Aches and Reunions (21 February)

Waking up this morning is far easier than walking.  I’d anticipated my thighs being sore today as a result of the bowing but I hadn’t even considered the repetitive strain that my upper arms were under during those same bows.  Walking up stairs at school is far less painful than coming back down.  Each step is like a baseball bat being beat against my weary body.  Mercifully, today is a quiet day at school with limited expectations so I’m able to spend most of the day at my desk surfing the net and catching up on blog entries. 

Reflections

I can’t help but think that today’s horoscope is spot on…for yesterday’s adventures:  “Perhaps you planned to attend a group event but circumstances beyond your control got in the way.  Maybe it was cancelled.  This could cause some disappointment for you and others.”  I had planned to meet friends for dinner but ended up in the wrong city nearly three and a half hours away which caused frustration more than disappointment.  “A project of your own is likely to need some attention, and this challenge could keep you engrossed for hours.”  My blog is permanently several weeks behind despite my having blogged diligently for the past two months.  Granted, I’ve managed to get a lot done on my blog but it’s reaching a point where I’m tempted to just forgo the last five weeks of entries and start afresh from today’s date – if only my ego and pride would allow me to do so.  The final part of my horoscope is spot on for today: “Tonight, treat yourself to dinner out.”  Since I missed last night’s dinner, and I haven’t seen Catfish in 10 days, we’re meeting at our favourite Vietnamese restaurant tonight, Hoa Binh, to catch up on the events of the past 10 days; there’s no way I’m missing this dinner!

With the start of the new school year around the corner, offices are abuzz with teachers moving desks.  In Korea and Japan, teachers change desks at the start of every year because it helps to keep things fresh and something about ‘energy’ that I still don’t quite understand.  The amusing part is that when these teachers move desks (and even offices), they move everything – including their keyboard, mice, computer screen and trash cans!  I’m devastated that this means that my fantastic co-teacher will be moving to another office just as I’ve finally been deemed cool enough for the International Office.  However, we’ll be getting three new Korean teachers in our office: Mr Jeong, a new English teacher and Moon Arang (a Spanish teacher).

Introductions

Since Arang is moving to the office that I’m in – and since she’ll be sitting diagonally across from me and we’ve never really spoken to one another before – she decides that it’s time to formally introduce herself at lunchtime when we find ourselves sitting next to each other.  The conversation goes something like this:

Arang:  Sarah, we haven’t met but I am Arang.

Me:       Moon Arang? Spanish teacher, right?

Arang:  (Surprised gasp) You know! Thank you!  I’m moving to your office.

Me:       Awesome!!

Arang: Really? (With very confused look!)

Me:       Of course (With equally confused look).  You were in the fourth floor office

              with Mr Jeong.

Arang:   You know who I am?

Me:        Of course! You play piano too, right?

Arang:  (Another surprised gasp) How do you know?

Me:       You played at the school festival in December.  You play very well.

Arang:  I’m honoured that you remember me.

Me:       I also play piano.

This is where the conversation ends because, frankly, I think I’ve overwhelmed her with the fact that I actually know who she is and remember hearing her play piano at school in December.  She also seems surprised that we actually have things in common – I honestly thought she didn’t like me so it seems we’re both a little surprised today.  I seem to have finally convinced some of the teachers that I plan to stay in Korea and that even though I’m a foreigner, I’m not a bad/conceited/obnoxious person.

Endings and Beginnings (14 January)

The day’s lessons seem to fly by with one exception.  Since it is the last day of winter camp (for the freshmen at least), the timetable is slightly different to that of the rest of the week so I cover today’s conversation lesson.  NZ2 has told me of the type of speaking activities he’s been doing in class and I work from his notes.  However, despite this approach, the lesson appears to be an epic (no pun intended!) fail and the students definitely seem to prefer NZ2 to me. 

Bad Chopsticks!

