Summer's End and the First Chuseok

I haven't written anything in a while, either online or in my journal. So I can't really cover everything that's gone down. But I should try.

My dream of doing an in depth study of the Sabuk uprising, in video or written form, may have to be a dream deferred. I was really excited about it for a while, after I and my Korean school friend met a local artist and a member of the historical society. I was looking forward to staying another year in Sabuk, learning even more. But that was back in September, before I learned the following:

Gangwondo is cutting positions, including mine, and apparently I don't have the greatest standing at my school. I don't know why. So instead of trying to transfer somewhere in the province, I'm changing once again. There's a distinct possibility of moving to Jeollanam province - home of the green tea fields, the Yeosu Expo, bamboo, Mokpo friends, Jirisan National Park, at least two beautiful ancient temples and of course Gwangju. Besides Jeju, where I'm not quite ready to move, Jeollanam is the most beautiful and positive energy giving place I've yet seen in Korea. Of course, I haven't seen the entire mid to southwestern section so who knows what else could be waiting for me? In any case, Jeollanam could be the new frontier come April 2013 and I'm happy to set my sights there.

Winter basically began here at the end of October. The leaves are still lovely shades of red, orange, yellow in many parts, but the cold is biting in the morning and at night, after the sun sets at around 5:30 p.m. That's another reason I want to get out - sure, the ski resort is great and all, but I like to be outside just for the hell of it, no ridiculous gear, nothing fancy. It's getting harsher than 5 Boston winters in these parts nowadays.

After summer vacation on Jeju, the second semester started out strong. My conversation class is going well and I'm making a horror comedy movie with six students, which is pretty fun and rewarding. Yet, I'm tired of the incredible amounts of deskwarming - sitting by myself in my classroom after planning all my lessons. It's gotten to the point where I have trouble looking forward to the 5-day week. I quit Taekwando because I couldn't deal with the environment so there is really nothing much going on most nights, which means I take the initiative to read, go to the gym, cook and anything else associated with winter hibernation. It's good practice, except I hope my future doesn't hold me living alone for many years to come.

The constant weekend travelling is wearing me down, but I need it to make up for the relative isolation of the weekdays. Two days out of seven is just no longer enough to cover my restlessness, my thirst for adventure, working with my hands and connecting with community instead of idling away on the computer. Here are the enjoyable adventures and their aftereffects:

August 25-26 Guinsa Templestay

Buddhist templestays for tourists, expats and some Koreans are a big thing here. One of the youngest, but biggest temples in the country is Guinsa, near Danyang, headquarters of the Cheontae order of Buddhism. My Japanese WWOOF friend, who left Korea soon after, and my South African Wonju friend and her coteacher spontaneously chose this unusually hot, sticky weekend for our first experience. Guinsa really stands out because the monks and laypeople often pray from 10 p.m. - 3 a.m. I would get a taste of that one month later, but for now that was our sleep time and the rest was made up of walking, bowing, making lanterns, eating and taking tea with the proud, confident English-speaking female monk.

Japanese lady was really feeling the strain of Seoul and she seemed grateful for this retreat. After nearing the edge of self-destruction the previous weekend myself, I was also more than happy to revive myself again. We looked at the stars from the balcony way up high on the hill and we realized we felt close to the stars because we are made from them. At 3 a.m. we took a hike up to light candles in a special morning ceremony and saw the magnificent sunrise above the mountains in the valley below. After leaving Guinsa, we drove down the lovely winding road to Danyang, full of greenery. We walked and took tea in Danyang, a truly beautiful little city that I would revisit again. We said goodbye as she boarded the bus back to Seoul and I knew that we would meet again, but that life in Korea would be that much less fun with one less person to share experiences. No matter, I make my own fun nonetheless.

