I could sum up the last three, almost four, days like this: Busan to Gyeongju,, Gyeongju to Busan, Busan to Jeju. Lots of bus, subway, and airplane time. But I suppose I’ll fill in some details between the “Bu’s” and “Ju’s”.
Friday, October 15th, we woke up, exhausted after our day of travel to Geochang. V’s mom looked appropriately tired as well, but still managed to wake up nice and early to make us another full course breakfast- the usual of kimchi, veggies, seaweed soup, and, today, fish! Not fish like the little fillets we get from the grocery seafood counter- whole fish sitting on the plate, fried and waiting for you to pick apart and eat. While I am developing a slight addiction to kimchi and all food Korean, it’s a little hard to stomach picking off the scales of your breakfast while it stares back at you. Still, it was delicious.
After breakfast, we packed up our backpacks for an overnight trip to Gyeongju, a city about an hour outside of Busan, famous for it’s many ancient and historic sites dating back to the Silla time period (a long time ago). We considered pushing the trip back a day to rest, but decided we could rest in Gyeongju just as easily as in Busan. So, back to our translation line with Tiana. I might add as a side note that, although we still used Tiana for the big scheduling details, V’s mom and I were getting pretty good at the charades communication. Tiana told me that V’s mom was worried we wouldn’t know how to get to the bus terminal from her place and informed Tiana that she would personally be walking us to the subway to make sure. I explained to Tiana that we had already mapped our course and knew how to get to both the subway and the bus- no need to inconvenience or trouble V’s mom. We would be back the next day. Hand the phone to V’s mom. Listen to her quick and intense Korean chatter. After a few minutes, she gives me the phone. Tiana relayed the information and made sure V’s mom knew we were okay to get there- no need to walk us to the subway. Hang up, grab our bags, put on our shoes, go to hug V’s mom goodbye. She then put her shoes on and proceeded first out the door, mumbling in Korean the whole time. So here is where my independent streak and grateful guest did a little head-butting. I looked at Keith and his only comment was “we’re buying tickets this time”.
Two hours later, we were in Gyeongju, a beautiful town surrounded on all sides with rolling hills and pines trees that bend in ways that show their age in this historic city. In all my travels (not near enough due to this thing called work), my favorite places always seem to be the historic ones. The ones with the really old stuff. I remember being dumbfounded seeing some of the stadiums in Turkey and the ruins of Greece. I love standing in places so old you can hardly wrap your mind around it, but somehow can just feel it. So, you can imagine my excitement arriving at the Gyeongju bus terminal.
Because we decided to do the fly-by-our-seats thing, our first mission was hotel. About 500 ft and fifteen minutes later, mission accomplished. Second mission, and maybe even more important, especially for Keith: food. We grabbed some snack food at the nearest convenient store and moved on to the next and MOST important mission of finding temples, or tombs, or one of the hundreds of historical sites stamped out on our cartoon map of the city. It was not even 3pm yet, so we were thinking we could fit in quite a few places yet. So, with the help of our “trusty” map (I did say cartoon map, so we have no one to blame but ourselves for what comes next), we held it up, and started walking in the direction of the Mt. Namsan area. I bet that no one who took a tour bus got to see what we saw-you know, the non-touristy spots- junkyard alley, more junkyards, and then a bunch of fields (with no temples in them).
Growing up, my parents took us on countless road trips all around the country. They took us on even more “scenic route” tours, which we quickly learned was code for “lost”. So, after our nearly hour long “scenic route”, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to be those Americans that needed to call the expensive cab. We took a cab to the Hangsanjae Shrine, which I had picked because I thought it “looked cool” (again, with the cartoon map, what was I thinking?). The cab driver dropped us off and drove away just before we figured out the shrine was deserted and the gates were locked. Awesome. We then took another cab to General Kim’s (a famous military officer) tomb in one of the National Parks. Turns out, the tombs are small, round, grassy hills. Not exactly the history I was looking for. Oh, and national parks all kind of look the same, no matter what country you’re in. Lot’s of trees. At this point, we were almost ready to give up. Then we joked, “would V’s mom give up? Hell no.” So we took what will be the most expensive cab ride of the trip (we aren’t allowed to speak of it anymore) out to Bulgaksa temple. Three strikes and you’re out, or third time’s a charm? It could have gone either way at that point. Luckily for us, it was the latter.