Today really does not seem to be my day as lunchtime is just as awkward as the conversation class.  First, I accidentally snub the gorgeous Mr Maths by not sitting in the seat next to him at lunch (which is apparently where I’m meant to sit following a seating arrangement that I still don’t quite understand), then I discover that, although I’m sitting next to Mr Jeong, I’m also sitting diagonally opposite Six-pack who is sitting between Mr Maths and Mr Baek.  It’s not a good chopsticks day for me and my hand is seriously cramping from my iron-tight grip on the chopsticks in an attempt not to embarrass myself.  It’s this very sight which seems to amuse Six-pack and Mr Baek (among other teachers) who pass various comments on my chopstick skills.  I’m tired and my hand is sore so I’m not in the mood for even joking comments but I try to smile and be gracious about the jokes nonetheless while I feebly attempt to eat some lunch.  Before I know it, the day’s lessons are done and it’s time to move to Dandelion Hall for the closing ceremony of the freshmen’s winter camp.

Help You? Sure!

On Wednesday and Thursday night, I spent 30 minutes helping a freshmen student to practise his English poem that he is reading in today’s winter camp closing ceremony.  My co-teachers seem to find it very strange that I voluntarily came back to school at 19:00 twice in one week just to help a student.  What they don’t seem to understand is that the students don’t ask for help very often – at least, not from the foreign teachers – so I jump at every opportunity when they do ask for my help because it shows that I’m not just a non-entity as far as they’re concerned.  I only aim to win over one student; anything more is a bonus.  The results are also worthwhile: Seeing that student on stage, a little bit more confident thanks to 60 minutes of my time, is far more rewarding that sitting at home playing around on the internet or our drinking with other foreigners.

Endings

It’s impressive to see the various classes perform things from their different lessons of the past two weeks – particularly when considering that some of these students have only just started learning Spanish, Japanese or Chinese during the two weeks of camp.  The students are all in high spirits as they leave the auditorium and I’m feeling a bit cheeky when a group of them call “Sarah teacher” behind me in the corridor as we’re leaving.  I know from the sheer volume of these voices that these are students from 102 so I match the volume and quality of their voices much to the amusement of several teachers and the confusion of several parents as we chat while heading back to the main school building.  One of the teachers later comments that it’s been a while since he’s seen new students take such an instant liking to a foreign teacher which I take as a compliment.  I’m touched when several of my students take the time to say goodbye to me and tell me that they’ll miss me; I’m even more touched when one of them brings me chocolates to say thank you for teaching her. 

Winter camp is finally over and I find myself a little sad that I won’t see these students again until the beginning of March.  We’ve just been told that the second part of the camp, scheduled for early February, has been cancelled by the Department of Education due to lack of funding.  With camp over, school will once again be running on skeletal staff and it’s a little depressing. 

Exciting Beginnings

As I head home for the weekend, I think of the news that my fantastic co-teacher shared with me earlier about her brother getting married the next day.  I’ve heard a lot about Korean weddings and hope to attend one while in Korea.  I didn’t see her before she left so I send her a text message wishing her well for the wedding and everything that she has to organise.  I’m barely home when she sends me a text message inviting me to the wedding.  Now I feel awkward.  I hope that she doesn’t feel obliged to invite me and I know that she’s going to be busy with family obligations so, as much as I’d love to attend the wedding, I feel that I shouldn’t and this is what I tell in a text message.  Clearly, I still haven’t learned lesson two!  In the mean time, I ask NZ2 for advice and he tells me to attend the wedding.  Catfish also tells me to attend it and then asks if I feel like Galbi for dinner – it turns out we both had unsatisfying lunches at school today.

I’m just about to phone my co-teacher to accept the invitation when she phones me.  It’s no imposition at all and she’d love to have me attend the wedding if I don’t mind travelling to Jeonju which she thinks is relatively far away.  I’m very excited to attend my first Korean wedding, which is what I tell her perhaps a little too enthusiastically, and she gives me the basic details with a promise to text me the address in Korean to show to a taxi driver.  I all but skip out of my apartment to meet Catfish who is already at the Galbi waiting for me with her Culture Shock book and the section on weddings earmarked for me.  I have to buy this book!

Galbi is as satisfying a meal as ever – perhaps even more satisfying than usual since we end up ordering a third portion to share instead of one each as we usually do; the staff seem to find this a bit amusing but happily comply.  It’s a compliment to the restaurant that we obviously enjoy the food!  We discuss the upcoming wedding and generally catch up on the week’s events – it’s mindboggling just how busy a week in Korea can be even when you think you’re not doing much.  There are any number of things that can, and do, happen that make the days memorable and these have to be shared with special friends who appreciate them as much as I do! 

