Pagoda Among Rice Fields

     The cities of Korea can drown you...
     You deboard.
     The Lawnmower Man's dream. Yes, he, the science fictional Algernon-loving Charly type character reanimated in a virtual world. He would have liked the endless grass-like rice fields, the humid sky. He would have thrown himself into it, as though leaping into the pubic hairs of a woman and breathing in her sultry scent. A man's dream. Hot, sweaty, exhausting.
     Perhaps that is why Richard is enjoying the hike more than I am. He likes the sticky wet and sweaty; he likes the work and exhaustion of a long journey, the continuous pumping movement of muscled legs, the constant heavy beating of a working heart. He likes the slow and steady progress towards a peak--in this case, the peak of Mt. Namsan. I, on the other hand, would much prefer to arrive at our destination in a moment so that I can finally and fully enjoy the thrill of simply being there, gasping at the height of an ancient and towering pagoda among a forest of dark green trees, and shivering in the shadows and my slowly cooling sweat.
     But we have a long way yet. In the meantime, mosquitos accost me. They love me, to devour me. They caress my skin and pierce me, leaving me swollen and flushed, but never pleased. They leave an itch that can't be satisfied with a single scratch or two, and they leave me wanting to reach the top now more quickly than ever.
     "Richard," I plead.
     "Wait," he says. "Look around you."
     Everywhere shine some dragonflies, glittering in iridescent greens, purples, and oranges, a few in reds and blues--Julia Roberts' buffet of colored condoms, the creatures that return me to the Lawnmower Man, strapped in a suit and a VR helmet, flying in a sexual virtual world. They rise and fall; they rise and rise, long and lean tails emerging from ball-like eyes and body. What a wonder that the tails never droop! Halfway erect they remain straight and parallel to the ground. Trembling as they hover, hover--beauty in their shape and color.

     Richard wants to get a close-up picture of the flying dragons. He follows one to a large gray rock and tries to snap a shot. He takes out his camera, but the dragon flies away.
     I watch and wonder, why so many moagies and dragonflies? So many moagies, we have to burn mosquito-killing incense in our room, buy it from stores that sell them by the shelves. Mosquitos have a lifelong dread of dragonflies. Perhaps the rice fields have a lot to do with that, with their blades of green sticking straight out of water. While they're both still young, dragonfly nymphs hunt mosquito larvae in the water. Or perhaps the moagies abound because of the swamps and ponds, with their giant water lilies blanketing the surface of still water in July, and rising high above it in August. Later, when both are grown up and able to fly, dragonflies consider a mosquito on the wing a perfect in-flight meal.
     As deeply as I hate mosquitos, I love dragonflies. Unusual and pretty, they remind me of my early childhood home in the Philippines. And when I have spent a full month in South Korea, I will return to my home in San Diego and later read how dragonflies eat mosquito babes. A female mosquito normally drinks plant juices, but she needs a meal of blood to produce eggs. I will then love the dragonfly even more for controlling the population of my attackers, the parasites, the donors of the itchy swollen red bumps upon my skin.
     Yet I will also love the mosquitos for providing food for the dragonflies. She deposits her eggs on the surface of a pool of still water. The dragons fly where there are moagies. It's a simple fact of life.
     But for now I hate the mosquitos, and I slap at my skin to let them know.