A Weekend in Jeollanam-do

1. Tea plantation, 2. Ghostly mist
The weekend before last, Gavin and I decided to get out of the city for a bit. It's rainy season, and all this oppressive heat and humidity is better enjoyed among some green, not in the smoggy soup that is Seoul-city air. So we boarded the KTX and headed south to Kwangju, transferred to a slower train and headed further south still, to Boseong, and then took a city bus to Boseong's largest green tea plantation.

Boseong county is on the southwestern coast of Korea. The hills above the ocean have been terraced with rows and rows of green tea plants since 1939, when they were first planted during the colonial Japanese occupation. When we arrived at the tea plantation parking lot on Saturday morning, about 5 hours after we left Seoul, it was still morning. The day's temperature was already creeping upward, and a thick fog hung over the hills. Droplets of morning dew clung to every leaf and spiderweb strand. There were a lot of spiderwebs everywhere, so delicate and spooky in the mist.

There are 4 green tea harvests throughout the year, timed to the optimal tastiness of the leaves, but it's not harvest season now and the fields were empty of workers. The sky was threatening rain, so only a smattering of tourists had come out that day, but I was glad because the fog made the view extra picturesque. A few family tombs were nestled up in the hills, watching over the plantation.

We spent an hour hiking around the plantation before heading back down to the shops at the base of the hill. To tell you the truth, the shops were the most disappointing part. There were a lot of gratuitously-green-tea-themed paraphernalia, like candles and soaps, but a lot of it looked a bit kitschy and like it had been made somewhere else. But I did come away with a bag of local green tea and some green tea salt (which I've since tried, and it's quite good!). Afterwards we shared an awesome green tea milkshake. Mmmm.

1. Aqua nets, 2. Yellow traps
We hopped in a cab to go down to the beach. It was low tide and the tidal flats stretched far and wide. A few people were poking sticks in the mud to catch crabs. With our stomachs grumbling, we walked through the sleepy fishing village scanning the seafood restaurants. A shop owner advised us that it wasn't the season to have any particular raw seafood, so we ordered some steamed clams. They came out in a spicy sauce with a lot of side dishes and were pretty tasty. After that there wasn't much left to do in Boseong, so we took the train back to Kwangju and stayed in a jjimjilbang (24-hour sauna) overnight. It was the most uncomfortable jjimjilbang I've ever stayed in; there were no blankets or mats and it was overrun with hormonal teenagers!

1. Tall, 2. Rice paddies
The next day, we headed to Damyang by bus. For 500 won extra, the bus driver agreed to drop us off right near the bamboo forest instead of at the bus terminal. Damyang's claim to fame is their bamboo forests. In the fragrant shade of this tall grass, Gavin and I imagined fighting monks leaping from the canopy, with crouching-tiger-hidden-dragon kung-fu moves. The forest was bigger than I had imagined it and it's breezy shade was a welcome respite from the day's mounting heat.

Right outside the bamboo forest was a beautiful traditional house. A young man by the door beckoned us inside and introduced us to an elderly gentleman who was sitting in the corner, silently shearing thin reeds off of a bamboo stalk. This was the artist, a designated Intangible National Treasure and one of the last living masters of bamboo weaving in Korea. Currently he is without apprentice and can't find anyone to hand down his techniques to. He and his wife made nearly all the products in the shop, traditional multi-color gift boxes called "chesang" (채상). Each was beautifully constructed with attention to every detail. The volunteer explained that it took the master and his wife 15 days to complete just one box. The fine workmanship is evident when you hold each piece in your hand; it just feels tighter and sturdier than the crafts (suspiciously labeled "Made in China") we saw in various shops in town. The master's effort is reflected in the price; just one "chesang" in a set of three was 3 million Won (about US$3000)! We wanted to support his work, however, so we opted for a much smaller jewelry box that was 60,000 Won.

Afterwards, we rented bikes in town and enjoyed the view from the long tree-lined road running alongside the stream. The banks of Damyang's stream are green with lush rice paddies, much prettier than the concrete banks of Seouls' Cheongyecheon. The bike rental was only about 3,000 W.

For lunch we had raw bamboo shoots! The meal came rice steamed in a bamboo cup and lots and lots of side dishes. I really appreciate how one gets so many more side dishes when you eat out in the countryside... The bamboo shoots were all succulent, tender, fresh, tasty.... of course. We ate everything on the table, even the hongeo.

After lunch, we cabbed it to Damyang's second bamboo forest which is further from the town center than the tourist map would have you believe. I'm not sure but I think this one was a little bit smaller than the first. With a dirt path, buzzing mosquitoes and less signage, it had a more rustic feel. The heat was blistering by the end of our walk, so when our cab driver informed us that it was a steep hike up a hill to see the Geumseongsanseong Fortress, we opted instead for the air-conditioned confines of the Damyang Bamboo Museum. The museum provided an interesting insight to the region's history of bamboo crafts. Damyang has been the location of an ongoing bamboo craft market (open on days ending with a 2 or a 7) for decades.

Sometimes, when speaking of Koreans and Korea, I hear both foreigners and locals alike refer to Seoul and Korea interchangeably, saying things like "In Korea, everyone is in a hurry," or "In Korea, everyone drives big cars." But that's just about as accurate as using New York City to describe all of America. On the way back to Seoul that evening, I looked out the train window at miles and miles of farmland zipping past. I'll always love train trips more than car rides for the difference in view. On the highway, everything is asphalt and concrete and traffic jams, but from the train, you can glimpse something else: people's backyards, drying laundry, families grilling barbeque, cows dozing off, farmers taking stock of the day's harvest before the sun sets...So different from Seoul, and actually a lot more like America than you might think...