From Galbi, we move to Angel-in-us for coffee and a continuation of our chat that seems to digress and bounce back to the various topics we simultaneously discuss.  Close to midnight, we rush down to Lotte mart to try to find a wedding card of some sort.  Catfish ends up singing the traditional Western wedding march in an attempt to explain what it is that we’re looking for but her current victims understand this to be an enquiry as to what time the store closes: We have 20 minutes.  We head to the stationery aisle with our fingers tightly crossed for luck as we laugh over several “Oh Korea” moments and generally de-stress after a busy two weeks of winter camp.

Let Me Entertain You (12 January)

If I’d only understood just how important food is in Korean culture, I would have made more of an effort to eat school lunches from the start instead of taking the easy way out and bringing foods that I recognise and eating lunch separately with the Kiwis.  I’m determined to try and eat lunch with the Korean teachers in an effort to get to know some of them better but the lunch options seem equally determined not to let this happen. 

Shellfish, I Loathe You 

On a shopping trip in Seoul at the beginning of December, I discovered the hard way that I’ve developed an allergy to shrimp.  We’re not quite sure if it’s only shrimp that I need to avoid but I’m not too keen to test the extent of my allergy so I’ve been advised to stay away from shellfish in general unless I particularly feel like visiting an ER.  Since cute doctor doesn’t work in the ER, I have no desire to visit an ER again anytime soon.  Unfortunately, Korean school lunches seem to favour shellfish – particularly since Gunsan is a coastal town so being served fish of some sort on a daily basis is to be expected.  This means that there are several days at school where all I can eat is rice and kimchi.

How Allergic Are You?

Several of the Korean teachers don’t seem to believe that someone can be allergic to a particular food so they probably think I’m just being a picky eater – especially since I usually only have half the quantity of food on my tray that most of them have on theirs.  The latest teacher to ask me why I don’t eat shellfish seems to understand very clearly – despite broken English – when I say: I eat seoo (shrimp) or chogae (shellfish), one hour and I can’t breath so I have to go to the ER! Her eyes widen as she seems to process my simplified explanation complete with actions of my choking myself and dying before she swiftly moves her shellfish far away from me and tells me “Don’t touch!”.

You May Eat Only What You Can Hold...With These Two Sticks

With the question of my allergy now apparently cleared up, the second question of why I take considerably less food than my Korean colleagues remains.  Yes, I eat less than they do but they’re still all so thin is my first answer and the foods that I can eat at lunch are all carbs.  Their response: Everyone knows Asian people are too skinny and we’re all built differently.  This is such a sweet response considering the horror stories I hear from several other GETs whose teachers seem to constantly be commenting about their weight – even when they’re a healthy size.  My second, and more honest, response is simple: Whatever I put on my plate, I have to eat…with chopsticks! Using those blasted metal sticks takes twice as long for me as it does for my Korean colleagues and since I can only eat what I manage to hold between this foreign torture device, I tend to take only a little food at a time.

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I have good and bad chopstick skill days.  The wooden chopsticks are generally easier for foreigners to use that the metal ones which take considerably more practise.  My colleagues seem to find it rather entertaining to watch me attempt to use the metal chopsticks at school.  I diligently attempt, repeatedly, to pick up small quantities of food no matter how awkward it may be and when all I really want to do is stab a chopstick through the food from hunger.  Picking up food is the easier part; keeping it between the chopsticks en route to my mouth requires more skill and this is what my colleagues find so amusing – I can’t seem to keep the blasted chopsticks balanced long enough to not drop the food before it gets to my mouth.  I smile graciously while thinking to myself Let’s give you a knife and fork with which to eat lunch and then see who’s laughing as I discreetly stab the food with both chopsticks so that I get to eat some lunch in this half hour.

Seeking Refuge at Hotel Millar (7 January)

I don’t need to understand much Korean to know that my Japanese class (104) is not happy with me.  As I enter the classroom, the first thing I notice is that the seating arrangements have, as requested, been shuffled.  The students seem rather glum about this and it makes me wonder what else may have been said to them.  Something tells me they’ve been reprimanded more than I’d hoped and I can’t help feeling a little sorry for them – including Malicious Boy.

Truce!

