Monday, May 31, 2021

From Jeju to Jeonju

Even when I flew away from Jeju, I could see Hallasan. This was my fourth visit but it won't be my last.
Here she is again, anchoring me while traveling south to the gat exhibition hall.
Hard to see here but also visible from the main road where I stayed at Brenda's apt; I think I was in a rush to get to the bus stop so I didn't shoot from the better vantage point, but as I said, she's always there.
What was new was all the wind turbines. I get it, Jeju gets a lot of wind. But these are not attractive. They are all over parts of the coast as well. I feel like humans could have come up with a better design but it's probably too late for that.
I only noticed the solar panels for Yang Soon-ja's walk-in refrigeration unit in the picture behind the hanji! I was amazed that she had that unit right behind her house, and even more impressed by the mandarins she pulled out of there. She said the unit is so powerful that even though the fruit was a month or two old and the skin looked rotten and shriveled, the insides were fine. Of course she was right.
This shows what happens if the fabric folds over and is blocked from the sun: the color doesn't develop. I'm surprised more people haven't taken advantage of this with photo techniques (the way people do with cyanotypes) but maybe I haven't been looking very hard.
On my visit to Hyeopjae beach I saw the piled stones so particular to this place. I saw them on my first trip to Jeju in 2008 and it's always like seeing old friends.

