Cheosak, Seoraksan, Climbing, Camping and Busing

The days roll by and my English gets progressively s-l-o-w-e-r, due the fact that slower might help make me understood. I have yet to see the benefits of sounding stupid.

I have however taken to my habit of frantic weekend warrior bus rides with hundred pound packs in order to camp and climb surrounded by green trees and laughs from lips of new acquaintances. Sweat and stink are relished comforts and showers seem foreign after the two day pause-from-reality binge. Oh, how could I live without it?

This past weekend I was fortunate enough to grace the green space of jagged peaks like tyrannosaurus teeth in Korea's most famous and often considered most beautiful, Seoraksan National Park. Our Multi-pitch team of 3 girls (Kat, Lindsay and myself) and rope gun Jonathan the German exploited stowed energy from servings of bibimbap (mixed fungus and seaweed rice bowl) to propel us up a trad-slab-crack-chimney 7 pitch heaven. Tough. We all grunted and groaned through our sincere smiles as we pulled on aid slings and hung on hanging belay death triangles!!! (not really deadly - they just appeared that way. Come on, safety first and obviously we survived to tell the story!)

Monday was Cheosak (Thanksgiving), the biggest Korean holiday of the year, deserving no less than a three-day long weekend. On this particular holiday Monday, the punctual local bus swept Daphne, I and our hundred pound packs away as our breath was left in the dust (I have to emphasis the heaviness of our back breaking packs - we need to pack smarter) So close to the rocky beasts that engulf sky and vibe is the beach. The Sea of Japan. It hugs the coast of Sokcho, the hip and salty town in the north of Gangwon-do which gets you pretty close to the infamous border of North Korea. Mind the barbed wire.

Tomatoes?

I have yet to begin teaching in all its sincerity. Because I am teaching at 4 different schools (yes, 4), I have many people to meet and systems to learn. At least the powers that be are allowing me this time to soak up the whos and whats and hows.

I visited the Principal's office today. Choi Jong-Sung was ever so delighted to try and communicate with me in one word English intermittently broken through a stream of fast fire Korean. In our short but smiled faced visit, I learned and understood little. "Tomatoes" was one word that he kept repeating. I tried to decipher the relevance of "tomatoes" within our discussion, but the reason would soon be answered as he motioned me to follow him.

We walked out of his plush office filled with leather seats for each teacher, through the white sulfur scented halls and down the stairs through the back door of the school, quite a large school I might add for a village of 3000. Out the back of the school, surrounded by rich farm land were two large, well tended greenhouses. "Tomatoes?" I asked. A huge smile reached across his face from ear to ear and a short chuckle escaped his lips. "Yes, my work" he said. I was too smiling in my own right as the connection had been made. There they were, under the humid white umbrellas, vines upon vines of ripe red tomatoes. In my mind, I was quickly transported to the rural prairies of Saskatchewan with a twist. He began combing the vines for the biggest, juiciest red fruits. As he picked them with diligent care, he handed them to me. When his excitement had subsided a little, we added the tomatoes that were spilling from my arms to another box that was already full. Then he gave the box to me and said "Your house".

He had just given me a huge box full of Korean tomatoes, a box I would never eat before they would go bad. The continuous generosity of the Korean people impresses me greatly. It helps with my slap in the face culture shock that I experience daily.

I have since brainstormed on all the wonderful things I can do with these tomatoes. First, the majority, sun-dried tomatoes, just like the sun-dried chili peppers that fill the sidewalks with bursts of red on the corner of every street. Then, the ever missed fresh salsa Mexicana, pasta sauce, tomato juice, etc. If you have any ideas, let me know.

Taking it all in.

They really through you in the thick of it here in Korea. By taking the bus or any means of transportation, I am forced to rely on my childhood charade skills. Nervous laughter accompanies slow moving mouths, simple one word English (with incessant repetition) and stick man drawings to ensure I am understood. Even if they understand what I am asking, there is still the misunderstanding of why on earth I would want that!?! This is the cultural divide. Basing my other cultural reference point mostly on Mexico, even though you could never really begin to compare two insanely complex cultures as it would be next to impossible, schedules here seem to be more punctual in general. The air carries a fast paced energy and politeness is of utmost importance. People here treat their English teachers with great respect. I feel like royalty. In some small way, they believe we are the key to their country's future.

Being schooled on the many stages of culture shock, I am put in my place. Understanding the logic of the east on paper by no ens leaves me exempt from the stifling effects of the way things are. I can bravely admit that culture shock has me firmly in its clutches at present. The language barrier being at the forefront.