They all make a genuine effort to participate in today’s lesson and to speak English and I get a little more insight into just how hard it actually is for them to speak in English.  I appreciate the effort and poke fun at myself in an attempt to show them that I also have a hard time communicating in a language that is not my mother tongue.  When Hyunju leaves the classroom unexpectedly, and only for a moment, I feign total distress with a helpless cry of “No, please come back!” which helps to lighten the mood.  When Hyunju returns, I pretend to be even more relieved than I actually am – or perhaps that was all genuine relief that she returned!

By the end of the first week, I’m exhausted.  It’s been an emotional and scholastic rollercoaster over the last four days and I’m eager to just relax this weekend.  However, by procrastinating over my marking, I’m also having to take home 45 journals to mark over the weekend – something that seems to really surprise my Korean colleagues.  The thought of staying late on a Friday afternoon just to finish my marking, however, is worse than the idea of taking it home with me. 

Hotel Millar

Tonight is my night off as Catfish and I have agreed to meet at our Kiwi-mom’s apartment.  They’ve been in New Zealand and Australia for the last two weeks and told us to make use of their apartment and oven (and hopefully take care of their plants) but our Christmas and New Year travels have kept us away from the apartment until now.  The fact that they’re due home tomorrow evening is irrelevant in our decision to hang out at their apartment tonight.  We’ve agreed that we’ll bake some chocolate chip cookies, cook some chicken and maybe watch a movie.

We arrive at their apartment to find little notes taped in strategic places providing instructions for certain appliances and telling us to make ourselves at home.  They’ve also set out extra blankets and towels for us in each of the two bedrooms which gives the apartment a hotel quality.  We find ourselves feeling slightly guilty that we haven’t made more use of the apartment and we claim the second bedroom as 'our' bedroom in this apartment.  Feeling hungry, we're in agreement than an 'easy' dinner is in order and we're in further agreement that that dinner should be pizza so we head downstairs to the local pizzeria that is located just outside of the apartment building - I wish I had a pizzeria just outside of my apartment building!

Our hunger sated, we attempt to cook the chicken wings that have been sitting in my freezer since I purchased the oven that I still don’t know how to work.  After 20 minutes, I still can’t understand why the oven isn’t hot and we realise I have yet to turn on the gas.  Once the chicken starts cooking, Catfish and I decide to mix up the chocolate chip cookie mix that she received from her family in the US – these are proper chocolate chip cookies.  We add the mix and butter only to discover that we should have microwaved the butter first.  No problem – simply stick everything into the microwave and then mix it all together.  Of course, microwaving the entire mixture causes the chocolate chips to melt too.  Although they were now chocolate cookies rather than chocolate chip cookies, they still looked and smelled delicious!

With our baking done, we decide on a movie to watch and attempt to navigate the intricacies of a television and DVD player that are set up in Korean.  In proper waegook style, we decide to simply keep pushing random buttons until we find the right one – we decide to give up and leave a short note apologising for any settings we may have changed when each button now seems to lead to a blank screen.  With not much else to do, we settle in for a long chat about a variety of topics near and dear to us.  Our conversation goes late into the night and we decide that we’re finally warm and comfortable and simply couldn’t be bothered to navigate our way home in the cold midnight hours.  A slumber party seems inevitable as we round up blankets and pillows from the room and settle ourselves in the living room. 

We awake the next morning to the sound of hammering and drilling that appears to be coming from the apartment below us.  It’s 8:30am on a Saturday morning and we can’t sleep in.  However, our rude awakening is balanced when we’re rewarded with the most spectacular view over Eunpa Park!  We decide to leave our own notes of thanks around the apartment and Catfish makes a “Happy New Year” sign for the front door.  After sharing a few funny YouTube videos, we decide we really want to go home since it’s already midday so we pack our things, bid adieu to Hotel Millar and make our way to our respective apartments.  It’s amazing how spending the night at someone else’s apartment can feel like a mini-vacation – if only I didn’t have to encounter so many students and teachers at the store next to my apartment as I exit the taxi clearly wearing the same clothes I wore to school the previous day; a fact that doesn’t seem to have slipped their attention.  I groan inwardly, smile and wave at them all in greeting and know that I’ll be spending the rest of the weekend hiding in my apartment in preparation for the speculation that I know is probably taking place right now….  Are the comings and goings of a foreign teacher really this interesting?

