Scooping dried tea leaves ($150 a package) into the teapot
A short while later, we reconvened in a room off the area where our sleeping rooms were located. Waiting until the boiled water was at just the right temperature, the monk combined the water with some dried tea leaves grown on the temple grounds. Through an interpreter, he explained that we were indeed honored guests, as the small wooden box of dried leaves was sold for $150 retail. The tea coming from same tea bushes, was prized by King Sejong six hundred years ago. After all had some tea, we were given a chance to ask questions. Even simple questions such as what a monk's typical daily routine was like was answered with a complex, philosophical response. Our tour guide (a Korean) struggled to interpret the monk's response with its technical, spiritual terminology, into English.The monk's sense of humor and wit did come through though.
Pouring the tea
Bedtime
Warned that we had to be up and ready for the 3:30 AM ceremony, I eagerly heeded the advice to go to bed after that at 9:00. The warmth of the ondol-heated floors made the sleeping much more pleasant than the colder "slumber-party" style few hours of "sleep" we had at the jinjabong the night before.
Following the etiquette orientation, we followed the monk into another hall. Large heaters that reminded me of barn fans provided some warmth, as we each sat on our mats, stringing up our 108-beaded strand. Using the cue of a projected PowerPoint indicating each of the 108 "sins" (such as ingratitude, not caring, wastefulness) we were to practice the 108 prostrations. The slapping of a juk-bi (an instrument made from a single bamboo piece, slit down the center) would be our cue as to when to get up or to begin the next prostration.
Dinner
With the grueling prostrations behind us, we headed to the dining hall for a well-deserved dinner. Reminded about maintaining silence, we ate our simple vegetarian-style meal consisting of white rice, cooked greens, and a watery soup with more greens and small pieces of tofu. Many of the young hogwan teachers who were part of the temple stay scrunched their noses and later supplemented with chips or other junk food, but I found it to be satisfactory.
In our Templestay orientation, we were reminded of some of the etiquette basics (with those pertaining to eating being revealed in the dining hall). There were more, but the decorative nature of the temple hall interior commanded my attention. Here are some of them:
Practice Noble Silence. In areas where the Buddha is enshrined, refrain from idle talk; instead, use the time for introspection.
Sit in designated areas in the temple and follow the signals of the moktak (wooden handbell)
Always take off your shoes before entering buildings. Line them up neatly and carefully.
Wear your temple uniform, don't drink or smoke, and no rowdy behavior.
Walk in a gentle heel-to-toe style, not shuffling or making noise. Try to keep your hands in a folded "namaste-style" gesture up by your chest.
When passing someone, smile and perform a hapjang half-bow; do the same when passing by or entering a room with a Buddha statue in it.
When eating, try to maintain silence and eat quickly. Don't slurp or make noises with your utensils. Give thanks for your food, placing the bowl up by your eyebrows. Don't complain about your food and avoid waste.
Located in back of the main courtyard, the temple building Daeungjeon was where we would be given some basics of temple etiquette. Typical of most Korean Buddhist temples I'd visited, the wooden shuttered windows and doors were painted in green and framed in a terra-cotta color.
Through the front opening, the large golden Buddha figure and altar was straight ahead. Most of the murals and decorations on the exterior had faded away, coloration faintly visible in some areas and others such as the dragons on either side of the main sign in Chinese lettering revealing the original wood coloring.
Two moktaks (wooden handbells) and a metal handbell were carefully arranged on a small table in front of the main altar. On each side of the large seated Buddha statue were silk lotus floral arrangements. A large mural framed the area behind the statue.
The ceiling of the temple was transformed into a play area for several dragons. Their long, snake-like bodies formed from upper beams slithered towards the Buddha. The heads, with bulging eyes, furrowed brows, and open mouths (revealing the ball inside), appeared to be looking right at the rather impervious-looking Buddha. Their ornamental tails protruded from another wall. Although also suffering from some fading and damage, the interior ceiling and wall decorations were in much better state of preservation than those on the outside.
The highlight, and certainly most unusual part of my spring break, was the templestay at Seonamsa Temple. Located in the Jogyesan Mountain near Suncheon, the name Seonam means Heavenly Rock. According to a legend, a heavenly being once played a game of Go on the location. Origins of the temple are uncertain, but it is thought that the temple was built during the Unified Silla Period (676-935) or during the Three Kingdoms Period (57 BC-AD 676).
Melissa in front of the Daeungjeon main hall at Seonamsa
The bus took us partway through the road leading to the temple complex, leaving us to walk the rest of the way that spring afternoon. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a taller monk who would be our guide during our stay. Each person was given a matching set of brown quilted baggy pants and vest, which, along with rubber slip-off shoes, would be our uniform. Posted was the schedule for our temple stay. Immediately comments were made about the 3:30 session the following morning, questioning the monk if that was correct. His smile said it all. After dropping off our backpacks in the room (four designated visitors in each) and changing into the uniforms, we were asked to meet back in the Main Hall.
