Up the Sunrise Mountain

On the island of Geoje-Do, there are countless mountains to choose from, but the one we venture to each year on January 1st is 계룡산 (Gyeryongsan).

We take restless naps after dinner and rise around ten in the evening on December 31st to get ready for the long hike.

엄머님 (Ummanim) Mother-in-law packs everything we need: the blankets, the windbreakers, and sunglasses. 아버님 (Abbonim) Father-in-law prepares the breakfast and packs it in water-tight bags. All the while, 동생 (Dongseng) Little Sister and I put our feet on the wall as support and shove my husband out of bed.

With everything ready, we head out. Our warm breath makes soft gray puffs inside the dark car. My husband and his long legs sit up front, so Father-in-law takes the seat behind him. Little Sister is always forced in the middle. Their combined mass and all of our hiking gear force my legs against the car door.

The drive to the mountain is dark under the rows of pine trees rising over the road. Hundreds of other car lights, all heading the same direction, mimic Christmas lights. I'm struck by a pain of homesickness until Little Sister nudges my arm and points to the black mountain coming into view.

Hundreds of families are in attendance, so it is difficult to find a parking spot. Lucky for us, Mother-in-law knows a secret spot in the woods. We drive past the No Entry sign and hide the car under a sloped birch.

We unhaul our goods and walk back toward the parking lot. There are a few men in orange vests guiding the traffic. They wave us, groups of the other waiting families, and our overflowing cargo over the crosswalk.

I take the cooler out of my mother-in-law's hands. 무겁죠! (Moogupjo) "That must be heavy!" She argues with me at first, but I take the cooler anyway. A minute later, she looks back at my husband, then orders him to carry it. Once the cooler is out of our hands, she takes mine and guides me through the crowded parking lot.

Goeje-Do is a surprisingly liberal hub around the surrounding conservative cities of Busan and Daegu. At the base of the mountain, we see families that look like ours: multicultural or queer.

We wait, amongst these families, in a winding line, to begin the hike. It feels like the entrance to Totoro's forest in the Ghibli film. The trees are black and looming, but lanterns glow a soft orange above our heads, guiding us deeper into the woods.

Father and Mother-in-law are much stronger than we are. They tease us when we whine or stop to rest. They slap my husband's back and poke his stomach, insisting his diet starts today. We try to speed up for their sake; we need to make it up the mountain before the clock strikes 12. Little Sister and I take turns pulling each other up rocks and hanging trees.

The grueling, hour-long hike ends once we reach the summit. My legs are shaking, and I breifly loose sight of my husband, who is leaning over a rock, attempting to catch his breath.

Mother-in-law snakes her way through the crowd and elbows us a spot closer to the edge of the mountain's peak. Children are swaying their feet over the rocks as their parents half-heartedly scold them, too exhausted to put up a real fight.

We spread our mat and lay out our food. Father-in-law takes out three bottles of soju and three short glasses. Mother-in-law shakes her head, and I try not to laugh. He always manages to sneak some alcohol on our family trips.

As he pours me a glass, I jump. The first firework pops, startling the elderly couple beside us. After the shock wears off, they sit back and clap in jubilation. We sit in awe as the rainbow lights crack and buzz through the smoky black sky. We clink our glasses, 건배! (Konbai!) Cheers!

We wish our neighbors a happy New Year and share the fruit and rice cakes Father-in-law packed. This serves as an apology for the elbow mother-in-law delivered them earlier.

In return, we are given sweets and dried squid. The hikers act as if we are all a part of the same family. The soju flows so strongly I worry about the trek down. We share food, well wishes, and resolutions.

Full and sleepy, we lay on our mat as the back crowds shuffle down the mountain path. My husband puts his head in my lap and falls asleep. My leg soon goes numb, but Little Sister struggles to pull him up without a wall for support.

We eventually pack up our belongings and make our way down. The sky turns a silky navy above our heads. The air, still crisp from the cold, becomes gradually lighter the further down the mountain we travel. But by the time we reach the parking lot, the crowd has not moved. They are gathered for one last spectacle in the sky: a glowing pink sunrise.

As the sky rises and shifts from grapefruit pink to tangerine orange, we make our way across the crosswalk, bow to the men in safety vests, and sneak back to our hiding place in the woods.

We drive home, but are halted by the immense traffic. It takes over an hour longer than the initial trip. The sky is bright and baby blue by the time we make it home.

We sleep, still in our hiking clothes, on the floor of my in-law's living room. I can smell the sweat sticking to my underarms, but my husband curls up beside me anyway.

The shifting sounds of rice being washed in the sink stir me awake. Little Sister has her leg draped across my stomach, and my husband has rolled off the blanket-bed.

Father-in-law calls "Good Morning!" over his shoulder. It is one of the only English phrases he knows, and it delights me to hear his voice so confident. I return his greeting and gather my things to take a long, much-needed shower.

Mother-in-law is in her room when I step out. She brushes pink blush onto her already glowing cheeks. We talk about the beauty of the sunrise, the difficult hike, and how delicious her rice cakes were. My stomach growls. 언제 점심을 먹을래요? (achim jumshim mukelaeyo?) When will we eat lunch?

Mother-in-law laughs and slaps my leg. 아니 아니, 저녁 먹자! (ani ani junyuk!) No, no. Let's eat Dinner!

I look out the window to see the faint darkening of the approaching night. We had slept through the first day of the year.

I set the table as Sister-in-law scoops the rice. My husband stumbles out of the shower, dresses, and kisses the top of my head before falling back into one of the dining chairs. He wasn't built for early morning adventures. Mother-in-law tells him to eat more vegetables than meat, but her orders are promptly ignored once Father-in-law sets out a plate of sliced pork belly.

Despite her protests about dieting, she caves into her own desires and takes out a collection of ice cream bars from her freezer.

Full and tired, we dig into the ice cream and thank the coming year for our blessed family.