a ginger flavored world: a coast full of wishes and a sky full of dreams: jeju two

Thursday morning dawned bright and beautiful, once again greeting me earlier than any alarm for teaching I've ever set. Island sunrises are too good to miss I guess. The night before left me with some horrible sleep, as Kate and I had watched some British men finding worms in the monkey's their Congo tribe was feeding them-- and that image wormed its way into my dreams, into me. My parasite anxiety continued into the next few days when I began to discover itchy bumps looking suspiciously like the bedbug marks Gi had brought back with her from Hong Kong. The bumps are still here, fading now, but the bugs did NOT make it with me off the island (i hope i hope i hope i hope) and I gave them an apocalyptic washing just in case. But even itchy things and lack of sleep could not keep me from enjoying my island. No sir. So back to the adventure...

Kate and I fried up our last bit of raisin bread and butter for breakfast (yummm...), crammed all the leftover veggies in the fridge into a sandwich and set off on our scooters earlier than even EMart would be open. We rode toward sunrise--actually the sun had already risen, casting shadows from the fat puffy whites all over the land, but we were headed for the east of the island--to Sunrise Peak. We cruised on the palm-tree-lined highway, claiming our own lane in the lazy traffic. After we made it through Seogwipo, the other major city besides Jeju City, the view became even more scenic. The resorts were gone, the buildings were gone; except for the randomly scattered towns, we were surrounded by tangled vegetation and neat little orchards divided by the lavarock. And always, just to the right, was the blue, where sea and sky to tempt my eyes away from any semblance of safe scootering. Glorious. Crisp, clear, sparkling. Even the green seemed to sparkle. And we two speeding through it, leaving a wake of wild ginger joy. I was laughing and singing a high percentage of my scooter journey, letting my giggly songs be absorbed into the harmony of wind and waves...Wow. how cheesy does that sound? But it's the truth. Word.

Thanks to some very helpful advice from our Busan friend Chris (who had returned his scooter to have it rented out to us), we were equipped with the knowledge that we could not drive straight through for hours. The need for breaks and engine cooling gave us the excuse to even more leisurely cruise along the coast and take a break whenever something looked appealing.

The first stop was at a tiny beach (incidentally the one we were headed for the night before and turned back from). It was a little after 10:00am and the sun was at that perfect angle to cut into the surf and the sand and set everything a-glitter. But the real kicker, the real sparkle, was the black sand. Wow. I'd never seen anything like it (haven't been to too many volcanic islands). Tiny little particles of black and gray, peppered with quartz or something clear and shining, made the entire beach sparkle like a disco ball. Big porous lava rocks, in all shapes and colors, were scattered along the surf's edge, catching the bubbles, adding texture to the shadow, the silhouette that came from looking across the beach into the intensity of the sun's glare. Oh and danced in it. Buried our suddenly too-white legs in warm black (and surprisingly soft) mounds of it, and I sat there and felt like I was sitting at the bottom of an hourglass and all the sand had already fallen so I didn't have to worry about time running out, I could just swim around in it at my leisure.

But we had places to go, so back on the scooters were we. We gassed up again. Gas stations in Korea are so different from back home. There is no convenience store. There are just gas pumps, an attendant, and maybe a bathroom that's clean if you're lucky. And there is no self-service. Like all things in Korea, even putting gas in your car is a chance to create a job and display their ethics of service. So we pay a couple cheon (a few bucks), annyeong-ha-say-yo it and speed away. Too easy.

We left the highway for the scenic roads in search of the Cinema Museum; we were on a hunt for some hanbok pictures my friend Portia had shown us after her Jeju visit. Well, the price and lack of stickers caused stingy-traveler-me to change my mind, but it was great fun watching Kate get Koreanized. After a quick outfit and wig change with 4 different facial expressions captured, ranging from stern to big smiled, we watched the woman work magic with photoshop. Wow. Her fingers whisked along, lifting her wrist in a graceful arc the way my piano teacher tried to teach me to end my phrases, but she did it every time she hit the shift key (quite often). With each of her quick clicks, ginger American perfectly flawed Kate disappeared, replaced by black-haired, smooth skinned thinned lifted, perfectly symmetrical Korean. Even her dress and accessories were enhanced to perfection. What stared back at us in the end was a neutral-faced Koreanized Hanbok Kate. Perfect for the Christmas photos back home. It was really fun.