Talk to Me…in English (3 – 5 January)

America has summer school programs for students while in South Africa (and only at some schools) we are encouraged to attend winter school programs in our final year of high school in areas where we feel we may need extra assistance.  In Korea, students seem to plan everything else around their school schedule and have a never-ending bout of summer and winter programs. 

You Thought What?

My understanding of the winter vacation was that the students would have nearly a two month vacation that they have more than earned, the new freshmen would have to attend a two week long ADEPT program that would help them to adjust to high school life and give them a lot of exposure to English to try and get them all more-or-less at the same level and, finally, that the school would be running on skeletal staff.  Imagine my surprise and confusion when I arrive at school on Monday morning, ready to tackle winter camp, only to discover that not only are most of the teachers back at school but so are most of the students – with a full self-study timetable to boot!

No Time For Ready and Steady - Just Teach

I know that we don’t have any lessons for the first day so it’s a bit of a surprise when, at 10:10am, my fantastic co-teacher (she really is great!) asks me to come upstairs so that she can discuss the conversation classes that we need to do.  More confused than ever, nothing can prepare me for the surprise notice that there are students waiting for us in two venues for conversation lessons that we haven’t had time to prepare.  Fortunately, I’m now much better at identifying moments such as this one as “Oh Korea…” moments and moving on with what needs to be done rather than dwelling on the limited notice.  Besides, aside from an hour of conversation classes, all that we have to do today is attend the welcoming ceremony for the freshmen in the auditorium where we’ll be introduced to the new students before continuing with our busy schedules whiling away the afternoon in the coldest weather we’ve yet had in Gunsan.

The second day of camp is far more productive since it involves actual lessons.  NZ2 and I had already agreed upon the class division in December so I have classes all morning leaving me with an afternoon free.  This also means that I won’t be able to take the conversation classes for the next two weeks so NZ2 will have to combine the two groups until then.  NZ2 and I each have a Spanish (102), Japanese (104) and Chinese (106) major class.  Experience with the previous year’s first graders predisposes me to the Spanish major classes as their English proficiency is generally higher and they’re usually more talkative; the Japanese and Chinese classes are generally evenly tied with one fairly strong group and one weaker group in each language major.  This group is no exception.

Getting Started

My first class is with the Chinese major students (106).  I enter the class with feigned confidence and hope that the lesson goes well.  In the midst of introducing myself, one of the Korean teachers walks in with the daily journals to hand out…and stays.  This is when I figure out, since she shows no sign of leaving, that I’ll have a Korean English Teacher with me in each lesson – something that adds a new dynamic to the lessons since I’ve never worked directly with Hyunju before.  It doesn’t long, however, before we’re both commenting on the very segregrated seating arrangements in which they’ve organised themselves: Boys on one side, girls on the other and the widest gap possible between the two sides!  As we leave the room, our first impression, and comment, is: They’re so young!

Confident for the next lesson – and now being more familiar with the structure of these lessons – I head for my Spanish major class (102) which is even more entertaining that my first class.  This particular class has only three boys and they’re well integrated by the look of things.  I can’t believe how talkative this class is and when I try to leave the classroom, they follow me down the corridor still chatting and asking questions – a pattern which seems to continue for the rest of the week and increases in enthusiasm the more time they spend with me.

I Understood That!

My final class is my Japanese class (104) and this is perhaps the most surprising – and seemingly hostile – of the three.  One of the boys looks like he’s hoping to be the seventh member of the K-pop group 2PM.  He seems uber-confident in many ways and is quick to lead other classmates astray.  His first words to me (in Korean I might add!): Speak Korean! It’s 10 minutes into this lesson and I officially have a student I don’t like and have dubbed “the malicious boy”…  In addition, this class seems to be as segregated as the Chinese students but they don’t share a similar sense of humour when we joke about this; in fact, they don’t seem to have much of a sense of humour at all. For the first time since arriving in Korea, I find myself in a situation where a co-teacher is literally translating every word I say in the lesson and it’s disheartening.  I leave the lesson wanting to cry and trying desperately to work out how to get through to this particular class.  The discrepancy between the three classes is unbelievable and it’s a bit like being on a rollercoaster: I have one amazing class that I can already tell I love (102), an average class that seems generally sweet and co-operative (106) and a class with one child who may just turn the next eight days of classes into my worst nightmare.