Templestay schedule
Courtyard surrounding the rooms where visitors stay, four per small (ondol-heated) rooms
March 24, 2014 was a beautiful spring day in my life. The warmth of the spring sun invited early blossoming and birds to sing. On that day, I was in Seoul, South Korea, enjoying my first day of spring break. For residents of a place I called home for four years, the day was a reminder, not of rebirth and renewal, but of the start of events that forever changed their lives. March 24, 2014 was the 15th anniversary of the NATO bombing campaign in Serbia. For 78 days, bombs and missiles fell in Serbia as well as Montenegro, particularly in the Serbian capital of Belgrade.
Even when I was there from 2005-2008, reminders of the bombing were very prominent. On the same street with so many embassies (including the US Embassy), were these bombed-out shells, remnants of what used to be governmental buildings. Graffiti covered remnants of a former TV station where young people senselessly lost their lives. Far from being a clean-cut attack on the government, the citizens were profoundly affected. Over 2,000 civilians lost their lives, including 88 children. My colleagues who lived through the bombing described giving birth without electricity (one maternity hospital was actually bombed), the piercing noise of the missiles whizzing by and then lighting up the sky, seeking shelter during the raids and then observing the damage the following day, and much more. One friend, an excellent photographer and blogger, wrote a book from her perspective and experiences. She also talked about the everyday hardships, such as food and petrol shortages, wondering if the bridge would be there to get to school, how the International School of Belgrade dwindled down to a few students and teachers during that time, how a chemicals from a bombed factory in a nearby town flowed into the river, poisoning all the fish, and so much more. Through talking with her and others, it was powerful reminder of bias - the news media, government, etc. There is always more of the story we don't hear, and perspectives that are not shared - either by choice or neglect.
Below is a documentary of the bombing campaign which seeks to tell the story from some people with direct experiences. Not collateral damage or terrible accidents, but tragic events that forever changed their lives. When watching TV reports (or reading on Flipboard) of news events such as what is currently happening in places such as Syria, let us remember the human side of the events.
Buchaechum (Fan Dance)
Known as the Fan Dance, Buchaechum is perhaps the most famous of Korean dances. This beautiful dance utilizes large fans, forming patterns such as a sea wave, butterflies, mountains, and a flower in full bloom. Originally part of a shamanistic nature rite, it has evolved into a highly refined national dance.
Kanggang-Suwollae, meaning Moon Dance, traditionally took place on the full moon of the first and eighth lunar months. At this time, women, wearing a blouse & skirt and hair tied back with ribbons, gathered in the field and joined hands to sing and dance. Performed only by women, the dance sought to bring about a good harvest. The dance begins rather slowly incorporating a solo call and choral response, but the pace quickens to a whirlwind pace at the end.
What a beautiful day in Seoul for a walk. Such temperatures might help coax rather dormant-looking trees and ground to bear forth blooms and blossoms. These violets are the first flowers I've spotted this spring. Can't wait for more!
Gaseum e pin ggok (A Flower bloomed in your heart) This information comes from the handout received at the dance performance.
Movements in this dance are meant to imitate flower petals fluttering through the air. In the performance I witnessed, it was danced as a solo.
A very energetic dance, it is a popular crowd-pleasing performance. The three drums are arranged in a way that the drummer can hit all of them while dancing. I've seen this dance several times, and enjoyed seeing the syncopation and flexibility of the drummers as they bend backwards to hit the drum in back. In Sangmo-Mu, the beat gets progressively faster and stronger as it reaches the end of the song. Despite the graceful costumes, these performers show their strength and percussive oomph. This court dance originated in the Goryeo Dynasty and celebrates victory.
Gakshi (or Gaksi?)
Danced as a duet, Gakshi is a reminiscent of a traditional puppet dance. Interactive movements are performed to the cheery and rather fast-paced music.
In the next few posts, I'll feature some different types of traditional Korean dances I've seen.
Geommu (Knife Dance) Performed with a short, dull sword, Geommu is a militaristic, but graceful traditional Korean dance. The costume, particularly the sleeves, is to be in harmony with the dancer. Traditional Geommu hanbok costumes are blue, black, red, yellow, and green. Although the legend seems to originate around 660AD with a boy performing his beautiful sword dancing in front of the court, this court dance typically is performed by 6-8 females.
Now that it's March, I anticipate the coming of spring with not-so-patient anticipation. On my walk, I scanned for signs of spring. A few small green plants starting to peek up through the fallen leaves, but mostly the ground and trees look brown and bare. How much more beautiful the scene from this pavilion would have been with some spring blossoms. Guess I'll have to wait several more weeks yet for any action.
Walking and hiking is a favorite past time for Koreans. I love to see people of all ages out in the nature around Seoul for their health, and not just sitting in the many coffee shops. In addition to the prerequisite special hiking jackets, walking sticks, back packs, and hiking shoes, many Koreans have added another item to their walking gear - the dust mask. For most of this past week at school, recess was canceled, due to high levels of dust and pollution in the air. During the few recess times the kids were able to get out, pint-sized masks donned a number of their faces. China had another terrible week of unbreathable air, and some of this comes on down to Korea.