September 1-2 Seoul Hardcore 

The end of summer brought a huge typhoon and all of Korea got hit in one way or another. There was supposed to be a reggae festival an hour from my town, but it got rained out. The other teacher in Sabuk was going back home to San Francisco and for the first time and his last weekend in Korea, we hung out in Seoul. Not only that, but we were in a totally new part of Seoul - Mullae Arts Village, south of the Han River on the Hongdae side, with a winding alley maze of industrial and craft warehouses. And in a basement we joined Korean and foreign punks for a short but lively hardcore show. It was just like being back in an alternative scene in the city, with bikes and basements and cigarettes and beer and warm summer nights. A slice of another life, hardly ever happens nowadays.

I ended up in Mullae because a Korean girl from Couchsurfing invited me to meet her and her travelling Swedish mate. It was nice to be back among anarchists, travellers, musicians. The Swedish guy with a blonde mustache proceeded to get drunker and drunker as our night moved to the familiar outdoor Hongdae club and sitting on a wall outside. I didn't want this partying until 4 a.m. thing again, because I was hardly even partying, but it was nice anyway. I made a new friend.

Amazingly, on Sunday morning I rallied for helping out at Hansol Farm again. Tired and slightly hung over, it was still a beautiful sunny day and a nice quiet train ride out east to Namyangju. The typhoon had hit the chicken houses hard and they needed hands to build them up again. I love this place and have now been there four times. Just being there brings me hope.

Enjoying a swim in the Hansol River. Photo by Kota Fukuyama, WWOOF Korea.

September 8-9 Korea Burn

Reluctant to miss another Group WWOOF weekend, I nevertheless decided to brave a post-typhoon rain to go camp in the trees by beautiful Gijipo Beach on the western Chungcheonnamdo coast. Luckily, it didn't rain for the rest of the weekend. It was the first time I had seen a really natural beach in Korea, the water was still warm enough for swimming and it felt like summer wasn't ending yet. With little to no drugs, plenty of booze, body paint, costumes, DIY tents, mostly crappy DJ music and a not-so-successful burning of the wooden men, hundreds of almost all foreigners proceeded to fuck up the beach for a couple days. Though by the next morning, we had done a decent job of getting our surroundings back into place, I'm sure the passing Korean couples and families were pretty taken aback by the half nudity and other debauchery. I'm also sure that Korea Burning Man is mild compared to any others anywhere else in the world.

New Korean friend and Swedish travelling man were back in action, enjoying what seemed to be their last weekend before he headed off to New Zealand. We took walks, enjoyed the beautiful sunset, cooking on the camping stove, dancing, discussing. But I wasn't camping with them - I joined with lady English teachers, all of whom were nice company and it was an overall good time. I wish there were more Koreans and I wish the feeling of "being on holiday" as English lady said could last longer. As at Jisan, it was crazy to see all the different expats, this small fraction of an already small non-Korean village spread out all over the country. Some people have tattoos all up and down their body, which they have to keep covered up during the day. In Korea, I somehow have this strong sense that if you're not actively out to meet Koreans, you can hardly choose your friends. You have to find the best of what you can in the people around you because our village is not infinite. That's why I prefer to dip into the larger pool around our village, but I can't say I've been entirely successful in that.

September 15-16 Namyangju Slow Food Conference 

Slow Food Korea and WWOOF Korea are connected, both working to promote fresh local food and Korea's organic and natural farming traditions. They work to connect with people from all over Asia and around the world. I got up hellishly early on a Saturday morning to catch a bus out to Seoul and then to volunteer at the conference, but once I was there, I enjoyed it. I met a lot of Korean university students, older volunteers and I learned about the Korean Beautiful Store, which sells cheap used clothes and other goodies. A nice find. We had a beautiful dinner, stayed at a lovely house rented by elderly residents with their own gardens and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings of Namyangju, the organic farming center of Korea and maybe Asia. Of course, I had to leave far too early on Sunday because I live out in the non-farming sticks. But just before leaving, I bumped into the Hansol farmers, making it all worthwhile.