Breaking New 'Barriers'

It’s lunchtime and I’m starving.  I deliberately haven’t brought any lunch with me to school because I want to start having lunch with the rest of the Korean teachers so I ask Hyunju if I may join her for lunch.  Not only will this expose me to more Korean food than I currently eat, but I’m hoping that it will further endear me to them and, hopefully, lead to friendship with some of them instead of the ‘us’ and ‘them’ distinction that exists between the three GETs and the Korean teachers – that was forged, unintentionally, by the Kiwis and myself.  My appearance in the cafeteria doesn’t go unnoticed and I seem to have scored major brownie points with my fellow teachers by simply having lunch with them at school – if I’d only known what a difference this would make from the start….

Exploring the DMZ (2 January) – Part Two

After an eventful morning, we’re starving so we head to lunch at the Unification Village, Tongilchon, where Seokjin points out the noticeable lack of security on the buildings – like they need it since they live in a fort!  It’s an opportunity to reflect on what we’ve learned this morning and we realise that despite so many visible signs in the DMZ that promulgate peace and unification, there seem to still be so many insurmountable obstacles that hinder any true progress. 

 

As is increasingly common in Korea, lunch is an adventure where being blindfolded would probably be more successful in helping us to try many of the foods we don’t recognise before us.  There are two soups: Soybean paste and one with shrimp – soybean paste it is for me then since I’m allergic to shrimp (and we’re pretty far from any hospitals!).  The soybean paste doesn’t look very appetising, and it’s certainly and acquired taste – one that Catfish doesn’t seem to have acquired….

Imjingak

We finish lunch early and head outside for a brief look around.  KiwiKat and Patricia tell us (in very broken English) to walk in a particular direction, look and take a photo but to do it quickly.  This, naturally, leads me to ask if we have to do it quickly because we’re likely to be shot.  Unfortunately, we’re soon summoned to return to the bus so I don’t get to take my photo of what appears to be a truly spectacular view.  It’s 13:30 and we’re meant to have left this section of the DMZ. We’d learned about the ‘human trap’ this morning when UN soldiers used to live in the DMZ and we can’t help but wonder if we’re the current human trap and all the talk of military drills is just a ruse.  We don’t stick around long enough to find out and we’re soon heading across another bridge – where we do take photos although I’m pretty sure we’re not allowed to do so – and on to Imjingak which is something of a paradox. 

Built to pacify those who had to leave their homes in the North, Imjingak is as far North as civilians can go without permission to enter the actual DMZ.  It has an altar where families who are unable to cross the border can get together and pray for their ancestors at Seollal and Chuseok (The Korean Thanksgiving), a Peace Bell to symbolise the desire for peace and unification between the two Koreas, Freedom Bridge which is only partially free (it’s obviously barricaded for security reasons), and the discontinuted Gyeonggi train line with an old, rusted locomotive that clearly won’t be travelling anytime soon.  Along the fences, there are hundreds of thousands of ribbons with messages of peace and pro-unification.  The contrast of the colourful peace ribbons on the barbed wire is interesting and ironic: Interesting that Koreans have tried to beautify a very sombre sight and reinforce their desire for unification and ironic because they’re attaching beauty to a sight that is mostly being viewed by tourists and South Koreans as far as I can see. 

In case Imjingak doesn’t hold enough appeal from a historical and cultural perspective, there’s also a mini-amusement park to attract the interest of the younger generation.  Most Koreans don’t seem to visit the DMZ for various reasons.  However, it is an important part of the Korean history and culture.  The dilemma in how to interest and lure Korean children to Imjingak seems to have been resolved with the amusement park and sledding hill.  It also turns Imjingak into something of a paradox: On the one side there is the historical and cultural side of this location and on the other…a theme park.

