The Amazing/Horrible/Unthinkable/Beautiful end of the Road [Cambodia]

Some of you may remember a mistake I made a little while back, which threw a giant chainsaw (wrenches are for suckers) into my summer vacay plans. As it was, I missed out on Cambodia the first time around, and was determined to make up for this short coming on my way outta town (also know as the continent of Asia).  Thus, on a lovely day in mid October, Ali Matt and I crossed the boarder into the Kingdom of Cambodia... by foot.

The bording crossing itself was just plain silly. After a boat, tuk-tuk, bus combo pack from Don Det, we found ourselves on the border of Laos and Cambodia; or rather, almost at the boarder. Our bus kicked us (and our bags) out just before the border, where we would officially exit the country. Along with a small group of travelers like ourselves (and one man unlucky enough to be dragging a rolling bag throughout this ordeal) we checked out of Laos and crossed into Cambodia by walking along a muddy gravel road past what looked like a pretty grand border crossing building, which had been abandoned mid construction. We made our way to what was essentially a picnic table next to one of those portable awnings they use at fairs and farmers markets labeled with the words Health Check. Here we had to sign a piece of paper saying we didn't have any freaky diseases and have a weird contraption pointed at our heads. I am pretty sure we were having our temperatures checked and it all felt weirdly similar to the summer that was Swine09, when we had to check each camper before they were allowed onto camp at the start of the session (that turned out great...) After our health checks we went to a different office to fill out our Cambodian visa application. Fine. nbd, standard visa app, attach your photos, pay the fee, whatever. What was really silly is the fact that one of the immigration officers spent the entire 30 min or so we were all standing around this office taking photos of everyone on a digital camera. Whether this was their security protocol and/or they were taking photos for the immigration website or something of that nature, we'll never know. What we do know is that someone at the Cambodian immigration office has roughly 30 pictures of each of us. One more office, and an official, hand-written visa later, we had walked our way into Cambodia and onto a bus bound for [Siem Reap, Cambodia]

Those keeping track at home may recall that we were wandering our way through South East Asia during the rainy season and, as such, had heard (and told) more than a handful of stories resulting from the occasional monsoon. We had heard along the way that large portions of Siem Reap were underwater; but, as the city is home to the famous Ankor Temples, and we felt we had given the city a week or so to dry out, we decided to try our luck in the ancient kingdom. Turns out, this was an interesting roll of the dice.

It was amusing and a bit confusing when, upon arriving in Siem Reap, the usual shouts of "Where you go!?" and "You need guest house??" Were replaced with "You need a boat??" Not that anyone had a boat, the shouts were coming from the same tuk-tuks we had seen everywhere else. It was just that these little nuggets were now forcing their way through up to two feet of rushing water to reach their destination. As it was, we got a little wet. Woops.



Having to walk barefoot through knee deep water in the streets of a SE Asian city aside, Siem Reap is a pretty cool place. There are loads of guest houses, and markets and restaurants and nightlife, and lots of shops to benefit various causes (if you can sort the legit from the not-so much...) But, the real reason to come to Siem Reap and the real reason it has become such a popular travel destination, are the UNESCO World Heritage Site Ankor Temples, and their crown Jewel, one of the seven wonders of the world, Ankor Wat.

We may have stayed up too late the day before our 14 hour temple marathon, and it may have rained on our sunrise Ankor Wat party, and my sleepy photos from the first hour or so might be pretty yucky; but, the two days we spent exploring the ruins of the once glorious Khmer kingdom, were absolutly amazing. This, my friends, is a place where words and photos cannot do justice to reality. As it is, I will let a handful of my inappropriate amount of photos do the talking, I swear they will try their best...

One last interesting note, that you will have to imagine on your own, is this: half way to one of the temples our tuk-tuk passed a gaggle of monkeys. Matt decided he wanted to check out said monos and asked our guide to stop. I chose this opportunity to stay in the tuk-tuk and discuss with our new friend Josey how much I hate monkeys and my extensive fears that one will bite me and I will end up with rabies. (It happens ok...) As far as I know Matt had gotten the attention of the monkeys in question by creating a moving target of himself a few yards from the tuk-tuk. I maintain this blissfull ignorance until Josey, who is sitting across from me yells, "OH MY GOD!!" Turning around to see what's going on, I come face to face with a monkey, practically sitting on my shoulder, who has just grabbed a fist full of my hair. Like the cool, calm and collected lady I am, I scream some profanities at the top of my lugs, leap off the tuk-tuk, and start to run down the road. I then refused to return to the tuk-tuk, until our guide was kind enough to drive a considerable distance from the offending primates.  It was pretty special and, just so you know, rabies kills.

