Quin's Progress


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Jewelry Shopping On The 38th Parallel

Who Split Korea In Two?

Well, basically, we did. With the Soviet Union’s help. Let me back up…

Poor Korea has been repeatedly invaded by various neighboring countries as far back as chronicles exist. Japan and Russia had themselves a little war over control of the Korean Peninsula in 1904-1905, which Japan won. Japan then annexed Korea in 1910. Japan occupied Korea for several decades after that – a time that leaves Koreans bitter to this day.

The Allied powers dismantled the Japanese empire after World War II. At the Cairo Conference in 1943, Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill and Chiang Kai-Shek agreed that, when the war was over, Japan should lose any territory that it had conquered by force, including Korea. In 1945, Japan surrendered, and the United States and the Soviet Union took control of Korea as “trustees,” with their respective zones of control separated at the 38th Parallel.

The original intention of the trusteeship was to establish a provisional government that would eventually become independent through free general elections supervised by the United Nations. Instead, the Soviet Union established a Communist state in the north, later ceding control to China, and the USA installed an anti-Communist leader in the South. In 1948, the two separate Korean Republics were formed, and the 38th Parallel became the de facto border.

Two years later, North Korea invaded South Korea, took Seoul in just three days, and then very quickly claimed most of the rest of the peninsula. The USA responded immediately; President Truman sent General MacArthur to move the line of control back up as far north of Seoul as he could—all the way to China, if possible. The United Nations marshaled the troops of 16 nations, with the USA in charge, to fight the “police action” that lasted until 1953. When the war finally ended, the division line was right back where it started, at the 38th Parallel.

On July 19, 1953, in the abandoned village of Panmunjeom (now the location of the Joint Security Area), the Armistice Agreement was signed. The agreement declared only a “ceasefire,” and established the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) – a 2.5-mile wide buffer zone, roughly along the 38th Parallel, at the Military Demarcation Line (MDL) where the two sides actually confronted each other at the time the Armistice Agreement was signed. Thus, North and South Korea are still, technically, at war.

I’ve never been a fan of group tours, mostly because I’m a slowpoke, and I don’t like the rushed pace of most tour itineraries, but also, because there is always at least one person the group that I end up so wanting to throat-punch with a roll of quarters in my fist, that it distracts me from what I’m there to see.  But, I wanted to visit to the Demilitarized Zone (“DMZ”) between North and South Korea, and the only way to do it was to join an escorted tour group.  So, I sucked it up, mentally set Saint-Saëns’ soothing cello masterpiece “Le Cygne” on a loop in my head, and got on the bus.

The thin black line is the border--the Military Demarcation Line (MDL)--and the red zone on each side is the Demilitarized Zone. (Image from wikipedia.org)

The thin black line is the border–the Military Demarcation Line (MDL)–and the red zone on each side is the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ). (Image from wikipedia.org)

Why is an escorted tour required?  Well, if you don’t want to go to the Joint Security Area (“JSA”) right on the border, I suppose it isn’t.  But, that’s the most interesting part, in my view, and you can only go in there from the South Korean side from Camp Bonifas, in a United Nations’ vehicle, escorted at all times by a soldier—usually American—under the UN command that oversees the area.  You have to arrange clearance for your visit from the UN in advance—most foreigners have to apply at least 48 hours beforehand, but South Korean citizens must request permission up to 90 days in advance—and the tour companies handle all that red tape.  Access to the JSA from the southern side is, apparently, prohibited for citizens of Afghanistan, Pakistan, Cuba, Iraq, Iran, North Korea, Sudan, Syria and Libya.  Read into that what you will.

So, since I had to join a group tour to see the JSA, I just picked a tour with an itinerary that covered all the DMZ’s greatest hits, including some stops at places accessible by the general public.  I’m so glad I did.  It was a truly fascinating day.  The tours are grouped, as much as possible, by the language of the group, for the practical reason of reducing the number of translators needed.  Except for me and a couple of Dutch guys, my group was all Japanese and Chinese tourists.

Mongolian soldiers touring the DMZ

Mongolian soldiers touring the DMZ

The Korean guide spoke passable English, and because I hadn’t noticed that the tour forms had the name boxes in the Korean style, with the surname placed first, she addressed me as “Marshall-ah” instead of Quin.  (Koreans have a tendency to add an extra vowel syllable at the end of English words that end with certain consonant sounds.  Think “chees-ah-cake-ah.”)  All day long, if I strayed from the group, or dawdled somewhere when the bus was loading up to leave, she would holler “Marshall-aaaaAAAAAHHH!” at me, until I came trotting back to the pack.  By the end of the day, it had begun to have the same effect on me as when my mother would call me by both my first and middle names as a kid.  Uh-oh, snap to, I’m in trouble!  Very effective.  (Strangely, she was not the one I wanted to throat-punch by the end of the tour; that honor went to a Chinese woman who seemed to be narrating the entire trip to someone back home on her cell phone.  She only put the damned thing away when a soldier at Camp Bonifas threatened to confiscate it.)

