好英语网离开都市，探索一个不一样的韩国
Before South Korea became globally known for its beauty products, kimchi and pop groups, it was known as the Land of the Morning Calm. The name has long been used to refer to the Korean Peninsula, before the division of South and North Korea, because of its tranquil, temple-dotted mountains and serene forests where dawn breaks on the Asian mainland.
在韩国因美妆产品、泡菜和流行团体蜚声国际之前，它曾被称为朝日鲜明之地。这个名字一直被用来指称分裂为韩国和朝鲜之前的朝鲜半岛，因为这里宁静的、散布着庙宇的群山及静谧的森林，是亚洲大陆的破晓初始之地。
But calm is not a word that best captured the state of South Korea in the years running up to the pandemic. It experienced a cultural explosion of art, cuisine, literature and cinema with high profile films such as “Parasite,” which swept the Oscars in February 2020 and nudged the nation onto many travelers’ maps. A month later, the coronavirus hit and a calm returned. The bustling nation had closed shop.
但在这次疫情前的几年，平静并不是一个最能体现韩国状态的词。这个国家经历了一场艺术、美食、文学和影视的文化爆炸，出现了在2020年2月横扫奥斯卡的《寄生虫》等多部备受瞩目的影片，将这个国家推到了许多人的旅行名单上。就在那之后的一个月，新冠来了，平静也再次回归。这个热闹的国家关上了大门。
探索安东河回村松林的游客。
但在2022年7月1日，韩国再次向外国游客开放，在两年来首次签发短期游客签证，并且取消了大部分针对居民的新冠相关限制措施。
The secrets of rural Korea are not widely known, even to many urbanite Koreans. According to the Statistics of Urban Planning, 92% of the country’s population now lives in urban areas, up from just 39% in 1960. As a traveler to more than 20 Asian countries, including popular destinations such as Cambodia and Thailand, lesser-traveled spots such as Laos, Bhutan and Taiwan, plus a dozen trips to Japan, I assumed the slow-paced side of Korea might be similar to those countries.
韩国乡村的秘密鲜为人知，即便对许多韩国都市人群来说也是如此。根据城市规划数据，92%的韩国人口如今生活在城区，而1960年该数字仅为39%。作为一名去过20多个亚洲国家的旅行者（包括柬埔寨和泰国等热门目的地，还有较少人造访的地方比如老挝、不丹和台湾，再加上去了十几次的日本），我原本以为韩国节奏缓慢的一面可能与那些国家相似。
How wrong I was.
我可大错特错了。
In March 2019, I spent two weeks hiking and touring through rural South Korea to explore the eight mainland provinces of this 38,750-square-mile country, slightly bigger than Indiana but smaller than Kentucky. Unbeknown to me, March wasn’t the best time to go. It’s mud season. Wildflowers hadn’t bloomed yet, many trails were still closed and smog was at its worst.
2019年3月，我在韩国乡村地区用两周时间徒步和游览，探索这里的8个大陆省份（道）。韩国的面积约10万平方公里，比印第安纳州略大一些，但比肯塔基州小。而我当时不知道的是，3月并非是去那里的最佳时节。那可是泥泞的季节。野花尚未开放，许多山径仍然关闭，雾霾天也是最严重的时候。
Despite the mud, I lost myself in tranquil thatched-roof hamlets, peaceful Buddhist temples clinging to mountains, glittering dark sky reserves and unhurried “slow food” towns where a generation of South Korean women older than 60 are preserving the country’s culinary heritage.
尽管道路泥泞不堪，我还是沉浸在有着茅草屋顶的宁静乡村、依山而建的清净寺庙，闪着星光的黑夜以及闲适的“慢食”小镇，在当地，一代年纪在60岁以上的韩国女性正在保存这个国家的饮食遗产。
Leaving Seoul Behind
离开首尔
Getting out of metropolitan Seoul, home to a staggering 26 million people, is the first hurdle of any visit to rural Korea.
要前往韩国乡村，离开有着2600万庞大人口的大都市首尔是第一道障碍。
High-speed Korea Rail trains are affordable and efficient but tend to connect to other urban areas. Hiring a guide and driver is not cheap, but offers a good way to get a deeper understanding of the fast-changing culture. I did a hybrid of the two, which helped bridge the language barrier and let me move around freely, still allowing for independent exploration and unstructured downtime.