There were tons of people camping out on the left of this path, which I found weird, and magpies were coming for me on the trail but it was still quiet as I visited around 7:30am.
Looking to the right was the sea, always soothing.
Tons of tents within these trees.
I visited Gwakji beach more often because it was closer and felt manageable. On one walk there, I saw this site of Airstream trailers parked as places to stay. Each one was numbered.
So there'd be a sign, "Boy 123" or whatever. This seemed a little better than the tents and while I love the sea, I don't think I'd want to sleep right alongside of it. I grew up along a river and even though we were far from it, I still have recurring nightmares of it flooding all the way up to our home. Though these days with climate change, that is probably not unreasonable to fear.
The Jeju Olle Trail is a way for people much fitter than me to walk the entire island. It's a series of connected trails and parts of my daily walks coincided with parts of the trail. This sign helps you know you're on the right path.
But these ribbons are also iconic of the trail, blue to represent the sea and orange to represent the mandarins. Tangerines? I really don't know how to classify them but in Korean they are called gyul.
Ribbons on the building at right.
And if you like to prove that you've done the trails, there are stations where you can stamp a passport.
One of Gwakji beach's attractions is their fresh spring bath. They are divided into men's and women's sections, and I followed the directions of the signs, which said not to take pictures (as people could be there bathing naked). I had gone during my first visit to rinse my salty feet but was a little perturbed by an entire family that decided to go: father, mother, daughter, two sons. It was the first time that I realized that women's spaces are always considered free game to anyone. I doubt this family would have strode into the men's bath to frolic. Mother's always take their sons into public restrooms but I don't think fathers take their daughters to change diapers or whatnot. I can't even get into trans issues when it comes to these spaces but it did make me realize that we are conditioned from a young age to know that women's spaces are welcome to invasion.
This is the outside of the women's section, where the fresh spring water flows out and meets the salt water.
Being able to spend time here truly dissolved a lot of inner turmoil, though it roiled right back up once I returned to the mainland. They always say to try and return to the places that bring you the most peace, so I hope I can polish and imprint these memories. While translating for the movie project, Kang Mi-kyoung said that many haenyeo say that the sea is better than any man, any husband. You get love from the sea, money, and can take care of your whole family by harvesting.
Her kindness and generosity from the jump mirrored the way that Ms. Yang and Brenda took care of me in their own special ways, including me and giving me space to be alone. When I returned to the mainland, I realized that that is my trouble with staying in Jeonju: I have no friends here, no social life. It's all work, and that's why I always want to leave. So the balance is essential, and makes me grateful for all the friends I'll get to return to back home in a month.
Yet I am so grateful to be in a place where I don't have to worry about getting shot for no reason, and where even though I am not made up like everyone else, I still blend in in a way that I never can back home. An artist colleague recently wrote something that made me realize that it's not our invisibility solely that puts us in danger, but being highly visible/marked as "other." She said, "I am tired of the fact that I look different and stand out no matter how hard I try to act like the people around me. It is terrible because it makes me try to hide away and [be quiet]. Super visible + invisible existence! I am exhausted." This kind of thing makes me want all of my Korean and Korean American friends in the US to come hang out with me here. If not for the 2-week mandatory quarantine, it would be so much easier.
When I returned to Jeonju (I flew from Jeju to Gwangju, then took a cab to the bus terminal, and had to wait an hour or more as the next bus was sold out), I found out that my wifi was dead, which led me to a week of desperate calls and visits, from a dorm person to an IT person to the store that sold me my router to a mart that sold me an adapter cable and back to the IT person. I almost got on a train to Seoul just to use the wifi on the train and hotel (yes, I could use the office wifi but it's not the same as being able to type in a comfy place wearing whatever you want). While I know a lot of hanji vocab, I do not know any network/computer/etc. words. Even when I went to buy my router, I asked if that word meant building. HAHAA. I still can't tell you what the word for router is but I was grateful that the IT person was so patient and polite. The yucca outside the office was flowering when I returned!
Because all of the wifi stuff took so much time and energy, I wasn't able to do much else until the weekend. This is the nature of living in another country and taking care of basic survival needs (I know, it's sad to think of wifi as one of those but I was truly so relieved when the lights went back on and the internet started to work again on my devices): everything takes longer than it would for a native. Yet, I persist. I had missed a fan exhibit at the fan culture center in Jeonju, and loved this piece in the permanent exhibit part of the hall, a piece by Eom Ju-won (1938–2004), who was a provincial ICPH in North Jeolla Province of making fans, designated in 1997. I was mostly curious about the material for the outer ribs, which would be the only things visible when the fan is closed.
The special exhibit is a father/son show of the national ICPH of fan making (and the only one), Kim Dong-sik and his son, Kim Dae-seong, who has been so helpful with getting me bamboo processing knives and sharpening them for me. As well as cluing me into the fact that I can do a lot of my work more easily now if I let go of the old ways and also just look for stuff online. I loved this picture of them!
Father and son
Son (and the only son, which makes it more remarkable that he decided to take on this work full time).
Their family lineage of fan makers
Kim Dong-sik's work, the father's
I think this is a detail of one of his fans but I didn't take good notes (I was so sweaty and dehydrated from getting there on a hot day after a light and early lunch). But each of these designs is burned into each piece of bamboo.
Kim Dae-seong's work, the son. I love love love the bat design on each of these bamboo pieces.
The father's particularly wonderful work, on a more rare fan shape, used to block the sun. Not only does he have to burn in the designs on the long bars but he has to choose the right bamboo that has many close nodes (usually that's not desirable for bamboo work but in this case, it is, for design's sake).
The son's work. Again, the bats!
Back to the father. I have wanted these fans since I've seen them, and in a way it worked out that the jerk who first showed them to me wouldn't sell them, because now I have two that he has never touched. I was so sweaty after I left that I took one out immediately to start using. Very effective! I hope before I leave to have one more meeting/meal with Kim Dae-seong to talk about the ideal paper weight and quality and dimensions so that I can produce some paper good enough to send to him to make some custom work in the future.
This was lunch that I had at a department store on a rainy and windy day when I knew I had to have soft food after getting my temporary tooth glued back in (I had accidentally knocked it out while inadvertently flossing, and of course it happened the night before the dentist's day off, so I had to wait a bit to go back. Of course I had cleaned it and stuck it back on in the meantime). Fried tofu skins are stuffed with seasoned rice and then topped with all kinds of decadence. I also had the sense on the way to the dentist to hop out of the cab early because I noticed the cab driver falling asleep in the rearview mirror and not responding to basic traffic signals or cars honking at him at the green light.
After my fan visit, I wanted initially to go to one place for dinner but it was closed, so I backtracked to a cafe that claimed it had real chocolate cake for sale (it's not that easy to get really good chocolate anything here). Sadly, they were already sold out but I was so sweaty and spent that I settled for this gorgeous black sesame cake. While eating it, I wondered what I actually wanted for dinner, and it was something a little different.
It wasn't this, I just got this in case the main dish wasn't enough food. This kimbap was so spicy and I didn't realize until I almost finished it that it's because there were raw spicy peppers inside. I was a little embarrassed to be eating so much food when other people only ordered the next dish, but I was feeling famished (yes, even after cake).
What I've realized is that even though I can't navigate like a local, I am skilled and resourceful enough to get by. Unlike my older relatives who can't deal with phone apps (partly because of their eyesight, which is something I am dreading), I use Kakao Map all the time and basically searched for a place that had good naengmyeon (cold noodles). It was thankfully within walking distance and it was great! The reason I ordered more than this is that my experience of noodles is that I become hungry about an hour after I've eaten them.
On the way home, I saw this cat, who clearly OWNS the entire area. It will sit in spots that are directly in the path of people and not move an inch, while all the kids run down the stairs and walk around. I have a lot to learn from this creature. Meanwhile, I am jealous of everyone here and back home planting diligently, including the folks in Virginia at Oak Spring Garden Foundation. One of their farmers, Caitlin, had interviewed me last summer during my residency, and posted her insights here.

