A recent headline news about a traffic accident happened in Chung-Do drew my attention bringing a string of memories of visiting the place once in my teen years. It was summer of 1973 when Korea's industrialization took off less than a decade ago yet its impacts had not touched upon the place, exuding its rustic countryside atmosphere that was so unique and fragile. As with landscape of any farming village in Korea at that time, the place was drenched with amusing sceneries of summer: green rice paddies on which growing rice plants with their stalks drooped under scorching sun, weeping wallows by a stream swaying it branches gently in hot summer days in breezes, and mountains around simmering in scorching heat of August; these were some of the most beautiful sceneries to the eyes of a young man. In Korea, summer weather in beginning of August accompanies scorching heat with clear blue sky making one feels unbearable to stay outside with no shade even for ten minutes. Monsoon season comes in mid July and ends before arrival of this sheer scorching hot weather that last for couple of weeks in August. As the season ends and strands of cool breezes are felt on cheeks as precursor for coming of fall. In this segment of hot season rice crops go through last phase of maturation process growing with its grains getting larger and weight of it make it stalks droop; the natural colors and scents one feels looking at farm houses over a stream beyond rice paddies would provide quietness of farming village atmosphere, of which scenery perhaps would be so hard to grasp nowadays due to urbanization and industrialization has pulverized the scenes, so soothing and so peaceful. Sitting by bank of the stream and having the view would be the ultimate place and moment for relaxation in mind and spirit, so peaceful, untainted, and refreshing. This town is where my aunt was born. If it had not been for my aunts' affiliation with the town, perhaps, the news would not have opened up my eyes wide.
My aunt grew up in Chung-Do and lived in Busan briefly prior coming to Seoul. She married to my uncle when I was four years old, and had lived briefly in bigger family with her parent-in-laws as a newly-wed. Her marrying my uncle brought traditions from Chung -Do; she brought spices, jests and beautiful memories to my life. I remember the time when she was wearing Hanbok speaking in heavy provincial accent. Her accent was so stringent to my ears for quite some time at that time when my notion of having accent is not too well established as I recall, often times unable to catch her meaning quickly enough, wondering why she spoke differently. However, her accent became agreeable to my ears as she gradually learned to speak in Seoul's tonality. Her accent diminished perceptively after ten years of living in Seoul although I felt the residual accents still remaining throughout her life.
In each year, when Kimjang season arrived, she would come to my house and help out my mother making lots of Kimchi for winter. Image of her sitting by a big bowl in the foyer, putting the prepared ingredients in between the leaves of cabbages had ingrained in me as her signature. At an instance, walking by her, she said, "Come over here, and and this," and she would shove a mouthful of kimchi in my mouth even before I said,"Yes." And she asked, "It's delicious, isn't it?" waiting for an answer while my mouth was still full of Kimchi. I responded to her by nodding, unable to speak. When she moved in, she brought heritage of her old town along with her, and I witnessed her heritage is getting transferred over; the way she prepared Kimchi during the Kimjang season was one of them. For several winters when one Kimjang seasons started, she would suggest to my mother to make Kimjang in KyungSang style by adding new items such as fruits such as pears. And one year, she convinced my mother to add something new(i.e. raw fish). And in another year, I saw the fruits being added in the pot of that year, which I found rather unusual and interesting for I had never seen anything like that is added in the Kimchi that my mother prepared. When the fresh Kimchi was on a dinner table, I had chance to taste red meat fish fished out from the clay jar. That winter, I had chances to eat the unusual ingredients that had been added, and I loved it!!
One day, my uncle bought a nice stereo set with amplifier that had a turn table. The turn table was encapsulated in a nice lacquered compartment outside with two small red lights get turned on as arm is moved and placed on the vinyl. The system had lots of vacuum tubes in another compartment below where the turn table sit, which also had its shinny front side lacquer painted nicely. I used to visit my uncle's house and enjoyed listening to music coming from the stereo set. One day, not long after the stereo set was purchased and brought into her house, an unfortunate thing happened; cranking up the volume a bit, I heard a sound something "pop." Apparently, one of vacuum tube was blown out. Taking a look immediately inside of a compartment, I noticed that a tube got a black mark quite visible inside. Drawing my finger and touching it, I had to take my fingers off instantly feeling hot. I was baffled how could the system got broken so easily with toggling in volume. The power to the system was completely shut off - no red light would get turned on inside the compartment staying black; the stereo system was totally broken. A thought just came across my mind, "I just wrecked the expensive stereo system that my uncle bought!" and a feeling of guilt rushed down though my spine! I could not believe that the stereo system could have gone bad so easily. Nobody was there in the room, and I pulled my hair for using the system. The hour until my aunt came was dreadful for I did not know how to fix the damn thing. When my aunt returned home, I told her that I broke the system waiting for a reprimand, but suprisingly she told me not to worry, and told me that she would call a repairman to come and fix it. I was feeling relieved and yet sorry for the rest of the evening despite the fact that my aunt told me not to worry.
