Tall Things

Leap of faith:

I can say that this week was dedicated to climbing, jumping, and always looking down. That's Eric in the middle of the sky.

Our mission was to bungee jump and after some amateur navigation through Seoul we got our chance to take the plunge. Literally. You can see Eric got a free dip in the pond.

I truly had no idea what to expect jumping 45m attached merely to a bundle of stretchy ropes. Sounds like a rush, right? I hoped so. In fact I was skeptical, perhaps a little apathetic, until I stood on the platform and the next move was jumping. There's no restraint. After an elevator ride with an obscure view, I must walk the plank on my own. Well, should I go? I asked.

The Korean who strapped me in most casually responded, "I count down from five."

"OK."

The first feeling falling is O MY GOD WHY WHY WHY AHHHHHHHHHHH

And then the rope reaches its tether and I was sent up just as fast. By then I knew I was safe and seized the moment to outstrech my arms and take in all the perks of flying.

Then before you hit your head on the jumping platform all forces at work cancel each other out and there's a moment's free fall. Ahhhh....

The rest is cake. It's a roller coaster without a track, a free open spatial holiday caught between going up and going down. I'm reminded of a Harry Nillson song:

You can swim the sea
You can cimb a mountain

You can jump into the fire
But you'll never be free!!!

So continuing our quest to be free we ventured to another tower. But first we had to climb a mountain to get there.

To get to the N Seoul Tower (the N stands for Namsan, which actually means "south mountain," aka Myongmyeok San) one has the option of trekking through Namsan park. Namsan park is a huge moound of trees protruding obviously from the mass metro.

I found a new bungee location.

You can see in the lower lefthand corner how unplanned a basic Seoul district is. The city grew faster than planners could plan. I feel this is also a reflection of Korean things in general--dismissive of normal order in favor of, well, something else. Many of these areas are loaded with shops, bars, karaoke rooms, and restaurants. If you're in the right area, expect a congestion of people, large neon signs, delicious street food, alleys in place of streets and drivers and bikers struggling to find a way out without knocking off their rear-view mirrors on someone's hip. You can also see off in the distance how the city stretches out into the mountains. This is only a fraction of the panorama that circles Namsan park.

Namsan park is a thickly vegetated break from dowtown. There were many couples and tourists mingling on the mountain comfortably minding their business. At the top is art, food, a museum, and of course the tower. Back to concrete.

The view from the tower is breathtaking. It's hard to take in how much man-made structures flood through these mountains. I can only imagine for how long the train lines snake and burrow into country side, bringing a whole stampede of glass and concrete right behind it.

(Just west of the Han River)

I guess I was still feeling grounded on Sunday, so I decided to climb another mountain. My climb started beside another hiker--an older Korean man who apparently had studied English literature and wrote his thesis on D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers. We talked briefly about American Pragmatic philosophy (a big fan apparently) before in no time at all reaching the mountain's peak. I've had better hikes when I was in grade school (in fact, I just went on one with my kindergardeners four weeks ago). I was slightly disappointed so I continued to wander and found a long network of trails. There's some sort of inspiring explorational quality to hiking. Maybe navigating foreign terrain is like the Kantian aesthetic philosophy, a sort of free-play of the mind. Coming to a foreign country alone satisfies this. Many travelers I meet have similar hobbies: hiking, exploring Seoul, learning the metro lines, not to mention teaching which is sort of a mental exercise in the same way. Finding my way around this mountain reminded me of orienteering in the woods as a Boy Scout. But eventually reality popped back into existence.

It's really liberating being engulfed in nature, seeing for miles, and jumping into nothingness. Maybe I'm searching for something bigger. Maybe I'm looking for trouble. As it goes:

You can jump into the fire!

But you'll never be free!!!