The Korean Island of Peace and Another Summer's Passing By

Gangjeong village tagging on the naval base outer wall

 August 3 - 17

Jeju. Eight days. Not enough, but still full of magic. It's difficult to put into words, especially since it went by so fast. Maybe I should try to live there. Maybe not.

It was a solo trip. The original plan was to cycle from the ferry port in Jeju city to a (former) WWOOF host in Seogwipo, near Gangjeong village, and spend time at both. Surprisingly, this plan totally held out. Before leaving, I had some of the usual pessimism - I'm alone, how will I do it? What if my bike breaks down in the middle of nowhere? What if it rains? What if I can't find a place to sleep? None of it happened. I had a really nice, though rather hot, day and a half of cycling and reached all my destinations. I only wish I had spent more time along the way. Next time, Jeju. Wait for me!

The Jeju journey started at 6 a.m. on a Sunday at the Gohan-Sabuk bus terminal. It ended on a rainy Thursday morning back at school in Sabuk. Two days before travelling, I had caught a massive cold and had to teach the summer English camp. That was really unfortunate, as I just couldn't help how sick I was. By the next morning, though, I felt a lot better after kimchi, spicy bibimbap and sleep. It was the annual Sabuk Coal Festival and I was just tired of hearing about the casino and its fireworks - Gangwon Land this, Gangwon Land that. It was time to go.

From the beginning, things seemed to be going my way. It was a day of firsts. The bus ride to Gwangju lasted under 6 hours, less than I thought, and I hopped the first bus to Mokpo with my bike in tact. Mokpo was sweltering hot, but relaxing. I stayed the night with a couple from the Boston days and they were cat sitting for an adorable kitten. I miss interacting with animals very much, so that was enjoyable.

Bright and early the next day, with my bike all fixed up and my big gray Quechua backpack from Lille on my shoulders, I rode down the hill and through the streets to board the 9 a.m. big, slow ship at the Mokpo International Ferry Terminal. Jeju is about 80 km south of the Korean mainland, but somehow it takes 4.5 hours with the Sea Cruise from Mokpo.

The ferry ride was sunny and calm but mostly uneventful. My "seat" was basically just a somewhat crowded room with many Korean couples, families and older people. A young woman travelling alone is definitely not normal here - it reminded me of last year's Sofia roundtrip when I was the only non-Bulgarian, though this was still more comfortable than a bus seat. The young Korean guy who fixed up my bike in Mokpo was on the ferry with his buddy, but definitely not excited to see me. There were no drinking partners to be had, just quite a lot of family noise inside and wind outside. But a boat is still vastly better than a plane.

Once we were approaching the Jeju port, though, I started feeling excited/nervous/anxious. It was almost time to get off and start this real ride. Armed with only a colorful Korean map, two wheels, two bags, a cap, water, a camera and sunscreen - how was this actually going to happen? But it did.

Upon arrival, I successfully strapped the Quechua bag on my bike's back rack, checked the map and just started going straight from the ferry. It was mid-afternoon and definitely pretty hot, but I had plenty of water and energy that day. One of the beautiful things about Korean travel is the seriously impressive signage, nearly always in Hangeul and English. And even more beautiful, I found out that Jeju's bike paths and lanes are indeed stellar, at least the ones I rode all along the coast.

In Jeju City, along the seawall, I breathed a sigh of relief and happiness - I made the first step! I quickly made my way out of the city center and onwards south, ever south. There was a not-so-interesting beach along the way, so the only real stop I made for a while was the bike-themed cafe because it was just calling to me. Otherwise, I had about 4 good hours of daylight before I needed to find a place to crash so I took my time. A few cyclist groups passed me on the way, with their long sleeves and face scarves. I was the only one soaking up the sun.

Pretty soon, the sun was going down. As I stopped for a quick dinner at a random place a bit off the coastal road, I had the wherewithal to just call up a hostel a bit less than halfway between Jeju City and Seogwipo. Sure enough, there were rooms available and it was close to a beach. So after dinner, I was booking it further south to go a few more kilometers that evening and get an even better headstart for the following day. Unfortunately, going off the coastal road eventually got me lost in Hallim-eup, though it was a nice ride through town. It was dark by now, but still warm out. I was anxious to just get to the guesthouse and call it a night. Finally, I figured out how far east I was from the water and without any further problems, I made it to beautiful Hallim Beach where I was solicited for staying at a halmoni (grandmother's) minbak and given further instructions on to Geumneung. Twelve hours after leaving Mokpo that morning, I had found my first resting place on Jeju. The H3 Hostel is owned by a couple in their 30s with lovely little sons. I enjoyed staying up with a bit of makkeoli to chat with the lady and a guest from Hong Kong. The pillow I slept on was called "Ratasha," reminding me of another good Boston friend.

