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The day seemed long for some reason. I intended to get up early and write about yesterday. I got up early, but instead got sidetracked by all the other obligations. I wanted to make bread for tomorrow’s trip; there was the family chat time; I had annoying cleaning things to do since I’m not going to be around the rest of the week; then there were errands and reading that needed finishing. After all that(!) yesterday seems like a long time ago. At least I’m packed and showered for tomorrow. Writing is all that’s left.
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We left a little later than usual for yesterday’s trip: 9am. (We go with the Royal Asiatic Society on their tours because it saves us energy in planning the logistics.) The bus traveled east along the south side of the Han River. We passed the north-south road, Kangnamdaero, that would connect us to our home and took me into new above-ground territory. I’d been east of that road, but never that far north and always underground. More bridges crossing the river, the big Olympic Stadium I always see on postcards, and just more miles of expansive city: All of these things looked brand new, even though I only live a few miles away.
It was really cold and the condensation on the windows froze and could not be wiped off. It was a drag being trapped in a bus and not able to see out. Eventually the city ended and we crossed the Han river heading north. It seemed really industrial and poor.
First we stopped at a temple whose name I can’t remember. It ended in -sa. Ha! They all end in -sa! It was uneventful and I think the bonging usually heard at temples was really a tape recording at this one. There were a bunch of soldiers there. Dave thought it was weird. I figure it’s like in the US Army where they let soldiers worship on Sundays and everyone goes even if they’re non-believers just so they can escape some mundane and painful task.
-- Hey, that reminds me of an interesting quote I read in the Far Eastern Economic Review by a North Korean defector on why he goes to church even though he is not Christian: "All you have to do is replace God with Kim Jong Il and Kim Il Sung. In church, I feel at home." Whoa! That’s a *bold* statement. On which do you think that statement reflects more poorly: Christianity or North Korea? –
After the temple we entered a densely wooded area that was really cool. Really cool. Pine trees galore. I miss that about the Pac NW. We stopped at the tombs of King Sejo and Queen Yun. They were a couple of big mounds stuck on two hillsides with a nice view. Only, we didn’t get to appreciate the view because there was a fence blocking the path up to the top. So we stood around at the bottom kind of wondering what the big deal was about that place. One other guy in the group - German, I think - sat down on the grass in the sun. It was WAY cold and even the slightest bit of light provided an improvement in the temperature. After awhile, the guy laid down and sprawled on the grass. It was so funny-looking! This man, lying - no, sprawling - at the foot of this important grave. I took a picture. We laughed at how - I don’t know - relaxed, comfortable, or disrespectful(?) Westerners can be. Wonder what the Koreans thought seeing that guy there; you’d never see a Korean doing that.
So we left there and traveled farther north. We entered P’ochon area and I realized I was in Lee Byongyoon’s home town. It’s famous for I-dong Kalbi, she told me, and man, there were too many I-dong Kalbi restaurants to shake stick at! Poor cows. We kept going north, past military checkpoints, past little Army bases, and finally arrived at Sanjong Lake. An artificial jobbie that the Japanese built.
The tour guide, Sue, asked if some of us wanted to eat Korean food. We decided to eat some bibimbap with her, but it was a total and complete mistake. It was, in all fairness, the worst Korean food I’ve ever had. The place was dirty: the cup tasted dirty, the table wasn’t clean, there was a hair in my food. The vegetables and food tasted slimy, somehow, and I just wanted to hurl right there. Ug. It was so disgusting. I’m starting to feel sick just thinking about it. And, I really don’t know how the other people there endured it. I totally didn’t eat mine after I spied the hair. Dave scarfed his and even had the nerve to ask why I wasn’t eating, thus drawing attention to that fact in front of the others. That’s OK; he paid for it later by getting sick from that disgusting stuff.
We decided then that we have to, like, not check our minds with the tour guide you know? There were so many restaurants in the area, so many of them that looked nice and decent, but our tour guide had to pick this run down joint that was so dirty. Gross.
After that, we slowly walked around the lake. About a quarter of the way around we encountered this funky little tourist town where a skating rink had been set up. Dozens of little kids skated to ABBA’s "Fernando." The place was like a total ghost town though, and merchants were either not around or really aggressive in trying to get us to buy stuff. Guess it’s a summer place. There was this carnival-type game where you toss a ball into a hole to score points. Only, painted on the wall with the holes were these images of semi-pornographic, or at least suggestive, women. The holes were located in their mouths. It was creepy, like something out of Stephen King, because it was totally empty, way cold, and yet there was this whole ABBA thing going on as we stared at that strange game.
We were both feeling kind of ill from the food so we kept walking slowly. About half way around, we hiked up to a little temple. Sue said they must get a lot of money because every year something new is built. That was funny. Guess you had to be there to appreciate her intonation and the idea of Buddhists with money. Anyway, this is where Dave gets really sick. He asks if I see the Hwajongshil (toilet). I turn around and see this little shack with a sagging door. Scribbled on it is "hwajongshil." At the same moment, we say, "Oh no," and reference that scene in Trainspotting when it says, "The worst toilet in Scotland." Or something like that. We both recite, "The worst hwajongshil in Korea!" Dave took off with the package of tissue anyway (as if he had a choice to wait), while I walked around the temple.
Around this time loud earth-shaking booms started occurring periodically. At first I was like, "What was that?" Then we figured out it was large artillery practice happening somewhere. Nice.
The path around the rest of the lake was a nice narrow wooded path. At points you could walk down onto the lake and slip around a little bit. Mostly it was quiet, but every once in awhile we’d round a corner and the music blaring from the rink area would glide on across and bounce off of our side. We got all the way around and… that was it. The lake was nice, but not spectacular. Still, it was good to be out of the city, see the blue sky, and since it was so cold there were relatively few people around.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE CLOSE TO THE DMZ WHEN...
You can’t go this far north and not catch glimpses of military stuff. For me, that’s almost more exciting than anything else. The checkpoints, numerous little camps - sometimes I could catch site of a gun-bearing soldier even. There were bunkers and trenches along the hillsides. Road obstacles on the shoulders. But the best thing - and the thing I wish I would’ve gotten a picture of - was this road sign on a bridge warning of its weight allowance: It had a picture of a tank and then the number of tons. THEN, next to the bridge there was a little "path" down into the river and out the other side for those tanks whose weight exceeds those limits. For some reason, that was just hilarious! I mean, some tank is rolling along reading road signs. "I’m a tank! I don’t need to read no stinking road signs! Ah hell, What kind of pansy uses the bridge anyway?!"
The bus driver decided that the low road would be more crowded and would therefore take longer, so he convinced the tour guide to take the high road. Higher and higher went on this curving little road that seemed to be going in the opposite direction of Seoul. It was icy and the bus had to go really slow. The curves around the hillside were so tight that bus had to drive down the middle of the road, occasionally approaching the far lane’s shoulder in order to keep his back wheels from hitting the rail on the cliff side. Tense few miles for me.
For all his effort, we still ran into traffic and sat stop and go for over an hour. I listened to music mostly: Cause&Effect’s Innermost Station, U2’s Unforgettable Fire, and James’ Whiplash. But it was Sarah MaLachlan’s Surfacing when we crossed the bridge onto the south side of the Han as we re-entered Seoul. The music, the twilight silhouetting the skyscrapers, gave me shivers - the sheer energy emitted by a kinetic metropolis infecting me. The beauty and magnificence of such large and numerous buildings. The lights never cease to be amazing and I stared out the bus window up at them like a small child in the city for the very first time.
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