another epic epik weekend

Koreans surround me by day, westerners by night. And weekends. Such is the double life I am leading, where outside of school and the daily purchases I discard charades and broken konglish for English of many colors. This is the comfort zone that buffers us away from a fully korean life.

During the weeks, our English teacher community in Gumi usually meet up several times, for dinner, drinks, movies, ice cream. Regular haunts like Corona and Waegook Cook that foreigners past have already established. New trials, such as New York, New York, the Japanese fish fry, the movie theater. And now, my most recent fav, In Elf, an edgy little SK hof where we have Epik bombs (soju, coke and beer) and a decent array of food; I do believe we may be the first regulars of this bar--Korean or otherwise.

Last weekend visitors from farther East came to Gumi that I hadn't seen since our first reunion in Daegu. We met before lunch at Gumi Yuk. Hugs. Dropped off their bags at Jack's, with no Blake in sight (he missed the train). We stop at a corner shop for water and rice bars, chips, etc. Then we walk our 12+ westerners down the saturday streets in the sun, past my school, and up to Geumo San mountain. We make a collective goal to reach the waterfall and the temple--we don't really know what we're getting into, but after some snows earlier in the week, my coteachers warned of danger. But the day is beautiful, sunny, warm, and there are tons of Koreans taking advantage of a Saturday hike.

Past the sawn boats on the lake, past the village where we had our last EPIK meal, past the hotel, walking through skinny pines and broken sunlight, we find the "entrance" to the mountain. There are air guns where Koreans are cleaning dirt off their shoes, maps, a cable car, and many Koreans dressed to peak everest. We laugh at them in our sneakers and sweatshirts. Later they will laugh at us.

Beyond this point, the steady road ends. Even where paths have been made, the steps are uneven, sometimes rocky, and as we get higher, the path itself becomes a mix of dirt, boulders and higher up--mud. We are panting when we get to the first position at an old fortress entrance, bright turquoise rainbowed roof, red wood, brightly painted dragon looms above us as we pass through to continue our way into the mountain. Higher and higher, more and more uneven, and our lack of ability slaps us in the face when we see a woman in heels, old ladies, or the many korean children passing us up, darting around like agile little mountain goats.

Farther up is a buddhist temple. An old monk was shoveling snow. Gi and Laurie and I were a bit ahead, and after looking into one of the buildings, Laurie proves his energy with a Rocky recreation, running up the steps in his sweatshirt, my hoarse voice giving theme music, Gi acting as cameraman. The rest of the group joins us, and we have a random man take our pictures--a whole montage we find out later--on the steps of the temple. Rows of tiny Buddhas (including one on a cell phone) and a lit up shrine to Confucious give us some good will to continue upwards.

We continue to a cave, where the lack of sure footing and a very risky railing let my fears win out. Lindsay and I hand out for about 10 minutes while the rest go up. We see fathers with children on their shoulders, well above the guardrails making their way behind our crew--none of the natives seem to notice the uneven ground or the sheer drops next to them.
After a bit, we make our way over to the waterfall, and tiptoe our way under it to the other side. Here is the snow and slush my coteachers had warned me of. And it only gets worse going up.

Luckily, there are some stairs next. We huff and puff our way up, always questioning whether we are really going to continue. Lindsay stops at one landing, where she ends up having a wonderful conversation with a small Korean girl and her family, and is rewarded with oranges and a tomato. Libby, Sean, and I continue up behind the rest of them. Feel the burn.
It isn't until we reach a summit (not the very top, but still way way up) where we believe that Koreans actually do sweat some. The stairs end here. We all rest and have a look on the large rock.

There it is, Gumi. My lovely city, sprawled out across the valley past the lake, nestled between low mountains. Unreal. Here we are, on top of the otherside of the world, and looking out over what we now call home.

Well the stairs and clear path stopped there. The next 1 km to the peak looked like a mush of snow, ice and treacherous falls. That was no day to conquer fears, so I parted with the group (who surprising to us all, decided to continue). Still having only 2 phones total, Gi gave me her phone for the later meetup.

