Two Temples and a View

The last several weeks have been busy ones; a hectic work schedule combined with numerous personal projects–such as creating this new site–have left me with very little time to get out and enjoy myself. Last week, I bailed on an engagement with friends and spent a few hours alone exploring a new corner of the city I now call home. While bailing on friends is something I shouldn’t be proud of, the decision did lead to me having a wonderfully relaxing afternoon–a sorely needed one, at that.

In the hills behind all the hustle and bustle of downtown Pohang lies a hidden treasure I only recently learned about from my friend Mike. There’s a walking path that parallels the train tracks in town, along which a steady stream of elderly people and young families shuffle. Lamps and trees line the path, but in the cold of January the trees stand lifeless and bare. The path makes its way between a school and the thing I ventured out to find: a war memorial nestled in the folds of some hills.

When I woke up I felt drained; in fact, the last thing I felt like doing was something productive. So, instead of catching a bus towards the bus terminal and my appointment, I set out on foot in the opposite direction.

It was Sunday afternoon and I could feel the chill in the ends of my fingers and the tip of my nose. I’d put on my riding jacket and wrapped the checkered scarf I got from my friend in Thailand around my throat before leaving my apartment; the biting cold led me to quickly appreciate my decision to dress warm. I found the path easily enough, I used to walk over it every day I went to work in the weeks before I bought my motorbike. As I walked along, I let my eyes wander–taking in the hillside to my left covered in the skeletons of trees, the drab architecture of Pohang spread out to my right, and a steady trickle of people in front of me. An old couple sat on a bench, bundled in their coats and sporting fluffy caps with the ear flaps down. Then, a trio of old men passed by; each was on a scooter powered by a whining electric motor. Their faces lit up with excitement as we approached each other and they hailed me with an enthusiastic, “Hello!” as they passed. Their glee was contagious, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I bowed and greeted them in kind.

Soon enough, I found the entrance to the memorial. The walkway was wide and paved, snaking up into the folds of the surrounding hills. To the right, a wooden structure overlooked a partially frozen pond garnished with a stone lantern post.

Further on the path, which led beneath a corridor of tree boughs, lay the memorial itself. It was a somber affair: a simple structure in the shape of a massive teardrop. A terraced courtyard led up to it, with monuments on either side as visitors approach. Set against the backdrop of a barren hillside, the memorial was a bleak and poignant reminder of the true costs of war.

I made my way up the adjacent hillside, stopping frequently to take in the surrounding views of the city and absorb the tiny details of the park. An oddly cobble-stoned path made its way in a loop–different variations of protruding stones making it nearly impossible to tread without paying careful attention to each step. An assortment of exercise equipment was sheltered under a small grove of trees–placed there for the convenience of fitness minded individuals unlike myself. And then, I came across a small visitor foraging in the brush.

I carried on and followed the path to the top of the hill overlooking the memorial. A number of paths snaked along the ridges spreading outwards, making me feel like a spider on a giant web. I picked a direction and set off.

As I walked along the crest of the hills, I was struck by how barren they were. Last summer, a fire ravaged the hillsides huddled over downtown Pohang and reduced the vegetation on them to ash. Now, half a year later, the hills are brown and ugly, but the view afforded by the lack of trees is magnificent; assuming one is into urban scenery, that is. The moment below captures a Buddhist temple cupped in the gentle curve of the hill overlooking the hazy sprawl of the city of Pohang. In one picture, the culture-steeped past and frenetically modernized present of Korea blur together.

I continued my walk along the ridge until it dropped down towards the temple below. Somehow, the trees around the temple remained largely untouched by the scourge of the fire, allowing the grounds to maintain their serene feel. There was no one in sight and I had to strain to hear the sounds of the city in the distance. For a short span of time, I wandered lethargically around the grounds and enjoyed the solace. I was intrigued to notice the similarities between this temple’s design and that of the temple I stumbled upon when I visited Jinjuseong last November.

The trail ended where it began, at the base of the temple and the promenade up to the war memorial. I looked back once more at the hillside above me–Gwaneum-sa perched serenely in front–and felt a little more tension slough off my shoulders. Sometimes, a little exploration is just what a person needs to recharge the soul!

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Nathan Anderson

Nathan has been living and working outside of the United States since 2011.During that time, he's visited more than 40 countries, and can usually be found climbing a mountain or trying to get lost in a forest.

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Latest posts by Nathan Anderson (see all)

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