Don't Pull Your Tongue at the North

When we arrive at Imjingak, we see a small group of people standing in front of one of the monuments releasing propaganda balloons – ie balloons with outside information about crazy Kim Jong-Il and what is not (presumably) being said in North Korea.  The sight of this group, with media coverage, angers Seokjin considerably as he does not agree with the approach that the current South Korean president has taken towards North Korean.  It’s the first time I’ve seen him visibly angered and it’s interesting considering Korean views of demonstrating anger (at least from the literature that I’ve read).  Patricia manages to get hold of the propaganda that was being sent in these balloons and she and ByungMin attempt to explain what the message is – something about Crazy Kim Jong-Il being dead?

After walking around the peace messages, putting little more than our big toes on the Freedom Bridge and glossing over the frustrated locomotive, we head to the Observation Deck where we can use binoculars to see North Korea – or rather we can see the snow on the mountains in North Korea that is visible without the binoculars!  A few buildings across the border can also be seen and I can’t help wondering if there’s an observation deck like this on the North Korean side with people staring back at us, just as curious, just as judgemental, almost identical except for the minor detail of probably being pro-North Korea instead of South.  On the Observation Deck, KiwiKat is posing more photos and tells Catfish to pretend to push ByungMin over the edge of the deck in front of the ‘Danger’ sign.  I’m not anti-American but I do find this photo somewhat metaphoric of America abusing it’s power and pushing other nations around like puppets in general (Sorry Catfish!)….

Unification Observatory

The final part of our trip is the Unification Observatory.  Usually, the AK trip makes use of the Dora Observatory but our entire trip schedule has been reversed today thanks to military exercises and parts of the DMZ being closed off to tourists.   Here, we watch another video and see a scaled reconstruction of this particular part of the DMZ that allows us to understand just how close North Korea actually is.  Clearly visible across the mostly frozen river are several propaganda villages – villages that seem to exist purely to show viewers on the South Korean side of the border that North Koreans are happy and settled in their lives (ie Back off, there are no problems here!).  Apparently the people who live in these villages are true supporters of Crazy Kim and can be trusted not to try and cross the border – of course, this doesn’t stop many people from trying!

This particular observatory also has a mini museum attached to it.  The first thing I see when I enter is a timeline detailing every event since the end of the Korean War.  It’s somewhat distressing to note that as I move further and further down the timeline, the entries become longer and more frequent and it’s likely that they will soon need another wall to continue this timeline long before unification is achieved which is surprisingly upsetting. 

The museum contains an interesting selection of paraphernalia from North Korea in every aspect of life: Military, education, daily living, currency, tourism, food, weapons, etc.  I am only just starting to understand why so many people explain that while South Korea may seem outdated in some areas, North Korea is like stepping back in time fifty or sixty years.  From what I see before me, North Korea doesn’t possess the same rich lushness that South Korea seems to have – probably because the average North Korean has no money.  Communism is great in theory but let’s be realistic: Cold, hard cash makes the world go around no matter how much we try to refute it or would like to deny it.  Forcing a nation to wear commemorative pins with your picture and that of the previous ruler, and making them display these photos in every house doesn’t make them loyal and obedient subjects – it just means people are compliant and resilient. 

The sight that truly disturbs me is the education and housing section.  These textbooks and supplies look like they haven’t been updated in nearly thirty years.  KiwiKat manages to read the dates on one of the books (1986) so we’re right in guessing that they haven’t been updated in nearly thirty years.  The skeptic in me, however, can't help but wonder if this is a true reflection of life in North Korea or propaganda from South Korea.  With such a turmultuous history, how do we know which account is accurate?  An overwhelming sense of sadness takes over as I realise that, despite our troubled past and numerous present problems, at least South Africans are exposed to international events and allowed to discover what happens in the world that exists beyond our own borders.

We move to the final section of the museum which has a replicated classroom and average North Korean home.  Seokjin explains the sign posted next to the replica of a North Korean apartment: homes are distributed according to position in North Korea.  This means that there is a scale which determines the ‘lavishness’ (if this word can even be applied to North Korea) of the home assigned to each family.  There are seven tiers in total: 15% of the population live in the top two tiers. 25% of the population live in the third and fourth highest tiers and a distressing 60% of the North Korean population live in apartments like this or worse.

By the time we leave the Unification Observatory, I find myself more curious than ever about the other half of Korea that I’m increasingly interested in exploring.  Adventure Korea once ran a trip to the North Korean city of Kaesong which NZ2 and KiwiKat were part of but, unfortunately, due to the political unrest between the two Koreas, such trips from the South are no longer possible.  Hopefully, one day, I’ll get to North Korea….

