Snowman Survival and Fiery Jjambbong
Yeah, it was just a snowman after all. The snowplow rumbled away down the mountain road, leaving behind its deafening engine roar. Once that grinding metallic noise faded, a profound silence settled in, as if the whole world had hushed. The campsite felt awkward and empty in the sudden quiet.
Heh heh, were you kids out there playing in the snow making snowmen? The campground manager's chuckling words echoed relentlessly in my head. My gaze naturally drifted to the massive snowman... no, the quinzhee we'd painstakingly built. It was meant to be the grand monument for our YouTube channel's ambitious content, 'Real Deal! Snow Survival Camping.' Now it was just... a really big, hollow-bottomed snowman base.
"....."
"..."
A fidgeting sound came from beside me. Im Nana was poking our failed creation with her foot.
"Areum."
"Yeah."
"How... how do we explain this in the video?"
"...."
We stared at each other in silence for a while. Eventually, without a word, we both started packing up our gear. The only sounds breaking the quiet were the clinking of wet tent poles and the rustling of the sagging tarp, weighed down by snow.
Haa. My hardcore survival camping content... reduced to snowman building. I let out deep sighs. Fifteen years of camping experience felt meaningless. To the manager, we probably just looked like immature kids. Ugh, embarrassing.
"Pfft."
I looked up at the sound. Im Nana was still giggling at our failure. When our eyes met, she gave an awkward shrug, her expression screaming, We were total idiots, right?
Yeah... we kinda were. Come to think of it, when was the last time I'd failed this hard at camping? Not since my solo camping days in years one or two...
Kwarrrrumble—.
I flinched. ...Well, okay, there was that one time. But that was lightning! Natural disasters don't count, right?
Yeah. This blizzard was a freak act of nature too. With that solid round of self-justification in my head, I felt a lot better. We quietly resumed packing, and Im Nana joined me, sorting her own gear without a word.
"But what do we do about that thing?"
"Huh?"
"I just realized—this is a campsitesite, and leaving that snow... uh, snow mound there like that... is it okay?"
"..."
"It's kinda... eyesore-ish..."
"...Should we clean it up?"
"Oh, no, not clean it up... How about we just turn it into a real snowman? The manager called it a snowman and didn't say anything, so it should be fine..."
"A snowman?"
"Yeah, if we can just figure out the head? Might be too heavy, though?"
"I got this! Break up some snow, stack it on, and pack it from the top!"
"Then... we still got time. Wanna spend an hour or two on it?"
Eugh. Guess I wasn't the only one bummed out. Her voice suddenly perked up. Sorry for dragging her down... I could see her face light up.
I grabbed the field shovel from the car trunk again. Im Nana, unsatisfied with the copel lid, now wielded a grill lid.
"Alright, let's do this!"
"Yeah!"
Buoyed by excitement, we shoveled snow with gusto. I slipped once and fell on my butt, but it was fun—we kept bursting into laughter. Gradually, the tumulus-like mound transformed into a pretty decent snowman. We embedded stones and twigs for eyes and nose, then flipped a spare plastic basket over its head for a hat.
Stepping back, it actually looked pretty cool.
"What do you think? Not bad, right?"
"Yeah! Way better than that cave thing!"
Ca... cave... Had quinzhee already vanished from Im Nana's vocabulary...?
"Now let's really pack up and head down. Getting hungry."
"Yeah! Oh, right—grab the camera."
Leaving our snowman souvenir behind, we loaded the last of the gear into the car. With the road plowed, we drove down the mountain. Outside the window, a pristine white snowy landscape unfolded like a painting. Warm heater air and soft music filled the comfortable silence between us.
Nothing went according to plan... Actually, it was a mess from the start?
Sexual harassment from a baby lamb, drunken black history moments, overreacting and making a big deal... and capping it with an unfinished quinzhee-turned-snowman...
But... it was fun, right?
As I thought that, Im Nana, gazing quietly out the window, spoke up.
"Areum."
"Yeah?"
"Um... we were total idiots, but... it was fun, right?"
Ah... Relief. Glad she said it. And joy— that she thought the same as me. A tickle in my chest.
"Eh... wasn't bad."
My words came out prickly, but I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips.
We arrived at the ski jump observatory, surprisingly close. Parked and hopped out.
"Here we are—the first stop on today's 'date course': the ski jump observatory~"
"Uh, y-yeah... date. This is a date... yeah...!"
"...? Anyway, let's take the monorail up. There's an elevator inside, but since we're here, we gotta ride it, right?"