JSA

(I’m going to tell you about this part first, even though it was last on our itinerary, because I know some of you with shorter attention spans won’t read the whole post, and this was the best part.  You’re welcome.)

guest passThe JSA is a roughly 2600 square foot neutral area bisected by the Military Demarcation Line (“MDL”), aka the border between North and South Korea, at the former village of Panmunjeom.  It’s more complicated than I can explain here, but basically, the JSA area is overseen by two commissions established by the 1953 Armistice Agreement: the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission, now comprised of representatives of Switzerland and Sweden, and the Military Armistice Commission (“MAC”), which officially supervises performance of the Armistice Agreement.  Security on the southern side is supplied by US and South Korean soldiers under UN command.  From the South, the JSA is reached through Camp Bonifas, a UN command base.

Sgt. Martinez

Sgt. Martinez

The wide highway up to Camp Bonifas is dotted with military checkpoints, and covered with barricades that require vehicles to do a slow, elaborate slalom into the DMZ.  The bus had to stop multiple times, so a soldier could come through and individually check all our passports, to make sure no one from a prohibited nation was entering the zone (see above).  Photography is prohibited along the road.  At Camp Bonifas, we had to leave all our belongings, except cameras, watch an orientation film, and sign a declaration that we understood the requirements and dangers of entering the JSA, including that it was possible that we could be shot, and assumed all the risks of entering.  That was comforting.  Then we got on a blue UN bus, had our passports and clothing (there’s a dress code) checked one last time, and were escorted into Panmunjeom by Sgt. Martinez of the U.S. Army.

On the way, we were admonished not to point, wave, or otherwise gesticulate, and to keep a straight face while anywhere near the JSA, because the North Koreans would be watching and photographing us the whole time, and would make propaganda materials out of any gesture or expression that could be portrayed as disrespectful or antagonistic, especially if you look American.  Even the guides were prohibited from pointing, so all explanations used the “clock system” of locating things, i.e., saying something is located at two o’clock or eleven o’clock, etc.  The UN bus stopped in front of a the “Freedom House,” a big modern hall with a grand staircase that you ascend to access the main attraction.  On the other side of the doors at the top of the staircase is the JSA.  For some reason, although we couldn’t photograph anything anywhere else, we were free to take pictures to our hearts content inside the JSA.

jsa

That big, gray concrete building in the center is in North Korea.
The soldiers with their backs to the camera are in South Korea.

There are four small buildings built directly on top of the MDL.  The border runs right down the middle of these structures, and they have doors to either side, so no one has to cross over the MDL to gain access.  There is a concrete slab over the MDL between the buildings, so the soldiers know exactly where the line is.

The grey building is the "Monkey House"

The grey building in the foreground is the “Monkey House”

The only one of the little buildings right on the line that is not painted UN blue is supposedly a recreation hall for North Korean soldiers.  Apparently, they only go inside to make goofy faces and threatening gestures at UN command duty officers having meetings in the building next door.  As a result, the soldiers on the southern side have nicknamed the building the “Monkey House.”

In the space at the center of the four buildings, soldiers from the respective Koreas stare each other down.  South Korean—or, ROK (Republic of Korea)—soldiers can only serve in the JSA if they are at least 170 cm tall and have at least one black belt in Taekwondo or Judo.  They stand in a modified Taekwondo stance called “ROK Ready,” in black sunglasses, so as to avoid making eye contact, and to be as intimidating to the North Korean soldiers on the other side of those concrete slabs as possible.

Only Half Exposed

Only Half Exposed

While on watch, they stand with their noses at the corner of the buildings, half obscured, so as to give the North Korean soldiers facing them a smaller target to hit if they decide to start shooting.  This way, they can also signal to other southern-positioned soldiers with the obscured hand, if necessary.

Inside the MAC Conference Room. The table in the foreground is ON the MDL.  That door in the back exits to North Korea...if you can get past that guy guarding it.

Inside the MAC Conference Room. The table in the foreground is ON the MDL. That door in the back exits to North Korea…if you can get past that guy guarding it.

One of the three blue buildings is the Military Armistice Commission (MAC) Conference Room, where meetings between diplomats from North and South Korea take place.  There is a long conference table in the center of the room, right over the MDL, so that the North Koreans can sit in North Korea, and South Koreans can sit in South Korea during the meetings.  We got to go inside this building.

ROK Ready!

ROK Ready!