When not wandering ancient ruins, we filled our time with shopping and eating, and a trip to the Ankor National Museum (don't try this when tired, hungry, and a bit worse for the wear). We even visited a photo exhibit at the Friends Without Boarders, Ankor Hospital for Children and spent one evening perfecting [read:learning] some Khmer cooking skills, by which point we decided we were over fording the river every time we left the guest house. It was time to move on.

On to the next one, on to [Phnom Penh, Cambodia]. Phnom Penh is not an easy place to be; because, for many, Cambodia was/is not an easy place to be. It is impossible to write about Cambodia without touching on the unthinkable history of this beautiful country. Once it was one of the most prosperous, wealthiest countries in South East Asia (and continental Asia). There were teachers, and doctors, and artists. People say it was a wonderful place to live. And then, all of a sudden, it wasn't. Even if it's no fun at all, it's nearly impossible to think about Cambodia without thinking about Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. If you can forget the heinous crimes and atrocities committed against its own people by the Khmer Rouge elsewhere, Phnom Penh is where you remember.

When the Khmer Rouge took power in 1975, they began to radically transform the nation "into a rural, classless society in which there were no rich people, no poor people, and no exploitation." In reality, Pol Pot (Brother #1) and his followers massacred nearly two million Cambodians, between 1975 and 1979. Along with evacuating all major cities, and relocating millions of people to joint-labor rural "communities," the Khmer Rouge targeted the educated and, in effect, wiped out the countries entire infostructure (teachers, doctors, businessmen, education, currency etc.) during its reign. The Khmer Rouge executed and tortured those who did not fit into its "pure, classless, agrarian society" and left behind thousands of mass graves (many filled with women and children), chilling prisons and torture facilities. With out getting into the details, I encourage those unaware to look into what was going on in the world a short four decades ago because, until I went to Asia, I had no idea. "Never Forget, Never Again" are words often associated with the Holocaust, for us Members of The Tribe. Those same words can (and should) be applied to all global genocides, Cambodia's tragic history included. Just as many believe it is imperative to visit the concentration camps sprinkled across Eastern Europe, it is immensely important to visit the Killing Fields and S21 Prison / Genocide Museum when in Phnom Phen. Everyone will react and process in their own way; but, no matter what, it is not enjoyable. You will probably cry and it will make you sick to your stomach. But you have to go and you have to educate yourself. Never Forget. Never Again.

Lest you believe that Phnom Penh is all depressing, though at least a solid day of it most certainly is, my favorite part about the city was the chance to see that is has begun to (and will continue to) come back to life. With out a doubt there are still many problems in the city (and country); there is massive amounts of poverty, malnutrition, drug and sex workers, and a lack of quality education; but, there is also a city full of people who are proud to be Cambodian. There is a country full of people doing everything they can to better their situations and that of their country. Cambodia has come along way since the Khmer Rouge and one can only hope the upcoming years will breath a little bit of justice and a lot of happiness into it's lungs.

My friends and I spent the rest of the next few days, trying to soak up the best of Phnom Penh; which turned out to be attending the tail end of the FIFA U21 Championship game (Myanmar v. Thailand), wandering through the Russian Market, eating at some wonderful "for a good cause" restaurants, and taking a sunset ride along the river.

[Koh Rong, Cambodia] was the perfect end to a wonderful two months. Located off the coast of Sihanoukville, this tiny island was a place to lay on the beach and enjoy a few (or more) last days of Asian sun. In the original game plan, there was one more stop on the list. In reality, once we arrived on Koh Rong, we knew we weren't leaving. Did I mention (after vacating Monkey Island due to an overdose of techno music) we were sleeping in a tree house? Sure, I got more potentially malaria-inducing mosquito bites than I would like and there were freaky-deaky geckos all up in our bathroom and I may or may not have had the Bubons; but it was pretty, and relaxing, and wonderful. Like I said, we weren't leaving, not quite yet.

We laid and swam and read and chatted for one last week and then repacked our bags for the long haul. Ali still had a few weeks of Vietnam (jealousss..) left on her side; but, 48 hours and a lovely layover in Seoul later, Matt and I were on our way home(ish). When we opened our eyes this time, we'd be stateside for the first time in over a year...

And that, my friends, is that. You made it through my adventures sans Malaria, Cholera, Plague or any sort of unfortunate Brokedown Palace situations... Amazing, right? And it only took three months air all that dirty laundry adventuring (Let's be honest, I threw almost everything, water-buffalo-poop-sneakers included, away before leaving Phnom Penh). Are you proud of yourself? You should be. As a quasi-self-aware rambler, I am impressed anyone stuck around long enough to hear the whole story.

