One of Korea's most cherished national holidays, Chuseok, is Saturday. The Korean equivalent of Thanksgiving is held on the 15th day on the eighth month of the lunar calendar and the celebrations occur for three days.
Traditionally, Korean families celebrate by congregating at the patriarch's house and enjoying a massive meal. Still, it's a good conversation starter for me to ask students what they plan to do for the big holiday. Some of them said: "Study." And they weren't kidding. A few schools are holding their quarterly tests on the 8th or 15th. When one girl point-blank said she had to study, I suggested that her family may allow her out of her room to eat. She explained, with a straight face, that she would be unable to attend one dinner out of town but that her parents will allow her to join them at another family dinner in Daegu.
I, however, have nothing to study for, so I will be heading to Seoraksan National Park, which is located in the northeast corner of South Korea, above the 38th parallel. (South Korea gained ground above the parallel on the east side but lost some on the west as part of the cease-fire agreement with North Korea.) I will be joined by esteemed Gyeongju residents The Guvnor and George "Soju" Woods, as well as a pair of fellow Yale teachers, Jen and Ann. No word on actually how much hiking I can do, or how strenuous it will be, given that I'm rehabbing my calves from overuse and general tightness that's about 20 years old. But I feel good when I walk, so I'm bound to do something.
Seoraksan (san is the Korean word for mountain) is part of the Taebaek Mountains and, at 5,604 feet above sea level, is the third-highest peak in South Korea. Most people who choose to hike to the top need two days and a night. I think that jaunt is out of the cards for me but there are many other options, including waterfalls, a temple, a cable car ride and various valleys. The link in the above paragraph has more details on the sights at the place, not to mention the requisite shots of pretty and spring-out-of-your-skin friendly Korean women.
We're planning to take a bus at 7:10 Thursday morning, which means we won't take part in one of Chuseok's most revered rituals, the Chuseok traffic jam. Remember: South Korea is about as big as Indiana and has 33 percent more people than California. Even a reliance on buses and trains won't mean much, as I figure to find out on Sunday. Without traffic, the one-way trip is scheduled for seven hours, so I'll be sure to charge the batteries in my laptop and iPod.
I also won't post until I return. There will be photos. I am anticipating New England-like beauty, so prepare yourselves. Until then, Baldy wishes everyone a happy harvest!
Baldy in a taxi as we head to a local animal hospital. He will be staying there with other dogs and two highly qualified doctors, one of whom is fluent in English. He'll be fed, play with dogs owned by other foreign English teachers, and run around in the yard.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
Less than nine hours from now I will visit a physical therapist for the second time. The first was Friday. Long story short, my calves suck. My muscles are tight and have been for as long as I can remember, to the point where if I jog for five minutes on a treadmill or the street, they cramp up. And over the past three weeks, I've been limping thanks to injuries incurred while doing soccer and Hapkido.
But this isn't a story titled, Poor Fitz, He's Getting Old And Can't Play Anymore. It's also a story about how easy it is to get help when (a) you know someone who knows someone, and (b) you are not dealing with the U.S. health care system.
A co-worker, Catherine, sees a physical therapist at this hospital. I too, was longing to get some "treatment service of top!" (that's not me, that's the site ... see for yourself ...) because I'm just so sick of wondering if my calves will yank off the bone the next time I sprint or hop or leap. So I traveled with her Friday to the hospital. I was assured I didn't need to call them in advance or get a doctor to take an X-ray (which would be useless for muscles, right?), so I just followed along, hoping mainly for a diagnosis.
She introdcued me to a doctor. He led me to the waiting room and offered me tomato juice. When in Rome, I thought, so yes, I'll have some. Surprisingly pretty tasty. Another doctor came in and started squeezing. Does that hurt? No ... no ... not really ... YEAH, THAT'S THE ONE, thanks. He told me I have an inflammed tendon (I'm pretty sure it's the Achilles) and some general tightness. I would need rest. Oh, and some massage therapy.
After I waited for about half an hour, not knowing what the next step was, I learned that the massage therapy would start right then. We had not discussed fees yet, nor did we talk about insurance. I had a problem. He would help me. Not that, you know, I'm commenting on the U.S. health care system or anything.