Today is Monday. On Saturday I courageously travelled outside my little village of 3000 to visit Daphne. She lives in Yeoungwol. Now I am headed back home. I am going to school today even though I have a week before I begin teaching. A week to plan, a week to adjust, a week to take it all in.

My first day in RURAL Gangwon-do, South Korea.

I was wearing little gold satin slippers when I heard a "rap rap rap" at the door. From behind the frosted glass window next to it came a soft voice with a thick Korean accent. "The Vice Principal wants to see you right now"
"He wants to see me now" I thought? I just woke up. I am in my pyjamas. Nonetheless, he couldn't wait until I arrived at the school and was excitedly standing at the front door of my home ready to greet me at 6:30 in the morning on the first day of school.

I arrived in South Korea 4 days ago. After our orientation for new foreign teachers in Seoul, I had felt I could really adapt to this. My long time friend and travel buddy, Daphne and I were with another four hundred other Native English speaking teachers ready to embark on another adventure of our lives. Now, I sit alone in Juncheon. I don't even know where I am and I have never heard of this place. Twelve hours ago, Daphne and I believed we would be teaching close to each other. Not teaching at the same school, but at least close enough to go for an evening stroll and discuss the intensities of being plunged into the unknown without a clue as how to communicate with the people around us. Shortly after this dream was shattered, we were ripped apart with hopeful looks of "will I ever see you again?" emanating from our confused faces as our sweet Korean Co-teachers pulled us into our respective cars and sped off. Apparently we would only be living forty minutes apart by car. By car! Neither of us had a car and in this deeply rural mountainous countryside in the province of Gangwon-do, buses would be much less than frequent.

In the thick of Korean Madness, I am beginning to become accustomed to not knowing anything at all times. Culture Shock is very real here yet I indulge in it's intensity. I am building a new muscle in my hand, a muscle I never knew I had. These skinny metal chopsticks proove to work the fingers well, good for building hand jamming muscles. Faces down in ceramic bowls of Mag gug seu, slirps and horks accompany the sound of Korean chatter all around me. Suddenly a fellow co-worker on my right says "The most impressive thing about Canada to me is the naked woman dance". I almost choke on my over spiced noodles. As I look at him with his serious facial expression, it takes me a moment to realize he is talking about the strip club, or at least I think. To say the least, the conversation subsequently ended.

Well. I did it. I bought my first TRAD RACK (regardless of the ridiculas state of debt I am presently in...). In fact, it was more like a double trad rack. Why not... As I head for South Korea and the Mountains of Seoraksan and all over Gangwon-do in South Korea I will need some natural protection! Crack climbing, here I come. Oh I am so very pumped!

I spent a week with my lovely family in Regina, Saskatchewan. Nostalgia ruled the air as I coasted on the flat roads secretly searching for faces from the past. The Regina Folk Festival allowed me an up close and personal concert from The Weakerthans, a prairie indie/folk band with punk rock roots from Winnipeg. Ohh they are good.

So, nine more days and off I go to Korea, accompanied by a beautiful Daphne Macdonald.

An array of memories and reflections

As I visit with family and old friends, I realize that I am soon about to begin a HUGE adventure! South Korea awaits and I causously make Visa arragements and organize my bags, boxes and thoughts in my home town of Regina, Saskatchewan...

Living in a tent is a precious gift. a good choice. Before I leave this vast country, I will head back to Squamish to give 'er one last pull down. (I hope the highway has been cleared from the landslide that cut the little town off from the rest of civilization - a crisis - or so it appears to be).

The VW is still waiting for a quote in Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua. Yes, not a surprise that they are having difficulty finding parts for the 1972 classic - write it off I say and spare the hassle of having to deal with a van that is on the other side of the world as me. The Jeep is waiting to be imported - I have to drive back to the US border to pay taxes. hmmp - only a short 3 hour gas guzzling drive.

But, in the end, I continue on a vagabond road like the wild wind, always changing on a whim. As I bump and merge, fire and fuse, my smile widens with the freedom to choose.

A masterpiece dream of climbing and taking whippers infiltrates my head space as a few friends and I boogie till we puke at the Squamish Mountain Festival. I had to indulge in a little offwidth climbing to work the body and test that #6 camalot, just to be sure!