And what a ridiculous, amazing story it was. I am unbelievably lucky to have had the opportunity to travel as much as I have, it is an opportunity I will always be thankful for, and always remember. I am lucky to have a family that's ok(ish) with my galavanting all over the place and I am lucky to have found a way to support myself throughout (what up GEPIK!) At the end of the day I am also, most especially, lucky to have teamed up with such fabulous travel companions. I owe my sanity and safety (and most of the fun) along the way to my friends Ali and Matt. Thanks for hanging out with me chingus, you're pretty great (and lawless.. and flawless...) !

So, here I am again,  9 days away from boarding a plane to India. Another adventure, and surely, a whole different sort of experience awaits. On to the next one...stick around if you want to hear about it!

Emily


Cambodia Travel Links:
http://www.travelfish.org/country/cambodia
http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Travel-g293939-s205/Cambodia:Recommended.Reading.html
http://www.canbypublications.com/cambodia/buses.htm
http://www.theangkorguide.com/
http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g297390-d817089-Reviews-The_Siem_Reap_Hostel-Siem_Reap_Siem_Reap_Province.html
http://www.travelfish.org/accommodation_profile/cambodia/southern_cambodia/sihanoukville/koh_rong/all/4494

Gang's All Here [Thailand Take 2]

A brief[ish] update on a brief stop in the Land of Smiles:

Last we all heard, Ali and I had ended our Malaysian adventure by boarding a harmless, albeit ridiculously long [read: 22 hours] sleeper train bound for [Bangkok, Thailand]. Both of us had already spent some quality time in Thailand and Bangkok in particular, so this leg of the trip was an effort to see a few things we missed the first time around, use the backpacker mecca as a pit stop to purchase anything we may have forgotten and, most importantly,  pick up our third travel companion, Matt. Mattchyu-teacher had also visited Bangkok over winter vacay and insisted/suggested that we stay at least a night in the city to experience the glory of The Atlanta, one of the oldest hotels in Bangkok.  While I'm usually not convinced to visit a city solely on the recommendation of a single hotel, after checking out The Atlanta's website, Ali and I were most definitely in for a night [or two].

Here I must give kudos to Matt, as the The Atlanta was one of the coolest places I have ever stayed. The facilities have remained largely unaltered since it opened as a luxury hotel in the 1950s, the exception being certain areas that were destroyed by floods. The initial attitude and services of the hotel are intact as well, along with a few new features (high-speed internet) tucked away in unobtrusive corners. You know those scenes in movies where the main character is sitting in an abandoned, dilapidated ballroom or mansion? The ones where music and chatter from an earlier, more prosperous era slowly build and a scene from some luxurious party or affair appears? I know that you know, think Titanic or something of that nature. Sitting at an antique writing desk, looking across the foyer in The Atlanta, it's like your just waiting for one of those scenes to overtake you. Its no stretch to imagine women in gowns and furs drifting past, chatting away with their tuxedoed companions, all while you sit there awed an under-dressed in those dirty cut-offs and sandals. I knew I should have brought my mink...

[ An important note to travelers: The Atlanta is NOT Khao San Road. It is, most unfortunately, located in what has become the center of sex tourism in Bangkok. That being said they maintain the following hilariously, unapologeticly blunt attitude towards "degenerates":   Visitors who object to any of The Atlanta's policies or  who intend to spend their time in Thailand whoring and indulging in alcohol abuse and illicit drugs should stay elsewhere. The Atlanta is not that kind of place. Tourism is not about going on a rampage through other people's country:  those who cannot travel abroad without behaving badly should stay home. On these policies, The Atlanta is not interested in dissenting public opinion or what the business world calls 'customer feedback'. The Atlanta caters to a certain kind of clientele and that is the end of the matter.  No discussion. No compromise. If it sounds like your kind of place, I would highly recommend The Atlanta as a place of calm in the madness that is Bangkok.]

Our stop in Bangkok was brief, as I mentioned, and only stretched an extra day due to our infatuation with the accommodations. Bangkok was crazy and sleazy and dirty and wonderful as always. Hours outside of the walls of the Atlanta were spent wandering through Khao San looking for replacement sandals and the like, glorying in the reunification of our bellies with delish Thai food, potentially emotionally scaring a few fellow Americans, and first time travelers, after bringing them out in one of the seedier areas I've ever been, and making absolutely sure Matt did not leave Bangkok for the second time without seeing mine and Ali's favorite temple Wat Arun. [above]

Two days, and an hour train ride North later, Ali, Matt and I, found ourselves far removed from the hustle and bustle and grim and gold of Bangkok. We dropped our bags, and traded tuk-tuks for bikes, grabbed some water and piled on the DEET. A few minutes of pedaling later, we were in the opposite of Bangkok; we were here...

