that I was right at home hiking it, but the scenery was sufficiently Asian, as I thought it. I imagined martial arts masters training under waterfalls that we passed and The Monkey King capering around on promontories not unlike the ones I was seeing. Fall, as we all know, is the best season to go hiking, and it is no different in Korea. The woods are beautiful, the temperature is perfect, the bugs are absent, and the trails are a bit less crowded.

I feel compelled to make a comparison between the hobby I love in The States and the one that has fast become the national pastime of Korea. Being an entirely mountainous country with a booming economy and middle class, the accessibility of hiking trails and parks is top notch. The public transportation system encourages both urban and rural people to take advantage of the outdoors, and the Koreans' enterprising and friendly nature make them excellent hikers and gear salespeople. However, a lot of what makes backpacking special for me seems not to exist here. There is little solitude, and none of the self-imposed exile from the trappings of civilization that gives me a new perspective on myself and the company I keep in the woods. It is not surprising that the parks have to be regulated in this way. In such a small, crowded country, I suppose my prejudices about space and wilderness from one of the largest nations on earth don't quite belong.

In any event, I am thrilled that Koreans have taken to the activity of hiking with the same enthusiasm that I have. Prepare to see many more picture-laden posts of my outdoor adventures.

Vacation

I will be celebrating Chuseok, the Korean Thanksgiving, this weekend, by doing a bit of camping in the mountains and then hanging at the beach for a few days. Stay tuned for a full report when I return on Wednesday!

Service

One particular aspect of Korean culture that I've grown rather fond of in my short time here is a thing called "service." It is, much like it sounds, an extra service by the proprietor or employee of an establishment for you, the good and loyal customer. This can range anywhere from a couple free bottles of Coke at the local barbecue place with dinner, to a free red bean donut at the bakery when you buy a coffee, to the situation I encountered earlier today.

This morning a Tom -- a fellow teacher -- and I went out to look for camping gear for Tom in preparation for our upcoming trip to Jirisan National Park. Those of you who had even a ten minute conversation with me anytime over the past two years know this is far from a chore for me, so I embraced it with my classic EMS-salesman-aplomb. Camping in Korea comes with a laundry list of regulations (I'll do a whole post on hiking and camping in Korea later), and actually one doesn't typically need as much technical gear as one would in The States. However, the essentials are still necessary, and Tom had few of them, so we went first to HomePlus -- essentially the Korean version of Wal-Mart -- and then to a smaller, sort of Mom & Pop camping store on the way home.

At HomePlus, we were treated to a variety of chintzy but cheap camping equipment. The salesman answered a few questions but didn't make too much of an effort, as we looked like we were just browsing. We moved on to the smaller shop, and the man staffing it was super helpful. I brought a cookset and a bottle of fuel up to him, and he told me the price. Surely that couldn't be right, I thought. I inquired as to whether or not my math was wrong. "No," he said. "This...20% off for you," he said, pointing to the cookset, and then, pointing to the gas, "and this...service." In other words, for free!

Was it because I was a foreigner? Who knows, but I can tell you I'll certainly go back for any more gear I'll need (and need more gear I will). After working at EMS for so long, and getting frustrated with every self-absorbed Upper West Side client who demands a discount, it is funny to be on the other side. However, I did not demand a discount, it was simply given to me. Perhaps because I'm just so handsome, who can tell?

Tom, meanwhile, was experiencing a serious case of sticker shock. The few pairs of boots in his size were quite expensive, so he left without getting anything (for now, at least). After we left and had walked probably 6 blocks down the street, the employee came rushing up on his bicycle, excitedly informing us that he could give Tom the boots for a mere $90, down from over $150. Still too much, but maybe next time. What a salesman!

Herb Hillz

This past weekend a few other teachers and I went to Herb Hillz, a nature-themed amusement park in southern Daegu. The park was quite a mish-mash. There was a petting zoo, an eco-adventure obstacle course, carnival games, and some very strange pop culture displays. For instance, here's the scariest Michael Jackson you've ever seen:

Naturally, we were there for the eco-adventure obstacle course. For only $17, we a ziplining harness, a helmet, and a pass onto one of seven obstacle courses up in the trees of our choosing. After signing the waiver, we had to sit through about 20-30 minutes of instruction. Of course, it was all in Korean, so we had to guess at the gist of it based on gestures and common sense. However, most of it was "here's how to use a carabiner," and "don't jump out of the trees," so it wasn't hard to follow. We were briefly tested to make sure we were paying attention (and to see how good our Korean was, perhaps?), and then it was off to the trees:

And here's a video of Matty ziplining to a graceful stop:

We walked through the fragrant herb garden and checked out the petting zoo (some goats had escaped and were running amok through the rest of the park...you know, to the extent that goats can run amok). There was also a small pool with six inflatable hamster balls, each one with a child inside. They were rolling around and knocking into each other. Naturally we wanted to try, but we were told it was kids only. I call that discrimination.

All in all, it felt very similar to a Western amusement park. The musical selection was a touch odd -- I heard, as three songs in a row, PSY's "Gangnam Style" (obviously), Vivaldi, and then a ridiculous instrumental remix of Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff." They may need to work a little bit on their transitions. One refreshing difference was the lack of litigious overtones. Aside from the waiver, there was just a general agreement that your well-being is in your hands, and that no one would be stupid enough to sue for something that they did to themselves.

One more full week of classes, and then it's the five-day Chuseok holiday. Should be a blast. Until next time!