Today was my 10th dentist visit in Korea and hopefully my last for this trip, but you never know, so I might have to visit one more time in a couple of weeks. Fingers crossed that the worst is over! Why so many posts all at once? Because true to my inability to stay in any one place for longer than a week, I hit the road early tomorrow morning to start bonus hanji study with the new national treasure and his apprentice. I haven't done this kind of work in a long time and hope my body is up to it. Here's to the final 30 days.

Sunday, May 30, 2021

Jeju Part 3: Women and the sea

After I ran across the street from the gat exhibition hall to catch the first of two local buses that would take me from the east side of Jeju to the southern coast, I was relieved that I had managed to ride so many buses from the early morning (I had gone west to visit another beach) to the afternoon. I was glad to have packed a couple of baked eggs (I had grabbed them without reading that they were baked and not raw, which I only found out when I tried to crack an egg into a sizzling pan) and mandarins to eat at the bus stop for the second bus. Once I got off the last bus to walk to the haenyeo market, I was amazed by  how quiet it was.
I wondered why it was so quiet, since I knew I was going to an outdoor performance. Sure enough, once I thought that, I started to hear some music in the distance and knew I was going in the right direction. This space was built right at the shore though it's a little weird because the water doesn't go back and forth between the sea and the stage area. It also blocks the view of where the rocks meet the water. But it was still a welcome and stunning sight.
Brenda's husband Jan (left) was performing with Kijene (right) and I caught only the very end of the first set, which was actually better timing than I had feared. I was so glad that I had reached my final destination for the day and could finally relax.
The site had these comfortable cushions (the aqua blue ones) to sit and watch, and you can see Brenda standing at the right of the three standing folks, with Kang Mi-kyoung in the center wearing the hat. She was the instigator for all the dancing, and as soon as Brenda introduced me to her, she took me immediately to the actual water. [of course, this was after I said hi to Yang Soon-ja, who had come from a family wedding that I couldn't attend because of the gat appointment. She was on her way home after the first set but left me with a cold beverage, always taking care of what I eat!]
Walking past the stage area we got to the rocks and the water, which was so refreshing. After we had walked out, the tides had started coming in a bit so I had taken off my shoes, and then she asked if I wanted to sit and dunk my feet for a bit, which I DID. [She was born on one of those islands out in the distance, which we could see from almost every place we were that evening.]
If not for all the people and all my stuff, I would have stripped down to go in completely, which makes sense as this was where she said she grew up as a child, playing with the fish and hanging out at sea. Her mother was a haenyeo, though she had to stop working after her eardrum burst from going a bit too deep one day at work.
The water was so clear that you could see right to the rocks as we walked. This was Mi-Kyoung's playground.
What a playground.
She pointed out Hallasan, the giant mountain/old volcano that is at the center of Jeju Island. It is the highest mountain in South Korea and in good weather you can see it in the distance, which helps orient you as it's right in the middle. I had forgotten the story about how Mt. Halla is in the shape of a woman laying down, seeing the profile of her face all the way down to her body. Everywhere I went, Hallasan was a great comfort.
Though I wanted to linger, we had to get back for the second set, where of course she insisted we dance to improve the ambiance of the place, which was not so much focused on the music but shopping and hanging out at the various booths. She got us some lovely snacks from one of them while Brenda talked with the team for the Keurida Project, a documentary about an adoptee returning to Seoul for the first time since she was adopted. Brenda is in the scarf talking to Cleo in the hat, the subject and co-director, while Crystal, another co-director, is trying to film in lighting that is really hard to deal with. Somehow after Jan's set was over, we managed to herd everyone over eventually to a nearby restaurant for dinner and more conversation.
There is a haenyeo school here and two restaurants side by side. I believe one is run by haenyeo and the other by haenyeo students, of course using their catch from the sea. We each had a bowl of noodles and then shared haemul pajeon (seafood pancake).
Mi-kyoung of course insisted on treating the entire group, which included crew and musicians. She even led us all in a guided meditation on the rocks before we said our farewells at the end of the evening, as that is her big goal: to teach more people about traditional Korean meditation. While we were soaking our feet, she talked about how the deeper and more subtle Korean traditions are being lost and mostly unknown, like this meditation, and how she hopes to share it with more people around the world someday.