 

อาณาจักรอยุธยา or [Ayutthaya, Thailand] What you don't speak Thai?? refers to both the Siamese kingdom existing from 1350-1776 and the capitol of said kingdom. By the end of the 14th century Ayutthaya was the strongest power in mainland South East Asia and, despite numerous aggressors, remained a stronghold of power until the Burmese-Siamese War. The capitol city was burned to ruins in 1767, and with the fall of the city Ayutthaya came the end of the kingdom Ayutthaya. All that remains is the Ayutthaya Historical Park, which is home to the ruins of the once glorious capital, and was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1991. [1] These days, the glorious capital looks a little something like this...

So, where does that leave us? Us being Ali, Matt and I, spent a lovely, sweaty, wonderful afternoon pedaling, wandering, and exploring our way around the various ruins in the historical park. Although I ended the day super sweaty and plastered in dust and grit, it was fantastic riding from one ruin to the next, and wandering around these beautiful temples and palaces from a time so far gone. Whenever I've visited ruins, in both Europe and Asia [South America and Egypt are on the to-do list...] I find myself thinking about how much was going on in the world before America was even on the radar. I think about how young we are as a country, and how different we may be a few centuries (or Millenia) from now. And then my brain explodes. I guess the world will have to wait and see, for now all we can do is marvel at those things left behind by others, and hope that these treasures are still around for our grandchildren to appreciate. The later, given current events (only a few weeks after our stopover) , is unfortunately less likely than I would like to admit.  But hey, they've lasted this long.

After climbing our way through the ruins for a few hours, and nearly being run off the [very small] road by a succession of mega tour buses, my friends and I rinsed off the grim ( Tony's Place was kind enough to let us store our bags for the afternoon and used their showers fo'free - Asahh!) and boarded yet another night train bound for Chiang Mai.

I had visited the jewel that is Chiang Mai on a previous solo adventure, but as neither Ali or Matt had a chance to venture further North than the capitol and I had such a wonderful experience in the city, I was happy to give it a second go. For a few days, we soaked in the city and enjoyed a few Thai massages. Ali and Matt took a cooking course and I was finally able to check out Wat Doi Suthep. Ali and I hunted down some some Korean food (by this time we were experiencing some serious withdrawal) and wandered the weekend market,  Matt got his teeth cleaned, and we spent a few hours reading books by the pool. What more could you ask for? Oh? Whats that? A visit an ultra modern, decidedly creepy, temple enroute to the next destination? Oh! I forgot to tell you! We did that too.

Enter Wat Rong Khun, or the White Temple, in Chiang Rai. This Wat slash ongoing contemporary art project, visited during a break on our ride to the border, is the creation of Thai artist Chaloemchai Khositphiphat ( I haven't the slightest idea how to say that name). The temple grounds are home to monstrous hanging heads, a sea of outstretched hands, and sharp, mirrored spires and are patrolled by a megaphone wielding guard ensuring no one touches the pristine white structure. The inside of the Wat remains unfinished. At the time of our visit, it was being painted with what seemed to be quasi religious murals including contemporary cartoon characters and depictions of current events alla 9/11. It was all very confusing. We weren't even sure it was a real Wat (or what it was at all?) and had to google "scarey white temple, Thailand" before we knew what we were dealing with. To be honest, I am still not quite sure what we were dealing with. What I can say is that Wat Rong Khun was the most thought provoking, unique temple I visited in Thailand. Maybe one day I'll figure out what's going on there.

So that's that on the Thailand-front my friends.  It was a glorious stop on the SEAsia trail, and one I was happy to revisit. At this point it was time to move on to the country I was most excited to visit (there's just something about Laos...) but, before we left, one member of our party of three decided to start a war that would last the remainder of our trip. We should have known nothing good could come of this...nothing good ever comes of it. But, for what it's worth, a good Ice war makes for some hilarious plotting, and ridiculous bumps along the way.

Next stop, Laos.
See you across the Mekong,
Emily

ALSOOOO.... you know the drill, check out my photos for sale HERE!
If, by chance, you are just tuning in and do not in fact know the drill. Feel free to read THIS and figure out what it is I am talking about. Once you've done that you can go HERE to check out some sweet original artwork from yours truly :) Show your friends, show your fam, show errrryone.
Kamsahamnida!

Thailand Travel Links:
http://www.seat61.com/Thailand.htm
www.theatlantahotelbangkok.com
http://www.travelfish.org/map_detail/thailand/bangkok_and_surrounds/ayutthaya/ayutthaya/32
http://www.chiangmaithaihouse.com/index.php

부산: Lanterns, Fishies, and Friends.

Alright as promised, albeit a little later than anticipated, I've finally sat down to sort through the pictures, random notes, and bits of memory from my most recent greater Korealand adventuring. 

A few weeks back, the ROK celebrated both Buddha's Birthday and Children's day and, as a result, I had both Thursday and Tuesday off of school. In a wonderful twist of fate, both Ali's and my school were founded on the same day, thus giving us the additional Friday off in honor of our school's birthdays. Aaasaaa! Happy 4th birthday Banji!!!

