Last weekend we packed our bags and headed north to Seoul. We felt it was time to escape the greater city limits of Busan and experience another side of Korea, the side that over 10 million people experience every day.
Wanting to make the most of our weekend excursion, we caught a train at 7:30 on Saturday morning. We spoiled ourselves and rode the KTX, which is supposedly one of the fastest trains in Asia. Although the trip took 2.5 hours, it might as well be considered light-speed when compared to the rest of the trains that travel the same route in 5-6 hours.
It was nice to ride the rails in the daylight, and see the Korean countryside for the first time. It’s surprising how mountainous this country’s terrain is. While passing the rolling hills we couldn’t help but think of how surprisingly accurate M*A*S*H was with its portrayal of the Korean landscape. It was easy to imagine a helicopter descending between the mountains, with the show’s opening credits scrolling down in the foreground. Of course, we then had the M*A*S*H theme song stuck in our heads for the duration of the weekend.
Soon after rolling into Seoul Station, we met up with our good friend Jason Bongiovanni. Like us, Jason is an alum of Houghton College. We’ve become quite close over the years as we both played on the same ultimate Frisbee team for four years and slept in the same tent in Tanzania for an entire semester. We’ve run alongside one another into crocodile inhabited waters, naked, in the pitch dark of East Africa. It’s fair to say we’ve been through a lot together.
Our first order of business was to visit the Seoul Museum of Art. Luck would have it that there was a temporary exhibit at the museum showcasing the works of Kat’s favorite painter, Marc Chagall. The long lines of elementary students discouraged us from seeing the show on Saturday, but we came back on Sunday and saw it then. I didn’t know much (or anything) about Chagall before getting to know Katherine, but having been exposed to his work and personal story, I’m now a fan. It was particularly interesting seeing his works after having recently read Chaim Potok’s book, “My Name is Asher Lev.”
Perhaps one of the most memorable moments of the weekend occurred when we visited Gyeongbok Palace, a historic cultural and architectural cornerstone of the city. We walked around the vast, open courtyards and examined the meticulous execution of each building’s meaningful layout. The only problem was, it was -26 Degrees Celsius with the wind-chill. -26! We nearly froze. Getting our fingers to perform the simple act of taking a picture was a strenuous task. The warm, wet breathe that escaped our mouths froze to our securely wrapped scarves. Inner thighs burned, and feet tingled with pain. But we saw one of Seoul’s greatest wonders, and in genuine Korean style.
Before relieving our aching bones and calling it a day, we walked around the neighborhood of Insa-dong near the temple. The area is known for its great selection of artsy galleries, tea houses, and unique restaurants. We found shelter in a cozy traditional Korean restaurant, and ate a fine sampling of various Korean dishes. After having braved the cold for far too long, we jumped on the train and made our way to Jason’s apartment in the outlying city of Incheon.
The next day, after enjoying a breakfast feast put on by the very hospitable Jason, we bundled up and faced the cold weather once again. We decided to do ourselves a favor and limit the agenda to things located inside. We visited the War Memorial, which also acts as the country’s War Museum. The overwhelming number of scurrying school children sort of detracted from the solemn feel of the place. Besides learning more about the Korean War, we discovered more about the long, blood-soaked history between Japan and Korea. I now know more clearly why Korean children are indoctrinated with a strong dislike for their east-Asian counterparts.
Despite the bitter cold, it was an enjoyable trip to Korea’s capital. One of the biggest takeaways from the excursion was a renewed appreciation for Busan, the city we live in. Seoul is a neat place to visit, as it consists of an ongoing, uneasy relationship between the traditional and the modern. However, I’ll take living in Busan over Seoul any day. Busan is slower, smaller, warmer, and simply more beautiful than the mega-metropolis to the north. You can get to a pristine beach in under 30 minutes, or get to the base of one of the mountains that dot the city’s perimeter in less time. Busan has everything you need, yet it allows for the opportunities Seoul cannot offer. The verdict is in: we’re glad to be where we are.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
From a few days ago...
