Arriving at Ji-ri San we find a small tourist village with a fairground running for the kids' entertainment. The main attraction seems to be a waltzer presided over by a young DJ who is dishing out some sort of patter while jerking the controls with vomit-inducing intent. K becomes prudish and says his verbals are overly sexual for the young kids on the platform and it does indeed all sound a bit desperate to me - "...and I did four years at RADA for this..." springs to mind.
We book rooms in a small pension and set off in search of the temples. The nice man on the gate informs us that if we wait half an hour they're going to shut the ticket office and we'll be able to drive in for free. This puts a whole new slant on the phrase 'holiday discount' so we neglect to argue, or indeed ask who's paying his salary, obediently returning as night falls to park the car and explore the temples. The only downside to this strategy being that it's now too dark for photos. Argh. Damn. Boo-hoo.
It is however stunning and although not possible to photograph, the gloaming is definitely a beautiful time to attempt the ascent, making the giant sized wooden figures in the arches seem even more wierd and threatening than they would otherwise be.
We get to the main courtyard just in time for the evening ceremony which begins with slow drum beats and answering wood-block noises from monks positioned in temples surrounding the area. More monks stream in from the shadows, walking practically silently on the gravel and the singing and chanting begins. After about half an hour the full moon rises above the sides of the valley and the ceremony reaches a climax, then gradually fades back to the drums and wood-blocks and background chatter of crickets and frogs. All very atmospheric.
Stupid child that I am, I have a real 'duh' moment when I realise the moon is full for Chu-seok. Err, yeah, that would be why it's called the 'lunar' calendar...
We return to the village and the (mercifully inaudible at the temple) roar of the fairground in full swing. The DJ is now burbling incoherently to himself over the tannoy, probably about his failed relationships and mortgage repayments, but no-one's listening so it's fine.
At this point we make a fatal mistake. Sitting down to eat in a pork place I ask K what the wierd picture and writing on the cups are about. She laughs and says it's a promotion associated with a local government initiative to reduce the incidence of food poisoning in the area. Now, this should have told us something but we were tired and hungry and it smelled real good. The meal is fine and the fresh pork comes dusted with green tea powder which adds a strong smokey flavour to the grilled meat which is really quite delicious.
After tea we move to a bar to watch the fairground and it's here that I make the first serious faux-pas in Korean I've made for quite a while. When we ask what they have to drink the nice friendly owner suggests a wine called Concorde. Boorish plonker that I am I giggle and remark to K that Concorde isn't a wine it's an aeroplane. Of course, this is the one time that my Korean comes out idiom-perfect, loud and crystal-clear into a momentary gap in the general hubub of conversation, leaving absolutely no doubt what I'd said. K looks horrified and I realise I've really offended the owner. After K repairs the damage we order several sweet things to eat to make up and I spend the rest of the evening eating fruit salad with a side order of humble-pie.
Sadly however, all is not right and the next 24 hours are dominated by various bodily functions about which I don't intend going into much detail. I blame the evil green powder. I have a few hazy memories of the descent from Ji-ri San and K making an emergency trip to the local hospital to fetch medecine - four pills, one amusingly like a little chocolate cake, white with a brown line of filling visible round the edge. Apologies and sincere thanks to the staff of the sauna we stopped at near Namwon for putting up with the revolting westerner who sat, lay, rolled, groaned and generally made a scene in the corner of the sleeping room all afternoon.
We leave the sauna late in the evening and drive the full distance to Wando, a couple of hundred kilometers, stopping only in Kwangju to visit e:mart and stock up on stomach-settling yoghurt and water. The last hour I'm driving through deserted Korean villages with the window down and Tom Waits on the CD player to keep me awake and generally feeling a lot better, although saddened by the number of huge moths hurling themselves into the windscreen presumably to be reported as MIA by their siblings.
We hit Wando at about 3am and catch a couple of hours sleep after locating a non-smelly hotel by asking the first person we see. She seems strangely nonplussed by my questions but being Korean answers pretty straightforwardly. We understand her confusion later when we spot her busily bussing young ladies around at high speed between appointments in the various hotels along the sea-front. Hey-ho.
The ferry ride back to Jeju is again pleasant (leaving aside a second helping of Nong-shim noodle cup - see earlier) and uneventful except for a short stop-over a Ju-cha, another island, smaller than Jeju but big enough to have a reasonable sized port and be on the regular ferry route. Oh, and an impressive cluster of microwave dishes pointing at the mainland - so presumably also broadband internet access everywhere as well.
We arrive back at Jeju in the early afternoon - the familiar and welcome sights of the snow on Halla San and the white concrete of Sin-Jeju city dazzling in the sun.
It'll be a few days before I go for a pork'n'green-tea grill though...