We decided to take advantage of our opportunity and head down to Busan, the second largest city in Korea, for a mini Spring break on the Southern Coast. 

Because we are trying to live a more hobo lifestyle (ie: making some attempts to save money for our summer adventures or say... the future) we opted for the slow Mugunwha train (5hrs) rather than the bullet KTX (3 hrs). For this reason, we also opted for a bleary-eyed, early morning departure to maximize our precious mini-vacay. After a Wednesday night slumby in Pyeongtaek, we rolled out of bed around five thirty and headed to PT Station in order to catch an early train South.

We deposited our bags, settled in with some kopi or, in Ali's case, some mudlike choco-coffee grinds mixture of iced distgustingness, and promptly passed out for the first few hours of the trip. Overall I'd say the slow train was an excellent decision. The half priced tickets allowed for a few hours of slumber, along with an hour or so of reading, munching on some Family Mart snacks, and taking in the lovely Korean countryside. We rolled into Busan around 11:45 and quickly transferred ourselves and our bags to the Subway bound for Haeundae Beach, from which we were picked up and whisked off to our weekend mimbak.  

A mimbak is best described the Korea equivallent of a hostel. It is basically a budget guesthouse, providing shoe box sized rooms equipped with ondol floors and blankets, as well as a communal common room and kitchen.  Mimbaks are not often utilized by foreigners, as almost all the information to be found regarding location/reservations/availability are in Korean, which explains why our host seemed simply extatic to pick us up form the subway. The facilities may or may not have been a little worse for the wear, may or may not have required a good dusting upon arrival, may or may not have had floor to ceiling Model T wallpaper,  and may or may not have included a room which to enter one must walk through the adjoined bathroom. Oh, and I forgot, the bathroom may or may not have utilized a half-size bathtub for both bathing and hand washing purposes. Needless to say, it just scraped a passing grade on the hobo test. Place to sleep sans bedbugs? Check. And, it was just a short walk from the largest, nicest beach in Korea. Checkmate. Somehow, I neglected to snap a photo of these four star accommodations. My B. 

We dropped our bags and changed into some lighter clothes, before heading off in search of beach and food. As it is still May, we hadn't really expected sunbathing weather; so we were pleasantly surprised when, post delicious sandwiches, we were able to catch a few hours on the beach dozing, reading, and relaxing under a blazing sun.

After we were had soaked in our fair share of sun, and thoroughly covered ourselves in sand, Ali and I decided to make our way towards Yongdusan Park to take in a view of the city. It was cool to see the true scope and size Busan Bay and the city sprawl; but, true to [Korean] form, even from the 118 meter vantage point of Busan Tower, I felt a little clostrophobic looking at the sheer number of building jammed in between the busy port to the South, and rolling mountains to the North, West and East.

Most Korean-high school-student-esque picture EVER.

Our first evening in Busan, found Ali and I wandering through Gukje Market, spending a lovely few hours 아이쇼핑 (ah-i-syo-ping...eye shopping...window shopping), actually shopping, and accidentally eating a a street food dinner/feast of delicious 파전(pajeon) green onion pancakes and 만두(mandu) dumplings. Kamsah Arri, turns out ordering two mandu, really means that you ordered two servings of five. Two pajeon and ten mandu later, lesson learned. At this point, we were both about ready to settle into a food comma; so, we decided to head back towards our mimbak and catch a late night viewing of 와타포앨어펜트 (wa-ta-po-eal-aw-pen-tuh... figure that one out) before calling it a night. 

Day two we decided to wake up quasi-early (read: before eleven) and check out the two main temples in the area. After a quick round of coffee, we set off for our first destination, Yoeonggungsa Temple (or Yeongung temple... I think Sa is temple...). This was an excellent decision. The temple, perch high on a cliff overlooking the sea, was strung up with about a million colored lanterns in honor of Buddha's Birthday and the effect was simple breathtaking. We spent a good few hours wandering the temple grounds, taking a million pictures and enjoying the sea air. 

Deciding to make a day of it, we left Yeonggungsa around lunch time and headed towards the mountains to Bemeosa, a beautiful temple nestled against the lush green landscape of Guemjeong Mountain. The temple was, again, dressed up in lanterns for Buddah's birthday and, as it had drizzled a bit on our way over, was nearly empty. There were also a few buildings that hadn't been restored in recent years, which were a beautiful contrast to many of the pristine temples and palaces I have visited thus far.  We spent another hour or so strolling through the serene temple complex, snapping a million more photos (I think I am addicted to lanterns and mini Buddhas) and enjoying a few peaceful moments away from the bustle of the city. 