韩国高铁价格便宜，效率高，但它连通的大多是城市地区。雇向导和司机不便宜，但它是更深入了解这种瞬息万变的文化的一个好方法。我结合了这两种出行方式，这有助于克服语言障碍，让我自由四处活动，同时又能让我独立探索和拥有一些兴之所至的休息时间。
Escaping Seoul’s infinity pool of neo-Brutalist sprawl takes about two hours by car. The drive passes row after row of blocky uniform apartment towers, lined up like dominoes across the drab plains that surround Seoul’s bowl-shaped basin and eight surrounding guardian mountains.
逃离首尔无边界泳池一般的新粗野主义城区需要约两小时车程。一路上驶过一排排整齐排列、风格统一的公寓大楼，仿若多米诺骨牌竖立在围绕着首尔的碗状盆地和周围八座守护山的褐色平原上。
South Korea’s northernmost province, Gangwon, two hours northeast, is a sensible first stop, not to mention the scenic shooting locale for “Okja,” a 2017 movie by “Parasite” director Bong Joon Ho about a lovable pig raised on a lush mountaintop farm. Gangwon is pressed up against the infamous DMZ (Demilitarized Zone), a 160-mile-long, 2.5-mile-wide buffer zone between North Korea and South Korea.
韩国最北端的江原道，位于首尔东北方向两小时车程的地方，这个地方作为第一站很是合适，况且这里还是《玉子》风景如画的拍摄地，该片为《寄生虫》导演奉俊昊2017年的电影，讲述了一头可爱的猪在一个郁郁葱葱的山顶农场长大的故事。江原道紧邻臭名远扬的非军事区，这是一个位于朝韩之间长达248公里、宽约4公里的缓冲地带。
I skipped the DMZ to instead explore the northernmost parts of South Korea, where domestic travelers have long sought out the pristine beaches, granite-peaked national parks and forested valleys.
我略过非军事区，去探索了韩国最北边的地方。在那里，未被污染的海滩、耸立着花岗岩山峰的国家公园和满是树林的山谷一直令韩国国内游客趋之若鹜。
I was headed for Seoraksan (Snow Rock Mountain), one of South Korea’s 21 national parks and a UNESCO-listed Biosphere Reserve in the Taebeak Mountains, a spine running the length of the Korean Peninsula. At the park’s base is a smattering of gift shops and food stalls hawking hot coffee, noodle soups and fortifying bowls of dok boki, toothsome rice cakes drenched in a fermented red chili sauce.
我动身前往雪岳山国立公园，这是韩国21个国家公园之一，是纵贯朝鲜半岛的太白山脉一处被联合国科教文组织列为生物圈保存地区的地方。在公园的山脚下，是几家礼品商店和食品摊，售卖热咖啡、泡面和饱腹感超强的炒年糕，年糕泡在一种经过发酵的红色辣椒酱里，非常美味。
If you have a spare eight to 11 hours, you could make the challenging climb up 5,604 feet to Daecheong Peak, the park’s highest summit. I didn’t. Like most visitors I opted instead for the shorter and easier cable car ride to another summit called Gwongeum Fortress, originally built to fend off the Mongolians, whose multiple 13th-century invasions left many traces in Korean art, cuisine and culture as we know it today.
如果你有8到11个小时的空闲时间，可以挑战一下，去攀登海拔1708米到公园主峰大青峰。我倒是没爬。像许多游客一样，我选择了乘坐路程更短、更容易的缆车到另一个名为权金城的高峰，这里原本是为了抵御蒙古人而修建，后者在13世纪多次进犯，这在韩国今天的艺术、美食和文化里留下了历历可见的痕迹。
A Buddhist Temple Stay
佛寺小住
At Seoraksan (and for much of my trip), I was the only non-Asian in the crowd, with no other international tourists in sight. But my next stop not only lacked other tourists, it had no other guests at all. At the 1,000-year-old Samhwasa, a temple hidden deep in a ravine in the Muneung Valley, where I had booked a temple stay, I had the grounds to myself except for Bubchang, a sweet, wiry Buddhist monk wearing a heather gray robe, floppy cap and a permanent smile.
在雪岳山时（以及我此行的大部分时间里），我是众多游客里唯一一个非亚洲人，根本看不到其他的海外游客。但我的下一站不仅没有其他游客，也没有其他客人。三河寺有着1000年历史，隐在武陵溪谷山涧深处，我在这里定好了一夜住宿。这里的僧人布昌（Bubchang ，音）待人亲切、清瘦结实，身着灰色僧袍，头戴软帽，脸上永远挂着微笑，除了他之外，这里只有我一人。
Bubchang walked with me in golden-hour light through mossy woods awash in pink spring wildflowers aside waterfalls trickling over weathered rocks, into which old poems were carved. He guided me through the 108 prostrations ceremony, a calorie-burning Buddhist ritual in which I chanted 108 mantras and deep-bowed 108 times while stringing together 108 bodhi prayer beads to form a necklace.
