20 observations about Seoul

My two-week trip to this futuristic city started here. Blog-wise, it ends on this page.

1. When I first got to Seoul, I thought "If I am to be killed on my bike, it will be by a motorcyclist," but my opinion has evolved. They ride like me, we share the same lanes, we both filter to the front at stoplights, and we both safely blow through them when possible. Gee, I've picked up some bad habits!

But they're good-natured. Occasionally I will twist my right wrist in an invitation to race, and they almost always laugh. They're not out there joyriding for the most part. They're working. Many have an array of cellphones on their dashboard (at least 3, all turned on), in addition to a GPS unit. I can frequently punk them by squeezing through spaces between buses and taxis that they can't. When they catch up to me, they'll give me a nod, like, "Well played."

2. Makgeolli (MACK-go-lee). Buy some and make a Korean happy. For some reason they love it when I pick up a plastic bottle of this local thirst-quencher. One store clerk clapped.

3. Mosquitoes are here in abundance. Bring DEET.

4. The money is super-simps. In American terms, there are $1, $5 and $10 bills, and 10- and 50-cent coins. No pennies or big bills that I've seen. No need, as in Europe, to feel obligated to buy a museum ticket or something at a megastore to change that 50-euro note.

5. If this isn't the most technologically advanced country in the world, please let me know. In terms of broadband speeds, 12 of the 15 fastest cities in the world are in Korea. Cellphones work 100 feet below ground in the subway. The flat screen you are reading this on was made here.

6. Koreans have a lack of spatial awareness. Seoul is a really crowded city, so I understand why the notion of personal space could be a strange one. But just in terms of walking down the sidewalk, they trip all over each other. Advertisements on TV and in the subway try to drive home the notion of walking on the right.

7. Where are all the cops? This has to be the most lightly policed big city I've ever been in, and one of the safest. People here work to get ahead; they don't steal. The English-language blogs are replete with stories about how, after leaving a purse or a briefcase in a bar, the owner returns the next day to find it in the exact same spot.

8. I've never spent so much time on the subway. The distances in Seoul are enormous. Forty-minute rides are common, particularly when crossing the river, for some reason. Koreans are really quiet on the metro. Eighty percent of them are glued to their smartphones; the other 20 percent are watching soap operas or American baseball on their 8-inch TV screens. Outer doors keep stressed-out students from throwing themselves in front of the trains. No joke. These nine-hour college-entrance exams consume them.

9. Every Korean food or drink is described as "well-being" for its healthful qualities. I swear if there were a Korean cigarette, it would be marketed as "well-being." Even the locals make fun of this.

10. Where's all the alcohol abuse? I'd read a lot about it, but the only widespread drunkenness I've seen is by the train station. Funny how some things are the same all over.

11. ATMs are hit-and-miss. Many won't work with your North American debit card. Look for the word "global" somewhere on the machine. The language button is usually at bottom right. Sometimes you have to insert your card to get the language option, which kind of freaks me out.

12. Respect for elders is a real thing, not a guidebook canard. Youngsters yield their subway seats to the ajummas and addoshis.

13. Speaking of English-language guidebooks to Seoul, they're mostly garbage, with Koehler's being the least bad. When I get home, I will get around to posting an Amazon review about all his errata. It's also heavy and expensive. But he exposed me to the Gansong Museum, so there's that.

14. Korean baseball is great. To watch, that is. Fans are segregated by loyalties, soccer-style, and they don't so much clap as they do bang these balloon tubes together. There is no such thing as a meaningless regular-season game, beer and cheerleaders keep the excitement high, and the mediocre pitching translates into a lot of scoring opportunities.

15. If somebody starts talking to you and you can't figure out what the fuck they're saying, reply with "neh" (yes). Repeat it over and over again in a variety of inflections. It doesn't mean you agree with the speaker, just that you're listening to him.

16. Biking in Seoul: Exhilarating. The most fun I've had on a bicycle. Not for novices, but the congestion works in your favor. I feel more unsafe in Tucson, where SUV drivers with guns are whizzing by your left elbow at 50 mph. Don't pass buses on the right unless they're creeping or stopped. Taxis will cut you off to pick up fares. There are some 40 miles of trails along the Han River for no-stress outings. As everywhere, the number of mountain bikes in the city is depressing. The low-cost bike world is stuck in 1978, and I'll never understand why.

