A Tale of Two Countries

I awoke early, before the sun, when the rest of the city was still asleep. Stepping into the cold air outside, I was running on adrenaline and the excitement of seeing something that most people will never get close to - the DMZ.  We boarded the empty subway - elated to find our pick of open seats - and settled in for the one-hour ride into Seoul.  The USO (United Service Organization - a nonprofit organization that supports US troops) is located in a comfortable building full of familiar, but forgotten, amenities:  American television shows, available trash cans, English language newspapers, Dr. Pepper, and most importantly - oversized recliners. Our early arrival secured us seats in the legendary chairs, and we waited patiently and cozily for our tour to depart.

Onboard the warm tour bus I was thankful for the opportunity to sit back and relax while someone more qualified did the navigating.  Our guide, and the only Korean onboard, spent the first ten minutes of the one-hour drive up to the border reminding us of the history and dangers we were about to encounter.  The DMZ (demilitarized zone) runs 155 miles long between North and South Korea and is 2.5 miles wide.  Located within the DMZ is Freedom Village (the only populated area on the South Korean side), and Propaganda Village on the North's side.  Spanning the length of the DMZ is the MDL (military demarcation line), which denotes the exact border line between the two countries.  Throughout the DMZ, wildlife flourishes ironically juxtaposed with live mine fields.  

"You will see North Korean soldiers, but do not gesture to them in any way.  No waving, no hand signals, no talking; this is not Disney Land," said our guide. Eventually he finished his pep talk and left everyone to fall asleep along with the hypnotic sway of the bus.

Before entering the DMZ our passports were checked by American guards and we were loaded onto a military bus.  For our protection and their peace of mind, we were to remain onboard the bus between stops unless otherwise directed.  We passed through Camp Bonifas, where American and South Korean soldiers are stationed, and stopped at Ballinger Hall for a debriefing. An army official gave a detailed and intimidating summary of the struggles and conflict between the North and South and then handed us all documents to sign, which stated in part, "The visit to the Joint Security Area of Panmunjom will entail entry into a hostile area and possibility of inury or death as a direct result of enemy action."  

Entering the DMZ requires passing through three types of barriers:  a tank wall, barbed wire fence with sliding rock wall, and live mine field.  These blocks protect against the entry or exit of any unwanted visitors - specifically, North Koreans.  Throughout the trip we were told when and where photographs were allowed.  Failure to abide by the directions meant your camera would most certainly meet an untimely death in the hands of highly trained camera-killing experts.  

Our first stop was Conference Row, located directly on the MDL line (military demarcation line) that separates North Korea from South Korea within the JSA (Joint Security Area). Conference Row consists of several buildings, which are used for joint discussions between the two countries, and lookout posts for both enemies.  Throughout a 24 hour period, guards stand ready to defend their respective countries.  Before unloading from the bus, our guide provided us with a strict set of instructions:  1.  Again, do not attempt to make contact with the North Koreans.  Oftentimes they can be seen making obscene gestures to the many tour groups, but under no circumstances should a person react.  2. Do not try to defect, or cross borders. The North Koreans would probably not give you a chance to explain why you have run across into their country. 

The Peace House and entrance to Conference Row.  This building was originally constructed for meetings between prime ministers, but now acts as a place for non-military civilians to convene. The backside of the building sits in front of the MDL (military demarcation line) and creates a strong backdrop for the South Korean soldiers.

Before entering onto North Korean territory

A view from the back steps of the Peace House looking over to North Korea (gray building).  The blue buildings straddle the North/South border and are shared between the two countries for important meetings with the UN.  It is hard to see them in this picture, but North Korean soldiers are standing on guard in front of their building.  The South Korean personnel, in the foreground, position their bodies halfway behind the blue buildings and don dark glasses in an attempt to intimidate their enemies.  The dark green uniforms are worn only by the elite special force unit that uses Taekwondo tactics rather than firearms to overtake their attackers. 