I went down with Lindsay, having a nice chat all the way down to the trainstation, where, as luck would have it, we were just in time to meet Blake from the later train. More hugs! We went back to mine, enjoying a Cass in a can while we waited for news from the mountain. Eventually Libby, Kevin, and Sean joined us with beer and snacks, and we made my small room a hangout while trying to figure out what to do. The others had gone to the top, and we later hear that they lost a waterbottle over the ledge, were pitied and given a walking stick/pick by some Koreans, and had a very scary time of it.
We went to dinner. Pizza Hut--my second time that week. Funny how when all of us westerners get together at these moments, we tend to go with the familiar. Really, I think we all are just missing cheese way too much.

Either way, after pizza, we are still waiting so we go back to Jack's, where a Korean queen-size-more-like-a-double bed (lucky man) is all there is. Beyond the point of exhaustion, the 6 of us pile on like puppies, and doze and giggle and wait. The lack of hugs, of touch, of human contact we get as outsiders here starts to wear on you. These few moments of mammal warmth are so restorative. By the time Jack, Tom, Sarah, Lois and Laurie come find us, we are a mass of giggles trying to pretend to be asleep, having had little more than a brief nap, but nonetheless feeling well and hole and energized again.

We all sit around drinking poor-man's Gin and Tonics and discussing our night. Then we head to Waegook Cook with the sole purpose of getting jolly and watching a few Rugby Matches. It is a classic night of pitchers, burgers, hammer game, cheers, and good conversations. At this point I know enough other foreigners in this city to mingle and mix with many, but the best find is Laurie's childhood friend, Portia. She's been here 6months, knows all the inside tips, and in general, one cool lady down to be buds. YES! Facebook connects are made.

By the end of the last match and the last pitcher, it's about 4am. We all plan to take taxis (we need 3) to Gumi Yuk. Well, Lindsay, Blake and I are the odd ones left, and end up dancing our way back where we reunite. They all get street food from the favorite vendor outside the station--meat on sticks, bulgogi, rice cakes, etc. I pass. We all head across the train station and those going the few block's to Jack's part ways with vague plans for meetups the next morning.

Blake and I head back to mine. Two Americans speaking in an amalgamated mix of drunken accents we've picked up over the night. Thanks to my previous resident, we have plenty of blankets to give him a semi-soft surface on the heated floor. We have hoarse and colorful conversations of tragedies and romances we left behind--typical late night chats. Shared experiences, insights; moments where we transcend being new friend and become two people tapping into the depth that is the human experience. We estranged people, connecting in all the moments we find it possible.

The next morning, after a brief night's sleep, we feel fantastic. Hydrate in a hurry. Hoarse and hopeful, we made our way to Jack's. No answer. No phones. Two payphones across the trainstation later we looked at overstocked fish tanks and colorful parakeets in the window of a pet store and find a meetup point. We're a bedraggled bunch of foreigners in Da Vinci Coffee, enjoying lattes and waffles (finally!). But we needed real food at this point.

We walk through downtown Gumi, desparately looking for a place for some kind of dining we could all agree on. Didn't find it. Instead, found a chicken joint upstairs. Many Korean restaurants only serve one thing, really. This one was chicken. But they gave us all a watery soup (quite good, actually) and I after struggling to order, a few people had chicken dishes and I had the best french fries I've every eaten--ever! Then we were off to find a place for some Sunday drinks and not one bar was open. None. In our quest for Max, we walked all over downtown Gumi, through the open-air markets and shop-lined streets. We finally settled on gas station bottle of Max, our best beer friend, and sat on the floor at Jack's, watching various You Tube videos and enjoying some relaxed and worn-out convos.

Then, sadly, it was time for the weekend to end. We all parted ways at the train station. Hugs, some last touches of energy to tide us over until next time. Annyong, annyong.

These friendships here are so momentous--both in import and in the sense of the moment. We can waste no time. We can't carry any baggage. It is, instead, a collection of warm, open, honestconnections. Communities being built around the world. Without EPIK, we may never have met. Without facebook, we couldn't reconnect. This modern world helps us make it last.