He led me through the gym, where men and women of all ages received massages, lifted weighs, moved their legs, tested their range of motion, etc. There was even a Samsung Lions baseball player; the business card shows that the city's pro baseball and basketball players do their rehab at the place. Doctor Chu had me lie down on my stomach on a mat in the corner. Catherine was just giddy, because she had finished her rehab and was about to watch someone else get punished. Keep in mind that there are people all around me, doing their own exercises and fixing what they needed to. But none of them were letting out blood-curtling screams.
The next 10 minutes were excruciating. Doctor Cho massaged my calves by stepping on them, rolling his foot back and forth and digging his toes in. I was a good patient, provided that I supposed supposed grip both corners of the mat, drip with sweat and scream into the mat. Catherine kicked back with her mojito and enjoyed the show. Other suffering Koreans looked at the wimpy foreigner who had a hard time dealing with someone stepping on his inflamed tendon. At one point in the first couple of minutes I actually yelled, "Stop now!" but he wisely kept going. We developed quite the rapport. I would cry like someone shot me in the stomach, and he would smile and say, "Relax" and "Good," like I was a model patient. I was lucky enough to receive a towel and I spent the next 10-15 screaming into that. After that, I rested on a massage table and received two more massages: one with baby oil, one with ice.
I'm due back today. I hope to return at least three days a week and get the calves back to a normal state by my return flight home in November. Until then, the prescription is rest. I guess this won't be a good week to tell him I'm traveling above the 38th parallel this weekend to go hiking.
K-pop update: There's quite the scandal going on between a couple of Korean pop acts and, shall we say, some similarities between the melodies of their recent hits and others to which they are giving no credit. Stealing, I think it's called. Anyway a blog post about the controversy, along with some damning evidence via YouTube, is here.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
I'll get to the actual point of this post in a minute, but first, there's video I've waited nearly six months to show you.
When I attended the Samsung Lions' season opener, the sellout crowd performed the wave. No biggie, right? Well, after two times around, they did it in slow motion. Meanwhile, I was chatting with friends in another section and my camera was at my seat. The next time it happened, I vowed, I would capture the moment on video.
Saturday, in the second-to-last home game of the regular season, it happened again. Here it is, and I will remind you that I have done no tricks with the camera. These are fans moving in slow motion.
Now, about those Lions. Their streak of 12 consecutive seasons qualifying for the Korean baseball playoffs, the longest active such streak in the eight-team league, are in trouble.
The top four teams make the playoffs, and Samsung sits fifth, tied with the Lotte Giants in the loss column but with two fewer victories and the wrong end of the tiebreaker (head-to-head). Samsung can win its final four games, but if Lotte wins its remaining two, it doesn't matter. The only scenarios that will work in Samsung's favor are ...
** Samsung goes 4-0 and Lotte loses once.
** Samsung goes 3-1 and Lotte goes 0-2.
UPDATE: The Lions went down tamely. Lotte's in.
Fans sit in front of the seats and a passageway to the restroom, areas not exactly designated for seating, during Saturday's game that Samsung desperately needed to win to keep its faint playoff hopes alive. The Lions won 7-0 but Lotte won't lose. The bastards.
This ain't MLB, Part 214: Some stretch-run notes about the Korean league:
** Much of September is reserved for games that were rained out. So there are no three-game sets against one team. Samsung has two games at SK (Incheon), one at Doosan (Seoul) and one at Hanwha (Daejeon).
** The regular-season champ has direct entry to the Korean Series. The fourth- and third-place teams play a best-of-five series. The top two teams wait. The winner of the preliminary series faces the second-place team in a best-of-five. The top seed waits. The winner of the latter series faces the top seed. The winner of the best-of-seven series is the champ. Oh, and any game tied after 12 innings is declared done and replayed.
Now, what does the regular-season champ do for two weeks while the other squads face live pitching and stay loose? No idea. It didn't impact the SK Wyverns, who won the title last season.
Bonus photo from Saturday's game:
Two of the Lions' four mascots taunt a Heroes player during pregame stretching.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
I'll begin with a war story. In 1951, U.S. commanders ordered a South Korean pilot, Jang Ji-ryang, to bomb Haeinsa, a temple located in the mountains west of Daegu. He refused. His insubordination meant that he faced execution -- until he described his reasons. Haeinsa is home to one of South Korea's oldest and most sacred treasures, a collection of 81,258 wood blocks that contain the world's oldest Buddhist canon in Chinese script.