As it started to actually rain on our bus ride back into the city, we decided to seek shelter in a tea shop recommended by Lonely Planet. We spent a lovely hour drinking mystery tea (the entire menu was in Korean) reading our books, and planning our next South East Asian adventure. There are few things that can make these two travel/bookworms happier. 

 

As evening began to stretch into night we both had thoughts of dinner and showers, but less than stellar feelings about the bathing facilities at the Four Seasons Daegu Mimbak. Enter Spaland, the largest sauna and jimmjilbang in Korea, and possibly in all of Asia. As Spaland is also part of Busan Shinsegae (a very shmancey department store) it goes without saying that is is also the nicest jimmjibang most people will ever set foot in, yours truly included. After stumbling on this gem of an idea, we quickly dashed back to the mimbak and grabbed a change of clothes before heading off to Shinsegae. BEST. IDEA. EVER.

After locking up our shoes, and changing into the provided jumpsuits, we spent about an hour testing out all the different sauna rooms the facilities had to offer. We spent a little while getting nice and sweaty in two rooms that looked like a combination between beehives and adobe mud ovens, before moving on to a series of what I will call "novelty rooms" including (but not limited to) one where the marble floor pulsed almost imperceptibly to the beat of soothing background music, a room filled with a variety of pulsing colored lights and claiming to be sending electronic waves through our bodies, a steam room designed to mimic a roman bath and, finally, a cold room with an aquarium which may or may not have contained uber-realistic plastic jelly fish. 

Nice and sweaty we headed back towards the ladies locker room and baths, stripped off, and headed into the fanciest room of soaking tubs I have ever seen. We spent another hour or so soaking in baths of varying temperatures employing an equal variety of jets. We even soaked for a little while in an outdoor bath, designed to mimmick a natural hot spring. Assaahh!   

[I will pause here for a note on Korean saunas and jimmjilbangs. The are basically fantastic. There is nothing more satisfying after a long day or, especially, a long hike, than settling in for a nice soak to sooth your sore muscles. I also think that they are one of the few Korean traditions that help balance out the extreme value placed on physical appearance in Korea. The Jimmjilbang is the one place where no one is judging anyone, where no one is expected to be perfect. Everyone is nakie and no one cares. It is a family destination, and a staple in the life of every Korean I know. I think that the bathhouse, and its universal acceptance, can be an amazing enforcer of a positive body image, even in a society as image conscious as Korea. Perhaps the good old U.S. of A. will embrace the Jimmji for all it's glory. My guess...not anytime soon.]

As we had skipped dinner in order to make it to Spaland before the final entry time, Ali and  I left squeaky clean and famished. We hopped on the last subway just before midnight and headed back to the Haeundae area in search of some dinner. We settled on a place Ali had seen earlier, which she had noted was packed with Koreans. The restaurant was still hopping on our arrival, which we took to be a good sign, so we grabbed a table and ordered some galbi. Turns out they don't serve galbi. Poop. After taking a moment to dicifer the menu we ordered what appeared to be their standard fare barbeque and hoped for the best. 

 
We were served up something that, based on its name, I was pretty sure was pork, but looked and tasted exactly like amazing delicious steak. I decided to type the name "galmaegisal" into my hand-uh-pone translator to see if it could help us identify the mystery meat. No help there as "galmaegisal" translates literally to "seagull." I was pretty positive we weren't eating seagull (no one has EVER mentioned it in regards to Korean fare) but, as I couldn't be entirely certain, I decided not to enlighten Ali as to the translation. [ Update: after discussing the matter with my co-teachers, I learned that what we ate was in fact pork. Galmaegisal refers to a small portion of the pig, roughly the size of a seagull. So, final verdict? The mystery meat was.... Diaphram. Cool. It was delicious. I'd eat it again in a second.] The night was topped off with some ice cream treats, and a stroll back the mimbak. Successful day 2? 100%

Saturday morning we woke up and spent the morning relaxing on the beach waiting for our friends Sam and Kelley to arrive. Once they did we decided to spent the afternoon exploring Jalgachi Market, the largest fish market in the country. After wandering through the market sprawl that overflowed onto the surrounding streets we eventually found the large main market building. We checked out the lower floors filled with overflowing fishtanks, and overflowing tables of patrons chowing down on seafood that had been dead less than a minute, before heading upstairs to find a place to eat ourselves. Forgetting, again, that Korean sashimi comes with a feasts worth of banchan (side dishes) we ordered entirely too much food, and proceeded to eat our way through our own seafood banquet. Knowing that us silly waygooks were likely to have little to no idea the proper way to consume said feast, the ajumma in charge of our eating station of choice did her best to help us out by dipping things in the appropriate sauces, smashing entire prawns with the palm of her hand, literally shoving food into our mouths, and telling Sam he was handsome.

Our last evening in Busan was spent relaxing, napping, chitchatting, and enjoying a few drinks near Haeundae before calling it a night, and all cozying up in our kitchen table sized room. 

