The Golden Hill - Guleopdo, Incheon

[Series: Life Like a Panorama - Guleopdo, Incheon] Ep. 2 The Golden Hill

Even after finishing our meal and stepping outside, the photos hanging on the wall lingered in my mind. Two young faces in the picture, and right next to them, two wrinkled faces. Beside me, an old friend was readjusting his backpack. The path to Gaemeori Hill. The colors of this place, which I was seeing for the first time in my life, somehow felt familiar.

Golden Light

Spring. The midday sun was right above our heads, but it didn't sting the skin. The wind touched us first, followed by the light. The golden glow of the fields. It wasn't just the warmth of the temperature, but the profound sense of fulfillment from nature itself that warmly embraced me.

Grass that hadn't yet sprouted new shoots. A hue somewhere between the brown and gray of a winter just passed. Perhaps the color of survival. It wasn't the dazzling gold of harvest season, but sunlight rested thinly upon the stalks of the aged grass.

On our way to the hill, we ran into the little girl we saw earlier. A face tanned by the sun, with a puppy by her side. I wondered if she was a local islander or just visiting for a while. I thought about asking, but decided against it.

The newly thawed ground silently supported our steps, feeling soft and cushiony. The sound of crashing waves echoed from not too far away. The cries of seagulls drifted in intermittently, carried by the wind. I occasionally looked back. The earth, the sea, and the sky spread out as if perfectly proportioned. The brown of weathered grass. The deep blue of the sea. The emerald hue of the sky. Nature clearly never studied color theory, yet it seemed to have discovered the most beautiful and perfect color palette.

Gaemeori Hill

We hadn't been walking long, but we had already reached quite a high ridge.

"Wow-"

The hidden sea suddenly unveiled itself right before our eyes, alongside the rolling hills resting upon it. For some reason, my family came to mind at that moment.

'My dad and Jiwon really need to see this.'

My father loves nature. We hiked the Himalayas together not too long ago. His steps are a bit slower than before, but his face always lights up at the sight of the mountains. Maybe I thought I should show him places like this more often before it gets too late.

The wind swept past. The old grass bowed to one side and rose back up. Soon, an uncontrollable smile spread across my face. I hummed a song, my shoulders swaying slightly.

My friend didn't seem to recognize the tune. Still, wanting to play along, he chimed in, "Yeah, yeah, life is short, right?" Before I knew it, he had become a father too. Someone who knows his child's meal times better than the latest hit songs. Someone who thinks of family schedules before his own weekend plans. Seeing that version of him felt both unfamiliar and endearing.

We met in college. Back when we had nothing. We used to giggle late into the night, abandoning our studies to give grand speeches about philosophy and life. And yet, here we are now. One raising a child, the other clinging to a company. Still wearing the faces of those asking how we ought to live.

He’s my friend, but he’s quite an amazing guy.

Playing House

Eager backpackers had already arrived and pitched their tents. The sound of pegs being hammered here and there quickened our pace. Small, colorful tents. And the people around them. Looking from afar, it felt exactly like we were playing house.

My friend scouted for a spot with practiced ease. I awkwardly tagged along to help. Looking for a place that was at least somewhat flat and grassy.

"This is a good spot."

"Yeah, I agree."

We finally settled on a spot with a great view and plenty of sunlight. The tent fabric puffed up in the wind. I held the guylines while my friend hammered the pegs. Thanks to his skillful hands, the tent was up in no time, and we unfolded our chairs to sit side by side.

The sound of boiling rice made me hungry.

I still hadn't published the newsletter due today. Worries about community recruitment kept spinning in my head. The company work was still piling up, and none of the problems had been solved.

But I’m still glad I came. The things I was clinging to suddenly felt much smaller. In front of this scenery, the burdens I held didn’t seem so heavy after all. The things I had been missing, on the other hand, became much clearer.

The old grass rustled around my ankles. My friend suggested a toast. We raised our glasses toward the fading sunlight.

(Fin.)

Bonus

Spotted deer

An island like a painting.

Sunset