On January 29th, 2006, the Year of the Rooster gave way to the Year of the Dog. Two weeks later, on February 12th, the first full moon of the new year graced the clear night skies over Busan, South Korea. This event was met with many festivities and is called Daeboreum.

Haeundae Beach, summer tourist magnet and considered by many to be Korea's best beach, is often the epicenter of cultural celebrations. On Daeboreum it again played host to locals and foreigners gathered to partake in or simply watch the festivities.

The first sight to greet me when I arrived at the beach in the early afternoon was an enormous mountain of branches and brush piled four stories high. This bonfire-to-be and a nearby stage were roped off to prevent the milling crowds from getting to close. One side of the fire pile, however, was accessible and I watched as people lined up, entered a hollow cavity within the over sized kindling, and then emerged to attach pieces of white cloth onto protruding branches. These, I assumed, were wishes which would be incinerated in the fire and float up to the skies.

The line of people waiting to visit the fire-pile extended several hundreds of feet down the beach and seemed to be growing rather than shrinking. The inferno would not be taking place for some time. I strolled the beach and joined groups of people who had assembled to watch sand sculptors practice their craft on the living canvas of Haeundae Beach. Armed with simple tools that included a watering can and a small broom, these artists were able to conjure incredible results from the once formless sand. The most impressive depicted the serene face of Buddha, massive ears drooping at its sides.

At the opposite end of the beach, a kite flying competition was taking place. In fact everywhere you looked kites of all shapes and sizes jockeyed for position in the afternoon sun, their operators working intently to keep them airborne. The competitive kites however, were a different breed. Their spindles were large wooden cages around which a surprisingly long line was spooled. They certainly took more skill to handle. I watched as the competitors, exclusively older Korean men, deftly maneuvered the kites. An official was on hand to blow the whistle and enforce what rules there were. At times the winner was the man with his kite flying at the farthest distance, while at other times the lines became crossed and eventually one was severed, leaving the loser's kite to drift defeatedly into the ocean.

As dusk gathered and my hunger increased, I met some friends for dinner overlooking the beach. About halfway through our meal the fire was ignited and many of the diners in the restaurant rushed to the deck for an excellent view of the monstrous fire. The flames brightly illuminated an open space on the sand where women in traditional Korean attired were linked in a circle performing a dance.

By the time we finished our meal and were back on the beach, the flames were out but the remains of the fire were still smoldering. Near the water people were lighting off fireworks while further up the sand, the rhythmic pounding of traditional Korean drums filled the air. Lit by green spotlights, the smoke of the dying fire wafted above, and visible beyond it in the clear black sky was the first full moon of this Year of the Dog.

A Korean man competes in the Daeboreum kite competition

A sandsculpture of Buddha's face illuminated at night

The smoldering remains of a bonfire send smoke over the sand