During the summer vacation when I was in middle school, her elder brother from the city came over to visit her. The man had even a thicker accent. He was a gentleman, and he invited all his nephews and even neighbors' children over to his place in Chungdo over the summer.
We were all excited and could not wait for the day to come. We headed out to Seoul Station and hopped on the lowest fare train (완행열차) heading to Chung-Do. For I had had a trip down to Busan taking the same route down several years earlier, the ride didn't come with much unfamiliarity; whenever the train stopped, there would be peddlers selling snacks, and when it stopped at ChunAnn, I could not resist my temptation to buy its famous snack, walnut crackers.
Arriving at Chung-Do train station late in the evening, the gentleman came to the train station to show the way. We walked along the path in between rice fields carrying a backpack on our back. We trudged along the rice paddies in the dark. Upon arriving at his house, we unloaded our backpacks. While we were resting sitting on 툇마루, he brought some Makgolli in a jug with a long spout from his winery nearby his home and passed around bowls. We poured the drink in the bowl and started drinking Mogolli out of the bowl to quench our thirst.
On the following day, waking up early, my cousins and I walked around the village and found a wide stream running nearby. On that after noon, we played at the stream well into the afternoon. We learned how the local boys catch fish using a glass bottle with both end opened, which was sold in the convenient store. My cousins and I decided to try the same, so we rushed to the store and bought several glass jar and set it up to catch fish. We had luck to catching several fish, but we ended up destroy the glass jar when it was pushed by the steam and crashed hitting pebbles. Later in the afternoon, the gentleman's younger brother came to the stream to catch fish; we were sitting by
the bank watching him drawing a net and catching in first try more than what we had for all day long.
Next day, my uncle arrived driving his car. He came with aunt along a girl in his neighborhood. My uncle was a gregarious person who had many friends in the neighborhood. He went to Korean army joining a band; she showed me his old trombone that he used to play w/ at the band. I saw the girl time to time in the neighborhood, the girl was one year older than me, but we had never talked each other until the trip. We went to the stream together and she was wearing a swimsuit. We visited an elementary school, and we took a rest nearby a parallel bar in a hot summer day at the conner of the school as cool breeze was blowing through.
On that evening, We all visited his liquor store and the gentleman showed us around the winery and offered us each a cup of Makgollie to drink in the end. The winery had full of smell of the liquor.
On the next day, We went further down in the stream where it gets deep as color changed to green. The water ran fast with sound of running echo underneath the bridge. The water seemed to be running faster near the rocks. We swam to the rock, each time climbing up on the bounder and sitting in the middle of it on top.
On that night, the gentleman took us a river in distance and we camped out on sandy beach. It was hot weather and the temperature kept rising well into the night. There were hundreds of mosquito making buzzing sound and biting us, and we could not fall asleep. We tried many methods to chase away the mosquitos, but none of them found to be useful. As I was restless and feeling itchy all over our bodies, we heard a rumble of thunder, and it started raining all of a sudden. The rain was pouring quite heavy and we were well into the night unable to move out with no transportation; we stayed there until the morning. When we woke up, the river swelled up and the river looked quiet again. My cousins and I were counting number of mosquito bits, and I counted over fifty all over my body, and one of them was so itchy that scratched so hard and it started swelling up with pinkish red.
The middle school girl came along looked fine with no bits, and I was wondering why I fell victims to the mosquitos. The girl's mother was a neighbor of my aunt came along. She had two pony tails as mandated to most of middle school girls, and she became mature physically. One time, I saw my aunt chatting with her mom when I visited my aunt's house. My aunt referred to the lady as "lady from bean sprout house" for her family ran a bean sprout factory close to my aunt's house. The factory had been in business for a long time before my aunt moved into the neighborhood. I can recall first time taking a little tour inside of the factory following my aunt. My aunt wanted to buy some bean sprout, and she was ushered into the factory get fresh bean sprout. Standing along with my aunt, I could see all the beans sprouting in large partitions with water hoses drawn into. The place was damp and lights were dim. The moisture had to be kept inside with the door firmly shut, and I was feeling a little stuffy. It was at the time when I saw an article on a newspaper reporting that a bean sprot grower was indicted with allegation of adding illegal chemicals to expedite the process of growing bean sprouts. For this reason, I was looking around a bit suspecious whether I would run into any suspicious chemical containers around the area. The girl went to high school located nearby my middle school, and I often saw her waiting at the same bus stop where I normally wait for at the bus stop. Sometimes, I met her in the bus already, and I would bow to her to say "hello." She asked, "are you going to school?" frivolously. She was wearing a uniform with a white color and a school badge on her chest. Standing by her, I did not know what to say. The bus was very crowded and occassionally when bus made an jerky stop, I would bump onto her shoulder. I was fully aware of her standing besides me, and I would smell fresh smell of shampoo thinking that it's her smell. After we got off the bus, we briefly walked together and then she said, "I go this way." and reached out her hand for a handshake. I felt the warmth of her hand until my history class that was taught by a teach who looked like a bulldog.
