Korea Au Naturale

Wow, Korea is hot. Really hot. The annual parade of stepping outside to be hit by a wall of heat, only to step inside to be hit by a wall of aircon has begun. And what do you wear? It's a balance between baring your skin to stay cool versus covering it up to avoid getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. And I'm losing - eighteen bites and counting.

But I promise you, I'm not moaning. It's amazing. There is nothing like the sticky, sweaty humidity of Asian summer to laze away your days. You just have to be in the right place. Somewhere outdoors, out of a city, out of the mainland, out in a sea breeze.....somewhere Au Naturale. With nature and wildlife and stars. Deokjeokdo Island was awaiting. And it had some surprises up it's sleeve.

The weekend was a national holiday, meaning we had four days to explore. Unfortunately, Korea Au Naturale wanted to greet us with a lot of rolling mist. It was warm...but the mist covered...well, everything. Very atmospheric. But the chances of spotting any nature or wildlife or stars were pretty minimal, and anyway, it seemed like every English teacher in South Korea had had the same idea on where to party this weekend. So we did what anyone else would do.... started drinking at 9:30am and dug an 8 foot hole. Actually, some dug the hole while others (cough) sat around drinking, but I'd like to say it was a team effort.

That night, a huge bonfire was set up on the beach for everyone to party around, but that's not where we wanted to be, oh no.... in the darkness and the mist was Korea Au Naturale's first surprise.

The seawater in Deokjeokdo is phosphorus. We walked out into the mist, to the water's edge, and even before reaching the sea could see our footsteps lighting up with each step. It was working! At the sea edge it was even more spectacular - the waves crashing caused the phosphorus algae to light up like a chemical reaction, and the whole wave would glow bright blue across the sea. Combine this with atmospheric mist and a whole day's drinking, and you have a truly euphoric moment. At least, that's how I justify the next two hours of gleefully frolicking on a misty beach while shouting 'It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen!' with two grown men.

The next day the sun was shining. Now that's more like it! More friends had come across to the island, and the beach was definitely missing the more larey expats from the day before. Turns out that hangovers can be benefical afterall (heh heh heh). So we got the guitars and the drinks out, swam in the sea, found starfish and seahorses, and got nice and merry.

Well into the afternoon, and well in need of a breeze to cool down, we popped back to our guesthouse to find Mr Kim, the guesthouse owner. Mr Kim is a retired Seoul Man who's got Soul - he locks no doors, offers you everything he owns, calls you his family, and makes jokes the whole time he's around. So when we asked if we could take a couple of his bikes for a cycle up to a secret beach, there was no problem.

The secret beach has no signs and no path to lead you through the forest, so unless one of the locals is enjoying the tranquillity too, you have the beautiful beach to yourself. 'So quiet, you cannot hear footsteps', as our local source once described to us. The reason you can't hear footsteps, we found out, is because most of it's inhabitants don't have feet.

The next day, after another night of fires, frivolities and guitars, we decided to take our friends to the secret beach. At the part of the mountain where you leave the path and start the steep descent through the forest, you have no choice but to go slowly. Pretty damn lucky, seeing as the leader of the group suddenly swung round mid-step shouting 'Shit, I almost stepped on that thing!'. Right in front of us, blocking our only way, was a six-foot snake.

So...gulp....what do we do now? Step over it? No fookin way am I treading over that thing. Is it poisonous? I've got no bloomin idea. Find another way around? In the density of this forest, this path was the only route. After what seemed like a really long time of discussing snake psyche (as if any of us knew) it effortlessly glided up a tree, only to stay poised at head height, as if uncertain of whether it was retreating or just finding better ground to bite us from. (Those beady eyes said 'bite' to me).

Well, we couldn't stand there all day. It was either go back or risk it. Opinions were mixed. Finally, three of us edged past the snake, while the other five decided not to risk it. On to the beach!

On the beach was a Korean fisherman with his sons. He'd been there the day before, so we waved and then went rock climbing. On our way back, we thought we should warn him about the snake, just incase it was dangerous. After patiently watching my flamboyant mime of the snake escapade, he smiled and said in perfect English 'Oh yeah, you get big snakes here'. Oh. I asked him if it was poisonous. 'Oh sure. One bite and you die' he said cheerfully. Oh well. At least the beach was nice. And seeing as we now had to walk back up the mountain, I'm going to tell myself he was joking too.  

That afternoon, everyone left the island....except Lee and I. We wanted one last night on the beach before heading back to reality. Once the last bus had taken all the expats and the church groups back to the port, the island was quiet and still. The elderly fisherman came out to their sitting posts, the women started gardening, and the only noise were the dogs barking in the distance. It felt like this little island was nicer once the wave of westerners had departed. We took a blanket out to the  wooden pagoda by the sea edge and read our books in the sunset. Flying fish were jumping in the port. This was nice (contented sigh). An elderly man came across and jumped onto his fishing boat. He saw us and started waving. Ahhh, the people here are nicer too. And then we realised he wasn't waving...more like, flinging his arms around. What's that he's saying? 'Go Home'? Oh right, so he prefers the island without the westerners too. The old rascal.

Thankfully, the other islanders are actually nice (there's always one, isn't there?). The next morning, Mr Kim drove us to get our boat. I wondered how he had ever gone from 50 years of Seoul City to the silence and serenity of Deokjeokdo. 'Aaaah, that's easy.' he said. 'I just take my fishing boat out and watch the sea. Next time you come I will take you out on it. You will see.' Well, it looks like we are going to meet again Deokjeokdo. I can't refuse an offer like that.