villages

A couple weekends ago I went camping and rock climbing outside a teeny-tiny, remote Korean village called Wonju, east of Seoul. Just me and T and two guys who also teach in our town. We took a train to the nearest station. And from there a cab took us through a maze of run-down single-story homes and businesses to the park's entrance.

When we arrived I noticed the layout was really simple: just a few minboks, snack shops and restaurants lined up at the top of a hill along a road that ran parallel to the river, which in turn ran parallel to the face of the cliff. The cliff was what everyone came there for, and the snaking of ropes was a constant as climbers maneuvered up set routes at the base of the cliff. Most impressive were the climbers doing multi-pitches - route after route, climbing several stories high, all the way to the top of the cliff.

The site was enveloped by steep rocks and small, tree-covered mountains. There were campsites available along the wide and shallow river, and we slept by the sandy banks. Four of us shared a two person tent! There were basic facilities for campers provided for free. Very basic. It was the very definition of rural, so squatting toilets were the only option. I was forced use them for the first time, after somehow avoiding them for the first six months.

My friend T is gradually becoming an expert climber, and she introduced me to the sport. We found a group of foreigners that T either knew from a previous climbing trip, or quickly befriended. They let us take turns borrowing their rope and a pair of climbing shoes. The route she chose for me to climb was pretty easy, limestone with plenty of footholds and deep finger pockets.

A lot of people were there to spend the weekend rock climbing. All of the routes were occupied, and while people waited their turn, it was fun to watch other climbers and cheer them on. Despite the popularity of this park, it still always felt completely secluded and was not at all crowded.

Rock climbing - real rock climbing, not the kind you do on a fake wall - was instantly something I knew I loved. Getting to the top was challenging as hell, but looking down with that sense of accomplishment was exhilarating. I'm considering whether to get the proper shoes and a harness so I can do it again while I'm here. It's popular here in Korea.



There was a two-story, sit-on-the-floor style restaurant a short distance from the campsite. We made the trek and had a nice dinner on the top floor with other foreigners we'd met. The night ended with an outdoor, rave-esque noraebang with a group of middle-aged Koreans wearing glow necklaces. Then, drinking North Korean soju around the campfire on the beach. T had been saving the soju for a special occasion ever since she purchased it on the DMZ trip.

In the middle of the night, I made friends with a Korean kid whose face I didn't see, but who shouted questions to me from across the river then waited to decode my English before asking more and more. It all came back to me the next morning when, to my surprise, a chubby Korean boy passed me on the pavement and asked, "Are you Amanda?" After racking my brain, I told him, "Oh yea! Nice to finally meet you!"

Thanks to soju, I was not feeling well the next day. Luckily the boys asked around and found a man who spoke some English, and who helped them order a large batch of chicken soup from one of the restaurants. (Much later, I found out this dish is called samgyetang.) As we waited for T to finish up a climb, the boys and I walked barefoot in the stone-lined river to a short waterfall that spanned the entire length of the river. Afterwards, I lay on the sand and closed my eyes for a couple of hours. The rest of the waeguk slowly trickled over to join me after a while.

We hitched a ride to the train station from someone we met in the park. I was really grateful, as there was no chance of finding a taxi and it would have been a long walk. T lucked out and got a ticket for the last available seat on the train. So I wouldn't have to stand the whole ride north, in desperate, very broken Korean I convinced the ticket woman to check for last-minute cancellations. But still with no luck, I said goodbye to Wonju and headed home.

In more recent news, Ryan and Corey are going to be in Korea tomorrow! They're on the long plane ride over as I type this. My apartment is spotless in anticipation of their arrival and the inevitable mess that will ensue.