There you are in the middle of the night and you’ve awoken for reasons unknown. You slowly start to become perceptive when suddenly you realize you have to go pee. You must now lie there in the dark and try and convince yourself that you can hold it and simply go back to sleep and worry about it in the morning. There is this internal mental struggle you have; “to go, or not to go.” Eventually, your bladder gets the last word and you groggily stagger to the bathroom; many times you're too tired to turn on the light and, of course, pee all over the floor. Or at least that's how it turns out for me... I just assume that's standard practice for everyone.
During my last few weekends I faced a similar metaphorical dilemma. I had to decide whether I would stay in Seoul and spend my last few weekends with my friends and co-teachers or whether I would go around and travel to a few places I had told myself I had to see before I left. In the same way that my bladder is always triumphant, the travel bug that lives inside of me was also victorious and so I spent my last few weekends travelling around Korea.
A few weekends ago I went to Unjusa temple as per Lonely Planet’s recommendation. It was quaint and remote and laden with Buddha carvings. While I was strolling around the grounds thinking to myself that this temple wasn’t as Monky as I would like it to be, one of those extremely affable, shaved-headed, prayer-men came out of nowhere and started to chat. Once he found out I was from Canada he warmed up even more as he had recently travelled to Calgary to visit a friend. He took me into his humble dwelling to have tea, tangerines and monky conversation. He then gave me a private tour of the grounds and provided me with much history. My monk friend then decided I wouldn’t have to time to catch the local bus and have dinner at an appropriate hour, so he insisted I ring the dinner bell and eat with him and his 11 brethren. We enjoyed a vegan buffet and all I had to do in exchange was wash my own dishes. Also if you’re wondering, monks like to drive Hyundai’s four-wheel, sport utility vehicle the Santa Fe, as I saw this to be the case on two consecutive temple visits.
I also made it to Wulchansan National Park. It was here that a remarkable thing happened for the first time during my Korean tenure. It took 11 months, but for the first time, I was in a public place and didn’t see another human-being for 20 whole minutes. Without being in my room, I have not been in a public area where I have not seen another person for more than about 5 minutes. All it took was 8 hours of bus rides, 4 hours of hiking and terrible weather conditions to give me "so much" alone time. I guess that's what happens when you live in the third most dense country in the world.
My last weekend in Korea was supposed to be spent scuba diving on the East Coast with my Korean friend Ron. He offered to drive me over to the coast so that I could get some training and experience a little deep sea exploration. The weather wasn’t too nice in the morning when we were leaving, but Ron assured me that the typhoon would avoid the east coast of the country. So we got up early and drove across the country. When we got to our destination we realized that the weather forecast had misled us. Ron called the company we were planning on swimming with and they said that we couldn’t go due to the waves and strong currents. So we planned to make the best of a bad day and maybe do a little hiking in the rain. As we were driving around, we saw another scuba store and decided to pull over and inquire if maybe they would allow us to swim. Ron, whose English is amazing, but not perfect, said the scuba “master” wasn’t in the building, but would be there soon to teach us and take us swimming. I was excited to meet the scuba “master.” I think "instructor" was the proper word, but Ron kept referring to him as a “master.” So we stood around and waited for the “master” to show up and impart his years of extensive and immeasurable wisdom.
Eventually a truck pulled up and our weekend saviour, the scuba “master,” emerged. Out came a short little Korean, who was missing one of his front teeth which was noticable because he was always smiling. He struggled to take off his shirt and exposed his tiny frame. He kept looking at me and saying “OKAAAAYY!” to get me excited and to assure me that everything would be fine. Turns out our scuba “master” had been drinking all morning (it was 11:00 am at the time) once he knew the weather was going to spoil a day of business. By this point Ron and I had gotten into wet suits and were ready to go, when a wiser and sober scuba master informed us that there was no chance of us going diving during a typhoon. So we did a little snorkelling with our wet suits in the ocean and ate seafood. Problem solved.
I love you,
Yubbo