After dinner, the team wanted to shoot a conversation between Mi-Kyoung (who herself is an amateur haenyeo) and Cleo. There was a woman who I thought was the interpreter (but turned out to be a producer), and she insisted that I interpret. I resisted at first, saying that she should go ahead, but then she said, "It's better for a local to do it." I was astounded that they thought I was a local in any way (please note that everything I was wearing were the last remnants of clean clothes I had, which included pants that I sewed at home for indoor wear only, as I was staying in Jeju longer than I had initially planned). But I roll with a lot here, maybe too much, and started the work.
Fortunately, Mi-Kyoung was using some English words (that are only intelligible as English to Korean folks) and I had read about haenyeo, so I wasn't completely in the woods. Plus, one of their crew members would jump in if I couldn't find a word in the dictionary app fast enough. At a certain point, I also just fudged what I could because 1. I'm not a professional interpreter and 2. I was getting really tired. I thought so much of the natural dye symposium panel I was part of earlier this month, and our intrepid interpreter. It wasn't okay at first but I noticed near the end that my energy was really flagging because I was concentrating so hard on listening, remembering, and then interpreting. Seriously, how do the professionals do it?!
One last snap before we got to Jan's car for the drive home. I was so grateful for the whole experience, as it made me realize how much better my language skills have gotten. Even at the gat hall, Ms. Yang kept saying how nice it was that I spoke Korean, as her own sister's children have lost theirs living in Ohio. She said, "I can't talk to them." This made me sad. But I was glad that she felt comfortable meeting me, as she had admitted when I had called her the day prior warning her that I was Korean American, that she thought I wouldn't be able to speak the language.
The next morning, I made another beach visit as it seemed to be the best way to start each morning, and then went to see Yang Soon-ja again at Mongsengee for the last time, to pick up my dyed hanji. She insisted that we drench it and hang it on the line at her house while we had a mid-morning snack...before she took me to church! She very generously defrosted the sora (conch) that she had bought the prior day, which are a big part of the haenyeo catch. Even in pandemic, people are going to church. It's kind of a miracle that I made it almost four months and hadn't been dragged to church yet. It was nicer than other experiences because it was a small country church in a very sweet little building with a lovely garden. The pastor seemed to have missed his calling because I think he would have liked to be a pop star with all of the loud, earnest singing, skinny jeans and trendy sneakers, and so on. Korean churches are where I suddenly lose my capacity to understand the language, so I was glad when the service ended.
Afterwards, we went with another member of the congregation back to Ms. Yang's home to eat lunch (kimbap provided by the church) and take my hanji off the line. Because of a sudden appointment that the other woman made for Ms. Yang, we only had time for her to drive me partway to my destination, but at this point I am so used to being dumped on the side of the road to find a bus stop that I was happy to jump out with my crunchy stash of hanji and ask Brenda if I could come directly to her house to make use of her sunny lawn. I got the paper wet at her house and we lay it out on the lawn before retiring for a nap (this is the best kind of friend to have: someone who allows you to have nap time!!).
When we got up from our respective naps, the hanji had already dried and started to take on more color, so we did one more round of dunking in water and laying out, but this time added volcanic rocks from her pathway to weigh them a bit as the afternoon wind was starting to pick up.
They mostly stayed put until we got back a few hours later!
Brenda drove us through some of the villages and eventually to one of her favorite spots in Wollyeong-ri. I had noticed campers on all of the beaches I saw, and this was no exception. Though these people looked more like they pitched tents for the day to eat and hang out, not to sleep, like at Gwakji and Hyeopjae beaches. I found this really weird but Brenda explained that it's partly a result of pandemic and people feeling so cooped up inside.
Jeju is usually a major honeymoon destination so it seemed apt to see a couple staging their wedding photos on the path.
The views were stunning, not only of the water and rocks but of the flora.
This area is known for its cactus colony. I know, how random!
We walked further out to an area that was really lovely but before I could take pictures, I saw a boat coming back into harbor and asked Brenda what kind of boat it was. She said, it's haenyeo returning from sea! So we rushed back to watch.
By the time we got there, most of the haenyeo had gotten off the boat except a couple who were helping the guy operating the crane hook their catch on to lift from the boat.
We waited with everyone else, as cars had arrived simultaneously to pick up different members of this group.
The orange things are their floats, I think, while their catch is in the green nets. And they are heavy.
See the pair carrying a net together? They're coming closer towards us.
One haenyeo empties her net to sort through the sora she has harvested at sea.