I wish I had spent more time at H3 and said a proper farewell but I was just crashing and needed to move on. The next morning, I said a hasty goodbye and started back on the road, as it was 9 a.m. and already heavy heat. I relaxed on Geumneung Beach for a bit, nearly empty and lovely. Then I continued on. I had been wanting to go to Gangjeong since I came to Korea. I wasn't sure if I would actually make it there on bike, but since I'd gotten such a good headstart on Monday, I decided I'd contact them and do my best to get there by sundown.

Morning on Geumneung Beach

And I succeeded. A full day of solitary riding along the windy but beautiful coastline, with a few twists and turns. I encountered a few more hills making my way down to Seogwipo, but nothing too unmanageable. I sat at a bench outside of a Catholic Church and snacked on fruits and nuts with a quiet halmoni for company. I rode back closer to the coast that would carry me a good chunk of the way and I saw volcanic remains and neolithic remains, around Gosan. After heavy wind and crazy crashing waves, I stopped for a raw fish, veggie and rice lunch at the small port town Moseulpo. Afterwards, I carried on until I finally reached Seogwipo. This is where things got tricky but ended up working out perfectly. To get to the road I needed, I ended up going through the fancy Jungmun resort area and asking around the big hotels. I was getting a bit frustrated because my contact person in the village was too busy to take my call and I wasn't sure I was on the right path. A detour to be sure, but it turns out it gave me just the stalling I needed.

I couldn't imagine where Gangjeong might be, so close to all these resorts, but sure enough the road finally appeared. As I rode through the center of the town, I started seeing people who could be none other than activists. They were all on their way somewhere and I stopped to ask directions and follow one of them who was also on a bike. It turned out that a dinner and evening celebration were being held at the public park not far from the naval base entrance and main protest site. So I arrived just in time to catch the post peace march reveling. And without even asking, I was told that I could have a bed for the night at the community center reserved for activists. Such good luck and timing. Although at one point it got a bit awkward as I was a new and unknown visitor, it was a fun and lively evening.

As often happens for me in activist spaces, I show up alone and uninvited with usually a bit of struggle to engage. And despite this being a very Korean, very traditional village atmosphere, it was an activist space nonetheless. I definitely had a few moments of "what am I doing here? I'm useless" thoughts. As the night went on though, I got to know another American woman who was staying there and working with the international outreach campaign. We drank with some village men, we talked about our experiences, we hung out around town. It was enriching and exactly what needed to happen.

The next day happened to be the one where Father Mun was knocked down by the hired police during the daily 11 a.m. Catholic mass. The situation quickly turned violent, as at least one person climbed onto a police van to demand an apology. Two people were arrested and police encircled them, beating back their comrades trying to break through. So I was able to see a slice of the oppression and frustration that Gangjeong activists face every day. It was amazing to see the strength of many young women, grandmothers, fishermen, the mayor and vice mayor of the village, children, three other Americans and many others. These people - especially the grandmothers! - are fearless in the face of these hired thugs, as they call them. They block the entrance for cement trucks, they climb onto caissons, they endure beatings, arrests, jail time, all for the sake of protecting what is theirs and what is a true treasure of Korea and the world.

Gangjeong village across from naval base entrance

I still had to meet my WWOOF host late that afternoon, though, so unfortunately I had to take off early. Riding out of town, heading a bit further east in Seogwipo, I was struck again by the contrast between Gangjeong and everything around it. It's really an enclave of sorts, almost like a microcosm of all the beauty and ills in Korean society. Something like that could maybe also be said about Sabuk.

It had been a gray day, so I hadn't bothered to put on sunscreen, but it turns out the one day I wasn't riding extensively was the day I looked like a tomato by the end. The sun came out around the golden hour and I was suddenly descending down a steep hill to the Seogwipo harbor. In this beautiful yet highly touristy developed place, I stopped for a bottle of makkeoli and directions to the hotel. I found it soon afterwards. Throwing my bike into the back of his big white truck, Mr. Kim and I were on the way back to his family's house at EM Jeju Farm, the place I would stay for the remainder of my Jeju journey.

Seogwipo Harbor

I was drained from the experience of the past few days and especially my head and heart were racing from Gangjeong. Nevertheless I did my best to keep up the energy. Mr. Kim's wife Oh Song Mi greeted us and we snapped a shot of my arrival on bike. The evening consisted of dinner, family introductions, my personal presentation and an explanation that it was too hot for working in the fruit greenhouses so we would be mostly painting the guesthouse instead. Fine by me.