Bulgaksa Temple, built in the 8th century, is one of the only original temples left in the area. How can I describe standing in the courtyard of a temple built thousands of years ago? I can’t really; you just have to see it for yourself. There were several shrines that have been rebuilt with Buddhist monks there to tend to them and make sure no pictures are taken of them. My favorite of the shrines was called “Avalokitesvara’s Shrine” (try saying that one 10 times fast), a shrine where this Avalokitesvara is enshrined, the Bodhisattva of Perfect Compassion. Also known as the “One who listens to the cries of the world”. Alavokitesvara Bodhisattva is dedicated to the well-beings of all living things and is ever-ready to help those who are in suffering. I am not Buddhist, but this Boddhisattva, or what she stands for, resonates deeply with me. Looking back through my life, the people I know that have lived most richly and those who I respect most are those whose lives encompass this notion of “perfect compassion” and “helping those who are in suffering”.
And sappy moment over. So after we finished touring Bulgaksa, we walked down the hillside and found a bus that would take us back to the city at a fraction of the fare we no longer speak of. Yay! So we rode happily back to the city which was now waking up as night fell upon it. I must say Korean cities are the most attractive at night with all the neon lights, blaring music, and people everywhere. With all the lights and noises to distract us, we suddenly noticed everyone getting off the bus at “Gyeonju Station”- we KNEW our stop was “Gyeongju Bus Terminal”, but in that moment, we panicked, second-guessed ourselves, and followed the herd of asians off the bus. I’m not denying that this might not have been our best decision-making day ever. The funny thing is, neither of us is worried about getting too lost. So, we decided to go with it. Conveniently, the stop we got off at just happened to be the central shopping area of the city. We walked up and down the narrow streets filled with clothing stores, people, mopeds, and cars (all driving and walking in front of each other randomly and without warning- I still can’t believe more people or cars don’t crash into each other). I LOVE SHOPPING. Luckily for our wallets, it was cold out and we were underdressed, so we ducked into a pizza place. It hit the spot. On our way back, we walked past two girls, one white and one asian. I hadn’t done this to date, but we were really cold. I stopped them and asked if they spoke English. Turns out they did, and they were also trying to get back to their hotel which happened to be around the corner from ours. So we all piled in a cab together. And then the irony. These two girls were both from France, and one of them (the asian:) was adopted from Korea. They were traveling around the country for three weeks and were halfway through. I started to feel funny having to say “us too!” over and over and over again. It’s funny how even if you’re adopted to countries in different continents, you still feel an instant bond with someone with the shared experience of adoption.
This is getting long and I am just getting to day two, so I’m going to start using my public relations writing skills. Short and to the point. I’ll try, at least. Day 2 in Gyeongju- we were supposed to catch the bus back to Busan, but we were enjoying the town too much. So we packed up, left our hotel, walked down the street, found an available room, and checked in. This second hotel was a jackpot and gave us hope for a better decision day than the previous. The rest of the morning, we walked to a few more historical sites, including Anapji Pond and Bunhwangsa Temple- both beautiful and full of Korean university students who approached us to practice their English. Before arriving in Korea, I was told by several friends that a lot of young people would come up and want to speak English with us. Up until this day, we had been surprised that this was not the case. But these kids were so eager and funny.
After our educational morning, we tried our hands at directions again (this time without the cartoon map) and found the shopping center again. This time, I did a little (just a little) damage to the pocketbook. Let me again journey back to a time called “Shannon growing up in white land”, which is my entire life thus far. The things back home that are not made for asians include: pants and sunglasses. Not the case here. I tried on 5 pairs of jeans at the first store and 4 of them fit like a glove. The woman who owned the store was this sweet woman who spoke minimal English and took an interest in us. I told her “Chunin ibyeong, I’m adopted”, and after the head-tilt/sympathetic nod, as if on cue, she became just another one of my little moms, helping me decide on which jeans, finding me more jeans, and giving her Korean mother opinions (including telling me I had big beautiful shoulders, which I was just thrilled to hear).
Many, many, many shops later, we found a little Italian restaurant for lunch/dinner. Our waitress was a sweet younger girl who chatted with us in beautiful, broken English about her visits to the states. She loves New York. If I haven’t said it before, I might get a little irritated with the pushing in the subway or frustrated that I can’t understand anything being said around me, but I LOVE these people. They are the definitions of kind and gracious.
