Lughnasa and the Korea Moon
Monday (across the date line) gratefuls: Mary’s birthday! Shaking off the body’s desire to still be in Colorado. Back home in Songtan. Everybody happy to be here. Most of all Murdoch. Warm and humid. 96%! Not the arid U.S. West. Korean fried chicken for dinner last night. Watermelon from Okgwa, Seoah’s parent’s grown. Being here. Faraway, yet with those closest to me.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: My little family
One brief shining: At the table we’d sat around in Warner Robbins, Georgia, on Hickam AFB in Hawai’i, now in Songtan, Korea my son, Seoah, and I ate fried chicken, drank water and chatted about tours we could take in the land of the morning calm.
Daughters are stolen from their mothers. Seoah repeated this bit of Korean folk wisdom to me as her mother stuffed watermelons, long beans, an Instant Pot, a blender, a mystery appliance, and other items into various bags before we headed back to Songtan. This sudden efflorescence of baggage required Joe to remove the golf clubs, stow the cargo cover, and arrange everything carefully.
Appa and Umma watched as did Seoah’s youngest sister and her daughter. Appah went into his machine shed and gathered some cold bottled water for all three of us. He gave everyone a hug, smiled. Seoah’s younger sister prodded her daughter who came over and gave me a delightful hug. A loving and familiar sendoff after a family visit to the farm.
Korea is a land of low Mountains covered by deciduous Trees, vines, and in obvious open spaces the mounded graves and grave markers important to this still Confucian inflected culture. It reminded me a bit of the Smokies. Except no signs for boiled peanuts, no Confederate battle flags. The journey from Okgwa to Songtan took us through many, many tunnels. At least twenty, perhaps more.
Most of the traffic control on the highways involves photo enforcement and various, often odd, reminders. Like the occasional actual rear end of a police car with a speed limit sign attached. Or, also a speed limit sign, but a police mannequin below watching the traffic. At regular intervals there are flashing blue and red lights like those on a stopped police car. A subliminal message? Not sure.
Unlike Korean urban drivers these highway drivers were sedate and orderly for the most part. Very few angry speeders or the dimwit who weaves in and out to gain a few seconds advantage. Urban drivers here, at least according to Joe, are unpredictable and erratic. I’ve not witnessed this myself.
Today or tomorrow I’ll start exercising again. Gotta do more resistance work. My back is sore and I’m weaker than I like. Feels good to be on vacation with my home duties signed off to Vince and Luke, bills paid, and money in the bank f0r the trip. Also to be in a country as far away my own culture as Korea.
A traveler can focus on the similarities or the differences between their home culture and the place they have traveled to. Neither focus gives a true picture of a cohesive culture, an intricate web of customs, assumptions, language, location, ethnicity, history, and ambition.
Glad to be here long enough for immersion.