THIS is what happens when you cycle in Munsan

I live a few kilometres from the DMZ (demilitarized zone between North and South Korea) in Munsan, a small town on the end of the Gyeonggi-do subway line, unforgettably marred with peculiarities that might forgo the local, but draw my curiosity. The most appealing aspect being the contradiction between extensive walks in the surrounding hills used by civilians – families, men, woman, children – and the remnants of a Korea at war some 50 years ago. Concealed pathways lead to dishevelled bunkers or misshapen trenches; mass storage areas enclosed into the hill tops for what I imagine were camouflaged shelter to tanks. Rusted shells of armed vehicles immersed in the hills; so deeply nestled in the earth and caked in dirt, sticks and leaves it is hard to distinguish their alien-ness, decrepit and decaying into the soil. The discrepancy continues – a tree-lined dirt road skirting the farms marked with lanterns separates into two avenues ending in small yet beautiful temples. A few kilometres away a hill stands, where a few fortunate dead view  the farms below from their graves – a status symbol even in death for the Korean people.

As I walk amidst all the contradictions, silence and mystery of these hills,  the temples, the bunkers, a war, I am simultaneously in awe yet stupefied – all of this a point for which I have no reference. Yet what comes to mind at this moment is one of my students, a young precocious and forceful individual who has not yet developed her ability to name the things around her in English. She resorts to using the word “this” whilst pointing at books, pens, pencils, her shoes and always utters “Teacher this.., teacher this, this…” in trying to obtain my attention. And walking through the pine needled paths, naked trees and fallen leaves, inhaling Springs crisp air, I find myself repeating the word “this”. This. This. This. All of this, signified and differentiated by the man given name of things, whilst remaining from a single source.  In my mind, completely redundant and serving only to detract from it’s original beauty. Taoism refers to the 10,000 things from which everything is named – yet reminds students of this unity.

It helps students of Tao to recognize the underlying connection and unity between all people and all animals and all plants and all things and all ideas. By recognizing the many manifestations, it sometimes brings us back to an awareness of the unity from which they all have sprung.

This right here, this moment, this breath, this falling leaf, this tree, this stick, this mound of sand; in all these contradictions of the mountains and hills of Korea, surrounded by this quiet, this graves, this rusted iron, natures changing season, temples freshly painted.. all of THIS. I have been using her words to draw my attention into the present as I wonder, as I think of it all. All of it will change and whither, everything that exists here will change and all that will be left is this moment, this truth. This.

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BLONDE REDHEAD

Reblogged from SUPER C۞L۞R SUPER:

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"꿈을 머금고 있는 분위기 있는 일렉트로 인디 팝." -FILTER

"신스가 어떤 소리를 내야하는 지를 보여주는 차가운 고품격 음악."
-NME

“의심의 여지 없이 근사하게 구성된 혼합, 게다가 종종 화려하기까지 한…” - Paste Magazine

“건축적이고 아름다운, 그들의 드물고 미니멀한 접근 방식은 영감과 솜씨 두 가지의 면에서 부유하고 의미있는 복잡성을 부여한다…아주 매끄럽고 윤이나며, 서두르지 않고 주기적으로 경이로운 BLONDE REDHEAD는 새로이 발견된 Black Beauty와 함께 반짝거린다.” …

Read more… 543 more words, 2 more videos

My piece of North Korea

In light of the death of Kim Jong Il, the ‘Great Leader’ of North Korea, I felt it was time to conclude my blog entry about the DMZ and express my utter fascination with a country ruled and ruined by dictatorship. I have lived just south of North Korea, located on the last subway stop before Imjingak and the entrance to the DMZ for almost 2 years and feel an intrinsic part of Korea, a comfortable alien simultaneously welcomed and isolated.  I have a great connection to this place, if not for the hanoks and palaces that strike me with a sense of recognition and awe each time I see them as if I lived here in a former life, then it is an affinity for the East that I have always held and am finally nurturing. This is why I am here, why I am exploring, and why I might stay for years to come.

