At the beginning of the
Chuseok Road Trip 2012 I was filled with fresh excitement.
Although it's been nearly two months now, I sat in the backseat of a car with
my Korean coworker and his sister in the front and gazed out in wide
eyed astonishment as if it were the first time the Korean landscape
had met my eyes. What is probably an hour and a half drive took us
four hours because of the insane Chuseok migration taking place.
Imagine a mandatory evacuation with contraflow initiated. We passed
through large cities, small cities, smaller cities, and then the
countryside dominated by mountains and agriculture. Over the course
of many miles and many hours we paused our journey at these sporadic
roadside places equivalent to our rest stops but with food – and
lots of it. Imagine an extensive food court at an extremely large
mall. These grew fewer and farther as we made our way through the
golden rice fields and towards our destination. Seeing the
countryside had completely cemented in my mind that I do not belong
in a city. I'm utterly envious of the children who are lucky enough
to grow up out here, the families that can make a living off of the
land, and especially the fortunate residents of New Arbor Lake. You
see, it's not just the Korean countryside that makes me feel at
peace, it's any and all of the wild places that I've been blessed to
step foot upon. A previous writing that I've never posted was
brought to mind; here's an excerpt:
"For the first
time, I can feel that the honeymoon phase has ended. I'd like to be
home. Of course this is probably a temporary feeling, but a genuine
emotion none-the-less. I do find pleasure in the fact that I do not
belong in Korea though. I'm automatically left alone and not
bothered which allows me to just experience and assess all that is
going on in the world around me and more importantly, my mind. But
then there's the fact that I DON'T BELONG IN KOREA. What am I doing
here?! I belong in the wilderness somewhere. The wide open air,
sunrises and sunsets, winter's moons and summer's fires. My soul
finds peace in these and I am ultimately content, not just a fleeting
moment of happiness."
Before
arriving it was confirmed by meeting my friend's father that I'd
indeed be the first foreigner this village had ever seen which led to
an indescribable feeling of the utmost pride, gratitude, and fortune.
Through translation I was reminded of the opportunity that lay
before me. This was a sacred ritual for the Korean people and
outsiders do not get to experience the traditions of Chuseok. I'd
like to think his speech was meant to inspire me, which it did, but
it realistically felt more akin to a humorous "Don't embarrass yourself!"
As we
drove through Korea's mountains I noticed distant isolated stones
protruding from clearings in the forested areas. Further inspection
revealed that these were granite tombstone and families could be seen
trailing up the mountain side as if they were single-filed lemmings
on their way to honor those that have come before them. I was to
learn a great deal more about this shortly.
We
finally arrived at our destination and while my friend and his sister
were greeted warmly by their grandmother, uncle, aunt, and two
younger cousins as well as the neighboring families, I was stared at
with perplexity and what felt like slight distrust. So a challenge
lay ahead of me; I was filled with nervous anticipation but we were
quickly preparing for our own hike up the mountainside. We brought
an apple, some clams harvested from a nearby river, and some grain
alcohol that the family makes by fermenting rice. These are shared
with the deceased and the portion that you keep and consume is the
vehicle in receiving your ancestors wisdom and inner peace. I was
surprisingly offered a broken quarter of apple, clams, and a drink
which I just couldn't turn down. I had already come further than any
other foreigner by simply standing in front of grave sites for a clan
that I did not belong to, how was I to turn down this opportunity?!
Higher on the terraced mountainside I notice the granite tombstones
in twos, each pair slightly higher than the last. These were the
patriarchs and matriarchs of each generation laid to rest on the land
that is owned by their clan. I then realized that I was standing in
the presence of two or three hundred years worth of my friend's
ancestors.
I'll
let my photos tell the story of the rest of the day, it's too much to
put into failing words. I will say that we had a fabulous array of
food for our Chuseok dinner and even though the night wound down,
more family members showed up at 11:30pm which prompted the food and
drink to be brought out again and everyone to huddle around it on the
floor. It was absolutely a great time and I believe the turning point
in the family's perception of me came after the late night dinner. I
went to walk through the rice fields up the mountains after midnight
under the shining full moon and the two sons of my friend's uncle
asked to join me. It was then that I discovered they knew enough
English for us to stumble through stories and laughter. They seemed
to look up to me and it was a chance to prove to the watchful eyes of
the village that I was not a threat.
True amber waves of grain.
Through the terraced rice fields lie the grave sites of the clan's ancestors.
The sun setting upon the flowing rapids.
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