When visitors entering from the south are inside, the room is guarded by South Korean soldiers in ROK Ready stance—one blocking the exit to the North Korean side, and one straddling the MDL.  They stand silently, still as statues, and Sgt. Martinez advised us that we could photograph them, but if we tried to touch them, or to go near the door to the North, we should expect to be put down with swift and powerful force.

This ROK soldier is straddling the MDL.   That's Sgt. Martinez on the left.

I was standing in North Korea when I took this picture of the ROK soldier straddling the MDL running down the middle of the room.

I didn’t doubt him for a second.  (Although, I couldn’t help but think that, especially with hot pants, those uniforms would make very popular costumes in the Castro at Halloween.)  The most exciting part was, I took these photos from the North Korean side of the room.  That’s right.  I was about 12 feet inside of North Korea for approximately 15 minutes.  That’s enough for a Century Club point!

After the excitement of our brief visit to North Korea, we were herded back onto the blue bus, and returned to Camp Bonifas to collect our belongings.  Before we got back on the tour bus to leave, we were given access to this weird silo-like building to use the facilities and peruse the gift shop.

The Gift Shop

The Gift Shop

Yes, the gift shop.  There is a gift shop in the DMZ!  You know, even after I found out about the gift shop at San Quentin Penitentiary, this one still surprised me.  A gift shop at the mother-effin’ DMZ.  Of course, I had to have a look.  There were military-themed t-shirts and caps and stuff, UN Command armbands, some typical Korean tourist tchotchkes, an impressive inventory of Red Ginseng products, and…an amethyst jewelry counter.  A big one.  How random is that?  Amethyst rings, earrings, necklaces, pendants, bracelets, brooches…you name it, they had it, and lots of it.  They had big natural amethysts on display stands, too.  Amethysts-R-Us, it was.  You know…because when you want amethyst jewelry, you think “North Korean border.”  I know I do.  Well, I will from now on, anyway.

Incidentally, in 2000, the genius South Korean film director, Park Chan-wook (of the Vengeance Trilogy fame) made a gripping, touching film called “JSA: Joint Security Area,” about an investigation by the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission of a fatal shooting incident inside the JSA.  I don’t want to ruin it for you, so I’m not going to tell you anything about it, except that you will be glad you spent 90 minutes of your life on it.  The twists!  The turns!  The humanity!  It is, at once, terrifying, sweet, chilling and funny.  It’s not on Netflix (yet), but someone has uploaded a fine quality bootleg on YouTube, with English subtitles:

Watch it sometime.  You won’t be sorry.

Paju

Paju is an area just south of the DMZ.  You can visit most of the locations of interest in and around Paju on your own.

This was printed on the hard hats they make you wear when you go down the tunnel.

This was printed on the hard hats they make you wear when you go down the tunnel.

Our first stop in Paju was the “Third Tunnel of Aggression.”  Since the establishment of the DMZ, South Korea has discovered four tunnels, dug under the border by North Korea to infiltrate the south.  It is believed that there are as many as 20 tunnels, but only four have been found.  The “Third Tunnel” was found in 1978 when a North Korean defector told South Korean officials about it.  He could only identify the general location of the tunnel by its proximity to a big Poplar tree on the south side of the border.  So, they went and bored a bunch of holes in the ground all over the place by the tree, and then flooded the area with water, and waited to see where the water drained the fastest.  When the water disappeared as if down a drain, they knew the tunnel was underneath that hole.  The South then blocked the tunnel with concrete barricades at the approximate location of the MDL.

Weird mock-up traditional village at the mouth of the tunnel

Weird mock-up traditional village at the mouth of the tunnel, and more statues of woodland creatures.

The Third Tunnel was never completed, but it extends almost 500 meters south of the MDL, and is big enough for 30,000 lightly armed soldiers PER HOUR to move through.  (Well…North Korean soldiers.  They are small.  Everyone else is too tall and fat from all the plentiful food to go through in anything but a crouched single-file.)  When it was discovered, North Korea insisted first that it was South Korea that had built it, but when the slope and dynamite blast marks proved it had been constructed from the North, they said it was a coal mine, going so far as to smear coal dust on the tunnel walls for added evidence.  But…there’s no coal in the earth there, so….yeah.

The Tram

The Tram

Anyway, there’s a groovy little tram you can take the 240 feet down into the tunnel to look around.  Photography was prohibited inside, so I can’t show you what it looked like, but if you’ve ever been on the Log Ride at Disneyland, imagine the tunnel was narrow enough to bump your head and elbows, and the logs moved at a pace of about one mile per hour.  At the bottom, you get off the tram, and march, single-file, down the tunnel almost to the concrete barricades.  Then, single-file, all the way back to the tram.  I am only 5’3”, and I had to bend slightly to get through the tunnel without knocking my head on the granite.  I can’t imagine 30,000 armed troops running through there.  But, that’s what the plan was, apparently.  It’s eery, especially because they have placed little bronze statues of woodland creatures down there, for no particular reason.  I mean, I could almost understand figurines of gophers or…I don’t know…dwarves.  But, deer and squirrels?  It was just weird.

