June 13, 2006
Rather than Buddhism, confusion-ism made up the bulk of my experience at our Haeinsa temple stay. Clearly, having never stayed in a temple and, more generally having only a scant knowledge of Buddhism, only being given a single sheet of paper with the summer schedule was inadequate. Help came from another temple guest, Mr. Woo, who was staying for a few days on his way to Seoul. Having decided to take me as his charge, he provided explanations and advice about the dorms, Buddhist symbolism, tradition and etiquette. For example, before we first entered the large cafeteria for dinner, Mr. Woo told us not to speak during meals. (A difficult and awkward task when an unaware couple living in Arizona plopped down at our table and said, "So, where are you from?") Mr. Woo also decoded the meaning of the various percussion devices used before each ceremony (briefly: the drum=earth, the suspended wooden fish=sea, the metal plate=sky and a bell=combination of all three) Mr. Woo even provided helpful notes scrawled on post-its, during the first two ceremonies.
Mr. Woo was at a different temple for the third ceremony, so I was left getting hints from the attending monk who was clearly obsessive and compulsive. For example, at one point, while sitting on my mat, I received a stern look and a mimed correction because a finger on my left hand was touching the floor. The monk also gestured for us to stand and sit, in time, with the other monks. However, without knowing exactly, when or how to execute the proper movements, I had a tendency to fall down and pop up in a modified jumping jack--not the dignity that was expected.
As we were preparing to leave, Mr. Woo provided his final three grave warnings about the following day's camping and hiking: snakes, which hide in the grasses at this time of year; large, dangerous mountain pigs, which can attack lone tents in the middle of the night, although I still don't quite understand their reasoning; and bad people or people with "vice." I listened carefully to Mr. Woo, thanked him and we left for a campsite just outside Haeinsa town. That night, we camped next to a waterfall of a small river, and I thought about Mr. Woo's warnings. The rest of his advice had been so sound, that that night I dreamt of a wave of small pink pigs rampaging our campsite.
The next day, our plan was to hike over the mountain, and we had just begun when the first of Mr. Woo's warnings appeared, a small snake near the path. It was a meek ambassador that quickly moved backward and coiled itself under a rock. I started planning for the next attack: what would we do when a mountain pig blundered into the path? Near the summit, I calmed myself with the realization that I was the mountain pig! It became clear, with two pieces of evidence: my Chinese zodiac is the pig and, at the temple lunch the day before, I had stuffed myself with three helpings (the top button of my pants was even temporarily relived of duty.) Two warnings down. The final warning, surprisingly, turned out to be the forest ranger on the other side of the mountain at the Baekungdong Ticket Booth. After 10km and up and down 900 vertical meters, the ranger unsympathetically and rudely told us we couldn't camp because the campground didn't open until July. This was in sharp contrast to the nice, helpful rangers in Haeinsa that told us even though the campgrounds were not open, we could camp, if we understood that some of the facilities (bathrooms, water, etc.) may not be available, which they turned out to be.
So, thanks for the warnings Mr. Woo.