The legendary DMZ, or Demilitarised Zone, has been one of the most recommended locations of interest in Korea. The DMZ serves as a divide between the North and South, is 4 kilometres wide and 250 kilometres long cutting Korea in half at the 38th Parallel. It is the most heavily militarized border in the world,  due to the lack of a peace treaty and what remains is an armistice – technically the two Korea’s are still at war.

I find war and politics particularly disheartening, but since I began reading a popular novel among foreigners entitled Nothing to Envy, my interest in North Korea, the Korean war and communism has grown. I have acquired a stomach for it and since visiting the DMZ, my curiosity has only grown.

I met my tour group at Imjingak, the last stop before the actual partition between South Korea and the DMZ demarcation line. Several monuments have been erected here including the Memorial Alter which signifies comfort to the 10 million South Korean people who were separated from their families in the North.

Accompanying the monuments is the The Freedom Bridge, which connected the North and South; and bore passage to some 13,000 war captives returning home and rejoicing their freedom when a cease fire was decided in 1953.

Finally, an observation deck has been erected, fitted with binoculars allowing tourists a panoramic view of the greenery present beyond the wire fences.

Imjingak acts as memorial for the war, but is also a physical symbol for hope of a future unification between the two countries and consequently receives about 3 million visitors a year.The most elusive element as a reminder of the war, hardships and the millions of deaths 60 years ago, is that hosts parents, children, families as well as local and foreign tour groups. A small theme park has been constructed with iron and plastic merry-go-rounds, over-sized boat rides and bumper cars, perhaps embodying peace and new beginnings but ultimately serves as a great paradox. Somehow war and playgrounds seem incongruent, if not jarring on the senses.

After viewing Imjingak, our tour group crossed the bridge to the actual DMZ – the road is blockaded by several military personnel at various check points, adorned with barb wire fences and passport checks lest we forget where we are.

Our first stop was the third tunnel. This is one of four known tunnels said to be made by North Korea in an attempt to infiltrate the South. This particular tunnel was found in 1978, is 1,635 kilometres in length, 2 metres wide and 2 metres in height. It is estimated that an army of thirty-thousand soldiers could pass through the tunnel within an hour. The tunnel is heavily guarded and no photography is permitted. The tunnel ends with 3 blockades, securing the entrance from the North. The walls have been highlighted where dynamite and explosives were used to create the tunnel. A further 7 more tunnels are said to exist along the border from the east to the west of South Korea. This information has come from defectors from the North and these tunnels whereabouts have not yet been established.

Our next destination on the trip was my personal favourite, Dora Observatory.  It is the northernmost observatory in the South where one can see North Korea’s Propaganda Village – Kijŏngdong - although it is known as Peace Village in the North. Here we viewed farmland, the bronze statue of Kim-Il Sung, and finally the North Korean flag, protruding awkwardly from the bland buildings and barren farms, flying proudly as the world’s third highest flagpole, a sight of utter contradiction amidst the desolate farmlands.

The significance of this village is that, as the name suggests, it was built to encourage South Koreans to defect to the North in the 1950′s. However, observation from the South suggests that the village is actually uninhibited. The buildings can be viewed through binoculars and appear to be empty, void of glass in the windows as well as actual rooms with furnishings. Vacant shells lacking the life and activity that human presence brings. I did however, spot 3 villagers walking aimlessly down one of the dirt roads through my binoculars, their slight figures almost unidentifiable at that distance – their only the sense of detection being  the movement of their swaying arms. Their existence was no doubt, an attempt to create a sense of life and action, but failing in contrast to the naked buildings. Although many of thousands have visited this site, and have viewed this portion of North Korea, it will forever be a highlight not only of my stay in Korea, but also in my life. The notion that I got a glimpse of this mysterious place – this enigma, this ghost of a county will always leave an impression on my mind and psyche.