Settling into the Squamish Vibe

Under the green canopy that lingers below the shadow of The Chief in Squamish, BC, I have a hard time waking up early. My whole body aching from trad climbing, sport climbing and bouldering daily, I grin in my orange sleeping bag as my pooch streched beside me. This is the life. My fingers are raw and my smile is big! This place is a paradise for many. The campsite is chalk full of climbers and dirtbags wandering the planet looking for the most beautiful lines to climb. I am one of those adventurers. Each night as we jam with mandolins and didgeridoos, I sing along in harmony. The vibe is peaceful and perma-smiles float across the lips of the passers by brushing thier teeth in unison with song.

On my last rest day, I went strawberry picking in Pemberton. The strawberry bushes, busting with red berries are a sight to see for the hungry belly. Eating as many as I could, the bucket took a while to fill. When I arrived back at camp, I was strawberried out so I shared my bucket with everyone around. Everyone loves a fresh picked strawberry!

Yesterday I climbed with Marin, a lovely lass from Winnipeg. As she lead the 10a trad crack she joked and said that she had never climbed with someone more prairie than she. She is from Winnipeg and I from Regina, who would have thought that we knew how to rock climb! It is a real pleasure climbing with ladies, they motivate me so much! and tough chicas are quite the bunch!

Sharing my life with people who have the same passion is an incredible feeling. You always feel like you can relate, no matter the race or nationality. Who would have thought that climbing a rock just to come back down again could be so much fun!

Back in Canada...

Finally we have made it. Many miles, and a few epic adventures behind us, we are now in Vancouver, British Columbia. I guess I will wait to see how long return culture shock takes to settle in. I spent the last two and a half years of my life in Mexico. Returning to a familiar culture can be daunting, especially because I have had to adopt to a whole new way of living and experiencing the world. The eyes of the Mexican culture have become my eyes. Tomorrow we are headed to the oh-so famous, Squamish, BC, home of the Chief. More climbing awaits and my fingers are itching to pull down on some sweet rock.

Arches National Park, UTAH

WOW. An incredible rarity of nature reveals herself to my eyes today. In something like an alien terrain, red sandstone monoliths protrud through the earths crust defying gravity. Our imaginations take flight for moments of awe as we hike to the Delicate Arch, the most photographed arch in the world near Moab, Utah. The dry desert afternoon is kind to us as well as the small herd of other tourists who have made this journey with us.

The same evening, monster drinks in hand, my buddies decide to drive and drive and drive and we make it past Salt Lake City to a KOA campground only to set up temporary camp at 5 in the morning. In fact, I am not sure exactly where we are, but today is the 4th of July, the celebration of American Independence. All the oversized campers in their oversized campers are decked out in red white and blue, doing belly flops in the chorinated outdoor swimming pool. The barbeque beef and fireworks await this evenings festivities, which no doubt cost millions of dollars for minutes of pleasure. That sounds about right. Dont get me wrong, I enjoy fireworks too, but when you really think about it, the little plastic explosions in the sky are both a tad ridiculous and a marvel of human engenuity all at once.

Next, we drive and drive and drive some more to Vancouver, BC, Canada.

Rifle, Colorado. Steep, Juggy Slopers.

These last few days climbing in Rifle, Colorado have been trying. The climbing here is steep and the grades steep too. After a month of no climbing, my head is having a hard time getting back into the rhythm of leading, however, I red-pointed a few hard 10's on the first day! Camping here reminds me of the crisp Canadian Wild with all its grandeur. Fresh scents of pines and wild roses waft past our noses as we dig deep into our chalk bags. A little hot olive oil spill on my leg and all over my dog had damped an afternoon charged with relief. Thank the stars that it wasn't on my foot... I would have had a tough time putting on those tiny shoes. I hope to avoid an infection in this dirty lifestyle we are living. We do have a skin numbing burbling creek near our camp sight to keep clean, it sure is a invite for the Kayak! Hmm, I think I will submerge myself this afternoon.

Hueco Tanks, a Boulderer´s Paradise!!!

After a long drive in a circle (a three hour circle from El Paso back to Sierra Blanca and almost all the way back to El Paso), we finally arrived in our first destination, Hueco Tanks!
Deserted, except for a few rangers, the hot sun beat down on our water deprived bodies. We didn´t care, because, once again, elation had set in! We had a few hours before the park closed for the day to explore and chalk up. This place sure is magical! The mountains of boulders filled with pock marks are a buffet for climbers like us! Not even a little wind storm that almost carried our tent into the dark desert abyss could dampen our spirits! Even though there is no more combi, this was it, pure adventure!