Jeju-do, Jeju-done.
Jeju City, Jeju-do.
A month ago, I finally made a trip to Jeju-do, the largest island in Korea and the country’s southernmost point. It boasts twelve beaches, the tallest peak in S. Korea (a volcano mount named Hallasan), Seongsan Sunrise Peak (A volcanic crater-peninsula on the island’s east coast, and several local food specialties. It’s as tropical as Korea gets, scoring it an annual flock of honeymooners and nickname as “The Hawai’i of Korea,” though that moniker seems partially the product of Korean pride-bellishment.
Tropical or not, evening temperatures dipped into the 50s along the coast during my four-night stay. I expected cool evenings, but overlooked packing a windbreaker, which made motorbiking around the island at-times less enjoyable.
I found the bike at a market that my friend recommended I visit to make connections within Jeju’s active expat scene. Ari, a fro-headed Portlander in his 20’s with aspirations of being a full-time soup chef, offered me his last bowl of chicken-and-matza-ball soup and rights to his scooter-style motorbike for 12 bucks ($4 for the soup, $8 for the bike). For what skills he has in soupmanship, he lacks in salesmanship. “Well, I was going to ask $10 for the bike,” he said. “But I’ll give it to you for $8.” The going rate on Jeju is usually around $30 per day. I tipped him the $2 for his trouble.
Exploring by bike gave me the chance to putter through lava-rock walled beach villages, cruise alongside mandarin orange groves and shiver uncontrollably up and down one of Halla’s mountain highways (1), as well as the obvious added perks of flexibility and freedom with my plans. I had come with Kayla and Crystal, two friends from Gyeonggi-do, and we met up with two of Crystal’s friends on the island, one of which lived there and gave us all a floor to sleep on.
When I came to Korea, I had hopes of summiting the three tallest mountains: Hallasan, Jirisan and Seoraksan. Unfortunately, unlike Halla, my hopes for Jiri and Seorak never materialized into concrete plans (2). Hallasan (6,398 ft.) is a dormant volcano at the center of Jeju-do and visible from all corners of the island. There are a handful of hiking trails on the mountain, but only the Seongpanak and Gwaneumsa trails reach the summit. I climbed up the former, down the latter. I was on my own at first, but made friends with some Korean women who looked about 50 to 60 years old. They handed me some snacks at a rest point, I offered my bottle of makgeolli (an unfiltered rice wine that is particularly popular with hikers and drunks), and we became fast friends. In total, the climb took me about eight hours, including a lavish picnic lunch at the peak, thanks to my new best friends, who, I should add, absolutely burned me down the mountain.
Jeju, like most places that I’ve visited in Korea, left me wishing I lived and worked there instead of Suwon. The bars had character and the best drink prices I’ve seen in Korea ($4 for a Guinness!?), the beaches, though cold, were impressive, the food was fantastic, especially the fresh-from-the-ocean shellfish, and the towns—Jeju City, notwithstanding—were mostly absent of the heinous cookie-cutter apartment high rises that mar most signs of civilization here. Even the foreigner crowd, though decisively not what I came to Korea for, seemed more interesting than most. When I asked someone at the market what he and his friends were up for the rest of the day, it was between going to one beach to play volleyball or camping on another beach later that night. Others I met throughout the long weekend echoed that relaxed sentiment, which it seemed to permeate most aspects of Jeju.
In about a month, I’ll be setting off from the Korean peninsula. Until then, I still have many more pictures and stories to post, including trips to China. Up next, more traveling. Stay tuned.
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(1): This last experience, though enjoyable in the masochistic, good-for-a-story way, was miserable at the time (again, uncontrollable shivering) and quite unnerving (I had used so much fuel climbing the mountain that I was dangerously close to running out of fuel before I returned to the shoreline, where gas stations and warmer winds are plentiful).
(2): Climbing Jirisan might still be a possibility. I’m planning a Buddhist temple stay in Jirisan National Park on the winter solstice. It will be bitterly cold, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able or interested in summiting, but I look forward to the experience regardless.
A view from Seongpanak, Hallasan.
A look back up towards the peak from the Gwaneumsa trail, Hallasan.
Oedolgae Rock, Seogwipo.
Sunset near Hamo Beach, on the southwest of the island.
