"Just one snake?"

When Koreans go hiking, they are outfitted to go hiking. It is serious. When an American goes hiking, he or she might throw on some shorts and a t-shirt, grab their runners and a backpack and then they're off! Ready to hike. The Koreans however are completely decked out in full hiking gear - they have proper hiking boots, pants, hats, backpacks, hiking poles. And while I am puffing and panting up the mountain, holding onto trees to help me up, little old Korean ladies, Ajummas, are tearing up huge boulders, like impatient billy goats.

All their gear is wickedly colorful so they are easily spotted on the subways as well as on mountains.


I love hiking in Korea, though. Everyone is very friendly and we say hello (Annyeonghasayo) to everyone we meet. There is a stop and start to let fellow hikers up and down the trails, the way there isn't when people are walking in the streets. When people walk here, they usually move very slowly, as though they are on a leisurely stroll, which I find difficult because I usually have someplace to go. Or they stop suddenly in the middle of a crowd and you have to hit the brakes before you cause an accident. Or you might get shoulder-checked because, well, you were in the way. I still haven't mastered the art of aggressive walking here and half the time I'm looking up, gawking at something, so I probably am walking the same way.


Today we went hiking. Not in the usual place we go (Bukhansan National Park near our house) nor was it in Uidong where I went climbing. And it was a lot of stairs (I don't like stairs). I prefer boulders or rocks or trails. Not stairs. The hike itself was fine, there was a clear view of the city when we reached the top. The way back was much more interesting. C-M and I noticed a little path up over some rocks with a fallen tree over it and wanted to see what was at the top. We crossed a little bridge when another hiker, looking stern, told us "Aniyo!" (No!). We waited until he was out of sight and then we climbed it anyway.

For part of the way down, we started making up stories about pigeon spies who were reporting our activity to the army. (I don't like pigeons. In fact, I'm terrified of pigeons. There, I said it.) I wouldn't be surprised if they had lasers coming out of their little red eyes, guarding gates and keeping tabs on people (ok, not true, but good story, right?). They could probably eat people. They're persistent little buggers, which I would ordinarily find an endearing trait, but there is nothing endearing about a pigeon. (Ok, I will grant that there was that one movie that one time about the cute and brave carrier pigeon, but it was a cartoon; I don't think it counts).

I was being teased about being locked in a cage with pigeons. 100 pigeons, SN told me, and a snake. One of the passing Korean hikers said, in English, "Just one snake?" Haha, yes, just one.


The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to find a way back down, hiking through what turned out to be a fancy ditch (basically), finding MORE stairs which led to a suspension bridge (which I jumped on like a little kid at the playground. It was fun!), finding our way down and into the coolest neighborhood it Seoul-- Let me pause right there. If I could get a job/apartment RIGHT THERE, I would. It reminded me of Cali meet Old City (any city) with narrow alleys and gardens and mountains. It was amazing.


And now I'm home and ridiculously sore (I blame the stairs) and am currently looking into hiring a personal masseuse (ok, not really the last part). However, I would not be opposed to this as a Christmas present. Just throwing that out there.

Somedays in Korea

I love the sights and sounds and smells of walking down the main street in Gusan in the mornings. Street sellers are out with fruit and crabs and nuts and people are walking and it's colorful and the sun is shining and I want to take this feeling and everything around me and I want to breathe it in and take it with me and I want to share it. I want people at home to, not just see, but really understand what it's like just to walk down the street.

Where walking takes you

Last night I went for a walk. Not so strange, you'd think. You live in Texas or Virginia and you can go right outside and take a walk yourself. But last night, I took a right instead of a left and ended up walking down a street to a part of Gusan (my neighborhood) that I've never been to. Most places were closed but there were still a few shops open and a few people out and about. It was just after midnight. This is why Seoul is my city. I can go out, in the middle of the night and not fear for my safety. And things are still open. Life does not shut down because the clock struck midnight.

The walk itself was nice but it was also nice to see something new. And it was kind of sad. How is that I think I'm a great adventurer and explorer of things when I haven't even completely explored the area?

I like being here. I never thought that I would be here. I never imagined myself here. Never saw myself walking down these Seoul streets. And yet a part of me feels like I'm settling in. Like I belong. Four months in and I knew I wanted to go back home, but five months in and I can see myself coming back. This feeling is fleeting, though. It comes and it goes. I only mention it because it hit so hard last night.

Flower shop

I just had the best interaction with a flowershop keeper and his wife. There's a cute little flowershop around the corner from me that I have been eyeing for several months now. I just haven't had the courage to go in. In a place that small I feel that you're there to buy, not just to browse. Today I had to go in for my Treasures science class. We're learning about seeds and I thought we should plant some as well. So I was on a mission. Find seeds and soil before work.

I went in and in my pretty much non-existant Korean and his much better English, I explained that I needed soil. Soil, he got. When I tried to ask for seeds (in English), we hit our road block. Seeds. He asked me to write it down. So I did. Then I tried drawing a seed with an arrow pointing to a flower. Seed. I tried pantomiming planting a seed and it growing into a flower, but my charades skills failed me. He asked his wife. He wrote it out for her. Seeds. I wish I had asked someone to write it down in Korean for me. I wish I knew enough Korean to say it myself. He finally looked it up in the dictionary and said, "Ohhh!" and said it in Korean, which I've since forgotten. "Seeds!" And then he laughed. And then he showed me many packets of seeds, which were tucked away in a drawer. He took my drawing over to his wife and laughed some more. But it wasn't unkind.

I walked out with a small bag of soil and 2 packets of seeds for KW 2,500! Not only was it an interesting experience, trying to communicate, it was inexpensive as well. I've wanted to buy plants for awhile now, and now that I know a great place, I'm in!