  

Members of the ROK branch (Republic of Korea) wear camouflage similar in color to the American soldiers they serve with.  They, too, must pass an intense physical and mental aptitude test before being stationed at the DMZ.

The taller building in the background is one of a few outlook posts around the MDL border where North Koreans stand watch.  It is from within these windows where North Korean soldiers can sometimes be seen making inappropriate hand gestures and signals.

After a brief explanation from our tour guide soldier about the surrounding area and possible dangers, we were escorted into a blue conference building. The small room required us to squeeze together around a large conference table lined with microphones.  The microphones, which are turned on at all times, record every word that is uttered within the room and are used specifically during meetings between the UN and North Korea.  The conference table provides a visual marker of the borderline below and I was cautiously thrilled to find myself standing in North Korean territory (the far end of the table).  

 

Waiting for the tour group ahead of us to exit the conference room so we could take our turn. Notice the Korean guard on the left peeking out from behind the neighboring blue building while the guard for our building prepares to escort us inside.

One of two Korean special forces guards who escorted our group into the conference building. Because the building is shared with North Korea, entrance into it is somewhat dangerous.  The guard, with clenched fists, is standing in Taekwondo's ready stance position prepared to attack.

The flags of the United Nations - precious allies for South Korea - were originally set up in stands around the room.  However, North Korean soldiers found great delight in blowing their noses and spitting into the American and South Korean flags.  Now, they are made of plastic, placed behind glass, and slightly more difficult to deface.

The second guard was strategically placed in front of the door that led out to North Korea's gray building.  Because of my position around the table, I am literally standing on North Korean land.  Although pictures of the guards were allowed, strict rules still applied:  no touching and no walking behind him.  I was excited, but he chose not to smile.  Behind those dark glasses I'm sure I saw a hint of curiosity for the Americans and their overactive cameras.  

The second part of our tour led us around the grounds of the DMZ.  We stopped at several lookout posts to view the landscape of the respective countries, and learned more about the history and turmoil between them.  

North Korea's landscape - unexciting except for the giant flagpole, which of course comes with a story.  Several years ago, South Korea built a flag pole that stands 328 feet.  In response, and unwilling to be outdone, North Korea constructed the largest flagpole in the world.  It stands at an impressive 525 feet, and it's massive flag has a dry-weight of 600 pounds.  North Korea's horizon is also dotted with radio wave towers, which block and scramble all incoming frequencies from surrounding countries.  The citizens of North Korea are completely cut off from outside radio, Internet, and television; and are therefore uninformed about the true current conditions of the world.   

The blue building sits in front of the Bridge of No Return and near the location of the historic Ax Murder incident.  On the morning of August 18, 1976, two U.S. army officers were brutally murdered by North Korean soldiers while trying to trim a poplar tree that obstructed the view from their lookout post.  Without the surveillance of South Korean soldiers, the KPA (Korean People's Army/ North Korea) had made numerous attempts to grab UNC personnel and drag them over the bridge into North Korean territory.  Maintenance work on the poplar tree was previously agreed to by North Korean officials, but when rain postponed the original date it was pushed back to August 18.  The tree trimming work carried out as planned until North Korean soldiers showed up at the scene.  For 15 minutes they stood silently watching before violently attacking the American and South Korean personnel with their own tree trimming axes.  The incident poured salt into the already deep wounds of South Korea, and American and ROK soldiers returned three days later determined to complete the task.  In memory of the fallen officers, the tree stump was left in the ground and the base camp was renamed, Camp Bonifas.  

Eventually the tree stump was removed and a monument was set up in its place.  Each year, a memorial service is held at the site for Capt. Bonifas and Lt. Barrett.

The Bridge of No Return was used after the Armistice (cease fire) agreement was made in July, 1953.  Prisoners captured from both countries were released and given the option to cross into whichever country they preferred.  The only stipulation given was that they were never allowed to return to the other country, hence the name. 

