“Make sure you wash your hands after,” the temple guide says in English, standing above me and the white temple dog. “He’s never showered in his life.”
I think in Korea they call this breed of dog Jindo. He’s creamy white, curly-tailed, and looks very much like the Shiba that my sister has.
He’s leashed and clipped by a carabiner-like thing to a long zip line across the yard so that he can’t leave the temple, but he has lots of room to move.
I don’t have very much experience with dogs, but maybe I can tell he has not showered. His coat is coarse and bristly.
For the moment I don’t care. I’m whispering a small thank you to him for guiding me to the entrance of the temple on my way up earlier in the day.
Later, I do care. I am a hypochondriac after all; what if he has fleas? I immediately go back to my room to wash my hands.
***
The English guide takes us on a short tour of the temple.
From the tour I only remember two things: Don’t ask each other unnecessary questions, and don’t miss meal times.
He does not mention that the temple bell rings at 4 am. But let’s move on.
***
Okay I have not moved on.
My plan was to wake up to watch the sunrise over the city. In reality, I didn’t even know which way was east, and the stunning view from the edge of the temple entrance overlooks Seoul towards Namsan Tower - not east.
I set my alarm to 5:30 am. Naver has told me sunrise is at 6:20 am. Plenty of time.
I am awoken by the rhythmic sound of the moktak, a hollowed out wooden instrument that is tapped with a wooden stick and used during chanting.
On its own this sound is as beautiful as the sound a stream of water makes trickling down the mountain, but in context it’s about as exasperating as a faucet dripping into a hollow sink.
This call precedes the bell at 4 am.
It seems wrong to plug my ears with my AirPods and white noise rain, but I do. I must.
I oversleep.
I spring from the thin floor mattress and speed walk, as quietly as I can, to the sunrise spot.
The temple dog wags his tail at me, but I am now too worried about fleas to touch it.
“Good morning doggie,” I whisper.
I haven’t been able to ask the guide about his name because I think it would fall under unnecessary questions.
Even before I get to my spot though I know it’s too late for the sunrise. It’s quiet like it’s pre-day, but the ambient light tells me otherwise.
***
I decide to climb the steps to one of the prayer halls.
One of the things you notice right away in a temple is the abundance of thresholds.
These steps begin at a small gate, and to my surprise the temple dog is there, unleashed and looking at me as if to say, are you coming?
“Oh you’re there now,” I think, and I go closer to follow. But when I make a few steps forward, I can see in my peripheral vision: a dog that’s still tied up.
I turn my head one way and then the other. Two dogs. Identical. One is leashed, and the other is free.
Ah! There are two dogs! And it suddenly occurs to me that the one that is free is likely the one who led me to the temple yesterday.
Henceforth I will refer to the tied up dog as “One Dog,” and the free dog as “Other Dog.”
Neither dog acknowledges each other. And they make no noise; they do not bark. They seem to know: don’t ask unnecessary questions.
Other Dog hops over the threshold, goes up a few steps and then cocks its head at me again.
I really want to follow Other Dog. But it is 7 am. It is breakfast time. Don’t miss meals, I think.
“I’ll be back soon, okay?” I tell Other Dog.
[To be continued in Part 2: Ghosts]
What a delight! Very much looking forward to part two.