The thing about it is, as I've discussed with the WWOOF manager, Korea is very much about showing the best side of itself and that means huge museums, theme parks and fancy expos, even when it comes to something as supposedly pure and natural as working the land. Money rules everything here and nowadays people have to fight for the alternative to the money economy. As the crisis hasn't yet hit Korea - at least not on the same level as elsewhere in the world - many people aren't necessarily interested in seeking out free resources and mutual aid. As this is somewhat built into the culture itself, it definitely hasn't disappeared and in fact exists on a deeper level than in Western society. But despite all Korea's work to promote its culture on a large scale, it seems to accomplish this through sleekness and attempts to hide anything that is a bit messy, the reality of everyday life. Marching forward into the future, stamping out relics from the past, while still proudly upholding thousands of years of culture. An interesting contradiction, I think.

September 22-23 Hwaeomsa Temple, Gucheon Hermitage Tea Planting 

An absolutely gorgeous sunny late summer weekend. I slept at Siloam, a really nice jimjilbang near Seoul Station, the biggest transport hub in the city. They have separate dark sleeping bunks - always nice to find one of those. It comes to my attention that I've only tried the nicest jimjilbangs, the ones in Seoul, and so may have a positively skewed idea of what these places are like. They've definitely become a routine fixture on my travelling route though.

Back to Jeollanam, back to Group WWOOFing. Early on Saturday, four of us, including a US lady soldier at Yongsan base, took what seemed an interminable train down to Gurye, an incredibly beautiful place and home of Hwaeomsa, surely one of the oldest and most lovely temples in Korea. I unfortunately have had ridiculous phone and camera troubles, so I didn't snap any shots. But not to worry, if I live in Jeolla next year, I'll be sure to visit this place again and again! It's really amazing that they chose to be a WWOOF host because it means that people can have two experiences in one. When we finally arrived, after waiting at the train station and a car ride down a beautiful tree-lined road to the gates of the temple, we were met with an atmosphere of near complete tranquility and natural splendor. I say near tranquility because we were in for a surprise - the temple adopted a little boy, 7 or 8 years old, the most outgoing and enthusiastic child I have ever met in Korea. So he lives there, among the monks, but attends a regular school and has regular kid things like video games. But his life seems like it will be so fulfilling, despite an occasional sadness at the lack of actual parents. His makeshift family is extensive and loving.

We were also met with the other WWOOFers who had arrived the day before, wishing we could have come earlier! They had spent the day picking wild mushrooms (!) and now we were preparing for lunch and picking tea seeds for the next day's planting. We put on some pouches and like kangaroos with big straw hats went after the tea plants on the hill.  Now that I write this, I should have asked more questions about seed saving. Need to get back on that mission soon! But regardless, we had an incredible view from our perch in the tea field and our time passed quickly. That night, we drove to another incredible temple actually carved into the side of a rock and we caught a nightime view of the entire Gurye valley. We took a long, luxurious tea with the male and female monk and talked of Buddhism and our different lives. I felt uncomfortable when it got to sitting up straight and meditating and discussing our bodies and being touched, but that didn't dampen my mood.

Picking tea seeds. Photo by Shirley Lin

Sunday, we rose early and watched the sun rise fully into its golden glow as we took tea with the monks for the second time. It was planting day and armed with nothing but round green seeds and basic tools, we covered the perimeter of the gardens and up and down the steps. I don't know exactly how long it will take for the white tea plants to bloom, but I want to be there to see the change, the displacement of the artificial fences in favor of these natural ones.

Our last stop was the Gurye open-air market. Jeolla has such a different vibe from Gangwon, it's hard to put a finger on it. The people are tanner, the market is livelier, the seafood and fruit are more plentiful. The poor little boy, so happy to sing and dance Gangnam Style with us before was left behind after a trip to the bathroom. As we sauntered happily through the market, he sat lonely and crying in the parking lot. He was angry, but a lollipop seemed to cheer him up. I wish I had been more adamant about staying longer, as I ended up taking a late bus back from Seoul anyway, but lady soldier and I missed another incredible trip somewhere as we took an earlier bus back. Yeah, I can't wait to go back there...I was meaning to go during Chuseok but decided to keep my promise to return to Guinsa instead.

