A Summer Vacation with Coco and the Rhinoceros Beetle on Board

My daughter was on school break, and the project that had kept me running finally gave me a little room to breathe. If we missed this opening, I suspected our summer vacation would exist only on the calendar. Our destination was Ulsan and Busan, where my wife’s family lives.

It is too far for a quick visit, but the children kept asking for their grandmother, and their grandparents wanted to see them too. So the entire family set out. “Entire” is the important word: Coco came with us, as did the rhinoceros beetle we had been raising with the children. When I opened the trunk, it looked less like vacation luggage and more like a small ecosystem moving house.

Day one: drive, arrive, collapse

After the long drive from Seoul to Ulsan, I effectively stopped functioning. I had imagined a fine opening to the vacation; reality gave us a simpler itinerary: drive, arrive, collapse. I decided that delivering everyone safely was enough of an achievement for day one.

The next day we went to Busan, where my brother-in-law works. We looked around Haeundae while the children devoted themselves completely to playing in the sand. The adults had come to see the sea, and the children had come to dig it up. In that sense, everyone got the vacation they wanted.

For dinner, we ate upscale skewers at Yakitori Baektan’s Haeundae branch, where my brother-in-law is a manager. It felt fancier than our usual family meal. Each plate reminded me that we were properly on vacation—and made it hard to believe I was the same person who had been sweating while shaking sand out of everything only a short while earlier.

A small envelope for a soon-to-be father

My brother-in-law is waiting for a baby due in October. The baby has not arrived yet, but I already think of him as a father. Parenthood seems to begin when anticipation and worry start living together.

We handed the future mother and father a small envelope. Having walked this road first did not give me any grand answers. I could only silently add that sleep would be scarcer and worries more plentiful than expected, yet a child’s smile would somehow supply the strength to keep going. I felt less like a senior dad offering advice and more like someone on the same team reaching out early.

My phone lost signal and my head became clearer

The following day, we visited my father-in-law’s apiary. What began as a retirement hobby has now become his main work. The hives sit deep in the mountains near a stream, high enough that mobile reception barely reaches them. I should have found that inconvenient, but I have always liked places like this.

Messages faded while the water and bees became clearer. In a place where refreshing a screen changed nothing, my thoughts gradually sorted themselves out. With no work messenger ringing, the stream seemed to send its own notification. It always said the same thing: rest for a minute.

This was also where we said goodbye to the rhinoceros beetle. It felt like a good natural setting in which to let our small companion go, and that eased my mind. The children said goodbye cheerfully instead of dwelling on sadness. Its habitat had felt like one more piece of luggage on the way down; after the farewell, the empty space felt larger than the box ever had.

The sea pushed our schedule back a day

The next day, we went to Ilsan Beach in Ulsan. I had planned to be the person who simply watched the water. But with my wife and children that excited, I could not remain alone on the sand. I ended up swimming for the first time in years. Family enthusiasm can be a remarkably powerful engine for water sports.

We looked for small aquatic creatures that our youngest likes and made a tiny aquarium in the sand. While the children moved between water and shore, I cleared work from my head for a while. Unfinished tasks and messages waiting for tomorrow drifted out with the waves. The sea was not actually going to resolve them, of course, but it did a convincing job of holding them for a moment.

Because the swim had never been part of the plan, we decided to stay one extra night. Our schedule slipped, but everyone’s expression improved. After a good dinner, I collapsed again. This time it felt better than day one: I had not been defeated by the drive; I had simply played properly.

A vacation that felt long until we came home

We prepared early the next morning and drove back to Seoul. The vacation had seemed long while we were away, but it felt short the moment I opened our front door. The luggage contained more laundry, and my phone contained more things to check, yet some part of me was lighter.

That was the end of the summer vacation that began with Coco and a rhinoceros beetle on board. We met family, shared the anticipation of a new baby, said goodbye to a small life, and I entered the sea again after several years. Nothing dramatically changed, but stopping for a while gave me enough energy to move again.

Tomorrow, I will get back to work. Before the next long drive, however, I should stop making reckless plans that begin with “we can do something immediately after arrival.”