The third, and final, part of our tour was to the Third Tunnel of Aggression. Beginning in 1974 and through 1989, four underground tunnels were discovered beneath the DMZ.  The tunnels, dug by North Korea, are presumed to be invasion routes into South Korea, which lead directly toward Seoul.  

The third tunnel, and most dangerous, was discovered after a tip off from a North Korean defector in 1978.  Located 490 feet below ground, the sloping tunnel is more advanced than its previous counterparts and spans a length of 5,200 feet. At its interception, the tunnel was only 27 miles from Seoul and large enough for about 30,000 heavily-armed North Korean troops to pass through within one hour.  Once discovered, the North claimed they were simply mining for coal.  However, these false claims crumbled when a search for coal came up empty.  The granite walls of the tunnel had been painted black by the North Koreans to give the facade of coal - a very bizarre and calculating move. 

Unfortunately, cameras were not permitted during the tunnel tour, however, several people managed to disobey.  Thanks to a random, rebellious person who posted their pictures on the Internet I am able to show you what it looks like 490 feet below Korea.

Walking into the tunnel required a bright yellow hard hat; strong knees; and a height deficiency.  At first cold, the extreme downward slope of the tunnel (to prevent water stagnation) required a lot of strain and soon resulted in a warm perspiration beneath my helmet.  The low ceilings and tight walking space deterred visitors with claustrophobia and ridiculed those who are above average in height.  Imagining the outcome of an armed guerrilla infiltration into Seoul is formidable, and the discovery of each tunnel is a symbol of South Korea's unfortunate need for constant vigilance.  The possibility of more tunnels in existence is real and probable.  

The history of the tense relationship between North and South Korea is shocking and heartbreaking.  Along with the thousands of separated families, I look forward to an end to the war that has been taking place both physically and mentally for the past sixty years.  One day, the tank walls will crumble and the barbed wire will come down merging two separate Koreas into one.

MMMBop

An evening street performance in Seoul drew a large crowd and entertained with extraordinary tap dancing, impressive break dancing, and surprising music.  Unfortunately, I didn't get a shot of the dancing stuffed animals, luminous sparklers, or the man with a horse-head mask.  It's hard to tell what language this woman is singing in, but I believe it's Korenglish. 

I apologize ahead of time for this second video.  My novice skills are evident in the tilt of the camera.  Who knew the video wouldn't adjust to the camera angle?  

Comas

Our first payday arrived just in time for a weekend of Christmas shopping. Hopping on the train and heading to Insadong put me in the giving spirit, and I let the money burn a whole right through my pocket and into the hands of eager shop owners.  The bustling streets of Insadong are lined with store fronts displaying everything from handmade pottery and jewelry to exorcism masks. Blissful shoppers peruse the merchandise in shopping induced comas, unaware of the activity around them.  It's easy to get caught up in the moment - one minute you're browsing and the next you're approaching the cash register with more souvenirs than you can carry - and rarely does anyone escape empty-handed.  I was no exception, and only ended my spending spree when the day's money well ran dry. 

Just as I was coming out of my shopping coma, we sat down for dinner at "On the Border," a Mexican chain restaurant.  The colorful menu was bursting with mouth-watering options like fajitas, burritos, tacos, and enchiladas.  I succumbed to the inevitable food coma, and enjoyed my creamy enchiladas suizas as if I had never tasted Mexican food before.  On our way out, I thanked the Korean waitress, "kam-sa-ham-ni-da."  Proud and excited she replied, "Adios!" 

  

Heading to Insadong for a "girls only" day of shopping.

A crowded subway

A crowded mall

Cheers to "On the Border" for making it all the way to Korea!