Danger!

Danger!

There was no wandering around topside, though.  The area was surrounded by mines.  Mines, and a festive native village mock-up.  Go figure.

Next up was the “Freedom Bridge” over the Imjin River.  At the end of the Korean War, thousands of POWs returning from the North walked over this bridge to freedom.  Hence the name.  (Not to be confused with the “Bridge of No Return,” where POWs were forced to choose a side-North or South-and whichever way they crossed, there was no going back.  That’s a different bridge, elsewhere in the DMZ.)

Freedom Bridge

Freedom Bridge

Freedom Bridge is also sometimes called “Cow Bridge,” because in 1998, as part of a deal to provide economic assistance to the North, the founder of the Hyundai Corporation—who had come to Seoul from the North before the division, and was separated from his hometown and family for the rest of his life—delivered 1,000 head of cattle to the North Korean people over this bridge.

Wishes for Reunification on Ribbons

Wishes for Reunification on Ribbons

On the south side of the bridge, South Koreans have developed Imjingak, a sort of memorial park, where Koreans separated from family and friends in the North because of the division could go and console themselves with the illusion of being close to their lost loved ones.  There are restaurants and art exhibits, even an amusement park, that give this somber place a somewhat schizophrenic feel.

At Imningjak

At Imjingak

Imagine, if Imjingak had been built before the end of the war, the first thing POWs returning from North Korean prisons would have seen, is a Popeye’s Fried Chicken.

The best place to look at North Korea from the southern side, though, is Dora Observatory.  From a large platform on top of Mount Dora, you can look across the DMZ into North Korea.  Even without binoculars, you can see sentry posts along the DMZ, and a few villages along the border.

No photography beyond the yellow line--and nothing to photograph on this side of the line.

No photography beyond the yellow line–and nothing to photograph on this side of the line.

Photography, again, was prohibited anywhere close to the viewing platform.

Just 350 meters south of the border, inside the DMZ and visible with binoculars from the Dora Observatory platform, there’s a tiny, agricultural village called Daeseong-dong.  It’s inhabited, and its few residents are South Korean citizens, but they are exempt from taxation and national service duty.  They are, however, constantly watched, restricted in where they can go, and subject to a curfew.

On the other side, in the northern part of the DMZ, is the North Korean “Propaganda Village” (or “Peace Village” according to the North Koreans) of Kijong-dong.  Built in the late 1950s, the official North Korean account is that this town is a 200-family farm collective, with schools and a hospital.  But, it’s deserted, and always has been.  It was crafted to convey an appearance of Northern prosperity and plenty to a then very impoverished South Korea, and encourage defections to the North.  Until recently, propaganda broadcasts were blasted at the South from loudspeakers mounted on the buildings.  Without the aid of binoculars, you can see the ghost village in the distance, marked by a massive North Korean flag on a towering flagpole protruding from its center.  As of 2011, it was the third tallest flagpole in the world, at 525 feet.  The flag alone weighs about 600 pounds.  The flagpole was erected in the 80s, after the South Korean government had built a 323 foot tall flagpole in Daeseong-dong.  The North Koreans considered that antagonistic, so they responded by building a much taller, more impressive flagpole, so that anyone looking at the area from the Dora Observatory is crystal clear on who won the Korean flagpole version of “¿Quién es más macho?”

dorasanNearby is Dorasan Station, the northernmost railway station in South Korea.  There has been some cargo rail traffic across the border since 2007, mainly serving the Kaesong Industrial Region about 10 miles north of the DMZ.  dorsan buildingThat came to a screeching halt in April of this year, when North Korea shut down the Kaesong Industrial Region in the fracas that ensued after the enactment of U.N. Security Council Resolution 2087 prompted Kim Jong-un to declare the United States the “sworn enemy of the Korean people,” and announce plans to commence nuclear testing and development of long-range missiles.  But, there has been no passenger rail traffic across the border since the war.

Gates to the Pyongyang train platform...just in case.

Gates to the Pyeongyang train platform…just in case.

South Korea built the new, modern Dorasan Station to be ready to go as soon as Korea is reunified.  There are state of the art passenger platforms for yet-to-be-built rail lines to Pyeongyang, with signage already in place.  The ticket counter is already manned, and you can even buy a commemorative ticket to Pyeongyang, which gives you access to the platform.  But, no train is coming.  The station sits idle, except for two commuter trains per day from Seoul, for workers in Paju.

Someday.

Someday.

Dorasan Station is the only place we visited on the tour that did not loudly convey the palpable distrust between the two Koreas.  On the contrary, Dorasan Station was hopeful; a monument to the South Korean wish, if not optimism, that reunification really will, eventually happen.


