Journey to Jeolla Nam Do - Day 1

It was precisely 11:30pm when I emerged from the Seoul subway station to find the entourage of other travelers joining me on a journey to Jeolla nam Do, the farthest southwest province of the peninsula. I was excited to see such a melange of humanity huddled around the underground exit, all waiting and wondering when our "chariot" would arrive. Small groups of guys stood drinking bottles of Cass beer and laughing about the lateness of our ride. Various young girls made frequent trips the loo at the bottom of the stairs to ready themselves for the pending 5-hour trip, while the rest of us just perched on our packs and 'practiced what we teach' -- English conversation. It was just after 12:30am (an hour late) when our chariot, in the form of a giant burgundy bus equipped for karaoke complete with disco lights and reverberating microphone swerved up to the curb and opened its guts for our gear to be loaded.
Once underway, and after the 45 echoing introductions were over, the psychedelic aisle lights were extinguished, the karaoke screen went black and the microphone was muted so that we could all try to get some sleep before our first stop of the outing -- watching the sun rise from high atop the cliffs of Hyang-Il-Am, a small Buddhist temple that is set above a tiny inlet of the Yellow Sea.
Because of its isolated location and the early hour, when we arrived, the temple was pleasantly uncrowded and an air of upcoming celebration prevailed as the local villagers went about preparing for the parade of worshipers and weary wanderers on their way to say "Happy Birthday Buddha". To reach the actual temple required a long walk up many steps. At first I lagged behind poking around the tiny shops in hopes of finding a cup of tea and peering through alleys to get a glimpse of the landscape beyond. However, the already warm sun on my back reminded me what I came for, so I resorted to a bottle of water, quickened my pace, and found myself a serene spot from which to sit in front of the rising sun (appropriately enough, Hyang-il means standing toward the sun, and Am means the branch of a big temple). Off to a good start!



We had several hours to spend before the bus would depart to our next destination, so I spent some time wandering around the temple breathing in the spirit of this 'holy land on high'. Soon, it began to fill with 'followers' and foreigners so I packed up my rice cakes and camera and descended into town. At the end of the main road was a small point overlooking the water with just enough grass to unfurl my sleeping bag and be lulled to sleep by the monastic chanting that rang out over the hills above. I awoke with just enough time to brush my teeth and change my clothes, buy another bottle of water and board the bus bound for the next activity -- a boat tour of Yeosu Harbor.
On board the ferry filled with fellow vacationers, I stood outside on the upper, starboard-side deck with my head thrown back in the breeze and my nostrils flared with the salt air, remembering what a joy and luxury boating or sailing can be. As the massive craft set out of the harbor area, floating by rocky shores dotted with fishermen and waving children, and coves covered in crab traps, I stood silent and deaf to everything but the gentle waves lapping at the bottom of the boat. As soon as the inhabited shoreline had vanished from view, I fixed my eyes on the stunning scenery that seemed to surround the ship, and sank into a tranquil trance for what seemed like hours. As the boat was coming about, I was coming to...to the sounds of the on-board entertainer shrieking Korean songs into a microphone while he and his accomplice stalked the decks looking for passengers to patronize. I didn't fear being called on, I feared he couldn't be called off. At that moment I wondered how to say "man overboard" in Korean.



After disembarking, we were free to enjoy the harbor area, explore a nearby island or hit the beach for some (more) sun. We all scattered in different directions with a few of my new friends and I heading to the island of Odongdo. On this festive day, the island park was packed with people hiking, having picnics and hanging out around a huge musical fountain. Our brief interlude was spent sitting in the shade, sharing stories of our "stay" here so far and looking forward to the beauty that was yet to behold.
The road to Soon Cheon Mon Ecological Park rises from the sea and zigzags up and down long steep mountainsides terraced with small farms and rows of greenhouses. For the next hour or so I watched the colorful shacks radiate their hues of coral, turquoise and golden yellow in the now slanting sunlight until finally we arrived with an hour to spare before the dimming of the day and our last scheduled activity and opportunity to relish the rich landscape before us -- sunset on Buddha's birthday. Somewhere in the wooded hills behind the park was a trail that led to an observatory. Throngs of people marched in a row toward the bushy bump on the horizon looking like a trail of ants headed for a chunk of bread. As for me, I found a deserted dirt road raised over a barren rice field at the front edge of the eco-area and parked myself in a position poised and ready for picture taking. The evening sky was striated with thick clouds, so it was imperative to take many shots to capture this incredible closing ceremony of a truly "full" day. From sun up to sun down, I felt exhilarated and refreshed, and aware and embracing of a world and a self I never knew existed. It was a birthday in many ways.

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