I had a quiet dinner by myself for my second visit at the 빙가게 "Empty House" cafe, a place that was listed in Slingshot as a radical space in Korea. It's funny how gung-ho I was in the beginning to find this or other spaces, but WWOOF and Jeju - farming and nature - have turned out to be the most subversive things I've done, if you can call them that. It's fitting. It is. 

September 29 - October 3 Chuseok - Korean Thanksgiving

For the first time off since summer that was longer than 2 days, I managed to go overboard and outdo myself with activity. Chuseok is prime family time for Koreans so of course the roads are absolutely packed, mostly with traffic in and out of Seoul.

Besides a one-night, one day farmstay back at Guinsa, I didn't have many plans so I was bursting to get in something super cool, fun, interesting, exciting rarara. On Saturday, I ended up training it all the way to Gangneung to cycle and meet the Korean friend for the third time. She turned out to come late - due to the aforementioned traffic situation - and we ended up not watching the art cinema movie we had planned. I did manage to finally find the Gangneung Cinematheque, thanks to another impromptu find, the new Fair Trade Coffee place tucked in an alleyway a block over from an open market. I practiced my paltry Korean with the store owner, a member of the cinematheque, and after getting lost I went back there and he walked me to the place, which is on the 4th floor of a building on the main street of the city, around Home Plus and all that. Finally, I met my friend as her bus arrived at the terminal and we went back to Fair Trade Coffee - yes, for a third time that day - but soon I was leaving Gangneung...on the empty evening express bus to Seoul.

WWOOF friends had planned an all-day Sunday hike to the top of Bukhansan for a birthday. Even though this invite came last minute on Friday night and even though it meant a ridiculous Saturday, I went for it anyway. Glad I did. We couldn't believe there was a huge rocky mountain range in northwest Seoul, right in the city, but there it was, and it rises up just minutes walk from the Dokbawi station, past some gardens. As we climbed higher and higher, it was nothing but rock! The view of Seoul got smaller and more expansive and we napped on a big ledge. Makkeoli and kimbap were had and eventually we found an impromptu ajeosshi who showed us places where North Koreans tried to get through to assassinate former president Park Chung-hee. The sun was setting as we made our way down. It was a tiring hike to be sure, but seriously rewarding. It's funny that you mostly see middle-aged and elderly Korean hikers on the mountains - I guess the younger generation prefers computer games. Bummer. Back on lower ground, we enjoyed a birthday dinner and drinks at the WWOOF Korea Guesthouse with a visiting Japanese friend before heading off to our respective sleeping places - me and the birthday guy, a longterm WWOOFer checked out the closest jimjilbang. Its name escapes me but it's not a far taxi ride from Anguk Station and it's relatively clean and fancy.

View of Seoul from Bukhansan. Photo by Ryoko Okazaki

It was my first time to stay at a jimjilbang with someone else, but the next morning, he was already back on the road to the farm so I packed up and stepped out into the Monday post-Chuseok sunshine, myself back on the road - 3.5 hours to Guinsa. At least it was supposed to be 3.5 hours, it must have been a bit longer given the crazy traffic. It was hot and sticky on the bus and I was almost regretting my decision. But once we got up to the temple, it was late afternoon and the temperature was much cooler from a month before. I was glad to be there. In retrospect though, I wish I hadn't gone alone. I was walking around by myself before dinner and evening prayer, of course the only non-Korean in sight and people were commenting and pointing at me. It was OK but I was more self-conscious than usual and already not rested enough for the long night that lay ahead. Dinner with the monks in the smaller cafeteria was very nice and I should have been more friendly. I was feeling overwhelmed already and not wanting all the attention.