布昌伴我在日暮黄昏时分走入长满苔藓的树林，树林里开满了粉色的春季野花，旁边便是从饱经风霜的岩石上流淌而下的瀑布，岩石上刻有古诗。他教我做了一遍108拜，我在这种燃烧卡路里的礼佛仪式里吟诵108声佛号，深鞠躬108次，同时还要将108个菩提珠串成一条项链。
While ringing the bronze temple bell after our humble supper of rice and kimchi, Bubchang held my hand and told me that I was beautiful. Samhwasa’s temple stay program is called “Love Myself and Help Five Friends.”
在用毕米饭和泡菜的简朴晚餐后，布昌在敲响黄铜寺钟的同时拉住我的手，跟我说我很美。三河寺的寺庙住宿项目就叫做“爱自己，帮助五个朋友”。
“Visitors here learn to love themselves and then envision how they can help five friends,” says Bubchang, taking a selfie of us with his smartphone.
“来到这里的访客先学会爱自己，然后设想如何帮助五位朋友，”布昌说着用他的智能手机给我俩自拍了一张。
Unlike Japan’s tourist-oriented shukubo (temple stays) that offer ornate vegan kaiseki meals, manicured gardens and even onsen baths, Korea’s temple stays are more structured and might feel slightly austere, but are truer to how the monks actually live. Many have cell-like rooms with cold hard floors and require guests to complete chores. Few have showers, private toilets, heat or outlets for charging phones.
与日本面向游客的“宿坊”（寺庙住宿）不同，后者提供华丽的素食怀石料理，有着精心修剪的花园甚至温泉浴。韩国的寺庙住宿更加有组织，可能令人感觉有些简陋，但更为真实地反应了僧侣的日常生活方。许多僧人住的房间像是牢房，地板又冷又硬，并且要求客人完成杂物。很少有淋浴、私人厕所、供暖或给手机充电的插座。
I partially chose Samhwasa because at $70 per night it seemed like a bargain, especially since its rooms have private showers and toilets, not to mention heated floors. But while overnighting there may be spiritually rewarding, it was physically demanding. Mattresses were no thicker than a puffer jacket and the pillows were shaped like loaves of sandwich bread, but firmer than a dictionary. And while the floor may not be cold, it was still quite hard.
我选择三河寺的部分原因是，每晚70美元（约合500元人民币）的价格似乎十分划算，尤其是这些房间自带淋浴和厕所，况且还有地暖。但尽管过夜可能带来了精神上的回报，但对身体的要求可不低。床垫可能就跟一件羽绒服差不多厚，枕头形状像是一条吐司面包，但比字典还硬。而且尽管地板不怎么冷，但还是很硬。
While it was cold, smoggy and raining for much of my visit in South Korea, I still made a point to visit Gangwon’s renowned beaches. Chuam Beach, just south of Korea’s easternmost city of Donghae, is a chill surf town famous for its pine-secluded beaches and sacred Chuam Chotdaebawi Rock, named for its candle-shaped sea stacks. Local myth says they represent a man who couldn’t choose between his wife and concubine, so all three of them were petrified.
虽然我在韩国大部分时候都天气很冷、有雾霾，还一直下雨，但我还是特地去了江原道闻名遐迩的海滩。 湫岩海水浴场就在韩国最东端城市东海以南，这是一个安逸的冲浪小城，以位于松林后僻静的海滩和神圣的湫岩烛台岩而闻名。根据当地的传说，这些岩石代表着一名无法在妻子和妾室之间做出抉择的男子，于是三人均遭石化。
Onward to the Hanok
前往韩屋
Korea’s hanoks, traditional guesthouses, are another way to experience Old Korea, and many have been meticulously preserved and are worth seeking out. I continued south by car for two hours to reach the Gyeongsangbuk province, home to the Andong Hahoe Hanok Village nestled into a flat and sandy ox bow of the Nakdong River. Most of its low-slung houses lining the stonewalled, earthen lanes have landscaped courtyards, thatched roofs and sliding windows covered with hanji, a fibrous paper made from mulberry bark and used in many traditional houses.
