The Marmot’s Hole

Seosan-si is not what you’d ordinarily call a tourist mecca.

Although it’s fairly easy to reach — the bus ride from Gangnam Express Bus Terminal takes less than 2 hours — once you reach the city, it’s actually a bitch to get around. To take one example, the bus to Gaesim-sa drops you off some 3km from the temple tourist village, and unless you’re lucky enough to hitch a ride with someone, you’re in for a bit of a hike.

That being said, if you have your own car — or some patience and a good pair of walking shoes — Seosan is well worth the visit. It’s got history, one of Korea’s most beautiful (and underrated) temples, decent food and some really friendly people.

Haemi: A Fortress and Lots of Dead Catholics

Downtown Seosan doesn’t have a lot to capture your attention — luxury accommodations are lacking (the town doesn’t even have a tourist hotel), but the motel the wife and I stayed at was quite good value. We got into town at around 11:00 at night, so we ended up ordering yasik for dinner, which you see below:

This is dakdoritang, which is pan-friend chicken served in a spicy soup with potatoes and other veggies. Yummy stuff. Now, as mentioned in my earlier post, the name of the dish is a apparently a matter of some controversy. Over at Pain Roller Blog, Joe Mondello points out that dakdoritang is the “Korean equivalent of Freedom Fries.”

Last but not least is dakdoritang. The reason I call dakdoritang Korea’s answer to freedom fries is because of a dispute involving the name of the food. As you may have figured out by now, dak means ;chicken’. Tang means ’soup’ or ’stew’. The offending morpheme is dori, which is actually the Japanese word tori, which means ‘chicken’. So it literally means ‘chicken chicken soup’. There are a lot of nationalists in Korea, and they don’t like Japan, or the Japanese colonial period, or something about Japanese culture, depending on whom you talk to. These people, including the people who make television, don’t like to see a Japanese word sticking its tongue out at them from the middle of their menu, so they rather thought-politically change the name from dakdoritang to dakbokkumtang (bokkum, pronounced as in “Poke’em? I hardly even know’em!”) means ‘pan-fried’ or ‘braised’, so that would make dakbokkumtang ‘braised chicken stew’, which would be fine, except that not everyone braises the chicken, as you’ll soon see. This linguistic revisionism even goes so far as to change every utterance of the word dakdoritang to dakbokkumtang in the closed captioning, even though the only people who say dakbokkumtang are young liberal nationalists.

Joe was also kind enough to include his mother-in-law’s recipe. Thanks.

For the record, I’ve never heard it called anything other than dakdoritang. I didn’t even know the name was partially Japanese until I wrote up the earlier post.

On a cool note, FOX TV was doing a marathon of season 1 of “Dark Angel.”

Anyway, the next morning we headed over to the small town of Haemi, which is about 15 minutes away by bus. Haemi, coincidentally, was the only place we went the entire day that was easily accessible by public transportation.

Haemi is home to Haemi Fortress, one of Korea’s best preserved examples of Joseon-era fortress architecture, and the nearby Yeosutgol Martyrdom Site, a major Catholic pilgrimage site.

Haemi Fortress was completed in 1491, and was a major defense point protecting Korea’s West Coast from marauding Japanese pirates. It was also the command post of the Chungcheong-do region.

During the modern era, much of the fortress was destroyed to make room for development, but in 1973, major restoration work was undertaken. The fortress’s South Gate is original, while the other gates are restorations. A walk along the entire length of the fortress wall takes about an hour.

Unlike many of Korea’s fortresses, which are commonly found atop mountains, Haemi Fortress is located on a plain. Of course, during the old days, major towns were ringed by fortress walls, but precious few examples of these walls exist today.

Architecture aside, Haemi Fortress’s historical importance is closely tied with the history of the Catholic Church in Korea. It was here that many Catholics were executed during the Byeongin Persecution of 1866, and the fortress and its surroundings are considered holy ground by Korean Catholics.

The Byeongin Persecution began, oddly enough, with the Russians, who were in the midst of the Great Game. Following the conclusion of the Treaties of Tianjin, the Russians had made it a habit to cross the Tumen River to demand trade relations with Korea. Heungseon Daewongun, the royal regent, was feeling the heat, but didn’t quite know what do do about it. Following another Russian demand in 1864, several Catholic advisers suggested to him it might be prudent to enter into an alliance with France (and Britain) to use Napoleon III’s prestige to ward off the Russian menace. They proposed that the Daewongun meet with French Jesuit missionaries who were operating (illegally) in the country to see if a deal could be made. Bishop Simon Francois Berneux, who was tending his flock in the countryside, made his way up to Seoul.

Unfortunately for him and his flock, the alliance proposal left the Daewongun open to attack from his political enemies, especially after word reached Korea of the persecution of Catholics by Qing authorities in China. Not wanting to appear to be in bed with the very same foreigners who’d just opened up a can of woop-ass on the Chinese, the Daewongun changed course and ordered that Catholicism be suppressed. His Catholic advisers, nine French priests and 40 Korean converts were arrested and executed, thus starting the Great Persecution of 1866.