Two of the female monks had me over for coffee, followed by an hour-long chanting with the head monk in a large public hall, with men and women. It was the only time throughout the night that I managed a full hour of Kwan Seum Bosal (meaning the Buddha) chanting. I really love the more varied chants, such as this one:Kwan Seum Bosal Buddhist Chanting but from every part of the Guinsa complex, at any given time you hear the rising "Kwan Seum Bosal" repeated litany coming from inside the prayer halls. From the outside, it's actually very beautiful and haunting. Inside the women's hall, where we rested and chanted together, you can hear the cacophony of female voices, old and young, making the Kwan Seum Bosal nearly lost in the sound. For the laypeople people here, this is undoubtedly a peaceful respite from daily life, but for me as a first-timer to the intensive chanting, it was difficult to find peace. From 10 to midnight, a female monk gave a full 2 hour speech on the Chuseok holiday. Many of us dozed off during this time, only to begin the chanting again nonstop from 12-3. This was a totally unique experience for me and one that is hard to find anywhere else. I was appreciative of the women who took the time to help me and I felt welcomed.

The next morning, I had to rush to get breakfast and join female monks for the ride to the farm. Arriving at the meeting spot and on the bus, I again felt overwhelmed by the attention but also charmed by the beauty of these awesome hard-working women. As I would soon see with my own eyes, Guinsa grows all its own food - rice, soybeans, garlic, peppers, cabbage, everything. Some female monks at a lower level work in the immense public cafeteria and some work daily on the farm. It was a bright, clear Tuesday and we peeled bunches of garlic all day from 7 - 4:30, with lunch and snack breaks. Surrounded by green mountains and field, I watched and interacted with these strong, joyous, chatty women as we sat in the sun, our hands meticulously breaking apart garlic heads and carefully taking off the skin. We were also joined by additional busloads of volunteers, with a few men in the midst, making our group total 30-40 people.  If I wasn't so tired, so introverted, with so little Korean skills and a better sense of humor, I would have enjoyed it a lot more. Which is not to say that it wasn't, in fact, amazing. But I was surprised to find that even at a Buddhist temple, a supposed sanctuary from society, people still asked me why I was single? And since I didn't have a husband, maybe I was interested in becoming a monk? All I wanted was to get a glimpse of this life, not to become a part of anything. Of course, even though one person spoke English, I had no one there to translate the cultural barrier. At one point in the afternoon, I got frustrated that I couldn't get the garlic right and the smiling oldest monk called the English-speaking templestay leader to tell her I wasn't having fun. I felt embarassed - this always-smiling woman seems so truly happy and grateful to be where she is, and I'm interrupting her routine.

As with EM Jeju, I went to Guinsa by myself, hoping to get my hands dirty in the best of local food production and to learn more than I've ever had. I think I accomplished these two things, but in the process, I feel that maybe I wasn't a very good ambassador. I often forget this - I am not here just as myself, I represent my language, my nationality, my skin color, my perceived social, economic and cultural background. Using my introversion as an excuse to be closed-off and grumpy just will not cut it in Korea in the long run. It's time I shape up. And it's time that either I take friends along to places like this, or I adjust my solitary travels to keep my mental health in working order.

This is the end of part one of the post-Jeju adventures. Part two will come by the end of 2012.

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

Monsoons and Dog Days

Sabuk summer rain

It's already August and I've been in Korea a whole 5 months. So what went down in my life in the month of July?

A lot. And also not a lot. It seems like it flew by.

As the lillois were leaving for Busan and Jeju, beautiful summer rain poured down on us in Sabuk. I love summer rain. I hope that by the end of summer, I will have at least one chance to dance in the rain.