Okay, so after shopping, we walked back to our hotel and decided to attempt the thing we’ve been hearing all about and feeling like we need to do it to say we’ve experienced it: The Korean Bath House and Sauna. For those unfamiliar with this, as I was until recently, it is just as it sounds. A public bath house and sauna. If you’ve ever heard of a Turkish bath, it’s comparable (but not the same) in that it’s a place to really get clean in a communal setting. The whole bath thing doesn’t do much for me in general. I know a lot of people who find baths to be relaxing and a de-stresser. For me, they are hot, boring, and I basically feel like I’m soaking in my own filth. So, the idea of one big, giant bath with other people is not something I’ve ever put on a bucket list or something that would rank high (or anywhere) on my to-do list. But I was keeping an open mind. Keith and I walked together to the sauna entrance and parted ways. I kept thinking, ‘I am comfortable with my body, this is not going to be as awkward as you’re thinking it’s going be’. I was right- it was just as awkward, maybe even more. I know, this is supposed to be a relaxing time where you sit and scrub and soak. I just couldn’t get myself to the “relax” point- so I huddled in the corner of the hot tub like the lonely kid on the playground (it’s not a good comparison at all, but I can’t think of anything that would compare to this) and tried not to be fully aware of the many elderly ladies sitting on their stools just scrubbing away. When I say scrubbing, I mean, SCRUBBING. I sat there thinking, ‘is this really happening or am I having one of those naked nightmares??’ I can now say that I have experienced my first and last Korean bath house. Keith didn’t make it past the glass doors.
Onto the third day of this recap, or Sunday, October 17th to be exact. I woke up with a wave of homesickness and realized we are starting the last week of our time in Korea. Whenever I travel internationally, I seem to always have a day where I just want to click my converse (I bought my first pair ever for this trip) and be back home. It’s the point where the newness is wearing a bit; the hours of travel by foot, bus, and train are taking a toll; the cultural differences and language barriers are getting to be a bit overwhelming; and the added factor for me this trip- it’s foreign, yet it’s where I’m from. We were both feeling it. On our way back to Busan, I was more acutely aware of the language barriers, the cars almost running us over when we had the “right of way”, the culture where rules and laws seem to be more guidelines and suggestions- where if it says “keep to the right on the stairs”, it doesn’t REALLY mean stay on the right side. I hit the point in my negotiating this new relationship with my “motherland” where the honeymoon period is wearing off, and you’re left with these poignant emotions, excitement and frustration, hope and disappointment, anger and love. They all meet and it’s what makes the relationship at-times-ugly and beautiful and rich and real.
When we arrived back home in Busan, we were greeted by V’s mom at the door, smiling. See, it’s what I was talking about before- that tension between the frustrations and then the smiles. She immediately motioned food, and we gratefully accepted, watching as she whipped together an elaborate lunch with such ease. Then, yet another time of translation with my sister Tiana. I told her to tell V’s mom we would be leaving for Jeju Island in the morning at 7am by plane, so we would call a cab and get ourselves to the airport. She laughed. She told me she would tell V’s mom, but as we both knew, she would probably walk us out to find a taxi and physically put us in the car. I laughed. Then I told her about the subway incident where she made Keith crawl under the gate. We both laughed. Hard. For about 5 minutes, we laughed together. I asked Tiana to please convey our utmost gratitude to V’s mom for being a mom away from home and for taking such unbelievable care of us.
We spent the rest of yesterday afternoon and evening at Haeundae Beach again. We watched the sunset over the skyline, reflecting brilliant shades of orange and red across the water. Then, we found a- get this- Mexican restaurant serving fish tacos, quesadillas, cold Korean beer, and some good old-fashioned American pop tunes. We spent the rest of the evening singing along to Beyonce and Eminem, enjoying our quesadillas, and talking life.
This morning came early. And it was even earlier than planned, as we set our alarm for 5am but were startled awake at 3:45am by V’s mom with our last home-cooked Korean breakfast. She must have woke up at 3 or earlier to get it all ready. We sat and ate while she sat and folded the last of our laundry she had finished the night before. I thought about how tired I was. And how much I hate goodbyes. And then, it was 5:15 and she was pushing us out the door, grabbing one of our suitcases to carry for us. She walked us to where her apartment complex and the main road meet, and talked to the cab driver sitting out front, telling him we needed to go to the airport. Then, she hugged me. Keith got a little side hug. And then she hugged me again, speaking to me in Korean. And I hugged her back, trying to convey my gratitude “thank you, gamsa hamnida, thank you” with and without words. It surprised me how sad I was to say goodbye.
I cried all the way to the airport. It’s the first time the whole trip I’ve really cried. I got to have a Korean mom for a week. A strong, stubborn, brave Korean woman. I keep getting to see the Korean in me through women like her.
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