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Pubic Service Announcement For The Ladies

pineappleFellas, this post is not for you.  I’m going to talk about the lady business.  So, why don’t you go talk amongst yourselves for a moment.  I’ll give you a topic:  Athlete doping: the new standard, or the end of nobility in sports?  Discuss.

Guys, really, if you’re still reading by the end of this sentence, you hereby consent to receipt of the following material, and assume all risks appurtenant thereto.

Are they gone?

Okay, so…now that it’s just us girls, I can speak freely.

As some of you may know from my last post, as soon as I got to Seoul, I developed a wicked yeast infection.  Awesome timing, I know.  Before I left the USA, my doc back home provided me with a truly spectacular supply of pharmaceuticals to keep me alive through onslaughts by all the various sorts of exotic, foreign bugs that I might encounter in my travels.  Except this.  I have pills and creams for everything else you could imagine in my traveling medicine chest, but nothing for a yeast infection.  Unless it occurs in my armpits, then I’m set, I have something for that.  But, the doctor specifically told me, “don’t put this in your vagina; you need something else for that.”  Which, of course, he didn’t give me, because I truthfully said “no” in response to his question about whether I’m prone to such problems.  I realize, I pretty much doomed myself to this situation by telling him that.  I know that now.  Never tempt the Jinx.  Especially when it comes to your pineapple.

Here in Korea, most medicines are kept behind the pharmacist’s counter, even those for which you don’t need a prescription.  It’s not like CVS or Walgreens back in the States, where you can meander the women’s health aisle and study the options at your leisure.  You have to ask the pharmacist for pretty much everything except Vitamin C fizzies and gum.  So, to possibly save any other female travelers or expats in Asia the indignity of having to do the most mortifying mime routine ever for a non-English speaking, probably male pharmacist, I feel an obligation as a woman to put this information out there on the internet for others to find.  God knows, I wish someone had done that for me.

If you’re sure what you have is a yeast infection, what you need to ask for is “Canesten.”  It’s basically Monistat or Lotrimin, or, to use the actual drug name, Clotrimazole.  Canesten is the brand name that Bayer markets the medication under in Asia.  Not just in Korea, too, so if you find yourself itchin’ away in Hong Kong or Taiwan, or elsewhere in Asia, chances are good that Canesten is the brand name there, too, and the packaging will look similar.  It comes in a cream, or in a one-shot suppository tablet, and frequently, in a combo-pack that includes both.  Here…just show the pharmacist this photo and point to the one you want:

Canesten, aka Clotrimazole

Canesten, aka Clotrimazole.
I took the cream tube out of the box, so you could see what both look like; there aren’t three products pictured here.

Trust me, get both.

You’re welcome.

PS:  If you’re not sure that what you have is a yeast infection, don’t make it mad by treating it with the wrong medication.  Just bite the bullet and go to the doctor.  Lady bits are lady bits the world over, so don’t worry, the doctor wherever you are has seen it before.  If you’re in a big city, check online for a local expats’ website with listings for any English-speaking doctors.  If you’re in Seoul, go to Medi-Flower OB/GYN Clinic in Seocho-gu, next to the Seoul National University of Education Metro stop.  The female Korean doctor speaks English pretty well, and the receptionist is an American woman.  It’s very nice, and located right next to the subway, too.  See:  http://www.mediflower.co.kr/eng/sub_010101.html


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Bless My Seoul

seoulSouth Korea, baby!  I am here!  Well, I’ve been here almost three weeks already, and I’m just now finding time to sit down and write.

Seocho-gu, where I am staying

Seocho-gu, where I am staying.  The leaves are just starting to turn color.

I must say, my adventure has not had the easiest of beginnings.  Immediately after I got here, I threw my back out in a fairly major way.  Probably a combination of accumulated stress from getting ready to leave, carrying luggage while traveling, being crammed into various planes, trains and automobiles, and sleeping on air mattresses.  Whatever it was, “Joan”—the nickname I gave a long time ago to that area of my lower back that levels me every once in a while—made an appearance and hobbled me, but good.  Then, I woke up the third day I was here with a rabid case of that which attacks those of us with lady parts when our body pH gets thrown out of whack.  Lovely.  And, because of my bad back, I couldn’t even bend properly to apply the medicine I was eventually able to get by doing the most embarrassing mime show ever to a group of blinking, non-comprehending, non-English speaking, male pharmacists.  (Or maybe they did understand, and they were just too amused by the graphic charades performance to let on?)  Then, a couple days later, I fell on my ass running down a hill after my hostess’ kids, and sprained my wrist.  And finally (dear God, I hope it’s finally!), one of my toenails spontaneously fell off last week, presumably from all the walking I’ve been doing, but who knows?  Maybe it’s stray radiation floating over from Japan.  So, yeah, Seoul kinda gave me a one-two-three punch, right off the bat.  But, I survived it, in part, because I was lucky enough to land in the lap of luxury.  Not only does the place I’m staying have a Korean sauna (I guess, here, it’s just a sauna) IN THE BUILDING, but the home of my wonderful hostess, Jung Eun, is gloriously beautiful and comfy, and has the bathtub of my dreams, in which I soaked for at least an hour almost every night.  Ahhh…all is right with the world again after a good soak in the bathtub, no?

