The traditionnel

Hier, avec une amie coreenne de la Pierre-qui-Vire, je suis alle boire un the tres special. Il etait difficile de savoir ce qui avait mis dedans. J`ai reconnu du gingembre, de la cannelle... ainsi que tout ce qui ``flottait`` au-dessus, comme des rondelles de dates sechees, des pignons de pins, des morceaux de noix ou de noisette. Les coreens boivent habituellement du the vert, mais lorsque l`on se ballade dans un supermarche, on decouvre de tres nombreuses sortes de the : cereales, thes de differentes regions de Coree, the de pruneaux...

La boisson etait accompagnee de gateaux traditionnels tiedes, au potiron, de consistance pateuse. Comme j`apprecie les decouvertes culinaires, je garde un souvenir heureux de cette escapade.

   

C`etait d`autant plus agreable, que le salon de the est situe dans une vieille maison traditionnelle ayant appartenu a un poete-ecrivain coreen Yi Taejun (1904-?). L`interieur est magnifiquement mis en valeur par les proprietaires. La lumiere qui entrait par les baies vitrees donnait aux pieces de la maison, une agreable sensation de douceur, de paix, de chaleur.

             

Apres renseignements, j`ai appris que cet auteur, tombe en disgrace a cause de ses opinions politiques (communisme), etait a present rehabilite. Il est toutefois difficile de trouver ses oeuvres traduites en francais. Voici un morceau en anglais :

The lamp was new and the glass shade didn't yet smell of kerosene.
There wasn't much to clean, but from habit he breathed on the shade and held it up against the dusky evening sky. The glass was sensitive to his warm breath, and it clouded over at once.
"Well--it's quite a bit colder now...."
As he wiped the shade, he looked the garden over; he still wasn't accustomed to the sight of it. At the base of the mossy stone steps were enough leaves to bury your feet. The maples were already half bare, and some trees, virtually stripped of leaves, stood lank and gangly, in contrast with the junipers, firs, and other evergreens.
He finished cleaning the lamp, yet remained for a time observing these lonesome trees tanding mutely in the recesses of the garden like so many prisoners of war with upraised arms. Finally he returned to the small guest room he had selected in the outer wing of the villa.
The villa belonged to a friend. He himself, an author who clung to an idiosyncratic style that limited his popularity, had been living in a student boardinghouse, paying some twenty won a month for a room of his own. But even this arrangement hadn't been affordable. And
so as a last resort he had taken a room for the time being in this summer house, which would be empty during the winter. He could use the room of his choice till July of the following year, his friend had told him. The groundskeeper had shown him one room after another, but all were designed for summer use: they faced north, they received little light, they were too spacious, and there were too many windows. In the end, he had come upon the outer wing of
the house and decided to take this small room that would normally have been occupied by servants.
Though a room for the help, it didn't compare unfavorably with the rooms in the main part of the villa. A late riser wouldn't have liked it in summer because it faced east, but in winter it could well be brighter than the other rooms--and warmer too, for it featured a double sliding door and a double window. What's more, the door to the storage loft sported a ainting of "the four gentlemen"--the plum, orchid, chrysanthemum, and bamboo--and the casing for the
sliding door bore an Eastern still life. Imprinted on these paintings were the artists' seals, but his knowledge of these men did not extend beyond their names. Outside above his door hung a board inscribed with "Ch'usong Pavilion" in the style of Choson calligrapher Ch'usa Kim Chonghui, and left and right, at the end of each eave, hung a brass wind-bell with a fish clapper whose turquoise patina gave it a hoary air. When he slid the door open,
the panorama seemed no less impressive than what he could see from the main guest room. Water Pavilion stood gracefully at the foot of the hills, and below it was a pond covered with maple leaves and desiccated lotus fronds. When his eyes traveled up the hill from the pond, he saw the miniature rockbed hill and the curving path through the grass. This view seemed best from his room.
Looking up, he could see the eastern sky, expansive as the sea, but concealed in part by a massive old fir. The crown of this decaying tree resembled a set of antlers and was speckled white with bird droppings. Observing this quiet scene at his leisure, he felt nestled in antiquity.

``Crows``

Auparavant, nous nous etions ballades dans le Quartier de Hyewha et de Seongbuq ou nous avons vu de belles demeures coreennes (un album est disponible avec le lien a droite).