韩屋是传统韩式旅馆，也是体验古老朝鲜的另一种方式，许多韩屋都被精心保存了下来，值得一去。我继续乘车向南，经过两个小时到达了庆尚北道，这里是安东河回村的所在地，村子就坐落在沿洛东江一片平坦的U字形沙地上。石墙土路两旁的大多数低矮房屋都有带景观的院落、茅草屋顶和以韩纸糊成的推拉窗，韩纸是一种充满纤维的纸，以桑树皮制成，许多传统房屋都会用到这种纸。
At the village’s center is Bukchondaek House, built for a noble family in 1811 and converted to a hanok in 2016. It’s wrapped in verandas and shaded by a gnarly 300-year-old pine tree. Its ninth-generation owners have meticulously restored its painted screens and heated ondol floors, a system using smoke from a subterranean fire, while its hand-woven cotton wool mattresses were beautiful but made me yearn for something a bit thicker.
位于村中心的北村宅建于1811年，为一个贵族家族所建，并在2016年改造为韩屋。北村宅围廊环绕，一棵拥有300年树龄、枝干虬曲苍劲的松树为它庇荫。这座宅子第九代主人小心地复原了绘制屏风及温突地板，这是一种地暖系统。尽管上面铺的手织棉绒床垫非常漂亮，但我渴望更厚的垫子。
But what it cost me in sleep, it made up for in charm. At sunset, I walked through the village’s sandy-floored pine forests and spied a pair of stout water deer running through the riverbed’s rustling reeds.
失之东隅，收之桑榆，没睡好觉，却迎来了美景。日落时分，我走过村中沙地松林，看到两头壮硕的獐子在河床上簌簌作响的芦苇荡里奔跑。
Slow Food Along the Southern Coast
南部海岸的慢食
A two-hour drive southwest took me past scraggly mountain forests to the lush hilly seashores of North and South Jeolla along the country’s southern coast, including 2,000 islands (300 of which are uninhabited). No place in South Korea better expresses the nation’s devotion to food than these green, relaxed and lesser-developed provinces.
驱车向东南方向行驶两小时，经过参差不齐的山林，我来到了南部海岸全罗北道和南道郁郁葱葱、丘陵起伏的海边，这里有着2000座海岛（其中300座无人居住）。韩国没有其他地方能比这两个充满绿色、让人放松和欠发达的省份更能表达这个国家对食物的热爱了。
This is the home of Baekyangsa Temple, introduced to many foodies in an episode of “Chef’s Table,” the Netflix show, featuring Buddhist nun Jeong Kwan, whose temple cooking includes lotus-scented water and acorns brushed with sesame oil. But she isn’t the only one known for cooking here. Slow Food International, an Italian-based organization focused on preserving local food heritage, has nominated a handful of “cittaslow” (slow cities) in Jeolla for their time-honored cuisine, and local female food experts are often at the center of each.
这里是白羊寺的所在地。网飞的节目《主厨的餐桌》(Chef’s Table)中以比丘尼静宽(Jeong Kwan)为主角的一集令许多美食爱好者知道了这个地方，静宽的斋饭里有着莲花水及刷了芝麻油的橡子。但她并非这里唯一一个以烹饪而闻名的人物。总部位于意大利、关注保存地方食物遗产的国际慢食协会提名了好几个全罗道的“慢城”，以表彰其历史悠久的菜肴，而这些慢城的中心人物往往是当地的女性美食专家。
It was pouring rain when I arrived in the slowcitta of Jeonju, chosen by UNESCO as a Creative City of Gastronomy in 2012. Its cobbled main street is lined with reproduction Joseon-era storefronts bustling with street food vendors hawking everything from grapefruit beer to grilled cheese sandwich skewers.
2012年，联合国教科文组织将全州命名为美食之都。当我抵达这座慢城时，正下着瓢泼大雨，铺满鹅卵石的主路两边是复制的朝鲜时期店铺，里面忙碌的街头食物摊贩叫卖着从柚子啤酒到烤芝士三明治串的各式美食。
A few blocks away, hidden behind a gated garden, was my next hanok, Hakindang House (rooms from $75), a property built of wide planks of sturdy black pine from royal palace carpenters in 1908. I slid the latticed wooden doors open to my room filled with Korean lacquerware chests, an embroidered burgundy mattress and boxy woven straw pillows resembling tissue box covers. Exhausted after a day of travel, I climbed onto the thin mattress and fell asleep listening to the pitter-patter of rain on the clay roof.
