ADVENTURE

By definition, adventure can be just about anything that involves an element of uncertainty and at least a perception of risk. Much like beauty, it leans heavily on the eye of the beholder. Sunday, seven of us embarked on what I have, after considerable reflection, determined to be an adventure. At about 11:00 p.m., a hasty decision was made to drive through the night and sleep in the morning. It would ease the load on our driver/drivers as we needed to be back at the store for work on Tuesday. Jinhae is small city on the southern coast, near Busan. The Korean Naval Academy is located there but it’s their cherry trees and first blush of spring that attracts festival goers from all over Korea. 

By midnight, we were packed, loaded into the van and barreling down the highway. Korea’s version of InterState has high walls or screens that block the view. Much of the time we were in tunnels, the rest of the time it just seemed that way. With rest stops to change drivers and stretch, we reached the motel at 4:30 and crashed. The rooms were small with warmed, marble floors, vaulted ceiling, ornate woodwork and exotic art; designed primarily with discrete, private encounters in mind. We learned later, the rent was $20 for two hours, $30 for all night. 

It was noon before everyone had their game faces on and reloaded into the van. Another hour and we arrived in Jinhae. As many cherry trees as there are in Jukjeon, they are relatively small. In Jinhae they were mature with large diameter trunks and far reaching canopies, everywhere; so many blossom petals on the ground it reminded us of snow. The traffic was headed in one direction, toward the sea, so we followed along until we passed through the gates of the Naval Academy. Evidently it’s one of the few times of the year when the academy is open to the public. Sam, (Sungho) our Korean leader, was like a pied piper with his troop of ragamuffins in tow. But that didn’t last long; he looked back and his only follower was his wife, Terry. The rest of us had split, taken off on our own. 

I took interest in the replication of an ancient “Turtle Ship”, a frightening war ship from the 16th century with a dragon’s head on the bow and cannon mounts all along the sides. It was berthed at the academy and it made sense that all midshipmen would have to sail aboard the Turtle Ship as part of their training. The roof was covered with steel spikes to discourage boarding attempts. A fire box was fueled inside with the smoke being funneled up through the dragon’s head, out its mouth to create a fearsome sight. I stayed onboard, retracing my tour route several times. The wood work was simple but the scale and design were awesome. Besides ramming the enemy, the broadside cannon batteries must have been devastating. 

Then, you can’t overstate the cherry trees. It’s been a long, cold winter and everyone is ready for spring. Jinhae is nearly 200 miles south of Seoul, it warms up sooner here and the trees show it. They were all shades of white and pink while other trees were leafing out as well. A green spring is worth the wait, wherever you may be. Streets were lined with food vendors and flea market booths. I went for cob-corn on a stick. The ears were huge, with big kernels and I suspected the flavor might be bland but I didn’t want anything too sweet and I wasn’t up for boiled silk worms or mystery soup. The corn was filling and it wasn’t bad.

By the time we walked our legs out, we were scattered and Sam had to track us down with the van. Between text messaging and GPS, we were all recovered and it was almost dark when we turned north. Rest stops along the way were crowded and parking space was unauthorized, squeezed into spaces where there was no space. Midnight again and the day had come full circle. Everyone back in their own beds; it would be just a few hours before the store opens and we start all over.