May 4 What Is Your Religion?

The second most popular question in Korea (after “How old are you?”) seems to be “What is your religion?” This is a little disconcerting at first, because in the US it is not a common topic of discussion in the government workplace, nor is it one of the first things asked when meeting a new acquaintance at a casual social gathering. In Korea, the acceptable answers are a) Catholic; b) Christian (meaning fundamentalist/evangelical); c) Buddhist; or d) None. Any answer may be followed up by “Do you go to church?” “What do you believe?” etc. (I have read, however, that it is considered somewhat impolite and intrusive to ask what someone does for a living in Korea. Different cultures have different approaches to personal privacy.)

I had the opportunity to explore two of the four options in a bit more detail this weekend. Saturday was the Buddha’s birthday (or at least the day it is celebrated in Korea.) My friends Cho Han Sic and Lee Im Moo decided it would be a good day to take me to Beopjusa, a large temple complex in the National Park at the base of Songni Mountain. The place was packed with visitors.

The main feature of Beopjusa is a 100 foot high bronze Buddha statue. While the temple complex is 1500 years old, the statue was built just 20 years ago. I personally find the other features of the site, such as the large but graceful pagoda, much more attractive.

Beneath the base of the bronze Buddha is a prayer room with a smaller Buddha and a display of some of the artifacts from the site.

These ancient chicken stamps confirm everything I learned at the Museum of Chicken Arts in Seoul.

Then on Sunday afternoon I went with my friend Kang Yeong Yang and his wife to their church picnic, which was held in a park along a river on the edge of town. The event consisted mostly of playing a little badminton and grilling meat.

Afterwards the men sat and ate while the women served.

Everyone was extremely nice to me and kept giving me lettuce and tomatoes and some kind of root and sliced melon and rice and sweet potatoes. The children had a great time too. The little boys threw rocks into the river while the little girls sat and chatted—in the river.

Between my two weekend religious celebrations I went for my usual Sunday morning run on the path along the river here in town. About three kilometers into my 16k run I happened upon the start of a 10k race which, by coincidence, followed the same route I was running and started just a few seconds after I ran past the start line. So suddenly I found myself in the midst of several hundred very fast young runners who greeted me cheerfully as they blew on by. They were all decked out in appropriate race day attire—shorts and technical shirts or tanks with a race number pinned to the front—while I was slugging along in my jogging pants with my jacket tied around my waste. But everyone seemed pleased or at least a little amused to have this ancient foreigner straggling along. I crossed the finish line proud not to have been last, took advantage of the water station they had set up there, and then continued on at a slower pace to complete the final three kilometers of my run. But the time I spent on the trail with the Korean runners reminded me of how much energy I get out of competitive running, how much I miss it, and also how much work I have to do if I ever want to be competitive again.