The Christian Epitome

Some people look forward to that time they set aside every day to open their Bibles and read. They say it's the best part of their day. They read and pray and they talk about joy, joy in the Lord and love for Him. Everything good in their lives is a blessing from God, and everything bad is just a trial to strengthen them. You know that if you run into them at the grocery store, you're going to hear "Jesus." They're the Christian epitome.

That's not me. I've never reached that stage of good. I haven't touched my Bible since November, when I got tired of the obligation. "Read and pray" was just another thing to be checked off my daily list. The times I did start reading, it would often be with ulterior motives, nothing but a basic form of bribery; maybe if I just did this, I'd get whatever I felt I lacked. There was no joy in it, and I didn't know where the joy was supposed to come from.

When I was being honest with myself, I knew I was angry. My plans for my life weren't working out, and if there was a higher purpose for how things were going, I really didn't care.

My plans still aren't working out. Oh, sure, I get to stay home all day and do whatever I want, and I'm extremely healthy, and I'm generally very happy, and I have a family who actually likes me, and I get delicious food every day, and I have a marriage full of memories with a man who dotes on me. Sure, the core of my being holds the knowledge that no matter what happens, everything in the world is as it is supposed to be; and sure, I have the peace that comes from knowing I'm "in the clear" with the God who made the stars and governs this earth. (But still! My plans!)

So maybe I do understand where the joy is supposed to come from. Gratitude. Looking around and seeing what you've been given. Which isn't easy on those days you just feel like staring at a wall.

But the lack of Bible excitement, and the ulterior motives, and how praying isn't the best part of my day, that still makes me feel guilty. Like I'm failing. Like the opposite of the Christian epitome. I'm starting to think I'll never be perfect, that maybe I'll never talk about Jesus at the grocery store. It's pretty disappointing.

Then I remember that everything is how it's supposed to be. This is where I'm supposed to be. For now.

Routine Check-up

Smile Restaurant is a hole in the wall with maybe six tables. Before the place shut down, the door was usually open when I walked past, and I always glanced inside, and there were always two or three women seated at one of the tables, eating fruit and watching Korean soaps on the little TV. When you went in, one of the ladies would stand up and smile and give you a menu. You would get your glass bottles of Coke or Chilsung Cider (which is like Sprite) or whatever from the refrigerator in the back of the dining room. Once you were ready, the lady would take your order and then go behind a half-wall partition to cook for you in the kitchen area while the rest of the ladies kept watching TV. The one time we ate there, one of the vegetables in my meal was seaweed, so we didn't try that place again.

That was about two weeks after I arrived in Korea. See? I was still taking pictures of things just because they had another language on them. Everything was new and amazing. Now, six months later, the novelty's long gone - or at least moved out of Waegwan - replaced by routine, obligation, the everyday struggle of adult life, and dietary restrictions.

My family visited New York City a few times when I was, like, 11 or 12. I'd never seen a city like that, and I fell in love. For years after those trips, I would ask my parents when we could go back, and write poems about how much I missed NYC, and cry. I haven't been back, because even from Virginia, it's too far.

I'm hoping I don't do that with South Korea. What if, as soon as the plane takes off to take us home, I develop a giant hole in my heart that bothers me for years? I couldn't even get back to NYC; how would I ever find the chance to go across the world and 14 hours into the future to see here again? 

I wouldn't. Won't. So every morning when I wake up, I'll have to remind myself where I am, and try not to let routine interfere.

Miles and Miles of Smiles!

The Seomun Market parking garage was packed the Monday we were there. My friend had to drive to one of the highest levels before she found somewhere to put the car. The three of us got out, bundled up, and walked over to the window overlooking part of the market. Along the road were dozens of stands selling dried foods, fresh fruit, household goods, all kinds of stuff. Beyond the shops you could see miles and miles of the Daegu cityscape.

This was my second trip to the market. Still, I was amazed by the enormity of it, and I couldn't wait to get downstairs.

