Backpacking Begins: The Bullet Train to Busan

Despite nearly cancelling my travel plans due to complications from my nasty Fido attack, I decided Thursday afternoon that I was well enough to still make the most of my one-week vacation (which began Saturday morning). It was cutting things close by Thursday when I made the final call, close enough that all hostels in Busan were booked, and I had to reserve my second-choice bullet train from Cheonan, as all seats on Saturday morning's first train to Busan had all been reserved.

The next few days were a bit stressful as I sent off multiple CouchSurfing requests in hopes of finding someone who would be willing to host me. I hadn't realized until far too late that the weekend of my intended arrival was also the beginning of a huge month-long beach festival in Busan proper. And everybody, it seemed, was planning to attend.

I managed the good fortune of getting in contact with a sweet girl named Marina, originally from the Ukraine, and on teaching contract for a year in Busan. Although she wouldn't be back from the Rock Concert until Sunday afternoon, she offered to leave me her keys so that I could help myself in to her flat and crash at her place for the night. This is the spirit of CouchSurfing, which is something that, try as I might, I simply can't seem to successfully explain to friends and acquaintances curious about this worldwide travelers-helping-travelers community.

Yes, Marina and I were complete strangers. Yes, she was leaving me the key to her place. Yes, I have done the same. And yes, people really can be that trusting.

Saturday was a long one -- I was up Friday night until far too late (2 AM!) catching up with a few close friends, tying up loose ends, and packing up for a week of backpacking. It had been a while since I was last in "backpacking mode," and I have to admit that my efficiency was terrible. But finally, a few slim hours before my bus would pull out of Seosan's terminal and route me to Cheonan (where I'd catch the high-speed train to Busan), I managed to fall into bed and passed out without a moment's hesitation. Finishing up all the odds and ends (watering my lily, taking out the trash, etc. etc.) took me longer than I had planned and, after running to the nearest taxi stand, flagging down an empty cab, and flying down the quiet Saturday morning streets of Seosan, I made it on the bus with just a minute to spare before my one chance of making my connections slipped out of my reach.

Several hours later, I was in Busan, standing in a mob of people waiting to purchase subway tickets in one of Busan's busiest metro stations. Marina had called me while I was en route on the train, and I had quickly scrawled onto a corner of my guidebook page her detailed directions on how to reach her apartment somewhere in the middle of Korea's second-largest city. After managing to get my metro ticket and board the right metrorail train, I settled in for what turned out to be another 45-minute commute uptown to the Oncheonjang stop. As it turned out, Marina's directions were flawless; within the space of another 20 minutes, I had unearthed the key from a potted plant one flight up from her apartment entrance, and was sopping the perspiration off of my face with the hem of my blouse. I had forgotten how oppressive high-summer humidity can be, especially with a 20-pound backpack strapped to my back.

After settling in, repacking the bare essentials into my daybag, rehydrating myself with some cold water, and giving my guidebook a quick once-over, I decided that my best plan of attack would be to head to Beomeosa, a Buddhist temple set in the mountains of Busan, and one of the city's finest attractions. Navigating a foreign country with little to no language skills always proves to be an interesting undertaking -- depending on the amount of patience involved, it can be either humorous or irritating. Fortunately, even with sideshow of a toothless man dressed in camouflage and combat boots who insisted on blowing me kisses for the entire bus ride up in the mountains, I was able to keep everything in a pleasant perspective. That is, until I walked onto the temple grounds, drew out my SLR to take my first photo... and discovered that I had failed to install the battery...

That discovery put an immense damper on my explorations, but soon I was reveling in the silent peacefulness of the temple grounds, craning my neck upwards to the tops of the bamboo shoots springing up alongside a temple wall, eavesdropping respectfully on the chanting and song of monks and worshippers kneeling barefoot in the inner chambers of many of the prayerhouses. A monk dressed in simple brown clothing stepped out from behind a closed gate and began sweeping the stone steps leading up to the entranceway, and a gaggle of school children, dressed in matching yellow tee-shirts, pattered through open courtyard, both bringing a unique energy to the scenery and stillness surrounding me.

After soaking up the whole experience, I managed to make it back to Oncheonjang and rounding up a few days' worth of fruits and vegetables before my body all but caved in from exhaustion. I had Marina's flat to myself and, despite the charms of Busan beckoning from just beyond her windowpane, I knew that what I needed more than anything was some quality sleep. So I curled up on the hard wood floor with the novel I had borrowed from Tahira just before leaving, and let the written words lull me to sleep. And despite my best intentions to venture out again later that evening, I managed to sleep almost straight through til morning on that hard wood floor. My vacation had officially begun.