A Korean Farmstay: Cheongpung Farm and green tea fields
by SARAH SHAW on Oct 9, 2012 – 11:07 am
Beyond the seas of red crosses and florescent, artificial lights, there are rural patches throughout the South Korean peninsula where the stars glitter visibly overhead. One such place is Cheongpung Farm, located in Hwasoon, a rural area in Korea’s South Jeolla province. Over the weekend, I was invited by Adventure Korea, a budget travel company, to participate in a farmstay at this independent, family-owned farm.
Farming is a laborious occupation, and all over the world, independent farmers are struggling to make ends meet. Cheongpung Farm has decided to host farmstays, where tourists and foreigners can stay overnight and partake in activities on and around the farm. This weekend, our group of foreign expats and travelers were the first to visit this village, where the same families have lived for generations. Our stay was effectively organized by Seokjin, our guide and the owner of Adventure Korea, and our hosts welcomed us with utmost generosity and kindness. They showered us with overflowing plates of homemade food, warm, comfortable places to sleep, cooking lessons, performances and a night of makkoli, wishing lanterns and massive bonfires.
On Cheongpung Farm, an array of fruits and vegetables are harvested on sprawling fields, including: persimmons, dodeok (a traditional Korean root), ginseng, rice, and chilies, among others. We began our stay by visiting the persimmon orchards and picking as many persimmons as we could carry with us. Persimmons are a native fruit to Korea, crunchy and sweet tasting with a smidgen of spice.
After stashing our persimmons on the bus, we drove to Ssangbongsa, a Buddhist temple that literally means “a pair of peaks.” It was named after the two mountains that stand in front and behind the temple. A three-tiered pagoda is centered among a number of buildings for prayer and meditation. Four of these guardian sculptures are located at the entrance, and the temple also holds relics from the Shilla Dynasty.
Ssangbongsa holds overnight templestays. Although we did not sleep here, we were able to meet several monks who taught us Korean tea drinking etiquette and how to meditate according to Korean Buddhist standards.
We took turns pouring lotus tea from this elegant bowl. For ages, Buddhists have metaphorically compared their quest for enlightenment to the pristine lotus flower that emerges from murky waters.
Once we held our first cup of tea, the monk taught us to grip the cup with our right hand and rest the bottom against the palm of our left hand. Before taking the initial sip, you must first smell the tea and look at the tea. Tea must be consumed slowly, in small quantities.
After the tea ceremony, we briefly practiced meditating. To begin, we faced a partner and rested our right leg over our left while clasping our hands below the sacrum. “If you do this everyday, you will be a happier person,” the monk reminded us.
After mingling with the monks, and feeling rejuvenated from the tea, rice cakes and meditation, we embarked on a quest to find wild dodeok, a Korean root that has restorative properties. Koreans claim that dodeok has greater health benefits than ginseng, its medicinal cousin.
It was difficult to find the wild dodeok, which is hidden in clusters throughout the forest. Unlike the dodeok that is harvested on the farm, the wild dodeok takes up to ten years to fully grow, and it contains more nutrients. Some group members were successful, but I only found one root, which I unfortunately hacked to pieces with my hoe-like tool, while trying to pull it out of the ground.
Soon enough, we returned to the farm to learn how to make some traditional Korean dishes and help our hosts prepare dinner.
An ajumma, middle aged woman, taught us how to make songpyeon, a type of rice cake with sticky syrup in the middle, typically eaten on Chuseok, Korean thanksgiving. First, we rolled a small piece of dough into a ball, and flattened it into a round disc. Next, we added the sugary mixture to the middle and sealed the edges. I sculpted my songpyeon into smooth, plump, half moon shapes. When the ajumma saw my songpyeon, she was impressed. “You’ll have beautiful babies!” she told me, explaining that, in Korean culture, one’s songpyeon-making skills directly relates to the beauty of their newborns. My friend Sean was also complimented on hissongpyeon design, as seen in the photo above. I suggested that we have babies together, but sadly, he was not interested. After sculpting each piece, we steamed them in a pot with pine needles.