Greetings again,
I’ve decided to undertake the writing of these following words without any certainty as to what will be said. If truth be told, I’ve been struggling to think of what to write for this blog entry. It’s not that Kat and I are devoid of things to say, or recent developments to share, it’s just that I feel empty on the inspiration front. The storm troops of apathy have broken through my barricades of ingenuity, and now threaten to capture the last remnants of creativity standing on guard. Although I lack a rhyme or reason, the raw desire to write trumps my presumption to leave the page blank.
I think my problem might have something to do with my surroundings.
Being an English teacher isn’t a bad gig, but recently it has dampened my passion for teaching, particularly in this context. Maybe it’s the rigid structure of the curriculum, or the need to push through a lesson regardless of whether or not the students are actually retaining what is being taught, or maybe it’s merely the daily grind of teaching class after class after class… Whatever it is, it’s left me feeling like a nearly finished bowl of soup, or a stale piece of bread.
Fortunately, this feeling was temporarily removed last Saturday, when Kat and I were able to get away from the buzz of the urban jungle and visit a local Buddhist temple. Nestled in between the mountains which surround Busan, Beomeosa temple is one of the most celebrated and visited temples in all of Korea. The term temple doesn’t do the site justice since it really is more of a complex of buildings rather than a single structure. Despite the harshness of the cold wind attacking our bodies, it was nice to walk along the cobblestone paths and simply absorb the beauty of each building’s unique architecture. Noticing that some visitors were removing their footwear and entering the main temple, I decided to follow suit. When I entered the sanctuary an older Korean women gave me a welcoming smile and handed me a small mat to sit on. The interior of the building was replete with vibrant murals and an ornately carved wooden altar. Men, women, and children bowed in worship. The mild aroma of incense lingered in the air.
Sometimes the smallest occurrences can have just the right effects. Our visit to Beomeosa was short, and not overly memorable, but it let me catch a refreshing breath of fresh air and perspective.
Soon to come: This past weekend’s Seoul expedition, with a guest appearance by the venerable Jason Bongiovanni.
I’ve decided to undertake the writing of these following words without any certainty as to what will be said. If truth be told, I’ve been struggling to think of what to write for this blog entry. It’s not that Kat and I are devoid of things to say, or recent developments to share, it’s just that I feel empty on the inspiration front. The storm troops of apathy have broken through my barricades of ingenuity, and now threaten to capture the last remnants of creativity standing on guard. Although I lack a rhyme or reason, the raw desire to write trumps my presumption to leave the page blank.
I think my problem might have something to do with my surroundings.
Being an English teacher isn’t a bad gig, but recently it has dampened my passion for teaching, particularly in this context. Maybe it’s the rigid structure of the curriculum, or the need to push through a lesson regardless of whether or not the students are actually retaining what is being taught, or maybe it’s merely the daily grind of teaching class after class after class… Whatever it is, it’s left me feeling like a nearly finished bowl of soup, or a stale piece of bread.
Fortunately, this feeling was temporarily removed last Saturday, when Kat and I were able to get away from the buzz of the urban jungle and visit a local Buddhist temple. Nestled in between the mountains which surround Busan, Beomeosa temple is one of the most celebrated and visited temples in all of Korea. The term temple doesn’t do the site justice since it really is more of a complex of buildings rather than a single structure. Despite the harshness of the cold wind attacking our bodies, it was nice to walk along the cobblestone paths and simply absorb the beauty of each building’s unique architecture. Noticing that some visitors were removing their footwear and entering the main temple, I decided to follow suit. When I entered the sanctuary an older Korean women gave me a welcoming smile and handed me a small mat to sit on. The interior of the building was replete with vibrant murals and an ornately carved wooden altar. Men, women, and children bowed in worship. The mild aroma of incense lingered in the air.
Sometimes the smallest occurrences can have just the right effects. Our visit to Beomeosa was short, and not overly memorable, but it let me catch a refreshing breath of fresh air and perspective.
Soon to come: This past weekend’s Seoul expedition, with a guest appearance by the venerable Jason Bongiovanni.
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