Showing posts with label South Korea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label South Korea. Show all posts

Seoraksan, Part 2

Monday, February 28

Forgive the belated posting here, I have been lacking internet for the past couple of weeks.  Anyway, I went to Seoraksan for Lunar New Year.

Seoraksan did not end up being the relaxing getaway that I was hoping for. Looking back on the whole trip, we spent way too much of our vacation on the road (even if the bus was barely moving). No, relaxing it was not.



An incense shrine against the mountains.

In darkness we stood at a bus stop in Sokcho, not entirely confident that we were in the right place. It was our hope to hop on a city bus that would take us to Seorak-dong. Here we would find a hotel with a Jacuzzi or at least a giant TV. The man looking like he was ready to scale Everest at the bus stop was reassuring.

Our back up plan, should the bus not come, was to take a cab. This would have been a costly mistake. After the bus finally came, we spent close to 45 minutes driving at first along the shore and then up the gradual incline at the base of Seoraksan National Park. For a long time we drove in total darkness save a few convenience stores lit by dim night-lights.

That taxi ride would have been costly.

Someday, I will stop assuming that when guide books mention a Noraebang, it doesn’t necessarily mean that a place will be hopping with neon.

Sarcasm and feigned bitterness aside, what would it be saying if this great mountain park had been so developed that love motels sprouted from its trees.

The problem is that I have become spoiled when it comes to hotels. Even at home, I always loved hotels. I don’t really know why. I used to have life-goal in which I could live in a hotel permanently. I realize now that this is called homelessness. Still, coming to Korea and being able to afford rooms with hot tubs, giant televisions, and steam showers has set me up for disappointment.

Sorak Garden Resortel. What I remember is that it had a large lobby with a guy watching television. It was night and he welcomed us in and quickly arranged rooms for us.

If you are a solo traveler I would back away from this place. It wasn’t sketchy and the man at the counter was really friendly it just had a run-down feel that bummed me out.

It wasn’t that it lacked a bathtub (it did, it also lacked any hot water), or a fully functioning TV (only a handful of channels worked so I watched short track and ski jumping) it was that it was like a bigger version of my apartment but with no warmth or character. I refer to warmth in both atmosphere and temperature.

The “concierge” told me that our rooms had once been two singles, but each had a wall knocked out to make two rooms: a bedroom, a larger open space for yo’s (sleeping mats) a “bathroom” and whatnot.

If I went with a whole bunch of friends and we stayed in one room it probably would have been a cool room. Heck, there was even a little kitchen area. In any case, the place wouldn’t have seen so bleak and lonely to me. So, I watched TV with my four imaginary friends and ended up having to use a floor mat as a blanket because of the cold.

Seoraksan National Park was definitely worth the trip. We went in with the assumption that we probably wouldn’t walk all the way to the summit and therefore were not disappointed when that didn’t happen. After paying our entrance fee and storing our bags we set off on a trail that would eventually come to a couple of waterfalls (Yukdamp Pokpo and Biryong Pokpo).

We passed the main entrance, turned to our left, and then crossed a bridge over a largely emptied river. Already the views of the surrounding peaks were extraordinary. They might not be the tallest mountains around, but their granite peaks ripping upwards from the trees here and there give it all a dramatic feel. It all felt rough and natural. I appreciated the difference in feelings between Cheongju and Seoraksan.

The trail we followed was not very long (a bit over 2km I think) and wasn’t generally very difficult. There were a few parts that were a bit steep but any argument for it being a difficult hike could be negated by the fact that the trail did in fact have metal stairs.

The rusted and grated stairs would stretch across the river whose source was the waterfall and our destination, and would hug where the rock had been cut away by erosion. This river probably flowed powerfully in the rainy season, but on that weekend it was largely subdued by ice.

Early on, we passed a kind of concession area. I would call it a concession stand but it was a bit more than that, while definitely not being one of the folk villages that are common on Korea’s mountains. Here snacks were sold.

We passed a woman giving samples of homemade berry juice. Presumably she had made it herself from mountain berries and then bottled it (old soju bottle) to be sold for around 10,000W. She gave us a sample, proudly saying “no alcohol.” It tasted good and was refreshing in a sharp but sweet sort of way. It was also very clearly booze. It tasted exactly like blackberry brandy.

I would buy a bottle on our way back and give it to Han as a thank you for saving my camera. She told me later that even her dad was surprised at the amount of alcohol contained in non-alcoholic mountain juice.

We came at last to the waterfalls. They were frozen: cascading ice into a ripples pond covered in crusted snow. It was pretty. A few people sat around as we snapped some photos. A man meditated off towards the edge of the little pond. After a break we turned and headed back.