After an obligatory coffee run, Ali and I made it to our train the next morning with about a minute to spare. I was actually mentally preparing jump onto the moving train, if it started to pull away before we were able to sprint to the correct compartment. Perhaps a little too close for comfort but, alas, we made it onto the train and spent the next few hours dreaming our way back to reality. 

Wheeeew... did you make it? If so you have earned a special place in my heart and for that I leave you with the following hilarious nugget: In light of recent news, Miss Logi Faye and I have spent the last few minutes having a very serious discussion as to who would win in a shankfight/poetry slam/walk-off/dance battle etc between the KKK and the WBC. The conversation has since moved on to whether Dumbledore or Voldemort would win a jello wrestling match if they couldn't use magic. So there's that. 

Love you all for being interested in my ridiculous ramblings on life in the ROK. I assure you I am equally interested in your lives, and would love to hear updates on life in the land of stars, stripes, and Lucnhables.

Anyeong[hikheseyo].
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Not Quite a Monk.

The chants of the mid-morning service and and beating gourds are pulsing through my ears, seeming to simultaneously awaken my senses and lull me back to sleep. Unfortunately, the chanting monks are blaring over the crackly loudspeaker of an intercity bus.

Moments earlier I was hurried onto said bus, even though I was pretty sure it wasn't scheduled to depart for another fifteen minutes. While I sit listening to the tail end of the service, and daydreaming of a cup of ko-pi, the driver has plopped himself down on the curb and taken out a Mallboro, which he will to puff away at for the next ten minutes, before boarding the bus and commencing our trip to Daegu. The beating gourds are still ringing in the air as I fade into bus-coma, knees tucked against a stiff chair back, my face pressed against the polyester curtains.

As it turns out, this isn't quite the same as the real thing.

My time a Haeinsa Temple began, as always, with a bus ride form Daegu, where I had spent the previous, rather uneventful, day checking out an oriental medicine warehouse and drawing in the park. We wove through Korean towns of various sizes, and lumbered up into the mountains eventually reaching a national park (the name of which is escaping me.) From the bus stop, I followed the signs pointing to Haeinsa, trekking about 2km alongside a halfway frozen stream. Throughout these fifteen minutes, it seemed to be the delight of each and every late teen to middle aged Korean man, to stop and say, "Hello!" after which my reciprocal, "Hi," or "Hello" was sure to set of a fit of giggles among the teenage friends and earn a glowing smile from the older crowds. I guess English Ed is providing something positive in this country (amongst other things, I swear!) Upon reaching the temple, it took quite a while to figure out what to do, where to go, or how to find the temple stay coordinator; who, once located, seemed utterly surprised to see me, even though she herself had called me the previous afternoon. She was equally surprised to hear that I did, in fact, have a temple stay reservation, but sat me down and had me filled out the required paperwork, regardless. While I filled out a form identical the one I had completed online two days prior, my middle aged host peppered me with questions as to where I was from, why and how long I was in Korea, where I lived in Korea, and why (as I should have seen coming a mile away) I had come alone and not as a couple? Oh, Korea. She explained a bit about the history of the temple and its famed Triptika Koreana, a collection of 80,000 relief woodcut blocks, containing the most complete collection Buddhist texts without error.

I also learned that as the temple doesn't get frequent weekday, overnight visitors, many of the organized temple stay programs do not run during the week.  As it turns out, I had inadvertently signed up for a "freestyle" temple stay. Meaning, in short, that I would witness the daily goings on of the temple, including the various daily ceremonies, and eat meals in silence with the monks and temple visitors, and would otherwise be left to my own meditation and personal practices for the remainder of my stay. While my knowledge (or lack there of) of the practices of Korea Buddhist Monks was not revolutionized during this freestyle/parkour stay, I had plenty of time to write, draw, think, and relax. I hadn't realized how much I had been running on fumes, until I took a moment to calm down for a bit.



Haeinsa was undoubtably one of the coolest places I have ever spent the night. Sheltered in the hills of Gyeongsammnam-do, it is a beautiful example of traditional [Korean] temple architecture and home to hundreds of dedicated monks. Both the Triptika, and their innovative sheltering buildings, have been listed as World Heritage Treasures by UNESCP , and Haeinsa itself is considered a World Heritage Temple. After the crowded Wats (some, not all) of Thailand, it was wonderful to wander the near deserted grounds as the sun set on the mountains, perfectly at peace.