We then visited Dorasan Train Station. This station used to unite the two Korea’s at the top of the Gyeonggui line, but due to the tensions between the countries, the line is no longer used. It was recently restored and remains open to tourists and as yet another token of impeding unification. It is admittedly, a strange sight – a bare train station with it’s destination headline as “Pyeongyang” – the capital of North Korea.

We returned to the location of the third tunnel again to watch a short clip on the DMZ. As the stretch of land has been uninhabited for the past 50 years, it remains untouched which has provided nature with the opportunity to flourish and grow unperturbed despite the occupation of military along the actual borders. The video talked of unification and gave evidence that the tunnels had been built by the North, based on the position of the tunnels and how they were excavated by stipulating that the angles and positioning of the explosives could only have come from the North. It has, in fact, been debated who was tunnelling under the earth in order to siege, and naturally the North blamed the South, and the South the North.

Finally we left the DMZ, crossing the wired bridge and returned to Imjingak. I was left with a heavy impression of a history I will never truly understand despite my relationship with the country,a sense of excitement for having come close to something so foreign and a strange sense of sadness for the people who live their lives under the rule of dictatorship.

Upon reading the novel I mentioned, Nothing to Envy, and watching several documentaries, I have tried to pin point my obsession with this country, this quiet, voiceless nation.  Foreign entry is controlled and remains under high scrutiny for any tourist or journalist. Media within the country itself is hindered and controlled by the manipulation thereof – the only broadcasts allowed are ones exalting the ‘Dear Leader’ or the supremacy of the North Korean regime.  Media into the country is prohibited and banned; and anyone caught indulging in any outside of the government regulated media will suffer the enormous consequences by being imprisoned in the gulags or concentration camps – ending the already warped sense of freedom the civilians have. But there at the Dora Observatory, it stood before me – North Korea, the flag atop its spire, flying high and proudly in the small Propaganda Village.

I can’t stretch my imagination far enough to fathom how I could identify with people so sheltered and hidden from the world. I can’t begin to imagine what the mindset of someone subjected to dictatorship must think. The psychological repercussions of being habitually told what to do, how to do it and what to think that all sense of autonomy no longer exists. And if it does, it has been so deeply buried in fear, that any sense of independence returning must be repressed.  Somehow the fact that they have no knowledge of my existence is the most intriguing fact, not simply how I could never be able to relate to them, even though I am aware of their lives on a whole, but more importantly that they could never relate to me, as they are completely oblivious to my life and have no frame of reference from which to draw. The sense of connection and empathy feels severed by this great unknown. They are not aware of me, they are not aware of us.

And now, Kim Jong Il is dead. On the 17th of December 2011, this feared, sometimes revered man has fallen and left his people. News reports say that the military is on high alert as a totalitarian state void of their autocratic ruler is prone to power struggles and rebellion. His son, Kim Jong Un is to be his successor, although there is speculation of his competency as a young and inexperienced man. After discussing the matter with a Korean colleague, it seems there are many options. One of which is that the Western educated Kim Jong Un, one who has been exposed to the benefits of Capitalism, might slowly change the ideals of North Korea, similar to that of China, a country that is evidently reaping the rewards of economic growth. Another idea is that his lack of experience might end in a loss of power. However, this country’s mysterious nature will continue to linger as it heads into darker times, and of the reality of the situation, we do not know. It simply is a very interesting time to be living here.

The hilarious space of in-between

I curiously ask myself what it is about well intended relationships that begin when one is overseas that almost always land in the dead zone – broken up. When in all honesty, all rationality steers me in a very definite direction. It is pretty obvious. Two people of different cultures/countries, trying to work against the laws of nature, the laws which state that eventually you are going to return home, you are going to want to pursue a career (or travel to another country), possibly continue studying or start a family. This raises the obvious question, who is going to move where? Which one of the two is prepared to give up their families and friends, potential dreams and paths to move to their loved one’s country of origin? (This actually does happen. I have seen it. Like many times. I know it sounds insane…)

In my year and a half in Korea I have seen at least 10 different couples met, start the glorious dance of dating in a foreign country, exploring together, forging memories and paths, offering comfort and companionship in what can be a very lonely and challenging time. Only to have the expiry date looming ahead. My contract/work period/travels are over. I have to return home. Are you coming with me – No? What?! This ends here?

