Frog Day

Today is Kyong Chik – Frog Day. The day in which all of the frogs end their hibernation and greet spring. Mr. Nam and I had plans to climb Palgongsan again today. I was looking forward to meeting my first Korean frog.

I woke up to a bright and sunny day – perfect for hiking. I layered and prepared to head out. Right as I was locking the door, I remembered how cold it was last time. But it’s so sunny – should I take my ski jacket? Just in case? No. Yes. No. Oh, let me just grab it. And I was off.

Mr. Nam and I drove the 45 minutes to the outskirts of town to Palgongsan. As we got farther and farther from the city center, the air became crisper and cleaner. More trees, fewer buildings. And…rain. Oh, no. We continued driving. As we began the ascent towards the park’s entrance, the rain turned to snow. Big, fat clumps of snow. Not just falling, but appearing as someone was tossing white flowers over the road. “Look, Rori, mountain happy to see you. Throwing snow to welcome you.” How could I not smile at that? The mountain was glad to see me.

By the time we parked the car it had ceased snowing. We began our hike. Through a woodsy area, along a stream. I asked Mr. Nam where were the frogs? He only laughed. The first part of the trail was gentle. A nice, wide, smooth path, meandering among tall trees. Then we began climbing. It was the perfect trail. Almost entirely rock. And a continuous rise. Stepping from rock, to rock, to rock. Up higher and higher and higher. The rocks, the trees, the path were all covered by a light dusting of snow, undisturbed by anyone or anything. It was magical. We stopped at a plateau to observe the view. Ridges for as far as the eye could see. The sky a cozy gray. The trees offering beautiful “nyun kkyot” – snow flowers. Mr. Nam turned to me. “I think you a very lucky woman. The mountain not always beautiful. But for you, always. From since, no, from now, I call you lucky woman.” I listened carefully. I am a lucky woman.

As we climbed we talked about many things – my family, his family, his siblings in Seoul, his daughter’s first day of school, where his wife swims, my school, my students… At one point while he was talking, I thought to myself, “This is my life now. This is a workday for me. Yet I can spend a glorious morning on the mountain with a friend. I’m not stressed out. I’m not worried about losing my job. This is nice. Life is good.”

As we rose higher on the mountain, it began to snow again. Maybe snow is not the appropriate way to describe what was happening from the sky. Dusting? Powdering? Falling gently? We reached another plateau where there was a cable car station and a coffee house. As we neared the buildings, I noticed two figures that looked like totem poles. “What are these?” I asked. Oh, those protect the building from evil spirits. I looked closer. They were grotesque. Contorted faces. Glaring eyes. Toothless scowls. If I was an evil spirit I’d stay away too.

Mr. Nam pointed to a far-away peak. See that? “Yes.” That’s Dong Bong. East Peak. “Yes.” That’s where we’re going. “Today?” Yes. Very good. “Okay…”

And we were off. Down, down, down. We had to traverse a valley then ascend another mountain to reach our final destination. As we were entering the valley, the temperature dropped by about 10 to 15 degrees. The snow became much deeper. Ice patches appeared. We stopped to don our ice clamps. The forest became much denser. The path was a mere snake, winding itself up and around, in and out of trees laden with whiteness. I had a sudden feeling of recognition. I’ve been here before. But it’s not possible. I quickly scanned the memories in my brain. Hiking, forests, snow, cold, other countries, no, no, no, no, no, but I know I’ve seen this before. Oh, my god. I am in C.S. Lewis’ Narnia. This was the exact image I had in my mind when I read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe in 3rd grade. At that moment Mr. Nam turned around. “Okay? You are quiet.” Yes, yes, just thinking. Then he laughed. I looked at him quizzically. “You, you have a crown of snow flowers in hair. You are snow queen.”

We began our upward climb again. We met hikers on their way down. Again, all older. Groups of housewives. Retired couples. “Annyong ha-sayo.” “Yaaaaaay.” I learned that the literal translation of this phrase (used as a greeting, a “hello”) is “Are you at peace?” I like that. Almost all of the hikers stopped to talk to Mr. Nam. He translated, “They say Dong Bong is very good. We must go.” Okay. As I passed a group of women one of them laughed at me and said something in Korean. Immediately I laughed and said, “Yaaaaaaaay.” A few steps later it struck me. I literally stopped. I was shocked. In Korean, she had said to me, “You need a hat.” I had understood what she said. At normal speed. The first time she said it. I almost started dancing I was so elated.

As we neared the summit, the winds became stronger, the snow heavier. The one thought going through my mind was, “I am so glad I brought my ski jacket.” Mr. Nam said, “Do you remember?” Remember what? “This. Here.” No. “Here – where we climbed last time. See?” Ohhhh, I do see. But, we didn’t take the same path did we? “No, many paths lead to peak. Different.” We rounded the corner and I saw the 99 steps. Up, up, up. At last. On the top. The wind stung my face. My ears burned from the cold. We quickly looked around. We couldn’t see very far into the distance, but it still was marvelous. The icy trees. The snow covered stones. The opaque grey of the sky laden with heavy clouds. “Ready?” Through chattering teeth, I mumbled, “Yes.” And down we went.

I forgot that Mr. Nam doesn’t climb down the mountain, he sprints. I tried to follow his pace, but I’m just not that coordinated. I can move fast. Or I can move adroitly. But not both at the same time. Then there was the issue of the ice clamps on rocks. We would come to random areas in which the snow had melted. And the rocks were exposed. I felt like I was wearing my first pair of high heels. I would put one ice clamp down on the rock and my ankle would turn. I would try to straighten it out and would slip. My earlier pride at learning Korean was diminished by my lack of success at walking, something I’ve been doing for much longer.

As we neared the end of the trail, Mr. Nam slowed down. He walked closer and closer to the stream. “What are you doing?” I asked. He smiled, I want to find a frog for you. We both laughed. But, unfortunately, no frogs were seen on Frog Day.

In the car, he said, “I very worried for you.” Why’s that? “You teach now. Until very late at night. I think you – tired.” Yes, I am tired (we had hiked for almost 5 hours), but it’s a good tired. I feel very, hmmm, renewed.

Back At The Ranch…

I quickly showered, donned my uniform (ugh), and headed to school, still feeling rejuvenated from the morning’s hike. This is what met me when I entered the teacher’s room:

A: This is so wasteful. Why did they give one of these to each of us? (holding a “Progress of Classwork” for each class, each book, about 150 pages. We each got information for all the classes, even the ones we don’t teach.)

Me: I know. It is wasteful. I suggested they place one master copy in the teacher’s room for reference. But they had already begun making copies. Maybe next time.

B: Or they could just post it on the school’s web site.

A: No, not on the web site. Some of us don’t spend our entire lives on the internet, you know.

C: Besides, our school web site is crap. I don’t want to have to deal with it.

A: But this is so wasteful.

C: I don’t care if it’s wasteful. It’s not my paper.

Me: But the trees. All of the trees.

C: I don’t care about trees. Besides, paper is made from trees grown specifically for that. It doesn’t matter if they’re killed.

D: Well, this is just the Korean way. Everything is last minute. You can try to tell them something. But there’s no planning. They’ll never listen.

A: God. Do you have to be so negative about everything? Just for once, can’t you listen to what is said and not have a negative comment?

Me – exit stage left. The contrast between my two environments of today was too stark for me to process. I retreated to an empty classroom to grade my papers in peace.