The next day, the sun shined down upon us and I was brimming with energy. As visiters from the outside, my friends inspired me to take a closer look at Sabuk's history. I discovered a whole new part of this town, full of abandoned buildings and exploding green gardens. And the coal memorial where the nice man lets me take tons of beautiful free postcards. So psyched to finally have postcards of this place!  I've decided to work on a Sabuk documentary with my students next semester. I'm not quite sure how I will undertake this experimental project, but I'm pretty excited about it. It will give me a chance to work on something interesting with my students and to get to know the place where I live better. Of course, at one point we will be in bitter cold winter...

Sabuk abandoned apartments

Sabul coal lift

The first week of July brought more sunshine and positive energy - I was feeling pretty good. The school staff took a 2-day trip down to the Yeosu Expo. I wasn't too jazzed about the expo itself as its pretty much a huge, flashy show of watered-down tidbits from various countries around the world and over-the-top water and light shows. Some Koreans eat this stuff right up. Anyway, I enjoyed the company of an American and Korean teacher.

Yeosu Expo playtime

Yeosu Expo nightshow

The trip schedule was packed pretty tight with lots of driving, but we enjoyed the pension near Jiri mountain and the carousing. Koreans, especially older Korean men, take everything out through drinking. Random violence, expressing controlled anger, can overtake even the calmest of people. Russians do this too - I'm not a fan of this cultural aspect, but it is what it is. Hopefully, the younger generations can learn to deal with their problems while sober and save the drinking for genuine fun times. Who knows. 

This was my second visit to Jeollanam-do and it's still the most beautiful part of Korea that I've seen. Damyang has a lovely tree-lined walking trail and a big bamboo forest. It's famous for bamboo and all kinds of fruits. We had a great meal at a restaurant for lunch - that day was one where I really appreciated Korea again. Wanting to communicate with the Korean teachers who hardly speak English, I was pushed again to do some intense language study on the bus. These moments come not so frequently nowadays and even though I'm studying, I'm not sure my skills are improving at the moment. Hopefully, more opportunities will arise. 

 

Totem Poles along the Damyang forest walk

Damyang Bamboo Forest

Damyang lunchtime

Damyang view

When we got back that night, the middle school foreign teacher and I hung out with the high school science teacher and my badass girl students who win in national science competitions. They were taking pictures of the moon with the telescope. It was a really nice moment of being part of the community. I'm also proud of the science teacher who I feel works hard to elevate the girls' self-esteem and passion for science.

Sabuk moongazing

The next day, we had our yellow belt taekwondo test which was not ideal but less stressful than I imagined. I'm not good at taekwondo - I just have to accept this. But I do my best and I keep my body moving and healthier than before. It is a cultural experience that I would not get anywhere else.

The lillois were flying out the next weekend, so we had to have a proper goodbye, which meant getting smashed at a noraebang and watching the sunrise while stumbling around Hongdae on a Friday. I was joined by a new Japanese WWOOF friend and her Finnish buddy.

We were supposed to head back to Hansol, the Namyangju farm early the next morning but of course that was postponed until the afternoon. It was another amazing weekend at the farm, this time under the monsoon. We weeded the hell out of the strawberry greenhouses and some people painted the burgeoning compost toilet. At night, we sang songs around a fire with the puppy running around. My favorite part is how the farmer is not only genuinely interested in sharing his passions and his work, he tries to bring out the magic in each person he meets. Truly wonderful.

Then, I had a weekend in Seoul to myself. (Now cancelled) Mark Kozelek was playing and it's always a joy to see just him and his voice and his nylon-string guitar, though the show in Hongdae the night before was probably better. 

Dongdaemun (East Gate) Seoul

Cheongyangni, Seoul train station

The semester was coming to a close and I was restless - it seems I did nothing at all of value until Jisan Rock Festival the last weekend in July. There, I saw amazing shows by Radiohead, Korean metal bands and the highlight, one of my favorite legendary bands - The Stone Roses. I hardly took any pictures. It's all memories now. I was really looking forward to this festival and parts of it were really good while other parts were lonely or overwhelming. But seeing this music, the affirmation of life, was worth all of it.