That's just one example of a rather charmed life led by these wood blocks, which remain at Haeinsa, one of three Jewel Temples of South Korea. Because of the canon, called the Tripitaka Koreana, Haeinsa represents the dharma, or Buddhist teachings.
But to focus on the Tripitaka Koreana -- and its 52,382,960 characters that spell out all of Buddha's principles and teachings -- would not do Haeinsa justice.
Legend has it that two monks, through prayer, cured Kina Aejang's wife of her illness. the king expressed his gratitude by building Haeinsa. This tree was built to mark the occasion in the year 802; the tree died in 1945 but its trunk remains...
Like nearly every other Korean temple, it's located in the mountains, about a 90-minute bus ride west of Daegu. The final 18 kilometers are up a mountain, some of it on quite a windy road. (An only-in-Korea moment: On the mountain, a lone girl got off the bus, walked across a plank over a ditch, smiled and waved to the bus, and hiked up the mountain. I hardly knew ye.)
From the entrance to the building that houses the Tripitaka Koreana, there are 108 steps, one of each of the temptations a Buddhist must renounce. There are also 108 stitches on a baseball. Penelope had 108 suitors in Homer's Odyssey. And, 108 is the cumulative IQ of 108 Yankees fans. But I digress. The steps move up the center of the temple complex, which has halls on several levels.
A view of the courtyard with the beautiful Korean mountains providing the backdrop. What you see in the middle is a maze. If you pray during your journey through there, you wishes are supposed to come true. I just wanted to see George "Soju" Woods make it through without getting lost.
I must say, I have become rather spoiled with these trips to temples and palaces. This is my fourth temple, and I have visited two palaces in Seoul and a pleasure garden in Gyeongju, and I take the craftwork for granted. I promised myself I'd devote more time to appreciating some of the detail work here, and it is amazing. I can only imagine the care that goes into painting the halls, which not only have stunning detail work on the roof but artwork on the walls that tell stories.
You've probably gathered by now that Haeinsa is almost the perfect tourist site: beautiful, scenic and historically important. Here's more on the latter. The Tripitaka Koreana is housed here, in the
Janggyeong Panjeon, located at the top of the 108th step:
The facility is National Treasure No. 52. The canon is National Treasure No. 32. There are four buildings, forming a rectangle. An ancient but apparently very effective ventilation system and a ban on photography have helped keep the work preserved at Haeinsa since 1398. The original work was carved in 1087, but they were destroyed by fire in the Mongol Invasions in 1232. King Gojong ordered that the work be recreated.
Birch wood was soaked in seawater for three years, then cut into blocks (70x24x2.8 cm) and boiled in salt water. They were then dried in the shade, exposed to winds, for another three years, then smoothed. A team of 30 men carved 23 lines of 14 characters on each side of the wood. When a carver finished each character, he bowed and prayed. There are no known errors in the text. After the text was engraved, the blocks were given a poisonous lacquer coating to repel insects and each corner was reinforced with metal to prevent warping. The work was finished in 1251. These blocks have somehow survived Japanese invasions and a fire at the temple. The blocks remain locked in the Panjeon, which has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The blocks containing the world's oldest Buddhist canon in Chinese characters are found behind these bars. Each block does have a sticker with numbers on it, such as "53179, #067-07-33." In this building, the blocks are stacked 11 rows high on wooden shelves.
UPDATE:I plan on posting a more thorough photo album on Facebook. I will post an update when I do that. I have posted more photos on Facebook. The public link is here.
Copy editing update: In my earlier post I misspelled the Tripitaka Koreana. How about that -- there are no errors among the more than 52 million words in the text, and I can't even get the title correct.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here. Or you can just tell me at Commune's.
This blog entry concludes the very delayed recounting of my mom's visit to South Korea last month.
My mom has been in the friendly confines of New Hampshire for about a month. In other words, she's over the jet lag now. So I figured it was safe to ask her to name her five favorite things about her visit to South Korea. Here we go.