Kimchi Fridge

Kimchi Fridge

Another thing this household has, which apparently is commonplace here in Korea, is a dedicated kimchi refrigerator, out on the terrace, so the smell doesn’t bother anybody or pervade the other food.  This, I think, is brilliant.  Kimchi is, as everybody knows, an inextricable part of any Korean meal.  It’s on the table as a side dish—or “banchan”–and it’s often an ingredient in the main dish.  There are as many kinds of kimchi in Korea as there are types of potato salad in the west.  The classic is with Korean cabbage (like Napa cabbage) and chili paste, garlic, fish sauce, and other spices and aromatics.  But there is white, vinegary kimchi, radish kimchi, watery kimchi with pickled peppers, and so many others.  The word “kimchi” is a derivative of the original Chinese words for “salted, soaked vegetables,” so it doesn’t necessarily refer to just one thing.  And over the years, it has come to be a kind of umbrella word for a whole class of fermented vegetable condiments.  But they all have one thing in common:  they are fermented, i.e., the more delicious they are, the stinkier they are.  So, they get their own home outside.

Seoul and the Han River

Seoul and the Han River

Seoul is a dazzling city.  Much of it was built, or rebuilt, in the last 30 to 50 years, as the city was pretty much destroyed in the war in the early 1950s.  seoul streetSo, it’s very modern, especially the city districts south of the Han River, such as Gangnam, of “Gangnam Style” fame.  The historic part of the city lies north of the river, and includes all five of the royal palaces, the old Seoul prison, ancient city gates and remnants of the old city wall, and culture-rich neighborhoods like Insadong and Namdaemun.

independenceThe subway system is immense and fantastically easy to navigate, as evidenced by the fact that, on my first venture out in it, I was utterly and completely stoned out of my gourd on Mexican muscle relaxants due to my back spasm, and I still managed to get where I intended to go, without getting lost or arrested.  Now, that’s saying something.  Whether you’re lost or not, though, if you look like a non-threatening foreigner, like I clearly do, just appearing confused by the place will prompt any Korean grandma who speaks five words of English to come and grab you by the elbow and lead you, like it or not, where she thinks you need to go.

There's a revival of the "Mars Blackmon" look in Seoul right now.  I see this look everywhere.

The “Mars Blackmon Meets Sally Jessy Raphael” look  is big in Seoul right now. I see this look everywhere.

This has happened to me more than once, and I just decided to go with it.  Those Korean grannies are great in the subway; they will shoo the teenagers off the seats for you, and prattle away cheerfully at you in Korean, as though you know what they’re saying, the whole way to your destination (or the destination of their choosing for you).  My ample bosom seems to fascinate them, as they frequently gesticulate about it in ways that indicate they find it either most impressive or terrifying.  I can’t tell which.  Either way, I have decided to find this comical, and not get all self-conscious about it.  Although, the day after the first time it happened, I had a nightmare that I had forgotten to pack any bras, and woke up in a panic that I wasn’t going to be able to find any in my size here.

hulkporkyAmpleness, in general, seems to be a subject dealt with pretty bluntly here.  Koreans call a spade a spade when it comes to heft, and there doesn’t seem to be any sense that it’s a delicate subject.  If the Spanx fit, you gotta wear ‘em, right?

lipo2halflipo2For example, one day, I saw this advertisement on the video screens that are everywhere on the subway, in the trains and on the platforms.  It’s all in Korean, so I didn’t understand the words, but the video showed this computer-animated, corpulent alien baby sinking it’s tentacle-like appendages into the shapely extremities of a young Korean woman who was trying to jump rope.  I watched in horror as she tried in vain to wrench the globular creature off of her, only for it to hold on for dear life, its tethers stretching like taffy as she pulled.  lipo1lipo3Then, there’s a brief shot of her on the phone, and the next thing you see is the cutely horrible blob being dragged off, crying, by two faceless men to what looked like an asylum.  That’s when I realized…it was an ad for a liposuction clinic!

Look how sad he is!

Look how sad he is!

The ghastly alien baby was a representation of stubborn arm and thigh fat!  I double-checked this with my friends Yvette and Jung Eun, and they confirmed it, saying the ad was a mistake, because now you feel sorry for the fat, which is the opposite of what a liposuction clinic should be going for.  They’re right…I sort of did feel sorry for the anthropomorphized fat as it got hauled off.  He looks so sad….