Monster Mash

Halloween is not a holiday commonly celebrated in Korea.  Few pumpkins dot the store shelves and even fewer costumes can be found on the racks.  Many hagwons (English academies), however, enjoy creating a cultural experience for the students by playing Halloween themed games and handing out candy. When our school announced our imminent participation this year - they had refrained from celebrating for the past 4 years - I was skeptical.  Halloween fell on a Friday, which also happened to be the last day in our session... test day. The initial plans for our celebrations throughout the day were grandiose. Between testing, the sugar-intoxicated children were to be corralled together and led through a homemade haunted house set up in an empty classroom. Once through, they were to be fed more candy, placed on a bus, and sent home to their unprepared parents.  Plans for the haunted house were unclear up to the 30th and I wasn't convinced our main attraction would materialize.  

It's not the first time I've been wrong.  On Thursday, the day before Halloween, boxes of decorations from previous years were pulled out of a storage room. Nearly 100 paper pumpkins, bats, witches, and skeletons dangled from strings on the ceiling while strands of glistening garland wove its way across the reception desk.  Odds and ends in the form of posters, plaques, webbing, and signs found a new home on every available inch of wall space. The building was transformed in less than a few hours into an orange and black wonderland. What was once an empty classroom was quickly remodeled into a dark haunted mansion.  Black paper covered the windows and a long, dark curtain created a terrifying walkway around the perimeter of the room.  Along the haunted path were placed six boxes. A hand-sized hole was cut into the top of each box, which contained different body parts: eyeballs made from peeled grapes, uncooked corn for teeth, plump sausages as fingers, skin torn from slightly oiled tortillas, half-thawed tofu brains, and something squishy liver.  The addition of spine-chilling music and an unknown monster lurking around completed our impressive renovation.  We liked it, but what would the kids think?

Bounding through the doors with sparkly costumes and peels of unadulterated bliss, the students admired our decorations and ogled at our apparel.  Their normal teachers had become Peter Pan, Minnie Mouse, witches, fairies, clowns, devils and mummies.  As a kid I remember nothing more satisfying than to see adults let down their guard in a Halloween costume. Despite their usually make-believe attire, it somehow made them more human.  

As a preface to the haunted house, teachers were given instructions on how to prepare the students (the first few classes of the day are full of younger students - some only six or seven).  

After the students take the test they will go to the haunted house.  Before entering, they must say, "Trick or Treat."  Make sure to tell them the haunted house is full of scary ghosts and monsters.  There are REAL eyeballs, teeth, fingers, skin, brains, and liver for them to touch.  It is very terrifying, but when they are finished they will receive delicious candy.   

I'm sure it doesn't take a genius to guess what happened.  Many students panicked - fearful of the pitch-black room and creepy music.  Nobody wanted to put their hands in the boxes, and when our boss, wearing a werewolf mask, started grabbing legs from behind a curtain everyone let out ear piercing screams.  Most of the younger kids lost control and emerged howling; spending the rest of class gasping for breaths between sobs.  The older students enjoyed the haunted house a bit more, some even requesting to brave it a second time. Except for terrifying the living daylights out of innocent children, our Halloween festivities were very successful and quite impressive. 

One Thing After Another

A day at the Korean Folk Village should enliven the senses and provide its guests with an appreciation of the past.  My day at the village left me with soggy shoes, and a week-long cold. After hopping on the bus in Ansan and heading toward Suwon,  my co-workers and I snuggled against our seats for an undetermined amount of time.  A cold front had settled in the city bringing with it the unmistakable winter sky - muted gray nothingness that starts and ends in the same unknown place.  With combined navigational skills - and a stroke of luck - we switched buses at exactly the right time and ended up in the Folk Village parking lot.  

