Hermit Life: Another Happy Birthday, Buddha

Sometimes I envision that when I'm older I'll live in a small backwater town, far removed from my old life. I'll earn a modest living working a job I take pride in, and though I won't be famous I'll be known to the townspeople as the friendly but elusive hermit who comes down from his mountain home once in awhile for food and beer. It will be a perfectly normal, perfectly peaceful life.

Sound familiar?

It's funny how things work out. I wasn't planning on pursuing a "hermit in the woods" lifestyle until I was up in age, and yet here I am exactly where I pictured myself in my twilight years. I'm actually not trying to give the impression that I'm a borderline recluse; I just prefer having a generous amount of space around me, to be able to pursue my hobbies and passions in relatively undisturbed tranquility. That said I do like being part of a community, even if I keep to myself on the fringe, and I enjoy my little interactions with the local townsfolk.

I'm fortunate in that I have some wonderful neighbors, but then it doesn't take a lot to endear me to someone. It's the small acts of generosity I appreciate the most, like when I bump into my landlord just as I'm returning home and he invites me to have a few drinks with him on his newly built balcony. Or when I'm walking through town and one of my students will see me and wave excitedly, and almost immediately a parent will say, "Be respectful, that's your teacher!" and make the child bow. Then there was the time it started raining while I was shopping in my town's mart and the lady who owns the store noticed I had no umbrella and gave me one for free. On a different day the grandpa who runs the dry cleaner was sitting outside eating some ice cream, and when he saw me go by he waved me over and insisted on buying a cone for me. There's also the pharmacist who remembers that whenever I visit I like to buy the Korean equivalent of Pepto-Bismol (actually that example is a little embarrassing). And just last week, I befriended the local monk who lives in the temple overlooking the town.

It's been a little while since I last visited the Buddhist temple on the mountain behind my house. Recently however the weather has been fantastic, and with Buddha's birthday just around the corner I knew there would be decorations adorning the temple. I went one afternoon after work; lining the road to the temple were colorful paper lanterns all strung up in Buddha's honor, and following them led me to a lovely display of lanterns set up in the temple's courtyard. Although the quantity of lanterns was modest compared to what I saw in Bongeunsa the previous year, they were still quite pretty to look at. It was while I was exploring and taking pictures that I was approached by a grandma who lives and works at the temple. At first I thought maybe I had overstepped some boundary I was unaware of, but she waved me over and asked if I was hungry (in Korean, of course). I was intrigued, so I followed her into the temple's kitchen where I was greeted by a monk and another grandma. They invited me to join them in their simple meal of Korean noodle soup and kimchi: the soup had no meat, as Buddhist monks are vegetarians, but the ingredients were fresh and the meal was hearty. Though I felt a bit shy at first I had a pleasant time chatting with the monk, doing my best to string together sentences in broken Korean. As we talked the monk served us tea, and he informed me it was a special brew that contained a bit of alcohol (another surprise: I wasn't aware that Buddhist monks could drink!). That's when I noticed that hanging from the ceiling was a very modern flat screen TV displaying feeds from several security cameras. Now I knew how the first grandma had managed to find and approach me so quickly! I watched as the monk observed a woman enter the temple to say her prayers, and it amused me when I realized he had most likely been watching me only moments ago. It was soon time for me to go, and the monk suggested I come back at night to take photos of the lanterns after they were lit. He also said that I was welcome to come again and drink tea with him. I was flattered, and told him I would.

Country life can be a bit lonely. However, I feel tremendously grateful that I have such warm and welcoming people to share a town with. I realize I can't live here in peace and quiet forever and that eventually I'll have to step back into the outside world to pursue my ambitions, but some days I wonder if I really need more than what this simple hermit life has to offer me.