Since we’re on the subject of excess, thanks to an introduction from a friend back home, I got to experience something I would never have gotten the chance to do in a hundred years otherwise: the room salon.  Room salons are a place where people—mostly men—go to drink and party in private, with professional party pals who drink with you, keep you company, and generally ensure that the atmosphere is lively and pleasant.  The establishment is like a hive of small, private, plushly appointed rooms, each with its own men’s restroom (ladies have to go out to the facilities in the hall, as most of the customers are men, so the rooms are appointed for men).  room salon 1Once you get situated, the manager brings in a lineup of about a dozen gorgeous, glamorous girls, and you pick the ones you want to hang out with, or, if you don’t like any of them, you ask for another lineup.  You can get a lineup of pretty boys, too, if you want male company. We got a couple of each.  It was all very Bunny Ranch, although, I felt so badly toward all the ones we didn’t pick, I wanted to run after them and apologize, and explain that it was nothing personal, and they were all very attractive.  That part was a bit awkward.  I asked discreetly if the girls and guys working there were, in fact, “working girls and guys,” but was told, not all of them.  Apparently, you can determine the ones who are by asking if they care to go for a “second round” after the party.  That’s the secret code word.

There's an electric guitarist to accompany you on karaoke!

There’s an electric guitarist to accompany you on karaoke!

Anyway, once the selection is made, the booze starts a-flowin’ and the platters of fruits and nuts and candies arrive, and every time you turn around one of the girls or guys is stuffing a grape in your mouth or topping off your drink with $500 a bottle whisky, and before you know it, you’re belting out off-key Kelly Clarkson tunes to a live electric guitar accompaniment while everyone dances around you like you were some kind of pagan fire goddess…or so I’m told.  I really don’t remember that clearly.  (By the way, thanks Yvette, for arranging that, I had the time of my life!  I think….)


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It’s A Small World, Bilches, And I’m Off To See It!

In anticipation of my world tour departure, I wanted to get you a little something special to remember me by; something that you could think of once in a while, and maybe laugh a quiet little private laugh to yourself that would be too much trouble to explain to anyone who asked what was so funny.  So, I went to peruse the wide and varied options on Fiverr.

Do you know about Fiverr?  Fiverr is an online marketplace, where folks all over the world offer up all manner of goods or services for the whopping asking price of $5.  Everything on Fiverr is five dollars—no more, no less.  Hence the name.  Most of it is kind of stupid, but some of it is good, and some of it is just plain hilarious.  People offering serious things, like business plans, budgets, ad jingles, logo designs, weight loss menus or training plans, are clearly doing it as a loss leader, hoping that future business worth more than five bucks will follow.  Others are indulging hobbies, such as writing things on a piece of rice, or spelling out messages on a Scrabble board in stop-motion film.  Still others are just wackadoolery.  Those are my favorite.  I had an ad up on Fiverr for a while, offering to go hug the elderly relative of your choice, within 25 miles of San Francisco, for $5.  Nice, right?  Your Aunt Millicent is in a home in Colma, and you can’t get there for her 93rd birthday?  Fiverr to the rescue.  Half a sawbuck through Paypal, and Miz Quin is on her way to deliver the big, warm, squishy hug you can’t.  I even offered a “fragrance free” option, where I would promise not to wear perfume or the fruity, girly lotions I am so fond of, if there were scent-sitivities to be considered.  But, it proved impractical, because even though I was clear about the “elderly” part in the ad, apparently, that’s not as unambiguous as I had thought, and I kept getting requests from young guys trying to send me to hug their “cousins” or “uncles,” and Fernando was categorically unwilling to go along and be my bodyguard on hug patrol, so, yeah….  My Fiverr career died before it ever got off the ground, and everyone’s Bay Area old folks are now going unhugged, all because of some horny teenagers with nothing better to do than cruise Fiverr.  But I digress.  Back to your gift.

So, via Fiverr, I found this lovely gentleman– who calls himself “Crazzy Man”–operating in a small village somewhere in India, who, for the aforementioned five dollars, will put any message you want on a sign, and videotape himself dancing around with it in what looks like a faux grass or banana leaf skirt.  “Ooh, perfect,” I thought.  So, I sent him a request for such a video, and five dollars, and asked that the sign read “Quin says:  Ciao, Bitches!”  Saucy, but fun.  Just what I wanted.  Crazzy Man turned the order around fast; a day later, the following video was in my email inbox:

