Bibimpap: Mountain Vegetables
At the foot of the mountain the stream ran down in diagonal zigzags into a man-made ditch that led into a waterway underneath the city. Starting points and ending points always fascinated Kite since childhood. When he was six he would carefully line up dominoes, hundreds of them, all over the house using both simple and intricate patterns. This eventually brought him to that final moment when he would start the cascade.
By the way he laid them out, anyone would want to watch the pulse of the tiles spreading out to their fated end. The ripple of the dominoes sent chills up Kite’s spine. His creativity was bounded by rules he would set for himself. It was almost like he was trapped in the illusion of tipping dominoes, that if something went wrong in the design, it was his fault, that there was always going to be a more intricate and challenging pattern that needed to be made.
But the purpose and existence of every tile was to simply tip over and be set up again. Doing something completely different to the dominoes, say, like setting fire to them would be unfathomable. It was doing this unfathomable thing that would set Kite free, and he knew it and resisted it.
He and his brother had planned this hike at the beginning of spring. This would be their chance to do something together which they both liked. Since college they had grown apart for all the typical reasons like professional life and wanting to find their own destinies. Above all, it was just time to get away from each other.
With Sammy being the firstborn, he always had to play the saint, get the grades and set the example. Must’ve been hard on the guy, because now he just wants to do the exact opposite of what he did during his youth, which was to impress the folks. It’s great and all that now he wants to accomplish things for no specific person, but everything he says is too predictable and selfish.
As for Kite, his own divorce has left him all tied up tight inside, not able to even reach out to Sammy. Both of them needed this hike. They needed to be somewhere bigger than themselves. They needed to get something from the top of the mountain.
Muhak Mountain during the height of spring does not welcome the allergic. The scent of evergreen and cherry blossom fills every sense with sniffle or wonder-- or a combination of both. Sammy had the weaker system, easily prone to sickness. He never adopted a lifestyle to prevent it. The sweat on his protruding gut painted the silhouette of a giant heart.
“The shirt’s made of a synthetic that’ll easily dry it off,” says Sammy, who always buys the proper equipment to readyhimself for the disciplines of a trade.
Kite, on the other hand, had kept nimble over the years. Working out during his marriage was a means to blow off steam away from home. Nothing, however, was enough to prevent what wasn’t meant to be with his ex-wife. Kite thought of why he was trying to outstep his older brother, trying to go just a bit faster up the trail. Foolish to think of it as a race up a mountain, really. They’d been marching at a set, steady pace for hours and both of them were in equal stride like animals in migration.
It was odd to Kite how random thoughts fell through the mind while on a hike. Like dominoes. The decade apart had put layers of adulthood on them, but it couldn’t prevent the odd slip of lifelong identifications. The most obvious one was the older brother/younger brother complex. But standing on top of the mountain, though, none of that mattered. Looking out into the east, the bay glittered with silver and gold. The brothers squinted as the heat of the afternoon warmed their faces. Everyday dozens of Koreans hike up Muhak-san. For these two it was their first time, a souvenir set in stone, a simple journey taken together. At the base of the mountain, they knew it was soon time to part ways. But first, a roaring appetite had to be settled.
It came with no delay. It sizzled away all comparing, judging and fighting from their bodies. The kosari, carrots, green onion, spinach, zucchini, bean sprouts, beef and egg center resembled a clock that told them it was the hour to devour this meal.
The strange aroma of sesame and soy sauce, along with a tinge of gochujang, brought from the meal a mixture of imagery. The earthenware represented the mountain that stood over them. The dol-sot bibimpap served as the goodness Sammy and Kite had shared over the years. It was a homecoming in a simple bowl for these two.
By: Don NimbleToe
Edited: Socrates Bruce
By: Don NimbleToe
Edited: Socrates Bruce