After learning that the cable car was out the question (the day was wearing on and the light was soon to be fading) we walked along a more well traveled path. I didn’t even feign disappointment over the cable car. It rose steeply straight into the highest crags of the mountain. The only scenery I would have seen from the ride would have been what my camera shot as I sat in the corner with my head down.

This path led to a clearing in which sat an enormous bronze Buddha. I knew none of this at the time but that likeness is significant enough to have made me feel humble for being in its presence even after the fact. It also made me feel a bit like a fool for not even knowing it was there in the first place.

For a good amount of time we watched as people lit incense, prayed, meditated, and generally showed a huge amount of respect for this huge sculpture. I walked back and forth, switching frequently between my normal lens and my zoom. The weather was becoming chilly and the fresh air was occasionally overpowered by incense.

I found out later that inside this statue are three pieces of the Buddha’s sari. The statue, like the red and blue bridges all around, represent the desire for a unified country.

Further along the path is a colorful temple with scalloped tiles. Two elaborately colored temple guardians stand in the dark on either side of the entrance. The temple, a compound of buildings, stands on a hill and is on the edge of a river. It is serene. It is Sinheungsa and it dates back to either 653 or 657 AD. It has been destroyed and rebuilt a number of times but it is still there.

Sometimes being in an ancient place is pretty incredible.

As darkness fell we made our way back to another hotel, further down in Sokcho.

The next morning I walked onto a jetty while I waited for Ricky and Lauren. I have never been to the beach in the middle of winter. I expected it to be bleak and desolate but it wasn’t. Kids played in the sand feet away from snow. Families walked along the paths and bought food from vendors as though they didn’t notice the chill in the air. I sat for a while photographing the waves as they crashed onto rocks or sand.

Further down, the beach is lined with barbed wire and guard towers poke out of the trees. Tank traps dot the highways if you go too much further to the north.

I then spent hours stuck in Seoul traffic trying to get back to Cheongju.




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Los Angeles to Seoul

Tuesday, May 11

The flight from LAX to Korea killed me. It went along without incident but it went along sickeningly slow. Despite utter exhaustion, sleep never found me and my fantasy of falling asleep and virtually skipping the 13 hour trip never happened. Instead, I watched Avatar in all of it’s glory: on a 9 inch screen with fuzzy headphones.


The plane was stuffy and cramped; and again I was popping pills like a fiend. In an attempt to keep our internal clocks from completely breaking, the airline forced us to close the blinds as we were flying in perpetual sunlight. Towards the end I was beginning to feel a bit panicky and more than a little claustrophobic but I am proud to say that I kept it together.

It was heaven when I landed. I disembarked and followed the crowds, hoping they were all going to the same general place as I. They were and I soon found myself standing in the immigration line.

Sad as it may be, one major appeal of traveling is the stamp you get each time you cross that border. It is something of a notch in your bedpost type of deal, but I have become quite proud of my stamp collection; despite the lack of a Greece stamp. The addition of an official Republic of Korea visa… my god it might be frame worthy when I come back.

I was met outside of the baggage claim by a finely dressed Korean guy who called himself Mr. Moran. Moran was a driver who had apparently been hired by my recruiter, Steven, to find me and buy me a bus ticket to my destination of Cheongju and sit with me until I was safely on the bus. Perhaps I was a flight risk?

The bus ride from Incheon to Cheongju was 4 hours long according to Mr. Moran, but only 2.5 according to the kid from Hartford on the bus. If I were anything short of exhausted, I would have appreciated the idea of traveling to Asia and instantly meeting a fellow New Englander; but I was exhausted and the humor was lost on me.

Whether Hartford gave me his name or not, I do not remember. At that point I had been up since Wednesday morning Eastern Standard and it was now Friday evening Korean time. I tried over and over to calculate the hours in my head but simple math skills had been lost a day ago. I didn’t know where or when I was. What’s more is that in this state I was starting to see things; not an “I see dead people” kind of see things but on the airplane I was pretty sure I was seeing flocks of birds at 30,000 feet.

Hartford, it turns out had just returned from a Visa run to Japan and was heading back to his second year of teaching.

“I hope you know Korean,” he said, “because where we are going nobody knows English.”


Damn, I knew I forgot something.

But before my head could slump over in exhaustion induced and general un-preparedness aided dread, Hartford told me that Cheongju was actually a pretty dynamic place with its array of neon and ancient fortress walls.

Hartford was right about the neon and the 2.5 hours in any case, because 2.5 hours on the dot the bus pulled into a neon filled lane and stopped.

“Well, this is us,” Hartford said. “Man, I am sure I will see you at the bars.” He then told me where the expat bar section was and I forgot immediately. I stepped off the bus and was virtually assaulted by my welcoming committee.






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All images are my own unless otherwise noted. I am no Capa, but please respect that photography is how I make a living and ask before you use any images.

-Tom

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