就在几个街区之外，我要入住的下一个韩屋学忍堂（房价75美元起，约合540元）就在一个带着栅栏门的庭院之内，这里建于1908年，由皇宫木匠用宽大坚硬的黑色松木建成。我推开格栅状的木门，进入了我那间放着韩式漆器储物箱、一个深红色绣花床垫和看起来纸巾盒套一样四四方方的编织草枕的房间。一天的舟车劳顿后，疲惫不堪的我爬上了薄薄的床垫，伴着雨滴打在瓦屋顶的噼里啪啦声入睡。
In the morning, I was greeted by Seo Hwa-soon, the great-great-granddaughter of the house’s founder (she has since retired). In 1950s-style red frame glasses and a fastidiously tied pink silk scarf, she served me an epic breakfast of 25 colorful and meticulously arranged dishes, including traditional family recipes like saenghapjak, made with julienne white lilies, shiitake and carrots; pink-dyed lotus root slices; and gloriously tender bulgogi, grilled Korean beef.
早上，这座韩屋创始人的第四代传人徐华顺跟我打招呼（她现已退休）。她戴着1950年代风格的红色边框眼镜，讲究地围着一条粉色丝质围巾，为我上了一份有着25种颜色、精心摆盘的豪华早餐，里面包括了这个家族的传统菜谱saenghapjak，这道菜有切成条状的白百合、香菇和胡萝卜，染成粉色的藕片，配上无比嫩的烤韩牛。
My last stop was the slowcitta of Changpyeong, known for its stonewalled lanes and relaxed cafes and shops serving hangwa, confections sweetened with honey. It’s also home to Ki Soon Do, the prestigious Grand Master of Jang, Korea’s traditional fermented sauces, an essential ingredient to kimchi, and many other Korean dishes.
我的最后一站是慢城昌平面，这里因小路两边的石墙、令人放松的咖啡馆和售卖韩果的店铺而闻名。韩果是一种用蜂蜜制成的点心。韩国著名的传统酱大师纪顺道（Ki Soon Do，音）也居住在这里。对于韩式泡菜和许多其他韩国菜肴来说，大酱不可或缺。
In the front yard of her woodsy home studio were dozens of hangari (clay pots) brimming with fermenting jangs including ganjang, (soy sauce), a miso-like paste called doenjang, and the spicy-red-pepper-based gochujang, which she makes with strawberries, her house specialty.
她的家庭工作室树林环绕，数十个陶罐里满是各式发酵酱料，包括酱油、类似味噌的大酱以及用红辣椒和草莓制成的辣椒酱，后者是她的特色产品。
Her family has been making these sauces for 10 generations and now ship the jangs globally. Wearing a traditional green and gold hanbock dress, Ki played the role of matriarch with aplomb. She checked the sauces with a spoon made from a hollowed-out gourd. Her adult son watched her face closely while she took a taste, understanding that her palate is the family’s most valuable asset.
她的家族制作酱料已经有10代人，如今产品销往全球。穿着绿色和金色传统韩服的她，沉着地扮演着女家长的角色。她用挖空的葫芦制成的勺子检查酱料。尝酱的时候，她已成年的儿子仔细观察着她的表情，明白她的味蕾是这个家族最为宝贵的资产。
On the three-hour high-speed Korea Rail return trip to Seoul, I upgraded to the first class car, awash in red velvet seats and TV screens, for an extra $15 and watched farmland peppered with gigantic apartment towers whiz past my window.
在回程首尔的三小时韩国高铁上，我花15美元（约100元）升级到了一等座，车厢配备了红色天鹅绒座椅和电视屏幕，点缀着巨型公寓楼的农田嗖嗖地从窗外掠过。
Back in the city there would be plenty of malls, museums and modern hotels from the midrange Lotte to the luxurious Four Seasons. But it’s harder to find Old Korea there. Like many city-dwellers around the world during the pandemic, Seoulites developed a deeper love for nature and escaping the city. Perhaps access to rural areas will open up more as foreign tourism increases.
首尔这座城市里有许多商场、博物馆，以及从中端的乐天酒店到奢华的四季饭店等现代酒店，不过在那里却难以找到古朝鲜的踪迹。像疫情期间世界各地的许多城市居民一样，首尔人开始对大自然有了更深切的热爱，纷纷逃离这座城市。随着外国游客的增加，也许通往乡村地区的途径可以更为开放。
“Foreigners are only beginning to understand Korea and Korean food,” Mrs. Ki had told me, as she stirred a 20-year-old pot of jang. “We want to share it with the world as a way to help preserve these old traditions.”
“外国人刚开始理解韩国和韩国食物，”纪女士一边搅着一罐20年之久的酱一边说。“我们想把它作为一种帮助留存这些旧传统的方式，分享给世界。”