Da-sot (5):Korean Folk Village. She cites "all those beautiful costumes" from around the world, with an emphasis on Asian countries. These are from Botswana and Morocco:
Net (4):Bulguksa. The UNESCO World Heritage site provided many an impressive site, including a golden Buddha and a garden where anyone can pile stones on each other to make their dreams come true:
Set (3):Anapji Pond. I say this with all due respect for Mom's opinions: She is one of maybe 300 tourists who would place Anapji Pond ahead of Bulguksa. But bless her, she loved how serene it was. She offers no explanation, other than just going with her gut feeling: "I just fell in love with Ana-whatever-the-name-of-that-lake-was":
Dul (2):Napoli Italian Restaurant. Yes, in the land of serene temples, plush mountains, centuries-old palaces and more than 2,000 years of history, No. 2 on Mom's list of her visit to a country halfway across the world was an Italian dinner. I will say this about Mom: She was not closed-minded about Korean food. She just didn't like it. Given a choice between another taste of jjigae and a mixed cocktail of Robitussin and Castor Oil, Mom would choose ... well, death, probably. She tried kimchi. She tried galbi. The food just wasn't for her. Napoli is a first-rate place that needs to be known here more than it is. The chef is Italian, so it's real Italian food, not the Korean version of Italian. Plus, as Mom said, "You don't often get to sit down and talk opera with the owner of the restaurant."
Hana (1):The DMZ. "Just to think I was in a war zone and not being fired at, and being so close to North Koreans that I'd rather not discuss it." Here she is next to one of the good guys, albeit in North Korean territory:
Honorable mention goes to her visit to my middle-school conversation class. Worst honors go to Seomun Market, home of 4,000 shops, little room to move and live (but not for long) roosters for sale.
And that wraps it up. Mom assures everyone that she enjoyed the trip. The people were nice, the subways were convenient, and the sights were beautiful. On behalf of Mom, Annyeonghi gyeseyo!
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
This blog entry continues the very delayed recounting of my mom's visit to South Korea last month.
For everything my mom and I did over the week she visited, she really hadn't seen much of me in my element. Granted, she did meet my co-workers during a going-away dinner for two teachers. And she did have coffee at my favorite place, At Home. But aside from the occasional chats with friends, she didn't really see me in what you'd consider my daily routine. I was as much a tourist as she was.
That changed on her final full day in South Korea.
There was no getting out of it: I had to work. Two teachers just left. Their replacements were observing classes and not ready to handle a regular schedule. So I worked. At about 3 p.m. I left my apartment, giving my mom some peace (Baldy's constant sniping notwithstanding; the little guy never did give Mom enough slack while she was here). Luckily for me I had a 70-minute break which enabled me to walk home from Yale, pick up Mom, and accompany her on a 20-minute walk back to school.
For about 90 minutes, she killed time while I taught. She read, listened to classical music on my laptop through iTunes radio, and met a few colleagues. At 9:20, it was time to rejoin her and lead her to the seventh-floor elevator. And shortly after 9:25, she had her brush with Glory:
The kids you see comprise Glory, a conversation class for second-year middle school students. They're a cheeky bunch. For homework one night I asked them to write down 20 questions to ask a classmate. At any given time I could have them ask three questions, as well as follow-ups. One student's questions included "Who are you?" "Who am I?" and "How many kilometers is it to Seoul?" But it's a good group and I knew they'd welcome my mom and participate while at the same time being genuine enough to give my mom a representative glimpse of what I do.
Someone asked Mom what she thought about me. Mom, being Mom, told the class I was handsome, smart, athletic and owner of a good sense of humor. Every student's face said the same thing: "I don't think you understood our question. We're asking you about the dork who teaches us twice a week."
Another asked what her favorite movie was. Upon my prompting, Mom informed them, "Transformers." That got a good laugh and round of applause. Mom then told the truth: "West Side Story." One student, my best one, recognized it as a musical but could tell us nothing else.
The Q and A lasted about 10 minutes -- someone unsurprisingly asked her age, and Mom didn't hesitate to tell them 67 -- and then I taught the rest of class. My mom was impressed as they spoke in pairwork and did exercises. I did not err in my choice of class -- they can get untracked and a little silly sometimes (they did attend middle school and possibly another academy earlier in the day) but they do work hard. And I'm glad I was able to, in my mom's final hour or so in Daegu, actually show her a little bit of the reason I am here in the first place.