Seee-yowwww, Beeches!!  Awesome!  He really put his heart into that performance!  But, he left off the “Quin says” part, and I know there are a few of you, who shall remain nameless, who wouldn’t believe that I hadn’t just swiped this off YouTube from someone else and claimed to have commissioned it myself.  And I want the credit, fair and square.  So, I wrote to Crazzy, and said how much I loved the video, and it was so wonderful, and thanks so much, but please, could he do it again, and put “Quin says” on the sign.  Of course, I said I would pay another five dollars, no problem.  I said he could even write it on the other side of the same paper, and just flip it around.  “Okay,” says Crazzy, “no problem.”  Then, the next day, this video comes:

Well…not quite.  I mean, I love that the whole village is getting involved in my project, and the ladies are sure lovely, but now I have one video with the girls and the “Quin Says” sign, and another with Crazzy himself and the “Ciao, Bitches!” sign, and that doesn’t really solve my problem.  So, I wrote him back, thanked him profusely again, extolled the beauty of the women in the new video, praised their dancing and the fantastic sign, and then asked him to, pretty please, do it again—for another five dollars, of course—with BOTH signs.  I figured, since they had both signs made now, the third time would be the charm.  I can just picture them all sitting there in their village, saying “What does she want now, and why does she keep changing it?”  and “who else can we get in on the performance?”  But, to me, he just said okay, sure.  And then this video showed up a short time later:

So close!  Well, not exactly.  But, look how much work they put into this, with their little choreographed dance routine and everything.  How sweet are they?  Still, I actually wanted Mr. Crazzy rockin’ out in his green manskirt, and I don’t know what “Bilches” are, but they sound painful and possibly contagious.  So, once again, I wrote back to Team Crazzy and gushed about how fabulous the video was, and how graceful the dancing was, and thanked them to the heavens for their helpfulness, etc., and then pointed out that “Bitches” was, unfortunately, spelled wrong, and would he please, with sugar on top, do it again, himself this time, and be careful to spell it right—for another $5, it goes without saying.  “Okay,” he said, still ever-helpful, but with somewhat less alacrity than before.  I could tell he was kinda over my shit by now.  Still, five more bucks is five more bucks, and that goes a lot farther in India than it does here, so a couple days later, Crazzy sends me this video:

Oh, sweet JesusMaryAndJoseph!  “Bictches?  Is he messing with me now?!”  No, I don’t think he was, actually.  I think they were probably just so careful to copy the letters just so this time after the preceding error, and they aren’t used to a Romanized alphabet, and to them, it probably looks exactly like what I wrote.  I laughed so hard when I opened this video that I almost fell off the couch, and my houseguest got out of bed and came out to the living room to see what was the matter.  Doesn’t it look like how you would spell that percussion flourish in the Ferris Bueller’s Day Off theme music?  You know, it goes:  “Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh, donk-donk, Bictchaaaahs.”  Okay, maybe not.  Anyway, this is the best I could do.  I just didn’t have the heart to go back and ask Crazzy Man and the Village People to do yet a fifth video dedicated to my attempt at a sassy sendoff message.

This is Woobie Frog

This is Woobie Frog

So, yeah, ciao, bilches bictches gentle friends!  As I write this, I am in seat 8B of United Airlines flight 893, one-way from San Francisco to Seoul, with my Woobie Frog tucked ever so supportively behind my neck.  I can hardly believe it.  bagsNot only has Day 1 of my grand adventure arrived, at last, but all my worldly belongings now fit into these three bags.  What have I done?  There are only four pairs of shoes in there, and only one of those pairs has high heels, and they aren’t even really all that high.  Breathe…breathe…okay, it’s fine.  Something had to go to make room for a year’s supply of contact lenses and thyroid pills.  I thought I was pretty Spartan in my packing, but one thing I’ve learned, is that all those cute miniature, travel sized gadgets and bottles of goop, when thrown together in one bag, are really frickin’ heavy.

I call this bag The Samurai

I call this bag The Samurai

I’m going to have to weed out some of the stuff I’ve packed here, or I’m going to fracture my Groove Thang schlepping all this crap around.  Also, it just dawned on me that I’m probably not going anywhere that doesn’t have shampoo and toothpaste already, and if I do, we’ll all have greasy hair and halitosis together, so….I don’t know what I was thinking.  I’m sure many adjustments will be made along the way as I figure things out.  Cross your fingers for me.

Those are my toes

Those are my toes

Speaking of sendoff messages, yesterday, I was walking down the street, preoccupied, running some last minute errands, trying to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important, and I literally ran across this bit of street art on the sidewalk.  So apropos, it’s hard not to believe it was put there just for me, personally.  Let’s just say that it was.  Adios to you too, San Francisco.  I am taking my heart with me, but I’ll leave my pancreas or my spleen with you, just for safekeeping. That doesn’t make for nearly as romantic a song, though.  Perhaps an interpretive dance would be more fitting.  Maybe we can get Crazzy Man and his village to work on it for us.  For another five bucks, of course.