EM Jeju days start early, especially in the hot summer. 6 or 7 a.m. is the norm and I was definitely still tired the next day but ready to take it on. We went to pick up some dragonfruit from Song Mi's old uncle, who was no doubt taken aback to see a white foreigner. The rest of the afternoon was spent at the EM Jeju storefront where my clumsy and fatigued self didn't contribute much help, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. After an overly spicy seafood lunch - kind of a thing on Jeju - we went to the Seogwipo open market - the biggest one I've seen in Korea so far. It was seriously enormous. I loved it. Back at the guesthouse, I had the rest of the afternoon to myself so I rode down around the harbor and coast - a route that I would quickly get to know over the course of a few days. It would be another early morning the next day for painting, so we tucked in early.

Seogwipo Market

I really enjoyed painting Friday morning, although I wasn't really very good at getting all the details on the wall. The music, the sun, beautiful Hallasan - the tallest mountain in Korea - to our left. What a lovely time. The artist student is a very talented person who draws many comics and it was a pleasure to work alongside her and the family. As so often happens on Jeju during this time, the rain poured down in the afternoon. After a nice lunch and a rest, we were back to painting but I took a break to visit two English teacher friends who happened to be staying not far from the village near the harbor. So back along the harbor road I went and we enjoyed a sunny evening. Riding back, I unfortunately missed a turn in the dark and was a bit late for dinner. Ugh. The start of my jerkdom.

Seogwipo Harbor performance

On Saturday, I had the day off to come back in the evening for the arrival of a young travelling musician and a community meeting where I would do a bit of English with the kids. I wanted to go to the river and/or walk an Olle course, but I was feeling groggy and after a nice ride down to Odelgae - the big penis rock in the middle of the water - I knew that I was back on my way to Gangjeong. Along the road, I bumped into another cycling tourist - a Belgian living with his family in Arizona, in Korea on a business trip. We had a coffee and snack break, talked about our different experiences and killed a bit of time. He was heading back towards Jungmun so we were heading down the same road. I had taken a different route when I left before, a longer one as it turned out. Everything was calm and quiet, when sure enough, seemingly out of nowhere, the wall of cops came into view. The Belgian and I parted ways and I spent a few hours of a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon back at Gangjeong.

The person I hung out with before was still there on the front lines. Almost immediately, she proposed a swim in the river and in we went. It was crazy to see the large family gathering with tubes and a picnic under the bridge with the police marching back and forth above us. What a stark, stark contrast. Back on dry land, I was able to speak with Father Mun, who surprised me with his good English. Everything was calm and positive energy, especially with the arrival of a band of musicians. Just before my departure, though, I filmed in the middle of another standoff with the arrival of several cement trucks. I couldn't believe the fearlessness of the grandmothers going after the younger male policemen. I couldn't believe how the police encircled us for our nonviolent protest. It was really another crazy experience, one that I won't forget anytime soon.

View from the roof of the Gangjeong community center

Security "caught off guard," and just relaxing like there's no problem

Back at EM Jeju, the travelling musician - calling himself the Jeju 거지 (goji) or "beggar/bum" - and his friend arrived. We enjoyed the rest of the evening - eating another lovely homecooked dinner, keeping the boys entertained and a ukulele performance by the goji himself. I went to bed as the two friends stayed up to study English together. Does Korea ever sleep?

Next day was another morning of painting, with worse music but extra good company. The two friends left after lunch in town and though I would have loved to join them in the river, I ended up magically seeing Geumneung Beach again in the late afternoon - packed with people dodging the sun and hardly swimming, but enjoying the water and beautiful view. A Korean family Sunday trip to the beach - I should have taken it as more of a privilege, especially since Song Mi and I went into the public shower afterwards. For some reason, probably due to fatigue and personal experience overload, I was in a grumpy mood that afternoon. I wanted to hang out with younger people, I still had Gangjeong on the brain and I was getting worn down with my inability to handle so much spicy seafood and cultural differences. But the beach was really nice after all.

The next day, Monday, would be my last full day on Jeju as I was taking the ferry back the next day. It was a real 9-5er, the day of making juice samples out of 300 kg of Jeju hanlabong oranges. We started at the house with washing the oranges, loaded them into the white truck and headed down to the processing center, apparently the biggest of its kind on Jeju. So instead of a day of work in the fields or the greenhouse, it was a day inside a metallic, sterile environment. It was OK, though, because I was able to talk more with Song Mi and see the whole juicing process from peeling, to peel grating, to juicing, to packaging and sterilizing the little juice packs. The whole family with the two boys pitched into work. After the day was done, I decided that I did want to cook the family a goodbye dinner, so we went to the store for ingredients. I served up Italian style pasta, salad and bread that we ate with chopsticks and a side of kimchi. It was a nice final evening though a bit stressful for me at the end. Tuesday morning, just before boarding the bus back to Jeju city, I finally saw the fruit greenhouses. The hanlabong, tangerine oranges and passion fruit were mostly green since they don't get ripe until winter. It began raining steadily as I was leaving. So I didn't have to cry - the sky could do it for me.