Upon arrival, I had been given a schedule of sorts, including meal times, services, and ceremonies, as well as a map, on which my guide (for lack of a better word) had circled the locations where each event would occur. After a simple, vegetarian dinner of rice, tofu, and potatoes (and kimchi, obviously) I was pretty sure I was supposed to go to the main worship hall for some sort of evening ceremony/service. As I walked up the stone steps, I heard the beats of a large drum begin to reverberate off every wall in the temple complex, and a monk threw open the large front doors of the building I was headed towards. After placing my shoes along side three or four pairs lined up against the outer wall, I walked in through the side doors, picked up a square cushion and found a place on the floor, out of the way of the few worshipers present. I looked around and attempted to take in the three large Buddha's and the beautifully painted backdrop before me. The monk began to chant; his voice amplified and filled the chamber, and was quickly joined by those others on the room. All the while, the drum continued to sound.

All signs pointed to this being the place where I was supposed to be. That is, or course, until my guide walked in and asked why I was non at the drum ceremony/performance and gave me a very tut-tut, scolding look when I explained that I thought this is where she had said to go. She said that this would be the only time to see the drum, bell, and (for lack of a better title) fish chime performance, and quickly hurried me down to the correct "building." I guess it wouldn't really be Korea, if there was not a little confusion along the way. And, of course, she was right about not missing the performance.



It was truly surreal to stand in the courtyard of the temple, surrounded by beautiful buildings and mountains, listening to a drumbeat so powerful, you can feel it in your heart and lungs.  A single monk stood before the drum, waving and beating the sticks in alternating periods of speed and intensity. For a full 15 minutes, I stood with a few fellow onlookers (all Korean) and let the beat of the drum fill my ears, while the picturesque scene before me filled my mind. A slightly shorter series of beats on what I can only describe as a gigantic hollowed fish cowbell of sorts followed, and the performance closed with deep, reverberating, chimes, from an enormous central bell.

Once I was quite sure the ceremony was over, though the sounds of the bell still hung in the air, I ventured back up to the building from which I came, retrieved my cushion, and tried my best to remember the brief instructions I had be given on a previous temple visit. What followed was on of my more interesting, culturally enriching experiences in Korea. I sat listening to the monks chants swell and combine with those few other voices, simultaneously filling the room with an amazing calm and an incredible energy, the voices keeping time with the beating of a wooden gourd. After ten minutes or so, the monk began a low monotonous chant, and was joined a half beat later by my neighbors on the floor. Everyone began a series of full bows, called postrations. One full bow (one can also do half bows, for different occasions or levels of respect) consists  of the worshiper standing, palms together, facing the Buddha's. The person then raises his or her hands slightly above his head, then lowers them down the chest height and kneels on the cushion. S/He then bends at the waist, arms stretched forward, until his forhead touches the ground, at which point s/he raises her/his hands slightly, palms facing the ceiling. Once the person returns to standing position, s/he or she has completed one bow, or postration.

Postrations, bows, and chanting  are key daily practices in Korean Buddhist worship and are essential on the path to enlightenment. Having done a bit of reading, I had learned that the number of bows is significant, depending on the circumstance. The devout are instructed to do 108 bows each morning or evening, along with regular chanting; however, for various reasons, one may wish to do 1,080, 3,000 or even 10,000 bows, during which each bow is counted on a string of 108 wooden beads. Knowing this may go on for a while (I assumed until the last worshiper had completed his/her bows) I waited until the first person, a middle aged man to my left, finished his bows and left, before collecting my bag, replacing my cushions, and retiring to my ondol heated room. I spent a little while reading through a book on Korean Buddhist practices and then inadvertently broke the "lights out at 9 p.m. rule," buy passing out on my floor mat, lights blazing, at 8:40.

I awoke around 11:30 in what felt like an inferno (a common occurrence with the ondol system) and quickly turned off the lights, before dragging my sleeping pad into an adjacent, significantly cooler, room. I had planned to wake up at 3:30am for the morning ceremony, which I was pretty sure was the same as the drum-fish chime-bell performance, and early morning service, followed by a form of prebreakfast meditation for the monks; but, due to either some shoddy alarm setting by yours truly, my hand-uh-pone's unwillingness to work so far out of range, or the deep and complete coma-REM cycle I find myself in at 3am, I did not (as you may have guessed) manage to rouse myself for the morning ceremony. For now, I will chalk that one up to personal fault, and imagine that my deepest most zen like state takes place behind my eyelids.

I somehow managed to jolt myself awake at 6am, just in time for a last, silent, vegetarian meal with the monks. I spent the next few hours drawing, taking photos, and wandering the temple grounds as the sun rose over the mountains.

As I sped down the winding roads, back to Daegu, I reminded myself that this was an experience I should not forget. While I one day hope to participate in a full program temple stay, I am immensely happy and satisfied with my stay at Haeinsa. Even if there was nothing else to say for it (which obviously is not the case) tucked away in the lush green mountains of South Korea, Haeinsa was a lovely place for a [solo]slumby.

 

Anyeong[hikheseyo].
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