Not one relationship has survived the test of returning home. The only successful couples that surround me are ones that began in each persons respective country of origin. To which each couple is returning, together. So I wonder, with such a glaring failure rate, why do we still engage in these improbable interactions? Is the companionship in the interim that fulfilling that we ignore all rationality? Or do we just run in regardless, swearing to deal with it when it happens? Is it even worth it in the end?

Alas, as I have seen too many relationships fail dismally around me due to space, I think perhaps it is better to embrace the amazing solitude travelling can bring. The new experiences and delights one can find on one’s own outweighs returning home after said travels, alone and somewhat (or completely) heart broken. The friendships one can nurture instead, might be worth more than a lost love over the oceans or plains somewhere.

However, the question remains, and it still puzzles me why we choose to engage in relationships with these expiry dates. And if we do, why do we still question its ending, when we knew it all along. Why do we still go home (or get left behind) and rue and rant the failure of the coupling? I guess of course, we can choose to engage in the long-distance variety, which in fact, espouses more insanity than expecting someone to follow you across the globe. It is like trying to bake a cake without an oven – having a relationship without actually seeing your partner. It just doesn’t work that way.

It is hilarious. Heart breaking, but hilarious.

Island style

My last two weekends in Korea have seen me at possibly one of my favourite spots of all time – the beach. Although I am not much of a swimmer, nor have I found the courage (or will) to surf, the beach itself welcomes me as an old friend each time I visit. I find the rhythmic flow of the waves cleansing, each one draws a part of me out, a part that is not needed, perhaps something negative or something I need to let go of, and simply takes it with her, dispersing it into her giant body. Somehow the ocean is that powerful – my troubles are but a single drop. Needless to say, I am left feeling revitalised and humbled.

Unfortunately travelling to beaches in Korea requires some planning and distance. My fortunate life has always been spent living by the Sea. I grew up in Durban, with an expansive coastline, I then lived in Knysna surrounded by lagoons and lakes; and a mere twenty minute drive to the beach. Finally, I spent the last 6 years in Cape Town, again enclosed by one of the most beautiful coast lines I can imagine. So in this case, travelling for 4 hours seemed almost ridiculous, but completely necessary.

My first weekend trip was to Muui-do. An island a 10 minute bus drive from Inchoen International Airport and a further 10 minute ferry ride from the pier. The event was Korea’s version of Burning Man – a gathering of like minded creatives who spend the festival in the spirit of giving – no money is exchanged but instead talents or services are traded.  We only had one night to celebrate this mini Burning Man, with the main festival happening in the desert in the US over a period of a week (I believe). Strangely, I found myself seeking solitude on this particular weekend, and instead of involving myself in the boisterous activities on the main beach, I enjoyed listening to a friend play guitar, sat transfixed with the moon and sea in front of me, gazing over in reverie. And later engaging in an inspiring conversation with a close friend.  The highlight of the weekend simply being at the beach.

My next island trip was for Chusoek the following weekend. Being Korea’s Thanksgiving vacation, I had a welcomed 4 days off. I ventured off with 2 friends to Jawol-do, another island off of Inchoen, although this island was an hour ferry ride. Jawol-do is an exquisite location –  the locals were incredibly hospitable sharing kimchi and salad with us on the nights we used their grill to braai; the beaches were quiet save a few visitors – some curious who came to join us on an occasion or two, others who kept to themselves. The island has abundance of hills to explore – lush green forests overgrown from the summer rains, alive with spiders and insects and life.

