Only a Korean would hit himself with a stick and call it a massage

On Saturday Jessie and I went on another GIC tour.
The morning started very early, because we had to catch the bus at 7:00 to make sure that we were there on time. Surprisingly, the bus left when the schedule said that it should have.
I feel asleep almost as fast as Jessie did, which was really something. After two hours on the bus, we finally arrived at our destination, Mai-san (Horse-ears mountain).
It's pretty neat, it actually looks like Horse-ears (pictures to be posted shortly). But the most amazing part of this place was a temple where a lay Buddhist built over 100 pagodas, many of which are still standing after 100 years. Some of them are huge, too. The larger ones would have been prayed over for 100 days before the final stone was placed, and the prayer that was placed on the pagoda will stand or come true as long as the pagoda does.
We were invited to try to build our own for our prayers and wishes, but I'd rather not tie the fate of my hopes and dreams to whether or not some rocks will fall over. I mean, there's no escaping genetics, and that means I will never be able to build anything. I mean, my dad spent something like $6000 once trying to frame a window.
Anyways, it was a beautiful place. I got to hit the biggest drum in Korea (which was probably world famous). I noticed everyone was waling around with newly purchased bamboo sitcks, about 2 inches in diameter. It was split up one side, so that when struck against something, it made a cracking sound. I thought it must have been a prayer device or something, but it turns out that it was actually for massage.
As Jessie so eloquently put it "Only a Korean could hit himself with a stick and call it a massage."
So after we had gone up and down the side of the mountain to see the temple, we were directed up another path. It just went up and up. Then, there was a rest area. Then, more stairs up to a cave.
Let me tell you, if you're going to climb up a mountain to see a cave, as around to make sure that it's a good cave. I'm a geography major, and even I found this cave boring.
Then, we walked back down.
After the thrilling cave adventure, it was time for lunch. We all walked down the other side of the mountain. Waling down is the hardest part. Walking up is tiring, and you feel really worn out abouthalf way, and you wonder "Will I ever make it?", or "Can Jessie carry me?". But walking down is way harder. First of all, you are tired from the walk up. Unless you're a regular climber, you probably have jiggly knees.

JIGGLY KNEES + WALKING DOWNSTAIRS = BAD IDEA (JEANS)

So now you're wondering "Will my knees give out on this stair?" Which is a great feeling. I walk a fair bit, but walking up and down stairs for a couple of hours is a whole other thing.
Lunch was just fine, but not worth writing about. One interesting thing is that I managed to pick out most Canadians versus Americans with no mistakes.
Then we went to make dokk. For those of you who aren't hip to the rice beat, that's rice cake. First off, let me just say that this is a misnomer. Dokk is no more rice "cake" than spaghetti is flour "cake". Just because it is cut into squares does not mean that it is cake.
First, you take delicious glutinous organic(ous) rice. Then you steam it, so that the delicious flavour of water is locked inside. Then, you take it outside to a stone basin and beat it with a hammer. Oh, and don't forget to add the mugwart (Hogwart's)! Douse the rice with more flavourful water while smashing it into a submissive ball of goop.
Voila! Delicious rice cake! mmm! No wonder they dislike Western food!
Then we got back on the bus, and went back to Gwangju.
We got some chicken ham and coup, and nacho cheese.
All in all, a pretty good day.

Oh wait! I forgot to mention that on the bus they kept trying to do trivia even though 60% of the bus was trying to sleep! AND the woman sitting accross from me kept "massaging" herself (producing loud cracking) in spite of many glares that would have killed most people. She finally got the hint, but every five or ten minutes the pain of holding this wicked toy and not making noise with it would get to be too much and she would crack herself over the leg. GOD! It's called rubbing, and it's silent. Now put it away before I start massaging you! Over the head!