Up next: Mom's top five things she did in South Korea.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
Last weekend I played in four football matches -- and yes, my American readers, I mean soccer -- in Ulsan. The tournament format is rather complicated, so here goes nothing. We played three pool matches, after which teams were divided into a Cup bracket and a consolation bracket. The winner of each bracket got to make a victory speech, only to be interrupted by Kanye West.
There's no sense in going through the blow-by-blow, especially considering we lost three of four matches. But it was good to be reunited with the Marauders of Gyeongju FC. I did not take photos, but I have friends who did.
This link should take you to the Facebook album as shot by resident team photographer Sue Han. If you are unable to see this album, it is not my fault that you are like totally uncool for not being on Facebook. [UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: This link is different than before. It should get you to the album that anyone can view.]
I'll explain one set of pics. You'll see me apparently delivering speeches etc. That is our awards ceremony. Our new manager, Andrew Jay, did a great job putting that together. I made the speeches because (a) I managed the team before the tournament and thus had more background on the players, and (b) I'm an attention whore. I hope you all appreciate the irony of the only man on our team who does not need a mike being awarded with a mike.
I'm working on another link to another album, although that album isn't exclusively about the weekend.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
This blog entry continues the very delayed recounting of my mom's visit to South Korea last month.
As I stated in an earlier post, my mom is a beach person. Whether it was Kettle Cove, Otter Brook, Surry Dam, Granite Lake, or any other wetland with a strip of sand nearby, my mom always took me and my siblings to the beach. And now that she visited me in South Korea, it was time to return the favor.
There are many beaches here, and none are more popular than Haeundae Beach. Koreans like to speak of Haeundae as a first-class resort area. It's not. It is easily the most populated beach in the country. There are luxury hotel chains, Western restaurants, even a casino in the neighborhood. Some of Busan's most popular nightlife is there. But swanky it ain't.
Still, given the choice between a hidden gem I didn't know about, and as easily accessible and popular spot, I told Mom we had to head to Haeundae. This was going to be a simple day trip: Take the KTX to Busan, ride in a cab to Haeundae, say, "Look! It's Haeundae!" and leave. It was not that simple. But it was a quick day.
The big phenomenon at Haeundae is how crowded it can get. I chose to take Mom on a Monday for two reasons. One, I did not want out-of-town trips on back-to-back days (we had gone to Gyeongju on Saturday). Two, as fun as it would be to see a wall of people on the beach, we would be unable to actually set stuff down and walk around if we so chose. So I chose Monday, and here is what we saw:
I soon treated Mom to another Korean phenomenon. When the natives jump in the ocean, they bring something with them: their clothes:
Our tour of Haeundae included a visit to the Busan Aquarium (more on that in a bit), lunch at Breeze Burn's (one of the best burger joints I've frequented in South Korea) and our hey-look-at-the-beach moments. At one of the plazas, a video screen told tourists how popular Haeundae was, you know, just in case we decided to move the extra 20 meters onto the beach. I think my mom dipped her hands into the Sea of Japan East Sea, which was enough for her, so after less than three hours we headed back to Busan Station.
This trip enabled me to experience something new. I actually rode on the Gwangan Bridge, an impressive structure completed in time for the 2002 Asian Games:
The view from the taxi.
The bridge, at 7,240 meters (4.5 miles), is the longest in Korea. From the bridge, one can view the Gwangalli Beach area:
This area is known for having cafes and bars close to the beach. On many summer nights the road will be closed to cars, enabling partiers to drink at tables on the street.
Bonus Busan Aquarium pictures: This trip marked my second visit to the Busan Aquarium. I blogged about my first visit here. I wasn't happy with the photos from that blog entry, so the journalist in me was thankful for a second chance. And here are the photos:
This is a shark egg.
And this is what the shark egg becomes.
With one full day remaining in Korea, there was one thing left for my Mom to do: Meet my students.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
This blog entry continues the very delayed recounting of my mom's visit to South Korea last month.
When my mom had three full days left in Korea, the "to-do" list became more refined and somewhat more urgent. We had to complete my mom's gift shopping spree. And I had to find food my mom would actually eat.
Given that we had traveled quite a bit during three of my mom's first four days, we opted to stay in Daegu on Day 5. We started in the afternoon with a trip to Seomun Market. I had never been there either, which led to the second-most popular conversation of the day. My mom would ask, "Where are we going?" And I would say I didn't know.
