The Haenyeo, women divers, are famous on Jeju. They can hold their breath for minutes, diving low to harvest the abalone. I never saw them, even though I really tried. We saw statues, posters, and posts. That Saturday morning, I walked down a tiny little walkway down to the rocks below the crater to a small concrete platform licked by the waves of the little cove. I started doing my sun salutations until I realized I was in view of one of the observation cliffs on the crater above me. I don't know how much the view of my ass sticking up in downward-facing dog stretch really added to the scenic vista for all the hikers. And after I realized this, I looked to the left and realized that just below the path I walked down, nestled into a little cave, was a little home with big porches lined with the gourds and lines I'd seen in all the Haenyeo posters. And there was an adjuma standing on the porch watching me. So I'd found the Haenyeo...by invading her diving platform with my awkward stretches. I didn't get to see her in action, but at least I got a glimpse, mimicking her dives with my own as I reached for my toes. Happy Saturday indeed.
That morning, we three ladies got up early and took a 15minute ferry ride to Udo, a small island that supposedly gets its name because it looks like a cow lying down. I have no idea how they come up with these things; I didn't see any cow except the ones grazing in the pastures on the island. The sea was too choppy for us to take our scooters over, but we found more to rent for cheap on the island. I felt more like I was in the Mediterranean than in Asia as we made our way over. Udo was like Jeju's Greatest Hits. The island is only 17km in circumference and can easily be driven around. Somehow, even with the Pensions and Cafes scattered here and there, with all the tourists that came on the ferry with us, even with the cars and occasional bus load of folks we ran into, the quaintness, rural pristine gleam of the island made it a gem. We cruised along the coast, waves crashing and sprinkling us with the lightness of the sea, dug our toes into a powdery white coral beach, saw the black sand sparkle and watched the gold and green dance across the mountain cliffs and through the patchwork fields on the inner island--all the way, moving through black rock borders, built by hands or by volcanoes long ago. Oh oh Udo. Happy animals were all over the place (which the three of us, animals ourselves, really got excited about). Puppies ran free and chased each other all over the rocks. Horses and cows grazed and glistened in the sun, their shine putting any pantene hair model to shame. But the strangest thing was that all these parts seemed so connected--not divided or classified--they were all just Udo, all just part of the fabric of the island, wrapping us up in a perfect cozy comforter of light and color.
One of the best encounters on the island was next to a small light house and stone lookout platform, when we found a bus-cum-shop with a cardboard painted menu and tiny tables outside with people eating and books on display. A vibrant and free-spirited author, selling paintings and poetry and the "best pajeon in the world" (I was so disappointed that i wasn't hungry...). Her energy, the words and colors swirling on the pages, melted and meshed so well with the feeling of the island. This is the kind of life that draws me. These women, living a bit off the grid, zigzaggin through their future, inspire me.
Kate and I left Candice to hunt for lava tubes. We hopped on our scooters and cruised farther up the East coast. The land-sky-sea-scapes we had become familiar with were rendered striking and alien by the towering wind turbines clustered in the fields by the coast. Seeing the giant white blades cutting lazily through the island skies, so white and sleek against the shifting scenery they were a part of...wow. Whenever I see turbines I am struck by a stupid, humble, simpleton sort of awe.
Past the wind, through the trees, inland through a small forest, Kate and I zoomed up to the lava tubes...only to discover her bag was missing. Haha, oh the mishaps that make for the stories, that make for the laughs. We got back on our scooters and back-tracked to a stop we'd made on the highway, found her bag and circled back. Through the whole detour, Kate's apologies were completely unnecessary: that little sidestep proved one of my favorite drives of the whole trip. The humor of the situation, driving through the tiny twisty road of the trees and back along the turbine-lined coast, I found myself belting out impromptu show tunes and moving between giggle fits and ooohs and aaahs...I had so much fun.
When Kate and I made it back to the lava tubes and followed the signs to the entrance--one of them being "No High Heels" refreshing us in the knowledge that not all places in Korea welcome ridiculously inappropriate footwear. Another sign, keeping with Korea's standard, declared it one of the Longest Lava Tubes in the World." We climbed down damp steps into a dark hole, vines hanging from the trees, reminding me quite a bit of some Temple Of Doom movie set. I had sort of envisioned the caves I've visited in America, full of elaborate formations, stalactites mites etc...bats maybe if we were lucky. This was much more low key, but still very cool. Continuing our the fluid/liquid theme of the island, the lava tube had the feeling of fluid suspended in time--which essentially is what it was. The lava had forced its way through the ground, and the ceiling, walls and floor of the cavern had been imprinted by the various stages of this movement. The ceiling had thousands of tiny little spikes jutting down towards us where the lava had dripped down, the walls were lined with smooth horizontal ridges marking the levels of the flow, and the flow was a lumpy grooved mass: we were walking on solidified ooze. It was amazing. Damp, extremely low lit, causing walking along to be a bit of a challenge. The path ended in a giant pillar of hardened lava, floor-to-ceiling, marking the end of our walk in the longest tube in the world.