We spent many hours on the beach, playing music, building sand castles and later, exploring the quiet hills around us offering a quiet serenity that was much needed, however, the highlight of this weekend – finding a pagoda at the top of one of the island’s peaks, and sitting for for 2 hours in the quiet, absorbing the scenery, letting time slip gently by. And of course spending days with friends, connecting, sharing, being silly, getting serious – something so necessary and needed, especially in Korea.

Gyeongbokgung

Dear Korea. Please don’t change a thing about this phenomenal place.

Gyeongbokgung is officially my favourite spot in all of Korea. A description of a place where I wept on sight would seem inadequate – absolute whole-hearted recognition of a palace room atop an island with vibrant green lily pads littering the water’s surface. Perhaps it was the striking beauty that transcended the realms of my mind – simultaneously awed with a feeling of I have been here before…

To put this into perspective, last Saturday, I visited the Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul. Situated near Gwanghwamun, which boasts the amazing statue of King Sejong (who created Hangul, Korea’s alphabet) and The Story of King Sejong Exhibition Hall.

This is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Seoul, as it is in the locale of one of the biggest temples in the city area, Jogysea Temple, where the Lotus Lantern Festival was held, intersects with Insadong, the centre of tourist shopping, as well as other Palaces.

Gyeongbokgung Palace itself rests at the foot of Bugaksan Mountain and hosts a central hall, numerous quarters, as well as many rooms and gardens interweaving throughout the Palace grounds.

Within the Palace a Pavilion has been built on an island in the middle of a lotus pond. I read that its construction was based on cosmic principles espoused by the Book of Changes, The I Ching, which has deep roots within the practise of Taoism. The very sight that held such amazement to me.

It literally left me breathless, my heart thundered in my chest and with a feeling of utter “coming home” enveloped me. Tears welled which I forced down in embarrassment. God only knows why I have this feeling. I have yet to explore the reason behind it – nothing I could explain in words. I had the similar feeling visiting the traditional Korean homes, Hanoks, but this was far beyond anything I had experienced before. I hope to visit the rest of the Palaces in the next few weeks – should I uncover any revelations, I will be sure to post.

Gwanju Toechon Tomato Festival

Liberating madness

About forty foreigners gathered for a day trip to Gwanju to witness Korea’s version of a Tomato festival. Why I say Korea’s version is that compared to Spain’s ‘World’s biggest food fight’ with over 100 metric tons of over ripe tomatoes strewn into the streets, coupled with fireworks, parades, dancing and music, and from anything between 20,000 to 40,000 visitors, Korea’s Toechon Tomato Festival is child friendly, relatively contained with a mere ton of tomatoes and hosts a meagre 10,000 people for the weekend.

The trip was organised by Warren Il Seung Kim, the founder of a group on facebook – the Seoul Hiking Group. I highly recommend joining if you are in the area and enjoy day or weekend trips of a relaxed nature, with hiking, exploring, sight seeing and usually a great crew.

We took about 4 to 5 hours to get there, with what was supposed to be a 2 and a half hour journey. Thanks to Seoul’s massive grid of traffic. I think we were all relieved when we disembarked the bus and whilst I can’t speak for the rest, I was nervous to see what the festival held. And to start off with, I was very really disappointed.

Stands lined either side of the road. Each stall sold either a Korean food variety (mostly variations of rice cakes), stuffed toys, or discounted tomato packs. In the middle of the main road there was a large plastic ground sheet with inflatable sides and tomatoes lining the bottom where a soccer match had been held.

The highlight of the day however was the actual hunt for the gold rings hidden in 5 lucky tomatoes. Here, most of the visitors to the venue crowded around a second ‘arena’ – a plastic ground sheet. We all crowded around and watched, amused, as trucks with thousands of tomatoes reversed into the square offloading their loot by tipping the load. Thousands of tomatoes cascaded out of the side and onto the floor, preparing the field for the tomato battle.