Goodbye smiles in the greenhouse

Quiet and reflective, I smoothly rode under the summer rain through the streets of Jeju city back to the ferry. This journey was coming to an end, but I knew there were so many others ahead of me, this was just a springboard. The ferry back to Mokpo was a police party and I wondered how many of them were the same hired thugs from Seoul and Gwangju that terrorized the people in Gangjeong. I was afraid that somehow someone would recognize me. I know they are people and just as much victims of the system, but I don't think I can ever again be comfortable around cops. The ferry ride seemed to end faster than the first one, though, and I was back to the hot night of Mokpo city, where it somehow took me two hours with a heavy pack to reach Moe's, the foreigner bar for the open mic night. During that time, I tried my best to enjoy the alternating excitement and quiet of my own thoughts and of the city at night. English teachers stayed up until almost 3, jamming in the street. I kind of missed this. The kitty was still there. The next day, Doug and I had a leisurely morning and made our way to the awesome Korean vegan buffet. I was drained and needing to sleep but I still had a full ride back to Gwangju and Gangwondo, which ended with me crashing at a jimjilbang in Wonju and taking a ridiculously expensive cab back to Sabuk on Thursday morning. The monsoons had started up again those past two days. Jeju had given me new energy, but the weather sapped it and my planning ability towards the end.

Back on the mainland, it was two days of rainy deskwarming followed by a less than impressive weekend in Seoul. Coming from the Jeju experience, I wondered why I was allowing myself to slip back into the same patterns. Never again, I told myself. And since then, it's gotten much better again. More adventures to recount in the next post.

When I was WWOOFing at Peliti, I don't remember anyone directly asking me about my dreams or goals. At least they didn't press me about it. I know that my mental health was already on the decline back then. At EM Jeju, though, I experienced a moment or two of discomfort, despite the language barrier. The farmer was seriously challenging me about what I was doing with my life. He expected me to have a presentation about myself and my dreams and I just didn't have it. It's probably a Korean father thing. Shouldn't take it personally. But it reminded me a little too much of my own father. Mr. Kim also did his presentation of his own life and work. It was great, but I'm not sure I'll ever actually match that journey of making your dreams come true.

Also, the language and culture barrier definitely got to me at times. Coming from the cycling road and Gangjeong, where my own and others' radical ideas could be normal and expected, I had a few moments of difficulty staying tolerant and not getting irritated.  In fact, it's not just about the radicalism. I often put myself in situations where, as the lone traveller, I am stared at, questioned, expected to be social, expected to respond or behave in a certain way. And as a deeply social yet deeply introverted person, I can get easily worn down by all this pressure. Being scrutinized on how and what I eat is a big stress factor. Obviously, food culture in Korea - similar to my family's Russian culture - is of utmost importance in social relations. And I felt bad making the family eat vegetarian with me, although I did my best to eat all that was offered in any case. I felt bad after many small moments - not being able to explain my dream, not wanting to do "English camp" for the kids, not wanting to finish some food, not wanting to go to the beach, not doing well with certain tasks that were given to me. I think, in the end, I did establish a positive connection with the people I met at EM Jeju. But it really hit home for me how I must learn the language and be far more relaxed. This is not my culture, I may never fully understand it, and if I'm volunteering to live in Korea and meet Koreans who speak hardly any English and have never been fully exposed to Western culture, I'm going to bump up against uncomfortable and possibly painful situations. But they will only be as uncomfortable or painful as I let them be. Making my own travel schedule with no one to help keep me balanced only adds to this strain.

Just before I left for Korea, in the Bay Area, a Korean-American told me that I just needed to pass the 4-month mark for depression and then things would get better. I've come to the conclusion that I occasionally still get intensely depressed living in Korea but it generally revolves around two things: 1) living alone in a small town and 2) hanging out with a whole group of almost all English teachers. The first one is not totally fixable and indeed, acknowledging it as a difficulty is totally normal and healthy. But taking advantage of the nice weather means going out and appreciating this small town, with its important Korean history. And it means I have my own space to do pretty much whatever the hell I want, when I want, how I want. The second one is easily fixable: admitting that it's not what I want and doing other things which make me happy.

I want to stay in Korea for a while and find more happiness.

Geumneung Beach sunset