Wando: The Details
Day 2: Dehydration, an Arboretum, and Projectile Vomiting
After a night with cement pillows and an unforgiving mattress, we groggily rolled into a hot, summer morning already dehydrated and sunburned. Alex was a bit worse for wear, mumbling “water . . . water . . . . .” we looked over our maps of Wando, marking all intersections with churches, temples, strange houses, and smiling people with easy-to-read pamphlets, before wandering into the sunny, sidewalk-less street outside our hotel.
Where are we? Where are we attempting to go? Are you thirsty?
I am thirsty. We hobbled along in the unrelenting sun toward the corner MINI STOP for snacks and water. I cannot describe the intensity of the sun we have experienced while here. Imagine yourself at 5 o’clock in the afternoon with the sky still pushing a noontime sun onto your back. It’s so damn hot, you later check your shoulders for brands.
It was at this point that Alex began looking less than up to task for the journey. His head appeared unhinged as his chin reached for his chest, and his walk was that of a man trying to deliver a full martini glass to a table on rough seas. Not that I was grand, but I knew I wasn’t struggling at the same intensity, and was grateful when we arrived at the mart.
The main street in Wando isn’t too much to speak of. It’s wide lanes are set back from the waterfront about 1/2 a mile. All the roads into town twist and converge toward a single road that leads to the ferry docks. Everything about this street made it seems as though this town was a mistake, why else would all the roads lead you out? A manmade waterfall rushes over nature-made rocks on the hillside near the bus station, and is bookended by plain, flat, and unimaginative store fronts (save the Tiki-esque local dive bar).
After staring at the depressing, main street scene for thirty minutes, we wandered in search of transportation to Wando’s Arboretum. Finally opting for a cab once the bussing situation became too confusing, we drove around the island toward the park. The countryside was beautiful, a patchwork of rice paddies and pear orchards right up to the base of the mountains. A single lane, two-way road lead up to the park with sheer drop offs instead of shoulders.
While at the arboretum, we roamed in the virtually shadeless expanse of the new park. We had not bargained for an arboretum without protection from the sun, but still muscled up the paths determined to see the damn place.
After a night with cement pillows and an unforgiving mattress, we groggily rolled into a hot, summer morning already dehydrated and sunburned. Alex was a bit worse for wear, mumbling “water . . . water . . . . .” we looked over our maps of Wando, marking all intersections with churches, temples, strange houses, and smiling people with easy-to-read pamphlets, before wandering into the sunny, sidewalk-less street outside our hotel.
Where are we? Where are we attempting to go? Are you thirsty?
I am thirsty. We hobbled along in the unrelenting sun toward the corner MINI STOP for snacks and water. I cannot describe the intensity of the sun we have experienced while here. Imagine yourself at 5 o’clock in the afternoon with the sky still pushing a noontime sun onto your back. It’s so damn hot, you later check your shoulders for brands.
It was at this point that Alex began looking less than up to task for the journey. His head appeared unhinged as his chin reached for his chest, and his walk was that of a man trying to deliver a full martini glass to a table on rough seas. Not that I was grand, but I knew I wasn’t struggling at the same intensity, and was grateful when we arrived at the mart.
The main street in Wando isn’t too much to speak of. It’s wide lanes are set back from the waterfront about 1/2 a mile. All the roads into town twist and converge toward a single road that leads to the ferry docks. Everything about this street made it seems as though this town was a mistake, why else would all the roads lead you out? A manmade waterfall rushes over nature-made rocks on the hillside near the bus station, and is bookended by plain, flat, and unimaginative store fronts (save the Tiki-esque local dive bar).
After staring at the depressing, main street scene for thirty minutes, we wandered in search of transportation to Wando’s Arboretum. Finally opting for a cab once the bussing situation became too confusing, we drove around the island toward the park. The countryside was beautiful, a patchwork of rice paddies and pear orchards right up to the base of the mountains. A single lane, two-way road lead up to the park with sheer drop offs instead of shoulders.
While at the arboretum, we roamed in the virtually shadeless expanse of the new park. We had not bargained for an arboretum without protection from the sun, but still muscled up the paths determined to see the damn place.
Alex had grown very quiet during our walk, and by my estimates wasn’t faring too well, so because you can’t always sense the stupidity that is in front of you, we decided to visit the giant greenhouse. Pushing the envelope on what was possibly heat exhaustion, I enjoyed the greenhouse immensely, while Alex did not.
 |
| Usually his favorite room in any greenhouse, Alex is miserable. |
 |
| Scenery upon scenery |
 |
Later, outside the greenhouse, Alex rested in the shade while I explored a bit further. Upon my return, Alex promptly vomited the most incredible force of water I had ever witnessed. If I weren’t so sensitive, I would’ve yelled “LANDSLIDE!”
It was at this point that we mercifully headed back down the mountain, and towards the bus station (which was a good 3 mile walk). I had read somewhere that hitchhiking was safe in Korea, and just as I was about to thumb it, a car pulled up and offered a ride. How fortuitous! They took us to the station in town, where we easily bussed the rest of way back to Wando.
The remainder of our stay, we walked along the waterfront, ate a delicious dinner of Maeun-tang (hot fish soup), and spent time remarking on the difficulties of the trip. All in all, even with the frustrations, it was nice to leave Gwangju. it was even better, the following day, to return and feel like we were home.
It was at this point that we mercifully headed back down the mountain, and towards the bus station (which was a good 3 mile walk). I had read somewhere that hitchhiking was safe in Korea, and just as I was about to thumb it, a car pulled up and offered a ride. How fortuitous! They took us to the station in town, where we easily bussed the rest of way back to Wando.
The remainder of our stay, we walked along the waterfront, ate a delicious dinner of Maeun-tang (hot fish soup), and spent time remarking on the difficulties of the trip. All in all, even with the frustrations, it was nice to leave Gwangju. it was even better, the following day, to return and feel like we were home.
Comments
Chris