What surprised me was the intensity and seriousness of the crowd, knowing that there were 5 annointed tomatoes holding a gold ring worth about 200,000 won or 200 dollars. Further, that children were standing ready to jump into what would become tomato madness, all waiting, all poised… holding onto their parents, knowing that the chaos might render them lost in red caked strangeness.

And then, in a frantic rush, hoards of people rush into the tomatoes, all in search of the gold rings, some on the ground, fingering the ripe red fruit, some mashing the balls underfoot, making for a tricky entrance, navigating around people crouching to people standing, people behind and in front. Soon enough, the tomatoes are all crushed and squashed and have turned into soup with the assistance of nearby sprinklers. At this point, war has been waged and tomato bombs are being thrown. The surprise of having tomato mashed into your hair, face, chest and back is over, and free tomato liberating madness ensues.

I think some of the children took delight in being able to throw this red purée at the English Teachers. It seemed to be time to take revenge without consequences. What happens in the tomato pit, stays in the tomato pit.

Eventually, the great folly ends as people tire of the rampage, or perhaps generally feel the need to wash the acidic mess from their eyes, noses and ears.  It was time to get lunch at this point which was not very appetising to my vegetarian stomach with a selection of  roasted chicken, strange fish dishes or spicy noodles.

Whilst the tomato fight was the highlight of my trip, many took pleasure in the cooking competition held in the events hall, a fish catching competition held in a portable pool just left of the main arena and of course, merely kicking back at a table, snacks in hand, quietly watching the day unfold.

Truly the most abandoned fun I have had in Korea to date!

63 City Building

What comes to mind when I think of the 63 sky building in Yeoido-dong is simply “you never know who is watching…” The Sky Lounge features a 360 degree view of Seoul. Much of what you can see on an overcast, hazy day in Seoul is just that – clouds and haze, and well, buildings, although I do not contest that this would be spectacular on a clear day. I took  a few pictures of the sprawling city and the Han river stretching out below although much of the view was hidden in blue and grey. I found it unnerving that for a simple 500 won I could use the telescopes provided and not only gaze into said smog, but also peer into peoples apartments, or at least into in the apartment blocks and the streets. My natural curiosity nearly relished this opportunity, but I somehow managed to avoid this, and walk away, reminding myself to do unto others as you would have done to you.

The 63 Building used to be one of the tallest building in Seoul and boasts an aquarium, a wax museum, an IMAX theater, the Sky Art Gallery as well as numerous offices, restaurants and a few clothing stores. honestly this exploring session was incredibly dull. My favourite stop of interest was the Art Gallery. As much as I love simply wandering and looking at art, the most appealing thing to me was the Wish Wall. It consisted of numerous Hearts, cut out of cardboard, all pasted along a wall, all containing a wish from someone, inspiring the sentimental side of me. I also found a work of art consisting of tiles, each tile representing someone’s interpretation of love be it by a simple heart, or numerous hearts or simply the word love.

I visited the wax museum next, and this was truly a let down. The figures themselves were badly made up and unrealistic. I also thought the museum was small and lacking in content, as it took me only 5 minutes to walk through the entire area.

I decided not to venture into the IMAX theater or the aquarium and have to say, the highlight of this day out was actually the bicycle ride I took around the Han River. I only had an hour to spare, and just cruised around the river on a rickety bicycle. It cost only 3000 won and was worth it. The Han has a personality, and holds incredible history beneath its wearing bridges. I passed other  leisure cyclists, hardcore cyclists, people walking, people having picnics, people fishing (out the Han River! – that fish is NOT safe!), people sailing, people sitting. All in all just people sharing this river space, sharing their stories and lives momentarily with this body of water - holding conversations, seeing life, keeping secrets.

I ended this day off with a walk around a random subway stop on the way home. I managed to capture some good pictures, rounding off a very okay day. All in all, venture to the 63 building on a clear and beautiful day, avoid the wax museum, and you should be pleased.

Bukhansan Mountain.