We bought monorail tickets at the counter and boarded per the staff's guidance. As we ascended, the world shrank below the windows. Stepping out at the summit, biting cold air pierced deep into my lungs.
"Whoa...!"
Im Nana dashed to the railing, exclamations spilling out.
"Dizzying..."
"Yeah... the athletes who jump from here are insane..."
"No way I could. Eugh..."
Peering down, Im Nana swallowed hard and wobbled slightly.
"Ack!"
"Whoa there."
I instinctively grabbed her arm as she teetered. She leaned into me, steadying herself. As I went to let go, she seemed likely to wobble again, so I held on. Adjusting to support her better, her arm slipped naturally into the crook of mine.
Eh, girls link arms on the street all the time. No biggie.
"Safer like this. Don't wanna fall."
Her face flushed bright red. Head down, she fidgeted with her hand on my arm, speechless. Even bubbly types get embarrassed nearly falling, huh.
"Oh, Areum! L-Let's take pics here! Backdrop's gorgeous, right?"
"Oh, good idea. Sky's clear despite the dawn blizzard."
She fumbled her smartphone urgently. Probably posting to Insta or whatever later. Gotta ask her to teach me when I start.
She twisted the phone, flexed her arm, framing us with the view.
"Hmm... angle's off."
Suddenly, a soft, warm weight settled on my shoulder. Warmth contrasting the summit chill. And somehow, despite no shower post-camping, a faint shampoo-mixed perfume wafted over.
"Areum, V-sign on your cheek~"
"L-Like this?"
"Pfft, why so awkward? Like this!"
She demonstrated, and my fumbling fingers finally formed a V against my cheek.
Click.
"Whoa! Looks awesome!"
"Yeah? Send it to me later."
"Sure!"
Grrrowl~.
A cute tummy rumble shattered the cozy vibe.
"...?"
"... Ahem, Areum. Not hungry? We skipped breakfast."
"Y-Yeah, true. Head down?"
She seemed embarrassed, so I swallowed other comments. Face beet red.
We descended and drove to Gangneung, hitting a famous jjambbong spot. Late lunch by arrival.
"Their jjambbong's legendary."
"This place? Looks ancient..."
Oops. Judging by looks. Gluttony pro, but still newbie at spot-hunting. This was X-dong Banjeom, one of Korea's top 5 jjambbongs. Back when Dad and I first came, we had no clue—just ducked into the nearest Chinese place. Now a renowned spot.
Heard there's usually a wait... Nice, late timing means no line.
"Forty-plus years in business—can't taste bad. Tried it before."
"Really? Can't wait. Love jjambbong!"
Inside, spicy aroma assaulted us. Wall menu: pure classics—jjambbong, jjambbong rice, fried dumplings, rice. Four items, overflowing authenticity.
Ordered two jjambbongs, asked to film—owner kindly allowed.
Soon, steaming red bowls arrived, mouthwatering.
"Whoa, looks delicious!"
"Careful, hot."
"Yeah! Dig in!"
Im Nana slurped a huge chopstickful of steaming noodles, blowing furiously before diving in.
"Omph! Hot! But so good! Broth's super rich!"
She praised nonstop, inhaling noodles.
...
About time for that. I freaked first time too...
I casually sampled a chopstickful while she devoured.
"Mmm, good. Same taste as back then."
"Mmmph mmm mmm!"
"...Talk after eating. No one's stealing it."
As she went for chopsticks two, her vibe shifted oddly. Brows furrowed, initial gusto gone—face reddening fast.
Here it comes! That face! Same as mine as a kid!
"Hngh...!"
A short yelp escaped her.
"Spicy! My tongue's on fire!"
She chugged water desperately. Spice lingered; she blew on her mouth, suffering. Tears welled, face pitiful.
"Argh! Areum, not spicy for you?"
"Eh... sweaty a bit, but manageable."
She looked incredulous. It is spicy. Whoa, spicier now? Even I sweat buckets despite tolerance. A bead rolled down my forehead along my jaw.
"Phew, yeah, it's spicy. Think you can finish, Nana?"
"..."
No reply? I glanced up. No more sniffling—just mouth agape, staring blankly at my face.
What's up? Spice broke her brain?
"Areum?"
"Yeah? Agh, spicy."
"...N-Nothing."
...She's just sweating from spice, why does she look so hot right now...!
"Nana? You okay?"
"..."
...Spice really did her in. Tongue numb, facial nerves too?
Thus, amid our wildly different thoughts, the secret weapon of Korea's top 5 jjambbong spot blazed on.