On Saturday morning we headed south of campus toward Geumgang Park, within walking distance of our campus.
Getting to the Park was rather more complicated than I anticipated as it looped through old neighborhoods, up steep and irregular slopes, down narrow alleys, and so forth. Where we found road signs we couldn't read them. Eventually, we reached a big intersection with a sign in English indicating we were close.
As we approached the corner of the park, a tall young man pushing his three year old daughter in a stroller offered to take us to the cable car office. We followed him. How often in Busan we have experienced help from strangers who recognize our foreign appearance as an opportunity to extend kindness.
I had anticipated an expanding view of the city as we rode to the top of the mountain, but when we squeezed into the cable car, followed by a man with a bush in his arms and another on his back, we had no seats and no view.
At the top of the mountain, we found hikers and trails everywhere. As usual the most avid hikers are the older folks. And the issue with trails is their abundance? Surely one of these is an official trail, but each one looked like all the others. Tentatively, we ventured a bit further uphill in what we thought was the direction of the old stone fort, but we found eating stalls instead. The ladies with aprons started chatting us up as soon as we got within earshot.
What to do? We found a flat rock away from the little booths to eat the lunch we had packed and to discuss our choices. Geumjeongsanseong Fortress lay somewhere further uphill beyond the eating places. Downhill were Buddhist temples. Downhill seemed appealing, especially since we had no idea how much further uphill the Fortress walls began.
The trail to the temples follows a crease down the hillside, a ravine where a stream trickles. The path is both well worn and marked with paper lanterns.
The lanterns may have been the deciding factor. They led somewhere specific, although I found them both spooky and a bit disillusioning -- spooky because the swastikas immediately conjure up Hitler in my western mind, and disillusioning because the "paper" shell of the lanterns turned out to be plastic strung with an electric light.
So much for authenticity.
The journey down was steep, narrow, and often treacherous. I had bought Donna a telescoping hiking stick like all the seasoned hikers use and a backpack for myself. No one mistook us for local Koreans with our new equipment, but both items turned out to be very useful.
On our descent toward the first temple, many hikers passed us heading the other way. Clearly hiking up hill is more truly Korean than hiking down. Moreover, with every new climber we wondered whether there was any way out other than coming back up.
The first temple was closed and, to be quite honest, quite messy. The tourist in me was disappointed. But the view of the city through the trees was the best we were to have all day.
At the second temple, we were greeted with laughter and good English by the monk who lived there. He encouraged me to take pictures, told us he had recently been in the U.S., and invited us to come back when we had longer to stay. He disappeared for a while in search of his business card, and I gave him mine. His American name is Johnson. I should have taken his picture.
As a student of culture, I am quite interested in the Buddhist presence. And Johnson is an engaging man, so if circumstances permit I would be interested in going back to talk.
One of the things I would ask Johnson about is this disturbing little statue that stands at the foot of the wall below his temple. These banner signs, by the way, which are typical of Korea, are new advertisements for Buddha's birthday celebration on May 10.
We descended rapidly. Apart from the physical exertion and the four Buddhist temples we passed on our way downhill, the outstanding feature of the mountain was the spectacular beauty of the landscape and flowers.
The lonely pilgrim sitting in this clearing is none other than my climbing buddy. As we are in blossom season, these purple flowers, which look like red bud, are everywhere.
Or these magnolia flowers.
I am also intrigued by stone formations that give the ravine its characteristic look.
Eventually we reached our starting point at the bottom of Geumgang Mountain, where, naturally, we heard the voice of John Denver singing Rocky Mountain High over a loud speaker. And we saw one more Buddist temple.
Suffice to say, from here, with sore knees, we wandered back through the poor neighborhoods in the direction of our dorm. In a long string of very good days this long day on the mountain had been great.
A few days later, after hearing the story of our hike, two of Donna's new friends told her we had gone about it wrong. We should have climbed the mountain and then taken the cable car down. In true Korean fashion.
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