This day’s adventure began at 7 am. I had committed myself to a hike with two of the fittest people in Geumchon, Jameson and Laurel, a couple from the United States. Let me just say, a fabulous, adventurous couple whose openess to people and kindness has been an inspiration. I was really nervous as a novice in the sport of hiking, and previous experience has taught me to take it easy, and not attempt hikes with adepts who tend to move at pace up steep inclines, whilst I pant and perspire at the foot of said incline and Laurel had in fact warned me that this would not be an easy hike. Bukhansan Mountain boasts being one of Korea’s most popular rock climbing and hiking destinations with many entrances and hikes to enjoy depending on your desired hike as well as length. And as so many journey’s begin, we asked a local hiker about which bus to take, not completely trusting our telephonic guide, and ended up on a bus to the wrong entrance of the Mountain, which claims a far easier hike, much to my happiness and Laurel and Jameson’s disappointment. However the mere fact we had arrived at the wrong entrance left me knowing a good adventure was underway – spontaneous and leaving it in the hands of the gods.

After a steep incline, we found a map and discussed our route options. It was a particularly beautiful day – the sun was out and visible, only partially covered by clouds and smog, leaving a pleasant hue above the trees. The temperature seemed perfect, slightly cool with the promise of warming up as the day wore on.

Our journey took us up many steep hills, all well set out for the hikers, hand rails and non slip rubber mats underfoot in more precarious places. The declines were somewhat trickier, and I often had to resort to going on all fours to make it down the rocks with my running shoes. The terrain was littered with purple flowers and white cherry blossoms, all signalling out from the green mass of trees engulfing the countryside. It was a spectacular scene after watching brown sentinels  dispersed across the landscape, witnesses to the cold, barren winter before.

The sound of regulated knocking began to filter into my awareness and I knew at once a Buddhist Temple was nearby. It is a slow, rhythmic knock of wood on wood which aroused our curiosities. We ventured in the direction and came across the source, a Buddhist Temple set amongst the trees, right in the side of the mountain.

As I walked passed the entrance to the Temple, I caught sight of the 3 golden Buddhas set at the alter.

After peering further in, I noticed the seated Buddhist from which the knocking of the wooden instruments had originated. Completely unperturbed by our presence, he continued to chant and knock, silently wrapped in the blanket of his meditation, slowly and deliberately offering his devotion to the Buddha. I felt as if I had come across the most intimate of acts, a man and his God, his life surrendered to this divine being, and I was witnessing this secret ritual. But, the doors stood open, people passed by as if it was the most casual thing. I managed to muster enough courage to actually take a photo, blessing this sacred act, whilst I felt I was mocking it. After taking a few photos of the area, we set off again to yet another climb.

Upon reaching the top, and enjoying the sites from the massive granite peak beneath us and sharing some fruit, Jameson looked forward and upward to the next rise of mountain, and decided he wanted that peak some way ahead of us. This of course made me want to turn around and head back, feeling tired, but as I had committed myself bravely to this, I silenced myself and decided to trust my fellow hikers and continue.

We set forth again, up and over more rocks, passing hikers both children and adults alike. Korea certainly has a healthy minded society as some hikers looked well beyond the age of someone who should be hiking, yet there they were, decked out in their North Face best, matching track pants and jackets, gloves and boots. I may have even called it a fashion parade if I didn’t acknowledge how seriously they take their hiking.

About 2 hours, another Temple and some gimbap later, we came to a fortress wall that stretched out on either side. I stand corrected, but research tells me that the fortress is named Bukhansanseong Fortress was built to stop foreign invasion in the Joseon Era. The particular gate we encountered is called Daeseongmun - 대성문 - Bukhansan Fortress Gate.

What was amazing about this fortress was that it extended for miles upon the hill top of this peak, stretching as far I could see, drifting off into the distance amongst the trees. We walked along one side of the wall, ascending the hill further, watching as the view grew more and more expansive. The tree tops above us at this stage we stunning, arching over us, dispersing before us, the purple flowers distracting my gaze from the peak in the opposite direction and from the view before me.