The entrance gates set the stage for what would typically be a step back in time. Cashiers and greeters were dressed in ancient, traditional garb, and the view of meandering dirt pathways tickled each guest's curiosity to enter.  Caught up in the moment, we splurged for the mid-level ticket price in order to gain access to the folk museum, and then passed through the magical gates to another time. Antiquated buildings stood out brilliantly against the backdrop of autumn leaves, as if arranged by a setting designer.  The perfect, fall foliage and brisk air sent a wave of nostalgia through my body and I remembered the familiar feeling - this was October. Bright colors, chilly winds, and the smell of wet wood were dancing all around us.  I was allowed five minutes to breathe in the realization of where I was before the screams of children bulldozed the imagery and jerked me back to reality.  Groups of elementary students were running at full-speed toward us, the foreigners, as if we were the final object on the list in a scavenger hunt.  Confused and frozen, we were verbally attacked with questions from pairs of Korean kids holding their scripts.  I barely understood every other broken, English word that left their fast-moving mouths, but concluded they were instructed to summarize a fact about the village in return for points.  I awarded them each 100 points, and turned to meet the rest of my bombarded friends.  Once finally together again, we strolled along the path past huts with grass roofs and thatched walls.  We took in the serenity and beauty of the korean history and admired its pottery house, vegetable gardens, and unusual livestock.  And then we were under attack again.  Before long, our day at the folk village became a game of escape.  Children would see us from a distance - somehow way before we ever saw them - and cry out, "excuse me, excuse me".  We began splitting up, weaving around the buildings, and ducking into museums for cover.  

At the exact time our frustration levels reached boiling point and our tolerance for young minds became questionable - it started to rain.  Cold, wet, "I can see my breath now"- rain. The rest of our day was literally a wash, and we slopped through the now muddy pathways to find shelter and sustenance from the village's restaurant.  Too bad luck was not on our side because for reasons still unknown by us, we were shooed out of the warm dining hall, where other people were happily eating, by a grumpy Korean lady dressed in period attire. With confusion and boiling annoyance, we found another restaurant and sat down to an unsatisfying meal.   After dining, a unanimous vote convinced us to skip the museum we paid extra for in exchange for heading home to our warm, dry apartments.  As we exited the folk village to dryer skies a greeter asked us what impressed us most about our day - anticipating, I'm sure, an intellectual response on the history of Korean pottery, resourcefulness of the long-ago villagers, or quality of the traditional dishes.  Feeling defeated, tired, and cold Andrea replied for the group.  "The trees were really beautiful."  

Lavon and Derrick couldn't even take a picture without the children chasing after them.

Once we finally exited the village it was time to catch bus #37 back home.  We arrived that day with luck on our side (transferring buses can be VERY confusing), and felt hopeful as #37 pulled up to the stop at the exact moment we walked up.  The driver opened the door, watched as all of his passengers exited, and then quickly closed the door before we could get onboard. Completely appalled and insulted we shouted and waved our hands furiously, but he pulled away and parked in the lot.  Hopping out of the bus, the driver ran inside the gift shop as we stood in astonishment.      

While we stood in the cold, waiting to see if the bus driver would return, a second #37 bus pulled into the lot.  We figured this must be our bus since the other one was clearly "off duty." Once again, bus 37 bypassed our group and parked.  The second driver mimicked the first and ran into the gift shop.  Ten minutes later, as flu-like symptoms began developing in the voids of our body left empty by broken spirits, the drivers returned and picked us up.  We were finally going home.

1 Word, 3 Syllables. Sounds Like...

Living and teaching in another country is like an endless game of Pictionary and charades.  In class, I cling to the whiteboard in hopes of getting my ideas across.  Explaining the conflict between the British and the colonists to a handful of Korean sixth graders can only be done through a series of quick sketches.  Unfortunately, my stick figure of George Washington bears little resemblance to the actual father of our country.  The tea boats from the Boston Massacre look like nothing more than a child's paper sailboat in the sink. Amused at my efforts, the students turn their glazed-over eyes in my direction and pretend to understand the events of America's history.  

Out in the streets, and without a whiteboard I must rely on my natural talents. Charades was always a game I enjoyed playing as a child, and the practice is finally paying off.  Fingers turn into numbers when ordering food, and hand gestures aid in the request for small, medium, or large.  Ordering one mini ice cream from Baskin' Robbins takes an extra 20 seconds with the addition of my gesturing, but the outcome is always delicious.  One evening, Andrea and I went to a store in search of an alarm clock.  Unsure of how to translate our request verbally, I whipped out my hands.  While pointing to my watch, and then miming a small box the saleswoman shook her head and furrowed her brow.  I was determined to make her understand so I repeated the process and added a "beep, beep, beep."  She smiled and a wave of understanding washed across her face.  Success.