And that's about it. Next up is Jeju.

Travelling Magic, WWOOF Korea and What is Activism?

After recounting some of last year's adventures, I now have a bit of travelling magic back in my life - a couple from Lille that I met through the social center have been staying with me this week in the middle of nowhere, Korea. After I came back to France from Greece last summer, Justine told me she was adopted from Korea and they would come visit me. And after a year they've finally made it. This past Saturday, they came from a few days in Seoul to meet me in Sokcho on the North Coast and we spent the night in Seoraksan National Park, exploring as much as we could of this beautiful natural place with its peaks and temples. From Sokcho, we happened to take the same bus as the director of a hagwon, private English academy, in Seoul (who later asked if I wanted to work for her!) and she helped us find a big cheap room in a nice motel in the park.

The next day was less successful because of the endless bus rides, the 2012 Danoje Festival lacking the atmosphere we were looking for, and their heavy luggage, but we still managed to make it to Gyempo Lake and Beach in Gangneung. We made it back to Sabuk late but not-too-late and crashed.

This week, two of my WWOOF Korea buddies came to Sabuk for a night, making it four  people in my apartment, and we had a really nice group outing to a lovely restaurant in Gohan where the owner does wood carvings. Pretty intense stuff for a weeknight in this neck of the woods.

So for about a month now, the weekends have been fresh, interesting, tiring, occasionally frustrating, but overall really vibrant and eye-opening. And definitely too short. In mid-May, the weekend before Buddha's birthday, with my bike, I hopped a ridiculously early Saturday morning bus to Seoul to go to the first English tour of the War and Women's Human Rights Museum in Hongdae. It was a lovely day and the tour was sobering but hugely informative and a chance to meet great activists and new people. That was definitely the turning point in me finally beginning to appreciate the different opportunities available in Korea. 

Afterwards, I gave myself no chance to rest as usual as I wandered around Hongdae looking for a good jimjilbang to crash at - I found out much later there is one right on the main street, but this one in a hidden corner worked just fine.

And travelling magic happened that night too. I met up with Gangwon teachers for the Lotus Lantern Festival, but joining them was a Finnish girl visiting Korea for a month. After a random big dinner, the festival and nice outside drinks, which produced a lot of walking and some ho-hum stereotypical Korean-foreigner interactions, me and the traveller ended up back in Hongdae. We chanced upon the last show of a white-boy band at Strange Fruit, one of the tiny, cozy underground bars. So the night ended on a good note and I made a new friend.

The Sunday, as most Sundays in Seoul are for me, was a case of wandering and river cycling but I did manage to check out the beautifully decorated Bongeumsa Temple.

And it only gets better from there...

Food, Food Everywhere 

Which brings me back to...WWOOF Korea! While deciding on whether or not I would go to Chuncheon's Mime Festival for Buddha's birthday weekend, the decision was made for me by WWOOF Korea posting a call for a group volunteering trip.

That was the weekend that brought me one of the most frustrating but also some of the best and future-giving Korean moments. I arrived in warm, quiet Bucheon neighborhood in Seoul at midnight on a Friday and was so happy I chose to stay at the WWOOF Korea Guesthouse lived in by a Japanese staff member and his girlfriend - they've since moved out and I can't wait to see the changes to the house. I was able to reminisce on WWOOF Greece, learn about WWOOF Japan and how the Korean chapter is and always becoming much more open, welcoming and full of group volunteering opportunities.

I did a write-up about this, my first experience, and a brief description here.