Seomun Market has more than 4,000 shops. The stalls are set up on the street, under tents, and on multiple floors in four buildings. They sell shirts, jackets, pants, jewelry, Hanboks, pins, fish, traditional Korean food, silverware -- just about anything aside from live roosters. Actually, they had those too. Now that you are aware of all these options, it's time to reveal the most common conversation we had that day: "Where are the socks?" "I don't know."
We spent about two hours there. Of all the shops at the market, there are only two geared toward tourists. We found one. Were I a middle school girl, I would have spent all of my money there. But I'm not, so I watched Mom buy her socks, we looked at countless other things we decided nobody back home would like, and cabbed it back to my place for a couple of hours' rest.
That night I found a Daegu restaurant that finally hit all the right notes with Mom. I thought for sure I would hit the jackpot the night before, when I took her to old reliable Moong Tigi. But she deemed the pork too fatty and wasn't interested in many of the side dishes. Mom loved a lot about Korea, but she never took to the food.
That's why I made reservations to Napoli, an Italian restaurant that specializes in course meals. (We also realized the joy of cell phones. When the cab driver told me he did not know the location -- remember, there are no street names in South Korea -- I called the restaurant and they spoke to him. Cell phones are useful; it's the idiots who don't know when to turn them off that shouldn't exist.)
The chef, an Italian named Natale, was fantastic. He visited our table, recommended a good wine and pasta dish for my mom, and most importantly to my fickle dinner guests, talked about the joys of opera. I enjoyed my meal of pumpkin soup, five-cheese prosciutto, penne with tomatoes and mozzarella, salad, steak and potatoes, and dessert. My mom loved her pasta and salad, but I think the opportunity to discuss the decline of world-class tenors and the emotional roller-coaster of "La Traviata" pleased her just as much. Now, if only they sold socks with the coffee ...
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
This blog entry continues the very delayed recounting of my mom's visit to South Korea last month.
It is impossible to see every significant historical site in Gyeongju in one afternoon. Given our time window of one afternoon, I told my mom we just had to see Bulguksa. After that I gave her a choice: Asia's oldest observatory or the pleasure garden built for one of Korea's most important kings. She chose the pretty pond over the stone building.
My mom at Anapji Pond, shortly before the loudspeakers played a Korean-rock-isized version of "Jingle Bells." You think I am making that up. I am not. Ask Mom.
Anapji Pond, or "the pond of the geese and ducks," was built by the order of King Munmu, the 30th ruler of the Silla Dynasty but the first to conquer/unify the other two dynasties, making him The Man on the Peninsula last in the seventh century. He is not a humble man; Munmu insisted that he should be buried in the Sea of Japan East Sea so he could become a dragon and protect Silla from Japan. No doubt the Koreans wonder where this dragon was in 1910, but in the interest of not getting thrown out of the country, I won't ask anyone.
Most of Munmu's palace at Anapji is gone. Three buildings remain, and I am unable to tell you for certain if they are faithfully rebuilt replicas, the original, or some of both. Koreans pay about a dollar to enter, walk around, picnic or peruse the artifacts.
Oh yes: the artifacts. In 1975 and '76, there were more than 33,000 of them retrieved, including the first helmet worn by Vinny Testaverde. Many of them are at the nearby National Museum of Gyeongju. Others are at the pond. There are bowls, jars, tiles, cookware, pottery and many more items recovered from underwater.
My mom enjoyed the pond more than Bulguksa. I think it's the water -- she's a beach kind of gal, so I think the large pond appealed to her more than Bulguksa's architecture. She just loved the calm setting. Anyway, pictures:
A model of Munmu's palace, pre-ruination.
This was meant to prevent evil spirits from entering the palace. I am referring to the monster tile, not my reflection.
The view from behind.
Questions, comments, demands and requests can be sent here, or leave a comment on the Mark Fitzhenry's "Korea Blogging!" page here.
I have a lot of catching up to, so I'll be brief and let the photos and the links do most of the talking, or at least as much talking as a computer monitor with words on it can do.
I wanted to show her a temple, and in South Korea, if you must choose one, it is usually Bulguksa, which is classified as a UNESCO World Heritage site. Grammar note: Sa means "temple" in Korean, so calling it "Bulguksa Temple" is actually calling it "Bulguk Temple Temple." It's not quite on the top of Annoying Things Copy Editors Always Notice, such as "ATM machine," but consider yourself educated.