Mongolia, Fin
Alright already. This is my last post of Mongolia photos. This is not a photos-of-Mongolia blog, so it’s about time I press on. If I were a planning man, I would have done an edit before uploading any of them and presented a photo story/essay of my trip.
The first evening of the trip. A camel ride at dusk to the locally venerated site of Khadagt Hoshnuu.
Khadagt Hoshnuu
The Cows Come Home
Small-Time Rancher
Dusk on the Mongolian Plains
Mr. Otgonbayar works at sunset, preparing firewood for his ger’s small wood-burning stove.
Leaving Ulaanbataar. Bayartai, Mongolia.
"Stay hungry, Stay foolish."
Words to live by from the late Steve Jobs.
83 words from the Seoul Nat. Cemetery
From the Memorial to the Unknown Warriors, I fix my mallard gaze toward the buzzing, sprawling city below. To reach this hillside clearview, plod the rows, the diagonals—ash-white stone tablets, upright upon ash-white stone mantles, more than 100,000, numbered on numbered plots.
From here, Seoul’s rote residential high rises, white in their queued redundancy and grayed in the smog, pay homage to a city and country once and several times burned and bombed to smoldering rubble. Seoul lives here; I only visit.
Day 2 in Mongolia. We ride to meet Mr. Mongol, our next host family. Mr. Byambatogtoh’s son sings an excerpt of one of the Mongolian long songs he is studying. I wish that I could have gotten my camera out earlier and picked up better audio. Riding with me are Chris and Amandine, who joined me on my week long trip.
Mongolian Portraits
To make my journey through Mongolia possible, four families welcomed me into their gers. Here are a few of my favorite portraits from the trip. At one time, I had all of their names, but my notebook fell out of my back pocket one day while I was riding a camel from one family to the next. I am sending prints of most of these pictures and a few others back to the families soon.
During the summers when she’s away from school, Otgon, 9, helps manage the family herd of sheep and goats. Like most Mongolians, she was basically born on a horse. She said her favorite thing to do for fun is gallop.
Mr. Byambatogtoh, 48, is the father of my first host family. He and his wife, Dulamsuren have four sons. I slept and ate in the ger behind him.
He is one of Mr. Byambatogtoh’s sons. I am sad to say that I lost his name with the notebook, but I am trying to contact them again to retrieve it. He attends a university in Ulaanbataar, the nation’s capital, and studies the Mongolian long song singing style. It’s beautiful. I have a video of him performing an excerpt of it that I will post soon. He’s also rather skilled at throat singing, a mind blowing and beautiful vocal style. (If you’ve never heard it before, here’s a decent explanation and demonstration video.)
Udval is a sixth grade student in a nearby town when she’s not spending summers at home with her family. She likes make up and playing volleyball. She is the daughter of Mr. Otgonbayar, the man who led me on the horseback adventure of my life.
Renchinochir has won several tournaments and medals for traditional Mongolian wrestling, one of the three most important sports in Mongolia (the other two are horse racing and archery). He’s the younger brother of Udval and probably the largest 12-year-old I’ve ever seen. We wrestled three times. I bested him, 2-1. In another year, I wouldn’t win once.
She is the adorable niece of Otgon, who was staying with the family while her mother was in Ulaanbataar for a few days. I lost her name and age in the notebook.
Chris Tsao and his girlfriend, Amandine Hampshire (not pictured) joined me on my trek. They both live in Hong Kong, where Chris now works for a law firm. Mongolia was the first of a few trips that he had lined up for what he called “the last summer of my life.”
Animals of Mongolia
For Mongolians in the countryside, their pack animals are essential to their nomadic livelihoods. They’re used for transportation, herding and of course, food. I consumed more dairy in my week of living with the families than I do in at least three months time living in Korea. Needless to say, I was paying for it by day five. Here are a few pictures of the animals I took.
Also, sorry for falling behind on posting. Work has been bogging me down, and I made a second, longer trip to China at the beginning of this month. I am still going to try to keep things chronological here, just a bit late. Here’s to me getting back on the proverbial horse (or camel, as it were).
A View
When I mentioned that the land distorted distances, this is what I was talking about. We eventually rode over to an old Buddhist monastery tucked away in those mountains. It was probably an hour-long ride on horseback. I thought that I could walk the distance in a bit less than that when I took this picture.
