- Chiaksan (1288m),
- Seonginbong (983.6m),
- Buraksan (158m),
- Namsan (468m),
- Songnisan (1058m),
- Yeonginsan (699.3m).
Then, Tony had this crazy idea to go to Seoraksan - the highest mountain in the most famous national park in Korea, and a popular destination for avid hikers from all over - and hike to the peak. He and Heather planned it all out - we would leave Friday night after school, stay the night near the mountain, and get up and go. I wasn't sure I'd make it. So I trained. I ran almost every day for two weeks. I walked to and from school as often as possible. I climbed the stairs twenty stories up in my apartment building, took a breath, and then descended once again.
Although exploring Seorak National Park had been on my Korean "bucket list," I can't say I ever desired to hike up the tallest mountain there. But there we were, Saturday morning, water and snacks packed, shoelaces tied, sunscreen forgotten. At 8am, we began the climb.
And after a few breaks, 5 kilometers of distance, 1700 meters of altitude, and 5 hours of vigorous exercise, we reached the summit! I did it - and without shedding a tear, or telling myself I couldn't make it. Of course, arguably the hardest part of a long hike is descending, because it's so hard on the joints, but that's besides the point: I had accomplished something BIG. I had done something I'd never thought possible: I had reached the top of the second-highest mountain range on the peninsula without doubting myself or fearing failure or even really struggling too much.
With six weeks left in our chapter in Korea, I've come to realize something that was true at the top of Seoraksan as well as in my personal and professional life here. I've learned to believe in myself more, to accept a challenge with a promise to do my best, and to follow through. If you spoke to me at the beginning of this adventure, back in August, you know that I had a very hard time adjusting. I couldn't eat the spicy food; for the first time in my life, I was unable to understand the language around me; and even my wild students left me thinking, "I can't do this." Back then, when I had found myself in a challenging environment, I immediately began to search for a way out. At that time, I truly didn't think I would still be here now, in Pyeongtaek, eating ddeokbokki and dak galbi that's even a bit too spicy for my dad, learning to read Hangeul and even to speak some basic Korean phrases, and still working this job with the same wonderful kids - kids who I never thought I'd grow to love and actually choose to continue teaching at the turn of the new semester. But I persevered. I changed my attitude. I started to have faith in myself.
And now, we've got less than fifty days left. Six teeny weeks to wrap up the life we've created here over the course of a year. To finish our intro to Korean textbook, to eat as much as possible of our favorite dishes, to see the beautiful sights that remain on our to-do list, and to say goodbye to the friends - and especially to the sweet, amazing, brilliant children that have blessed our lives.
At this point in a journey such as ours, we question what's next, and whether we're making the right decision by leaving. But we know we are on the right path. Korea has been a place where we've grown and learned so much - about a different culture, about our professional lives, about our true friends, and about our personal selves. We're ready for what's next, whatever that turns out to be. Bring on the next mountain; we'll see you at the top.
No comments:
Post a Comment