We set off trailing sparks after weighing down Sanba with Sketchbooks and pencils, not to mention the extra unused-to and unfit ginger passenger. The roads were brightly lit by a sun unwilling to admit to itself that it is October and it really should be putting in some downtime and there were relatively few cars on the road. A good thing, because due to the aforesaid luggage we were putt-putting along at a majestic 30kph on the steepest slopes, which would be pretty good if we were on a bike, I told myself, as cars patiently overtook us. Adrienne was amazingly patient as the driver, considering the relative ease with which she can zip around unencumbered.
The temple was astounding. Temples in Korea are painted in vivid colours, which have a strangely unsoothing effect considering their assumed purpose. Perhaps I am just used to the sombre, intimidating cathedrals back home which seem to suck higher brain functions out through the mouths via gasps of awe. These temples are also the product of intense human effort and display dizzying splendour. Their effect is a feeling of air, of freedom and light. They evoke joy and love of the land, like a yang to the yin of European cathedrals, if I can be forgiven for invoking a third religion for the metaphor.