Next, another woman taught us how to make fresh kimchi, composed of cabbage, pear slices and a paste including red chilies, onion, garlic, ginger and rice. In order to make the paste, we took turns pounding the ingredients together with a large rock in this stone pot. The act of mixing the ingredients was incredibly tiring on the arms, and I developed an even greater appreciation for the strength of Korean middle aged women who work like this on a daily basis.
The work we did in preparing the songpyeon and kimchi was little compared to the feast our hosts prepared for us. We ate chapchae (glass noodles mixed with vegetables), tender chicken and pan fried fish, served with rice,kimchi, soybeans, and topped off with Korean pears, persimmons and apples. When our stomachs were soon overflowing, we gathered around a stage on the front lawn to watch a performance.
The husband and wife that own the farm appeared on stage with their two daughters, both in their early twenties. For fifteen years, the family has been building the second building on this farm to host guests, and now, the project is almost complete.
The girls took turns playing a 12 and 25-string gayageum, traditional Korean string instruments. The music was melodic and soothing, complimented by the serenity of the village.
After listening to three songs, we wrote our wishes and dreams onto paper lanterns and released them into the sky. I was immediately reminded of the Pingxi Lantern Festival that I attended in Taiwan around the Lunar New Year, where we released wish lanterns in the exact same manner. Rather than write concrete wishes on my lantern, I wrote a number of abstract words and ideas to remind me of my ultimate goals, such as, “ambition” and “happiness,” along with a few lighthearted phrases. The process was quite personal and reflective. As we released the lanterns, we watched them drift upwards, floating across the countryside with our goals in mind.
As the lanterns eventually disappeared into the darkness of the night, we gathered around a massive tipi-shaped bonfire that our hosts built. We all seemed to enjoy it? especially a five-year old pyro-in-training from the farm, who continuously alternated between lighting candles and violently throwing rocks and sticks into the flames. Around the fire, we drank dodeok-infused makkoli (rice wine) with a hint of a pine flavor from a never ending bottle, a taste I’ve never quite experienced before. Eventually we did finish the bottle, and somehow Seokjin produced a massive bottle of soju from thin air. After a couple cups of that, I was pretty tipsy and everyone who remained (all the guys and I) decided to call it quits. Luckily, I found an empty spot with a pillow in one of the girls’ rooms, and I snuggled between two anonymous figures. In the morning, I never did figure out who I was sleeping next to.
After an elaborate Korean breakfast complete with juk (rice porridge), kimchi, and a number of side dishes, we bid farewell to the farm, and embarked on a trip to the green tea fields.
We stopped at Dadorak, a place to participate in a hands-on green tea making experience. In groups of six, we alternated between rolling a basket of green tea leaves on the table and drying them in a large, heated metal contraption. To dry the leaves, we firmly pressed them onto the heated metal and quickly turned them over to avoid burning them. Again, this was a tiring process that made me appreciate the time and effort that is needed to make authentic green tea. Besides tea making, we tried some samples of fermented and non-fermented green tea, as well as green tea flavored snacks. At the end, we were able to take a bag of our homemade tea with us.
We ended the trip at the Daehan Dawon Green Tea Plantation in Boseong, one of my favorite places in Korea. Once again, I reveled in the natural beauty of the tea fields while walking along the rows and lingering at the top, taking in the stunning views of the entire plantation. I ate green tea flavored jajjangmyun (Chinese noodles) at the restaurant, as well as green tea ice cream and iced green tea. I left Jeollanam-do in high spirits with a bag full of persimmons, a new canister of green tea, a memory card full of photos, new found knowledge about Korean farming practices, and vivid memories from our generous hosts.
This trip is called “The Freshest Farm Food and Green Tea.” This was the first time Adventure Korea led this trip, so the local county partially subsidized it. It costed 85,000 won (approximately $80), including transportation (a chartered limousine bus), pension accommodation, 3 meals, persimmon and dodeok harvesting fees, Boseong green tea farm entrance fee, all experiences at the village and English speaking guides. The green tea making experience at Dadorak costs an additional 8,000 won. Adventure Korea will be leading more farmstays in the future, and for other trip options, visit Adventure Korea’s homepage.
