What to do on Wednesday?

Mt. Bukhan / gettyimagesbank

By Scott Shepherd

Once, after I had waited for a while at the bar of a London pub, two staff members came over at the same time and served both me and the person next to me. Dutifully following the appropriate etiquette given the situation, I observed to my fellow queuer that the service here was "like busses". To my great consternation, he replied by telling me that he was a bus driver and began to explain in a rather defensive tone how and why external factors can sometimes cause delays to London's bus service.

Since then, I've been a little hesitant to compare anything to busses, especially in the presence of strangers who might well turn out to be off-duty bus drivers. But it's time that I overcome my fear. I hope you will allow me, therefore, to use an old cliche: national holidays in Korea are like busses. You wait ages for one to come and then two come along at once.

Following hard on the heels of Children's Day on 5 May, this week's holiday is in celebration of Buddha's birthday, but for the majority of the population who aren't Buddhist, it just amounts to a free day off. Having these two Wednesdays off in the same month is a little bamboozling and wreaks havoc with university timetables. More than that, though, is the issue of what on earth to do with this sudden windfall of free time.

I suppose the possibilities are technically endless, despite the COVID-19 restrictions still in place. But sometimes having too much choice can be harder than having none. It helps to narrow it down a little: we can't meet privately in groups larger than four and I'm tired of looking at screens all day. Sadly the wonderfully Korean institution that is the "jjimjilbang," or Korean sauna, is probably also off-limits until this awful pandemic is over. More than anything, I don't want to use the day off simply to catch up on work. Otherwise, what's the point of a holiday?

There are still so many things to do. For one, you could spend the whole day reading articles in The Korea Times, and who would blame you? But for those who don't want to read and are not yet sure of what to do this Wednesday, I'd like to suggest one idea: look to the mountains. Korea's peaks are as abundant as they are beautiful, and there's much to love about them.

Many a Korean masterpiece depicts the silhouettes of mountains rising through the mist ― grand and majestic ― and unlike the fast food adverts, the real thing is every bit as good as the picture. Wonderfully, you can see mountains from pretty much any part of the country if the air is clear and there are no buildings in your way. Indeed, the sight from my rooftop of the sun setting over the summits to the west is sublime: as the light slowly fades and the sky blazes orange, the forms of the mountains loom over the country and make everything feel more poetic, more romantic. In the dusty greyness of the cities, where plants are far too few and people are far too plenty, the sight of the tree-clad slopes is a welcome emollient to the weary eyes of a city-dweller.

But not only can we look at the slopes, we can also climb them. Many of the mountains in and around the cities and suburbs have tracks well worn by older Koreans who vigorously march up and back down every available weekend. Often there are snacks to buy along the way and even restaurants at the foot of the trail.

There's something about humans that just makes us need to see green. And there is simply not enough green space in Korea's cities. Going up the mountains and seeing the trees, the flowers, the trickling water and the strange bugs just has to be good for your mental health. Climbing up a mountain lets you get away from the stress and hassle of life. Rather than worrying about your job or COVID-19 or the latest tragedy haunting the news, you just have the simple, physical challenge of getting to the top and back down.

It's a great opportunity to bond with whoever you climb with, and the vistas afforded from the peaks are worthy of a Wordsworth poem. It gives you the opportunity to burn off some of the COVID-19 fat and feel some peace and quiet. There's a great feeling of satisfaction. You get time to think and breathe and view nature. What more could you want? I can't help thinking there would be fewer social problems if we all went for regular hikes up our local mountains.

Maybe I'm getting carried away, but in any case, living in Korea gives so many opportunities to do things we can't do elsewhere. A Wednesday morning visit in the middle of May to a forested summit looking over a huge city is one such opportunity. It certainly beats staring mindlessly at YouTube videos or endlessly clicking refresh on your social media. We won't have another mid-week holiday like this for a while, so whatever you do, I hope you can use it well. But if you do happen to strike up a conversation with a stranger, please do be careful not to bring up the odd spacing of this month's extra days off. You never know when you might be talking to a bus driver.

Dr. Scott Shepherd is a British-American academic. He has taught in universities in the U.K. and Korea, and is currently assistant professor of English at Chongshin University in Seoul. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.