The way to the mountain is lined with fish
This is not a Zen koan. There are actually fields and fields of fish beside the road that leads to Korea’s oldest ski slope, YongPyong.
… The fish, he says, are carted here from the docks to cure in the brutal winds that right now are blowing down from Siberia. “Specialty of the region,” he says. The fish? I wonder. The wind? Outside, a million pairs of shriveling eyes stare up at the quilted sky. The air smells of snowflakes and low tide on a hot day. This combination strikes me as unpropitious.