From the top of the fortress wall I could see the Namsan Tower ahead of me, whilst the Han river snaked its way through the greenery and beyond. I       don’t think I have ever seen such a panoramic view in Korea before, even though there was still some smog, it was considerably clearer than on most days. We continued down the stone stairs weaving its way alongside the fortress wall. Before us stood a magnificent granite rock. It looked perfectly  oval like an egg standing on a ledge, waiting to fall off and crash to the surface below.

We stopped here, proud of our journey so far, proud of our progress, and mostly grateful for the spectacular views and delights nature had bestowed on us this day. I had not yet encountered such a beautiful hike as this in Korea so far. *

*My journey does not end here, but I must put this post to rest.

Lotus Lantern Festival

The Lotus Lantern Festival is held annually in Insadong, Seoul. The purpose of the festival is to not only honour Buddha and his birthday which falls on the 10thof May, but also to symbolize lighting up the parts of the world, and ourselves, that are suffering or in darkness. It is essentially for the enlightenment of us all. Thus, on Sunday, I headed off to join in the festivities of making Lotus Lanterns, not only to partake in a fun day of arts, but also to share in the beautiful notion of enlightenment for all.

The festival area was a closed off street exhibiting stands and stalls to delight all curiosities from making mini lotuses, enjoying temple food to colouring laughing Buddha’s for children. The brilliance of this event was that Buddhists from all over the world came to celebrate and I noted Mongolian, Cambodian, Taiwanese, Tibetan, Himalayan and Nepalese Buddhists with their stands joining in the festival serving to enrich the diversity of this day but also to show their love and devotion for Buddha.

The lotus making itself was at the far end of the street, and had tables and chairs stretched out in order to accommodate the 200 lantern makers. I joined my friends at our designated seats. Before us was set out individual baskets with coloured paper for the petals, glue, as well as the skeleton of the lanterns, constructed out of wire and paper. All we had to do was twist the pieces of paper in colours of our choice, and glue them onto the lantern. Of course this is easier said than done, and after some 2 hours of paper twisting and gluing, we sat satisfied albeit glued and stained with colour with the finished product. Each lantern was different from colourand pattern to frequency of petals.

The end of the Lantern making was celebrated with a prize giving and photo taking session. Some of my friends won prizes for our lanterns, possibly as we had made an effort to befriend our lantern making guide. The prizes included incense, candles, books and finally traditional Korean clothes – Hanbok.

After the lantern making, we set off, proud with our patience and accomplishment of our arts to explore the rest of the festival. The main Temple in Insadong, Jogyesa was a hub of activity. A silver pagoda stood at the foot of the Temple with a maze of coloured lanterns fluttering in the background.

 Beyond the lanterns stood the grand Temple itself, with its high arching eaves so exquisitely crafted and coloured, it is almost too much for the senses to attune. People were lining up to enter the Temple where chanting and traditional instruments could be heard. It was as if people were magnetically drawn in, like bees to honey. The outside walls were decorated with murals of the Buddha in all shapes and forms, sitting, standing, meditating –  these glorious depictions of this peaceful and enlightened being bringing the Temple walls to life.  I managed to spot Korean woman dressed in Hanbok about to enter the temple, they were ushering children in – truly a sight to behold, I felt as if I had been transported back in time.

We made our way around the back and to the side of the Temple, and to my left, massive doors stood partially ajar. Inside I caught a glimpse of the massive golden Buddha towering over the seated devotees, eyes closed yet still with such a powerful gaze and presence I felt as if he had penetrated directly into my soul.

Unable to shake off the immensity of the effect of this, I decided that I had had a suitable amount of crowds and festivities, and headed happily back to the nearest subway line, content and contemplating the wondrous day behind me. That vision of Buddha between the open doors will never leave me.