The cinema museum was actually more fun than I thought it would be, despite knowing nothing about Korean celebrity culture. There were some really awesome old movie posters and my favorite room had hand and face imprints of famous stars--quite creepy. Outside was the real treat. Another beautiful ocean scenic view, little trails leading through cactus and trees to the black cliffs that cut into the waves. On our way down to said cliffs, we got in the middle of an Asian mafia gunfight, met Forrest Gump on the bus bench, dodged velociraptors and a tyrannosaurus rex to prod at Jaws where he hung suspended on the docks. The famous movie characters and sets--mostly western at this point-- are another of the many photo opportunities Korea likes to provide. Korean culture and tourism goes nuts over their movie industry, proudly marking any site of filming, and it was neat to stop at an out-of-the-way little museum devoted to such passions.

Getting on our scooters in the parking lot, we were stopped by a family of Koreans going into the museum (which was nice to see it getting more business since at first it seemed like we might have been the only ones). Their son went to middle school in Daegu and was proud enough to tell us so, which got us all talking about Gumi and English language. Outside of school, whenever we meet up with Koreans that are so excited to practice their English with us, it is so refreshing. It feels good to know that they want us here, that they are excited to see us (not in the point, say Hi and giggle at the waegooks walking by way). As always, they are humble with their English ability, and we correct them saying their English is amazing and embarrassingly better than any infantile Korean syllables we could mispronounce for them. Smiles, goodbyes. Both parties left to enjoy their vacation and feel a bit better about themselves.

We scooted along the curves of the coastal road the rest of the way to Seongsan. It was stunning. The black lavarock reaching out into the sea, constant ripples and bubbles and spray and blue and...shit I'm running out of adjectives for this island halfway through the second blog--once again the universe reminding me: words are hard. Just go visit the place and see for yourselves.

The best part of the coastal drive were the piles of wishes. Rounded lava stones in so many sizes were stacked along the coast, a whole other horizon built from the hands of people's prayers. Erosion by the people, for the people, of the people...

When the coast twisted upwards and brought Ilchulbong into our sights, I found myself again laughing out loud to keep from exploding. The crater shimmers green, spikes out of the to stand guard over the town. It isn't the biggest mountain or peak you've ever seen, it is just there in a very immense intense insistance that you appreciate all of its simple beauty. Sunrise peak. I would conquer it. Twice.

After a bit of getting lost and then getting found, we arrived at our hotel to a wonderfully airy and spacious room with three walls of windows, with views of ocean, inlet, bay and Ilchulbong. Wow. The sun had hit that pre-evening low when everything outside is gold and the wood of our room turned to honey. Honey. Simple warm sweet. That's what it felt like to be out of the wind, inside but outside, a hundred percent content.

That evening after Candice rolled in, all bedraggled in the dark, we all went caught a taxi to the "only restaurant in town" (which was bullshit, incidentally, but what the hotel deskman said). The typical Korean "western" food of dunkass (pork cutlets that resemble too closely the chicken fried steaks of school lunches covered in mysterious brown sauce) and spaghetti. It was a laughable meal, made much more laughable by Candice frolicking outside the window while our server bused the table. I think we three are a much stranger lot than he was used to. We walked back, since the taxi driver took us a whole 30 seconds ride, and made our way across the bridge past the giant locks to let the boats into the inlet. We made some late night friends with a startled crane, a friendly white dog we dubbed foxy (quite the resemblance) and some other critters running around. When we finally settled in for the night, girl talk into the wee hours, I set my alarm, armed myself with instant coffee (total last resort) and readied myself for predawn.

I left the ladies shortly after five and made my to the crater, which only took about ten minutes walking. It was still dark and the town glowed with all those orange yellow lights, the moon still fat and happy above. The walk up the crater was easy enough with small lights to guide you but not impose on the view. I booked it up to the top, panting my way up the final steps and lost every last bit of breath when I got a view of the crater. In the predawn light I could see the craggy teeth edging the crater and the shadows the dipped inside of it. Just beyond, nothing but sea. When I looked to the west I could see the bay, the town, the docks of the harbor...all glowing and waiting. I know I was projecting, but it felt like the whole island was holding its breath for what was coming.

There were stones and risers to sit on, and a small crowd formed, a little community created by our willingness to drag ourselves up a crater this early, to race the sun. We were hardcore. And as we sat there and waited, withstood the very chilly wind (which I stupidly wore shorts and a loose tee; only me, everyone else was bundled) we watched the sky shift from cool to warm, pinks cutting cracks in the navy, fire breaking through and staring us down.

When the first tiny speck of sun came behind the clouds, everyone cheered. You had to. This is the glory we wait for, and it never fails to amaze. But here, over the crater that collected liquid golden light in its bowl, and the sea spread out all around us, the town with the moon still bright behind us--here was everything. All the elements to start your day, a well balanced breakfast of fire, wind, water, air, earth. ("by your powers combined..." that's right, it was captain planet).