Before I left Wonju, the archery Sabomnim (teacher) told me something. He said:
"In Jeonju, there is Ch'eongyeongchang, a very well-known archery club. Go there."
He also said:
"Practice before you go there, I don't want them saying I'm a bad teacher."
Well, it was cold when I left Wonju, so I did one of those two things. In my defense I did shoot at least once a month--snow or no--but that's not exactly regular upkeep, especially for someone who's just learning, who hit the shed and broke an arrow their 'jip kung' (first shooting ceremony).
But fast forward. Three or so weeks ago I found the CYC (I'm not typing all that again). I introduced myself, brought beer and my bow, and asked for--by name--the instructor.
Well, he retired. He was now making the bows, which I guess is what instructors do sometimes. After numerous broken conversations, he called my former instructor, and I was let in the club. I was told my bow had been poorly cared for (a month in storage unattended) and they tried to repair it. I shot from the line and hit ... the grass.
There is sand by the targets, if you're wondering.
Incidentally, at CYC they don't drink beer until they are done shooting. It is not a social club. It is an archery club, where the Chairman of the Korean Archery Association resides, where the instructor can hit 39/45 at 145m with an unbraced unsighted longbow, where nearly every shooting spot is full at 4 pm on a sunny ... weekday.
Not that Wonju's not cool, and that the sabomnim there can't hit over 30/45, just that, well, Wonju is a smaller and warmer town. If it rains you put your bow up and drink maggolli and if the rain stops ... you may as well keep drinking maggolli, so what it was a good day.
In any case, several of my most frustrating moments, days, weeks followed, mostly involving me snapping my left forearm with 44 pounds of pressure, repeatedly, leaving bruises that would take weeks to heal (and torn skin on top of those) as I demonstrated that I had forgotten my technique.
When I asked for help, I was told "change your shirt." I wore a dress shirt. I should've worn a polo. But in Korea they call polos "t-shirts" because ... I don't know. Unsurprisingly, being told to change my shirt did not prevent me from snapping my arm the next three out of three shots and, following suit, I nearly snapped at the instructor (who is the highest ranking one can achieve in a country that regularly produces Olympic gold medalists) but thankfully didn't.
So when I came back in a tee, I was told, by someone new (this time, the aforementioned Chairman), "change your shirt." By this time--two weeks later--my arm hurt less (a bilingual had corrected my technique, a subject the instructor steered clear of) and I was more willing to go shopping.
I returned today, having spent weeks shooting an arrow tied to a rope, determined not to waste time despite invitations from my seniors, with a cheap polo.
Because I was shooting off the line.
And I hit the grass three times and the sand twice, but my arm not at all. And my direction was good on all shots.