Seomun Market is a Korean traditional market with thousands of shops, most of them housed inside large buildings, selling almost anything you could want: shoes, clothing, kitchen utensils, dishes, toys, food (fresh, dried, live,) fake designer bags, cosmetics, beads, buttons, ribbons, fabric. There's an entire section devoted just to fish and squid and octopi and seaweed. Little stands throughout the market sell hot fresh Korean food. It's crowded, it's dirty, and every voice you hear is speaking Korean. There's so much to see, you don't know where to look or which way to go first.

We shopped around a little, but what we were there for was the fabric. Seomun Market has hundreds of fabric shops, most of them only tiny stalls crammed side-by-side into large buildings, selling every kind of cloth you can think of. Many of the stalls are like little fortresses made of bolts of cloth. The merchants who work in these fabric fortresses have to literally climb over a wall of fabric to get in and out of the nests they've made. Walking down the narrow aisles, you'll see some of the merchants working with sewing machines, all the machines dark green or gray and metal and older than I am.

 

 

 

I bought some nail polish, some fabric, and a handmade wallet and purse. Was fascinated. Took tons of pictures. Learned to ask permission before pointing my camera at people. It's interesting how much nicer and less blurry pictures turn out when you're not trying to take them when your subject's looking the other way!

Haeinsa Temple

Two days before Christmas, I had the privilege of visiting one of South Korea's three Jewel Temples. Each of the three temples represent one of the three Jewels of Buddhism: the Buddha, Buddhist teachings, the Buddhist community. 

Haeinsa Temple is the one that represents the Buddhist teachings. Housed at the temple is the sacred Tripitaka Koreana, one of Korea's national treasures, a set of approximately 80,000 wooden blocks carved with Buddhist scriptures and framed in metal. The scriptures were carved into the wood - which underwent several years of preparation - during the sixteen years between 1236 and 1251 in an attempt to gain divine assistance for Korea against the invading Mongols. The Tripitaka Koreana has been preserved on the mountain for over 600 years. Photography of the relics was prohibited, but I purchased a print made from a replica of one of the blocks.

Here's a close-up. There's a hair stuck in it.

That morning, we arrived in the parking lot below the path to the temple shortly after 9:00 AM. We got there early so we'd be in time to attend the morning prayer at 10:00. The temperature was only 18 degrees Fahrenheit. I was wearing two long-sleeved shirts and hadn't brought gloves or a scarf or even a coat. (I hadn't even planned to wear the second shirt; that was Joe's idea.) I don't really know what I was thinking when I got dressed that morning, but it was probably that I didn't want to get too hot on the hike or have to carry too much stuff. As we walked up the path, my teeth were chattering. My friend was smart enough to have worn multiple layers and kind enough to give me her coat.

One of the most amazing things about this trip was that, when we arrived, we were the only people there. Usually, places like this are crowded with visitors. But it was cold, and early, and a weekday, so I was able to get unique pictures of the place without random strangers interfering.

There's ice in this stream

My lovely traveling companions, and a building located before the path to the temple

Me standing next to the remains of a tree that was 1200 years old when it died

My most touristey picture yet

Vending machines and ancient buildings

Removing our shoes before going into the temple

And here's a video I wasn't supposed to be taking. (My camera's on the floor, pointed towards a wall.) This was during the morning prayer. We sat through maybe twenty minutes of it.

Monks talking

Earlier in the year, we'd visited Gatbawi on Mt. Palgong. There we saw a stone water fountain, with brightly-colored ladles nearby to be used by everyone as cups. Haeinsa Temple had a much grander fountain.

A monk (who was talking to himself)

A pile of wish-rocks placed by other visitors

Some mountains we saw on the way home

This trip was such a unique opportunity to get good pictures of a fascinating part of Korea. Actually, I slowed us down quite a bit, as I had to take a few pictures every ten feet or so. Everything - the temple, the sunlight, Nature around us - had me thrilled to be there. Then it was amazing to get back in the car with the heat. And it was even more amazing to be able to feel my fingers again. The end.