The sa is home to seven designated National Treasures of Korea, and they seem to have been no-brainer choices. All seven were named in the first class designated on Dec. 20, 1962. My mom remarked on how peaceful the place was, even when it was flooded by tourists. Indeed, after a 20,000 cab ride from the bus station (in traffic) and a short ride up a mountain and a quick walk through a path, a bridge over a pond leads into the main temple, where people respectfully tread on ground many people still consider sacred.
The pond, leading the way.
Mom in Vanna White mode.
In the foreground are the White Cloud and Blue Cloud bridges, aka National Treasures No. 23. I know: You and I would call them "steps." No one can walk up these. Notice the arch under the platform between the two levels of steps. To the far right, those bridges are National Treasures No. 22.
Daeungjeon, one of the many halls (I count five on the pamphlet). People do come here to pray (but must remove their shoes before entering). No photos allowed inside with an exception you'll see later.
To the left is National Treasure No. 21, Samcheungseoktap, a three-story stone pagoda and one of two significant pagodas in front of Daeungjeon.
And here's the other one, National Treasure No. 20, Dabotap. Enjoy the link for an unobstructed view because this one is being repaired.
One of two Buddhas at Bulguksa with National Treasure status. This one is the Vairocana statue. I was allowed to take the photo from a distance.
This is Treasure No. 61 -- but not a National Treasure. This pagoda was taken to Japan during that country's occupation of Korea.
This rock garden is in the back. The very nice woman in the tourism booth told me that people stack rocks on each other to make their dreams come true. I didn't bother, which I guess explains why Julia Stiles isn't returning my phone calls.
And a bonus Triple Crown of Korean Photography picture:
You have everything you need here for a typical Korean family portrait: the adorable infant, the kid already posing, and the mom getting her hair ready.
To see more photos, click here to see my Facebook photo album. It's available to anyone, even if you are not on Facebook.
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Today marked the beginning of my third month of Hapkido training -- and my first sparring session.
Given that I was the only student in class today, my sparring partner was Teacher, a former movie stuntman and a black belt.
We donned boxing gloves and sparred for five rounds of 2-3 minutes each. Teacher was very kind. In the second round, Teacher used only his left hand. For the third round, he used only his right hand. And in all five rounds he put on the most dominating performance by anyone wearing gloves since Ken Clean Air System pummeled Petula Wilcox:
It's amazing how, when it comes time to spar, especially against a black belt who will show only minimal mercy, everything I learned just flew out of my brain to make room for the panic button. My steps were out of order. I didn't have enough stamina to protect my face, or throw as many punches as I should have, for that matter.
After we finished, Teacher asked me why, after weeks of practice 1-2, 1-2 (jab-punch, jab-punch), why I didn't do it much during sparring. And I demonstrated. "My 1-2," I said, showing him my left jab and right punch. "Your 1," I added, punching myself in the face through a gap I often left when I threw punches.
A few more random thoughts about the session. I was not supposed to block any punches to the stomach; I would just absorb them and continue to block my face. I still don't know how to block a punch to the side of the face. Sometimes I punched him in the eye, said "Sorry," and he smiled and told me I did good. He popped me good a couple of times; that's life in training. By the end, after he suggested I take an ice shower, I was tired, humiliated, and somehow still breathing.
Weight update: I weighed myself on 27 of 31 days in August, first thing in the morning. My stated goal is to maintain a weight under 90.9 kilograms/200 pounds. I was more than 98 kg/about 216 pounds when I arrived here 10 months ago. The numbers for August:
Low weight: 90.6 kg (199.32 pounds) on Aug. 4. Top weight: 92.2 kg (202.84 pounds) on Aug. 16. Days under 90.9 kg/200 pounds: Four (most recently Aug. 20). Median weight: 91.4 kg (201.08 pounds).
A few more random thoughts about the session. I was not supposed to block any punches to the stomach; I would just absorb them and continue to block my face. I still don't know how to block a punch to the side of the face. Sometimes I punched him in the eye, said "Sorry," and he smiled and told me I did good. He popped me good a couple of times; that's life in training. By the end, after he suggested I take an ice shower, I was tired, humiliated, and somehow still breathing.