Eventually after they pick out any duds, the haul will go to be weighed and sold.
This haenyeo worked on her own to empty her net. It's hard to see from the pictures, but these are NOT big women. However, they are extremely strong.

After that, I felt so fortunate to have been able to see working haenyeo in person, and we walked back through the village. Though I was jealous of the people in the water, it was more valuable to have seen the women who really know how to be in the water, as it's not as easy to experience.
The next morning, Brenda and her friend (kind of like an adopted niece) Yujin came by to pick me up with my bags for my final day. We went to Gwakji beach, my favorite, and went to the best fish & chips place.
The view from inside.
And from inside (obviously I didn't order fish & chips but this shrimp burger was very good and messy).
I never do closed mouth smiles but by the time Brenda had run outside to shoot us from there, I had started to eat, so my mouth is full.
Our final adventure was Brenda's and Yujin's local ice cream store, entirely run on the honor system. What? When Brenda wrote about this in her book about Jeju, I thought it was just one self-serve machine or something. But no. It's a ton of freezers full of SO many different kinds of ice cream!
No attendant, no cashier, no one inside. You just use this machine to scan barcodes and pay.
Yujin and Brenda kept trying to figure out their options.
This board of post-its says on top, something like, "You are doing plenty well enough right now!" I'd like to believe that, and on Jeju I did.