The French retaliatory raid on Ganghwa Island in 1866, the “International Body Snatching Incident” of Ernst Oppert in 1868 and the US raid on Ganghwa Island in 1871 did little to endear the Daewongun to Catholicism — now, the Daewongun was convinced the Catholics were in league with foreign forces. The persecution grew increasingly brutal. By the time the persecution ended when the Daewongun turned over power to King Gojong in 1873, some 8,000 Korean Catholics — about half the country’s Catholic community — were dead.

For a fascinating read on this fascinating and tragic episode in Korea history, be sure to check this page out at the Korean History Project.

Some 1,000 Catholics living in Chungcheong-do were brought to Haemi Fortress, where they were imprisoned and sentenced to death. Prior to being led into the fortress through the West Gate, the Catholics were forced to desecrate Catholic objects like rosaries and crucifixes. Those that refused were executed on the spot. The memorial you see above is dedicated to those that didn’t pass the West Gate. The rock to the right of the memorial is particularly macabre — some of the victims were executed by ramming their heads repeatedly into the stone. Not a good way to die.

Near the fortress is Yeosutgol Holy Site, where Catholics were buried alive, drowned and otherwise made dead en masse. The name “Yeosutgol” has a rather interesting derivation — it’s said that when the victims were brought here, they kept murmuring to themselves, “Yesu, Maria. Yesu, Maria,” i.e., “Jesus and Mary. Jesus and Mary.” The non-Catholic locals, without the benefit of catechism classes, hadn’t the faintest idea what the heck they were saying, and called the spot “Yeosu mori,,” i.e., “Yeosu Head,” which became “Yeosutgol.”

The site is now a major Catholic pilgrimage site. The tower was built in 1975, and the big church in 2003.

In this pond, Catholics were thrown in alive with big rocks tied to their backs ala the Sopranos. I thought the memorial was quite touching.

Gaesim-sa Temple: A ‘Happy’ Temple

Seosan isn’t all grim history.

A Canadian friend of mine, with whom I did much traveling around the country visiting Buddhist temples, once explained that certain temples are “happy places.” It’s the vibe they give off, a feeling of warmth and intimacy — you can feel it as soon as you enter the compound.

Gaesim-sa Temple is one such place.

This temple has a lot going for it.

First off, as far as temples go, Gaesim-sa — a relatively minor temple — gets very few tourists. If you don’t have your own car, you have to walk 3km (past hillside cattle pastures) just to get to the temple entrance, and then it’s another (albeit short) walk uphill to the temple itself.

The temple itself is lovingly embraced by dense forests and hillside. You really do feel as if you’re in another world.

The architecture here is, IMHO, everything Korean temple architecture should be.You’ve probably heard it before, but I’ll repeat it — Korean traditional architecture aims to harmonize with nature. And at Gaesim-sa, you’re treated to Korean Buddhist architecture at its most natural, its most intimate, and its most unpretentious.

A lot of Gaesim-sa’s beauty is in the woodwork. As you can see in the bell pavilion above, crooked timbers were used for the pillars. This might make the entire building look crooked, but that’s the whole point — nature, by and large, is not straight. The buildings not only blend in nicely with the trees, mountains and other natural surroundings, but they give off a warmth that would be missing if they were constructed with cold, harsh straight lines and right angles.

Gaesim-sa’s Main Hall gets all the press, as well it should — designated Treasure No. 143, the building, constructed in 1484, is a masterpiece of early Joseon architecture. That being said, it’s the Simgeomdang — seen above — that really captures my heart. It, too, is believed to date from 1484, and is designated a Chungcheonnam-do Cultural Property. Used by the monks as a living quarter, it just exudes a warm, happy feeling with its curved timbers, uncarved stones and complete and utter unpretentiousness. I just love it.

Now, two pairs of shoes on the step outside a closed door was sometimes used as a motif in Joseon-era erotic art, although here I’m sure the monk is just playing go-stop with a friend.

Everything about this place just exudes happiness. As long as you don’t mind walking, give the place a visit.

Ganwol-am: Hope You Like Oysters

On the West Sea coast is a small Buddhist hermitage founded by Muhak Daesa, the monk adviser to Joseon founder Yi Seong-gye who chose Seoul as the nation’s capital.

Muhak Daesa, coincidentally, is from Seosan, making him probably the second most influential person to hail from the town (the first, of course, being the singer Rain).

The hermitage is located on a small island that is connected to the coast at low tide. This being the West Sea, the tides are pretty extreme, and the tidal flats that result extensive. At low tide, villagers and visitors head to the flats in search of shellfish, especially oysters, for which Seosan is famous.

The sunset from here is said to be pretty spectacular. Unfortunately, time was short, so this is the best I could do:

Oh, and speaking of oysters:

Lots of restaurants around Ganwol-am specializing in, oddly enough, yeongyang gulbap — steamed rice with oysters, served in a stone pot. We ate at Keun Maeul Yeongyang Gulbap (041 662-2706), which was outstanding.

Oh, yeah — don’t forget the Flickr slideshow!