To wrap up, we were in the famous Boseong green tea region of Jeollanam-do, the southwestern province and we were helping a small(er) organic tea farmer weed his fields in preparation for summer tea harvesting. Drinks, laughter, and me being completely lost for lack of Korean. And the still cheap Yeolpo green tea & sea water spa with our nakedness overlooking the beach was a fabulous last touch. If only someone hadn't made the executive decision to drive back to Seoul from Boseong Sunday evening instead of Monday. It would have saved me the headache of arriving in the city at 3 a.m. after a long day of work and a 7-hour drive ending in rain, and finding that I had nowhere to stay after all. I had the option of either waiting at the bus terminal for the 6 a.m. bus to Sabuk or choosing a jimjilbang in Seoul. Honestly, I had a really hard time in the jimjilbang, I didn't sleep at all that night and felt like the positive vibes I had experienced were somehow less real. Like I had done something wrong. 

Thankfully, all that went away the next day as I saw WWOOF people again. Snacks in the WWOOF garden and shared curry by the river on no sleep. And the next two weekends brought lovely Sunday visits to Hansol, the organic chicken farm in Namyangju, the rapidly growing biggest organic farming region in Asia. When I first met the farmer Mr. Kim and a bunch of other WWOOF members and supporters on a Seoul Saturday, it was "Yu-gi", June 2nd, which also means "organic" in Korean. We learned, to our great surprise and delight, that Seoul has an island with a huge public organic garden and compost toilets! If only every city, especially every city with a river, had something like this - urban living would improve so much. Here's the link to more photos. 

How hypocritical of me is it to work on a chicken farm as a vegetarian? Well, they hardly ever slaughter the chickens, except as a special feast like on my first trip there, and the eggs are fresh and delicious. And the middle-aged Korean farmer is a badass, well-travelled, good English-speaking, even radical-minded guy who has built up the place for nearly 30 years. He leads around a 1,000 families in the area in the quest to be even more organic and sustainable. And he founded Slow Food Korea , a short ride from the farm in the same area. I have yet to go there, but it's next on my list as I keep exploring. In two weeks, there will be a compost toilet painting party. I can't wait.

What is Activism? 

I ask myself this question nearly every day and nearly every day, the definition keeps changing - expanding, contracting, becoming fuzzier or clearer depending on the mood.

To be an activist, do you have to be always active? To wave signs? To shout? To smash bank windows? To chain yourself to trees? To occupy the college campus? To attend meetings? To bomb cars? To rescue animals from fur farms? To never drive? To tag public ads? To do street theater? To play in a folk punk band? To read or report for independent media? To ride a bike to work? To eat vegan? To get most of your food from dumpsters? To wash your clothes with soap and water? To wear certain kinds of clothes? To hitchhike instead of taking the bus or train? To garden in your backyard? To keep guns? To protest guns? To befriend people from many different backgrounds? To read political literature? To compost? To take cold showers? To reject religion? To volunteer at the infoshop? To organize shows at the social center? To talk a lot against all the -isms that could possibly come to mind?

Summer roses on a Seoul bike path

It can be those things and a whole lot more. Or it could be none of them. It could be just sitting quietly in nature with a good novel. It could be spending a lot of time with your family. It could be cooking dinner for your housemates. It could be being the best teacher you can be. It could be helping your neighborhood plant trees. It could be playing basketball with your students. It could be smiling at everyone you see on the street. Or only smiling when you truly feel it.

I'm thinking about this now in particular as I finally reach the point where I'm positively processing my time in Europe, all the people I met, all the things I learned. When I was first coming to Korea, my biggest apprehension was definitely how I would go about finding an activist community. I was evenly torn between that and finding quiet, natural places to spend my time. It turns out that I want both. My time with WWOOF here so far has been the most inspiring time and I can see it branching out in all kinds of amazing and more eye-opening directions. And because I feel happy when I do it, I can radiate positive energy to others. Unlike so many other things that I've taken part in, which were fun but often felt more like I should do this because if I don't I'm not living up to my values. 

Having visitors from the past, melting with the present and influencing the future is really exactly what I need at this time. 2012 is half gone, drama-free and I've lived to be a quarter of a century old now. I - and I hope everyone I know - am becoming more and more of the activist and person I want to be, day by day.

Monsoon beginning, Sabuk