The next morning was rather uneventful. We got up, had fast food burgers for breakfast ("This is American style breakfast, right?") and headed to Sokcho, our final destination. The motel there was bigger, had a kitchen and a balcony, and best of all, no evil overhangs to bump your head on. We carried our bags to the lobby, were told check-in time wasn't for another couple hours, and carried our bags back to our car. This was not quite the Zeis-style family trip with color-coded itineraries that I'm used to. We had lunch, returned to the hotel, and carried our bags in a final time.
We then drove down to the most popular beach to go swimming. The sand was covered with umbrellas and little raised pavilions, and a large area of the water was roped off. The surface of the water in this area was almost completely covered with yellow tubes. I don't think I saw a single person in the water that was not in a tube. Apparently, most Koreans don't know how to swim, and so only go to the beach when there's a lifeguard on duty and only go into the water with tube while they're there. Once in the water, you're only allowed to swim within the safety ropes. This is much different that the water safety we learned as children! My neighbors have been telling me how strong a swimmer their daughter is, and I was very much looking forward to playing with her in the water. She doesn't know how to tread water, though, so I wasn't willing to take her out deep. It was probably for the best, because it turns out she's scared of the ocean. The mother and daughter stayed close to the side ropes, and every once in a while I would do laps out by the farthest rope where the water was deeper and there were less tubes. The water was great. Clear, perfect temperature, and decent waves. The waves here, though, crash when the water is very shallow, so there was no body surfing. Soon, I discovered another reason for staying inside the safety ropes. A motorboat carrying several screaming and laughing passengers roared up about twenty feet away from the swimmers, and drove up onto the steep sand bank to stop itself. I would not want to swim across that path.
Once we got out of the water, I said I wanted to take a walk on the beach. It was a long one, and I was looking forward to walking down to a lighthouse I could see in the distance. They family said, well, ok, we'll walk, then. (I now know, that if you say to a Korean "I'm going to....", they will usually hear "Let's...." I need to learn more Korean.) Surprised that they wanted to come with me, I told them I planned on walking a long way. They agreed and we set off. I was a little disappointed, as I had been looking forward to my first moment alone in a couple of days, but oh well. We got to the edge of the safety ropes, and the father said we should go back. I said I would like to keep walking. He said that we weren't allowed to go any further. I asked why and he said that he didn't see any people, so we must not be allowed on that part of that beach. I said that I didn't see any signs, and there were people further down, and that I would keep walking and would see them later at the hotel. He said, no, let's go back. Feeling that I was being rude, I grudgingly turned around. When we got to the dry part of the sand, the father told me to put my shoes. on. I told him that I liked walking in the sand. He said that at this beach, there were shells that could cut my feet. We went back and forth a couple times, until I again felt like I might be being rude, and started to bend down to put my shoes on. As I began to do so, the father said, "Kate, just follow my orders!" Not seeing his face and thinking that he was joking, I laughed and said "Follow orders? I haven't followed orders since I was eighteen! That's almost..." As I straightened up I saw that he was rather angry. Great. I had just been told to follow orders. Now I'm angry at being told to do so by someone who is not anywhere close to being an authority figure, and he's angry because I may have just insulted him in front of his family. The dynamic of the trip changed immediately in my eyes. I had seen myself as a guest, but still an independent, adult one. They saw me as a guest, a dependent one they had to take care of. We walked back to the hotel in near silence.
When we got back, they turned on the TV. (They watched three or four hours of loud TV every night!) I put in headphones, turned my back to the TV even though it felt rude, and seriously considered telling them that I would take a bus back to Seoul that night. I decided to stay. There was only one full day left, and, you know, we were at the beach! I never want to leave the beach. That night for dinner we had grilled clams, which I had been really excited about. Excited until they were grilled alive right in front of us, squirming and popping in their own juices. I didn't eat much.
Going to bed, they said I could share the bed with their daughter if I wanted. Their daughter is probably the smallest 9-year-old I've ever seen, so I agreed. In the middle of the night, I rolled over, and somehow, the girl's face had swollen to about three times its size. I screamed. The mother, who had changed places with her daughter at some point in the night, and was now lying in bed next to me, opened her eyes and gave me a sleepy smile. Fully weirded out, I rolled back over, scooted to the edge of the bed, and fell back asleep.
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