Jeonju Hanok Village (29 December)

NZ2 also has a friend visiting him from Japan so we’ve arranged to go to the traditional Korean village in Jeonju.  We’re on a bus by 11:00am so we arrive in Jeonju by midday.  Catfish told me that she simply asked a taxi driver to take her to the Hanok Village so this is what we ask once we’ve all piled into a taxi.  The driver, however, seems confused about our destination so NZ2 keeps trying out different pronunciations while I try to confirm the name of the village with Catfish.  Miraculously, we get to the village quickly where we take several photos at the top of a very slippery hill.

Who Are You?

We start walking around and decide that since the tourist information centre is closed for lunch, we’ll first have lunch ourselves.  Jeonbuk province is known for it’s bibimbap so naturally this is what we have for lunch.  On the way to a restaurant, we stop to look at the carved wooden name stamps outside a store.  While there, a Korean man approaches and starts talking to NZ2.  I assume that this is just a random conversation until he mentions Jeju and points at both of us.  As he walks away, I ask NZ2 where he knows this man from; NZ2 finds it rather amusing when he tells me that the Korean man is one of the senior people in the administration office at school – second only to the vice-principal.  Of all the people not to recognise, I have to choose one of the senior guys!

We finally find a restaurant and order our bibimbap.  When the side dishes arrive, we’re confused as we barely recognise any of them.  We then teach my friend how to mix the bibimbap together for a delicious meal – even if this particular one does have a raw egg on top.  Lunch is filling and we’re soon on our way once more towards the tourist information centre where NZ2 and his friend get information about the main tourist places in the village.  We then spend an interesting 40 minutes looking around ancestral memorials – all of which have been newly built simply to demonstrate what they would have looked like – but the ingenuity of the buildings is impressive. 

Traditional Korean Architecture

Traditional Korean buildings are constructed with no nails or screws. Instead, each beam is carefully inserted to create a type of Lego effect.  It’s interesting to see how the buildings are erected and, although it’s quite obvious that most of this traditional village has been newly erected for the sake of tourists and learning only (rather than being a genuine village), it’s an interesting day spent meandering around the various buildings and learning about memorial rituals and how the buildings would have been used. 

A quick discussion leads us to the top of the hill next to the Hanok village.  We can see that there is a temple like structure at the top of the hill and we’re eager to see the view from there.  The stairs leading up the side of the hill, however, are more treacherous than we initially realise as a result of snow that has accumulated and iced over.  The journey is well worth the effort though when we’re able to take some stunning photos of the snow-covered traditional houses and the panoramic views of Jeonju around us.  Getting back down the hill is just as hazardous and it’s tempting to keep pulling out our cameras to take photos of each other in various poses of falling down the ice.

Once back on less treacherous ground, we decide to walk in the general direction of the 600 year old Ginko tree indicated on the map.  There are a curious number of unusual sights along the way such a wall that has been partially eroded as a result of icy water constantly dripping down the side of it, the paper shops which have full hanbok (made of paper) on display, a makgeolli wine museum and some funny examples of Engrish. We also get to see how traditional ondol systems work.

Ondol is the underfloor heating that is still used in Korea.  Now, it runs mostly off gas but, traditionally, buildings were heated by large fires that were maintained in urn type structures beside the buildings.  The heat of the fire was directed under the buildings via pipes that run beneath the floors and heat the floors.  This is why traditional Korean accommodation means sleeping on a thin futon-style mattress on the floor – it’s warm!

Korean or Western Age?

When we finally find the Ginko tree, we’re confused: the large rock beside the tree tells us that the tree is 500 years old but the map tells us that the tree is 600 years old.  Since the map is clearly not 100 years old, I can’t help wondering if this particular tree is 600 years in Korean age which tends to make everyone age faster than Western age.  We end our cold day’s outing with some silly photos behind the photo cut-outs of Hanbok (traditional Korean clothing) before deciding on some hot drinks at The Nameless Cafe.  This is an interesting coffee shop as the decor is rather bear and it literally has no name! Their drinks and cake, however, are good and the perfect end to a good day in Jeonju before making our way back to Gunsan where it has been snowing once more.