Loving Every Rise and Fall

"Man, Hitler sure knew how to ruin a good thing," that's all I could say after learning about the swastika symbol and it's original meaning. Chris explained how the symbol, also the symbol for Buddhism, depicts the cycle of life, the coming and going of things- the Buddhist' philosophy. Any Buddhist temple here is surrounded by Swastikas of all sizes and now it makes sense. We got up early Sunday morning and drove about an hour to Sangisan mountain for my first hike. I got in Chris' car and was immediately jarred by hearing Red Hot Chilli Pepper's "By the Way" playing. This was the very album I distinctly remember listening to on a drive to a hike in Colorado- the last time I was in the mountains. Good omen, I thought. Entering the foothills, we passed a tree that was fenced off and on display. As the legend goes (much of Asia is founded and relies on such legends), this tree was in danger of being cut down when a King came to the mountain and couldn't fit his transportation under it. But, a miracle occurred and the tree grew taller, the branches extending longer and the King was able to pass without cutting it down. Early in the hike we passed a creek, one of many in this forest, but this one, like the tree, was fenced off and guarded. June, Chris' girlfriend and our Korean translator, explained that another King is said to have bathed in this very stream and the water cured him of some injury or disease. The Koreans were embracing this fine 60 degree Sunday as we were. Chris and Darryl explained that the Koreans we see on the mountains will be much more welcoming and nice than those in daily life because, as we hike, we are participated in one of their most honored and culturally ingrained pastimes. As June put it, "if they see you on the mountain, they believe you cannot be wrong." This proved true. They smiled, said hello and shed the usual reserve Korean people posses. The hike was taxing, the sun devouring us and, after about 4 hours of strenuous hike, we reached the peak; drenched in sweat and famished. About twenty people were sitting on the top, observing the view which a King from the Shilla dynasty is said to have made holy through his poetry writing there. I sat down to rest and bask in the glory of nature's sprawl from above when an elder Korean gentleman offered me a shot of Soju- Korea's national, and very harsh liquor. I guess she was right, on top of this mountain, our white complexion is shed and we are one in the same. On the way down I was given a banana and some kimchee. Then, 6 hours after we first started out on the trail, I was finally on the ground again, sore and starving when another Korean man offered me a victory smoke. We ignored our hunger and rushed to the temple to observe the nightly drum ceremony at 6pm. You could feel the drum's reverberations as we approached the grounds. It sounded like a dinosaur, or maybe the gigantic Buddha, was walking through the hills. By now the sun was almost gone, and so to were most the Koreans. The sight of the Buddhas in front of two gongs and other drums was awe-inspiring to say the least. I'm not sure if we were allowed to take pictures, but I felt much too insignificant to even dare interrupt this spiritual tradition. We rested in front of the temple for a while and I must admit to feeling more religious yearnings on a Sunday than I have in quite some time. The tradition, the solemn nature of the scene was very heavy. We went to a restaurant in the town outside the foothills and ate some "mountain vegetables" in mostly silence. By this time, everyone had been properly starved, we chowed, dragged our weary bodies to the car and headed back towards Daejon as the sun reluctantly said goodnight. I thanked Chris for taking me out here and (dejavu #2), he repied, "no worries"- a phrase used daily in one place............Colorado.