Right near the lava tube was Kimnyeong Maze park. Cheesy as it sounds, Kate and I both got really excited about a hedge maze and decided to give it a go. When you enter, you get a little map that looks a lot like a McDonald's coloring placemat and are told that only 65% of people make it to ring the bell at the finish. The maze was not big and didn't seem like it would be difficult, but as we made our way into the leafy halls, we were a bit surprised. The maze, in it's tiny twisting mystery, seemed very fluid and shifting as well. We played Hansel and Gretel with candy wrappers and coke cans, but no matter how familiar the paths seemed, we kept getting turned around. Surprisingly, there were far more adults in the maze than children, and we would all pass each other and form shifting chains of explorers, latching on to other leaders and breaking off at different turns. Everyone was in a baffled and frustrated good mood, creating a cheerful little community of familiar faces trapped together in the bushes. Many of the Koreans (though they didn't seem to do much better) were armed with maps and pens, tracing out their paths. After standing on the final bridge with the bell and watching us pass below several times, a man and his family were really excited to offer Kate and I their secret of the maze, lowering down their map, which we only glanced and then returned (they didn't understand this at all...) so we could still force ourselves to find our way on our own. Eventually we did, after twisting and backtracking enough to walk the whole thing about ten times it seemed. We finally had earned our way to into the 65% bracket, earned our way to ring the bell. And we did--except a little brat of a boy decided he would ring it instead and whipped me in the face with the chord before running off, he didn't really even acknowledge Kate and I very much. Oh well. Still, what a fun mind body exercise. One of the favorite parts of the trip.
We took misdirection and wrong turns with us, though. We tried to travel back roads back to Seongsan, but since there are no regular street signs and the official tourism road map was less accurate than the cartoon maze map, we failed. But failing only succeeding in giving us a beautiful detour that spit us right back out onto the coastal highway by the wind turbines. When we were twisting through the backroads, we breezed by overgrown hedgerows lining the fields, excited birds and ducks into flight through the speckled light of the sun. It was exhilarating, even if it was more short-lived than we'd set out for.
That dinner we ate at a small, family-run Korean place right at the bottom of the crater. Ilchabong spread out across the window like a painting. Abalone gravy over rice and grilled Mackarel, along with all the delicious side dishes Korea wins my heart with: kimchi, radish, lotus root, fermented beans, bean sprouts, seaweed soup...yummm.... I will miss the spread of colorful tiny dishes, open and waiting for my greedy chopsticks. We were the only two eating and some of the extended family was gathered with two grandchildren (I assume). It was nice having their shared time as a backdrop to our meal, chatter and laughter adding to the classical music coming from the tv's nature expose. What a great meal.
That evening, the three of us sat on a mat in the room and connected and shared. With Ilchabong towering out the window and Indiana Jones muted on the tv, we reflected on our journey--outward and in--along the coasts of Jeju. This island opened so much up for us.
Our final morning, bright and early, my two companions joined me for sunrise. We hiked up the crater again (this time I wore a sweater) to join the rest of the early birds. All of us sitting around in the semi-dark, waiting for warmth and light. Well, this day, they didn't totally come. There were more clouds, more wind. Actually, the colors of the sky were much more impressive the second day, and when the sun finally peaked through, it was staring at us with two fiery looking lens, like backwards sun glasses. Pretty rocking.
For the better part of our drive, Jeju blessed us once again with amazing weather. It is amazing what a handkerchief and plastic garbage bag poncho can do to make cruising on a scooter more comfortable. All morning as we followed the inland highways (much smaller than the main coastal roads), we three flew along in our little gang, somehow all singing "Born to be Wild" without any coordination. We were a scooter gang, on the same page, driving wild in Jeju. Woohoo. It wasn't until we pulled over to stop and gape in wonder at the scenery of turbines and volcanic cones and trees and sky and sea--SEA! on the wrong side of us--that we realized once again the roadmap had screwed us. Some good guessing on the directions of roadsigns and help in the form of Korean charades got us back on the main road with only about 25km to go it started raining. It could have been miserable, shivering, constantly wet, the occasionally bugs and fog clogging up my goggles, trying to keep the poncho from whipping behing me and strangling me...but it was AWESOME! I had so much fun, feeling like I had mastered the scooter, mastered the island. Jeju had given us amazing weather, amazing sunshine, amazing experiences all week (despite what the forecasts had threatened); Jeju loved having us here, and here it was, crying to see us leave--at least that's how I'm going to take it.
After dropping off the scooters we realized how exhausted we were and cabbed it back to Jeju City through the middle of the island. We all tried to stay awake, but we definitely faded off during that drive. When we got to the city, we found the Baghdad Cafe and warmed ourselves over chai tea. A solo traveler whose path kept crossing ours did so once more, and he joined us for a meal of the best Indian food I've had since coming to Korea. Oh garlic and cumin and basil and all the spices I wish Gumi would offer me...yummm. We walked around a bit through the streets, shifting back to Korea before we even got on the plane. Jeju City is just like every other city in Korea that's just like every other city in Korea...streets and alleys with shops stacked on several stories, the same places clustered together. After coffee and a good chat, we wished our travel buddy well and made our way back to the plane, back to Gimhae, back to reality.
Kate and I hauled ass to get to the bus for Gumi that we thought was leaving in ten minutes, only to find we had two hours. So more waiting in Gimhae. When we finally got on the bus, the driver was really rude (which I never encounter with bus drivers here) and we couldn't figure out way. First he was really impatient when we were paying him, then he yelled at me not to sit in three different places even though the bus had plenty of open seats. The bus first stopped at DongDaegu, and that's when we realized the reason for his ire. The bus parked, the lights came on, everyone but Kate and I left--we started to freak out that this wasn't right, and my "Gumi?! Gumi?!?" was completely ignored by the driver as he walked off the bus and started washing the windows. It wasn't until the cleaning ladies who came on with mops and buckets assured us that the bus was bound for Gumi that we relaxed, and then laughed. The guy was pissed because he had to drive all the way to Gumi because of two of us. Like we had somehow planned to inconvenience him...Well, Kate and I had a nice empty bus back to Gumi, said our goodbyes and went home to the Sunday routine of laundry and setting alarms.
But the weekday routine hasn't set a reset from before I left. Jeju resonates.
*since my camera broke, these photos are all courtesy of Kate.
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