At the end of my year abroad I may not know much Korean, but I'll be able to gesture my way across the world.     

Lions and Tigers and Bears...

I love animals - always have.  As a child I had a collection of Zoobooks magazines, which I studied from cover to cover.  I was fascinated by the bones and musculature of the humpback whale, and found the predatory quirks of the great cats fascinating.  This interest has carried into my adult life, and I find myself tuning into the National Geographic channel every chance I get (unfortunately, NatGeo is unavailable in Korea, but the Discovery channel has mitigated my craving for the time being).  

The next best thing to watching an animal on TV, or reading about it in a magazine is to see one in real life.  I understand people have varying opinions on zoos, and I, like many, would love to see animal's in their natural habitats rather than in pens or lame imitations of "the wild". However, I believe in zoos, and their ability to educate the public and infuse people with a healthy-dose of responsibility for wildlife.  It worked for me, and maybe one day I will get a chance to put my seemingly useless animal trivia to use.  Perhaps I will be stranded in the African bush, and will only survive because I knew to stay away from hippos despite their vegetarian diet (they kill more people than any other animals in Africa combined).  Or, maybe when I decide to swim in the shark-infested waters off the tip of South Africa, I will know to wait until late morning or early afternoon when the Great white sharks have stopped hunting (their prime ambush time is within the first two hours after sunrise when they can remain invisible under the water's shadowy surface).  Most likely, I will only be able to use my animal knowledge while strolling along the seemingly safe paths at a zoo.

Two days after the infamous hiking trip, my legs were still rigid and sore, and I waddled off the subway to the entrance of the Seoul Grand Park like a pregnant woman with swollen limbs. The brilliant trees lining the path to the zoo's entrance looked all too familiar, and when we reached a "You Are Here" sign we understood why - the zoo is built into the side of the same mountain we were still recovering from.  Luckily, the zoo does not consider itself an extreme sport destination, but provides the option of lifts to carry its visitors to various points of interest. We decided to take the lift to the top of the zoo, and would then walk back down slowly, without rush.  As I sat on the lift and let the slow breeze blow through my hair, I decided this was our best idea yet.  

The normal rules of a zoo, though probably in place, are not followed by Koreans.  If the standard "Do not feed the animals" signs existed, people were clearly ignoring them.  After watching the large, brown bears for a moment I noticed their unusual, almost human-like behavior.  One would sit down like an old man in his favorite recliner after Thanksgiving dinner while the others danced around on their hind legs like little leaguers anticipating a pop fly in the outfield.  The squeals and applause from the crowd turned into rewards as they threw pieces of fruit, cookies, and potato chips into the enclosure.  I looked around in disbelief while the feeding frenzy continued, and almost doubled over in laughter when I saw an emergency phone marked, "SOS", directly in front of the cuddly teddies.  Perhaps people here should have a greater regard for human safety before they decide to teach a bear how to cross a dangerously, small moat in an exhibit - all in the name of an imitation Oreo. The other animals were just as alert running around their enclosures, and interacting with the human vending machines.  Any animal that wasn't behind glass had an opportunity for a mid-afternoon snack, and from the looks of things - this wasn't their first encounter with gluttony. 

Although the facilities appeared outdated, and some times dangerous, the zoo holds boasting rights for its exquisite scenery, and picturesque landscape.  It was, hands-down, the most beautiful zoo I have ever waddled through.   

Lavon and Derrick

This makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

Nutria... or albino sewer rats

Me:  "Lavon, tell me if he gets too close to my hair."

Lavon:  "Okay... Oh!  He's right there!  Step away!"

Professional mountain climbers