Pollution is everyone's problem.
I also checked the air quality prior to going on my morning walk. Some hikers were wearing their masks, while this woman carried hers as she ascended up the gentle slopes of Amnsan mountain.
These angelic-like celestial beings appearing on the Bongwonsa Temple are similar to those I've seen on other Buddhist temples in Korea. I like the combination of relief woodwork along with the mural paintings. The wooden column has a nice example of a Trompe 'oeil effect, made to look like an actual curtained fabric.
Yet another white sculpture found at the Bongwonsa Temple in Seoul. Leaving it up to my interpretation, it looks like a goddess on a lotus calmly subduing a beast. I'd love to hear the actual story.
Amongst the row of sculptures at the Bongwonsa Buddhist Temple in Seoul, I found these three particularly expressive. I'd love to hear the story behind the figures and the reasons for their exaggerated expressions. They'd make a great creative writing stimulation and are wonderful examples for art students studying figure drawing. Seeing the snow piled up on them, I'm sure some captions involving the seeming never-ending winter season could be penned by some suffering Midwesterners of the USA. What would you write?
Although I find the highly intricate paintings on temples to be exquisitely beautiful, the faded scenes also attract my attention. What stories do these flecking paints or stained surfaces have to tell us? How do the processes of pigment application vary from when the murals were first created? What devotion the artists must have had, painstakingly rendering each detail. What would they think to see their designs all faded away?
The freshly fallen snow enhanced the tranquility of the scene at Bongwonsa Temple in Seoul. An easy hike from my school, I love how the area transports me to what feels like a totally different area.
This cheery Buddha sculpture greeted me as I walked by on a pretty Sunday morning stroll. A bit odd to see the equally golden sunflowers all snow-covered as well. Definitely not a scene one would see in Thailand.
Although not one of the masked Hahoe performers in Andong, I believe that the cow deserves some attention as well. This character in the performance (actually made possible by two performers) is quite straightforward. It meanders about near the beginning of the performance, even stops to take a bathroom break, and unfortunately succumbs to the knife of the butcher.
The final Hahoe mask I will write about is Kaksi (or Gaksi). She represents a young newly-married woman. Still a common practice in Korea, she lives with her in-laws, where she must be humble, discreet, and non-judgmental towards her new family. The only masked Hahoe figure to have firmly closed lips, this connotes her need for endurance during those first challenging years of marriage. With slightly downcast eyes and gentle twisted hair, she walks with light, but unwavering steps. Kaksi is the only Hahoe mask to be portrayed in a more heroic, non-hypocritical manner. Read more about Kaksi and other Hahoe masks at the Hahoe Mask Museum website.
Another one of the traditional Hahoe masks from Korea is Sonbi (or Seonbi). A scholar of noble heritage, the stern looking Sonbi is seen in the performance squabbling with the aristocratic Yongban over which had the higher status. Its bulging eyes indicate excessive reading, and the high checkbones and hollow upper lids connote someone who is so absorbed in his studies he couldn't look after his household. Hollow cheekbones are typical of other masked figures who have hardship, but Sonbi's are somewhat intentional and self-inflicted due to his complex thoughts. Overall, his look is one of personal dissatisfaction. In the play, Sonbi competes with Yonban over wooing the woman Pune.
Yet another one of the twelve original Hahoe masks is Choraengi. A servant of the aristocratic Yongban, Choraengi is haughty and disrespectful towards his master. Its protruding brow is symbolic of one who is obstinate, and its short wrinkled nose is indicative of one who is unable to accumulate property and is quick-tempered. Choraengi also has hollow-looking cheeks (much like Halmi the old woman and Sonbi), indicating a life of hardship. Read more about Choraengi at the Hahoe Mask Museum website.
Paekchong (or Baekchong) is the butcher in the Hahoe mask performance. Like other societies, its meat-handling profession put it in lowest class in Korean society. Its facial features including pointed eyes, furrowed wrinkled brow, protruding lip, cheek lines, and an overall rough look connotes a certain amount of wickedness and ruthlessness. Like the Chung (monk) mask, the character has a small lump on its forehead, connoting gloom. However, Paekchong does feel guilt for the taking of life. In the play I saw, Paekchong battled with the cow, killed it, promptly butchered it and removed the heart and testicles, which he first offered to the audience and then sold to the Yangban character.
Imae, a servant of the aristocratic character Seonbi, is depicted as the village idiot or fool. Good natured (symbolized by drooping eyes), Imae bears the brunt of his master's temper. Just as Imae's nose is crooked, other parts of his body are deformed, including a limp arm and twisted leg. Although Imae's disabilities were much more pronounced, other Korean masked characters also include illnesses and deformities. Unlike many of the Hahoe masks, Imae is missing a lower jaw. According to legend, the original mask maker Ho died while making the Imae mask, leaving it incomplete. Read more about Imae and other masks on the Hahoe Mask Museum website.
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