17. Want to know why Asian economies continue to expand while Europe's societal cracks continue to deepen? Look at the tax rates, for one thing. Most people in Korea pay 6 to 15 percent on personal income, and the corporate rate is in the mid-20s. The overall tax burden here as a ratio of GDP is about 25 percent, one of the lowest levels in the developed world. And there aren't any make-work government jobs that I can see. People just basically work their asses off.

18. Channel 26 (CGN) shows lots of American movies with Korean subtitles. But wherever you click, you'll find funny, inventive commercials that are in need of no translation.

19. The Escalator Wars: Maybe I'm imagining this, but there seems to be some tension between folks who think you should stand on the right, and those who think it's OK to block the left. The lefties have some imaginative explanations: 1) The government says it's OK. 2) Think of the mechanism! If everyone stands on the right, the escalator will break! 3) You want to climb? That's what the stairs are for. Me? I'm firmly in the stand-right, climb-left camp, and I shall be vindicated.

20. Yeah, I'm headed back to Tucca in a few hours.



My flight isn't till 8:20 p.m., but my landlord insists I have to be out by noon, claiming a new guest will arrive at 1. I call bullshit. Her online calendar shows no such booking; we simply got off to the wrong foot on Day 1. But how cool is this? Just a few subway stops away, I can early-check my bags with Asiana, spend a free day in Seoul, and in the evening take the 43-minute express train to the airport.

See you in 2013.

End

Mounts Bugaksan and Ingwansan

Climbing Seoul's "inner mountains" is a great way to work up a sweat and gain some great views of the city. There are a lot of historical and cultural features, too. A path up Bugaksan.

Not long ago, the mountain was off-limits to Seoulites for security reasons (it overlooks the presidential palace.) Bullet holes mark the site where three North Korean commandoes were killed in a raid on the executive mansion in 1968. Two dozen of their fellow agents were also killed.

One man was taken alive, later became a monk, and had a trail in the mountains named after him. His reputation was restored awfully fast. Kinda seems like the Ford Theater being renamed for John Wilkes Booth.

A slice of Seoul from above.

A skyscraper cluster. They seem to pop up everywhere, like mushrooms after a rain.

"Military area. Keep out."

A funny sign, given how much Koreans hate sunlight.

A portion of a 600-year-old fortress wall from the Joseon Dynasty. The dark-colored stones are original.

Mount Ingwansan has more of a spiritual bent, being sacred among shamanists. A rock garden outside an all-female Buddhist temple.

The temple grounds. Can't remember what this place is called.

From here I climb 45-degree granite boulders, trying not to slip. The rough going is rewarded by my first glimpse of Gaemimaeul. I had never heard of this place and did not expect to stumble upon it. "Gaemi" means "ant," so this is "Ant Village."

It's a poor enclave, protected from development by virtue of its steep terrain.

I'm not sure what to make of this place. It has a countercultural feel, but it also has a new middle school, some of the cars are nice, and some old folks while away the time on their front stoops. Many of the homes are whimsically decorated:

On the northwest slope of the mountain, I encounter the Guksadang shrine, home to this crazy geologic feature known as Seonbawi, or Seon Rock, which has figured prominently in landscape painting here for centuries. Women of childbearing age used to come here to pray for a boy, but I think it's now mostly a place for shamanistic rites.

These trees, pronounced ah-KAHSH-ee (not sure how to spell it), rain flowers on you everywhere in the hills, and they smell really good.

Mountain pigeons coo and magpies, with their blue-tipped wings and white chests, caw. It's a nice break from the city.

The Lotus Lantern Festival

In Korea's biggest cultural festival, Seoul blows out the candles on Buddha's birthday cake. The parade runs roughly from Dongdaemun to the Jogyesa Temple, near the Jonggak subway station. It's a hell of a party, and it was only by blind luck that I was here for it.

lotus.lantern.festival from Sluggh McGee on Vimeo.

The Joint Security Area

I booked my tour to the DMZ through Koridoor, which operates in conjunction with the USO. It cost $80 and lasted eight hours, about half of it spent on a bus.

My understanding was that this was the only way to visit the Joint Security Area, where the armistice was signed in 1953 and where South and North Korean soldiers have been staring at each other since. But there was another group there at the time, and they didn't have the Koridoor/USO lanyards and tags we had, so I guess that's not the case. We first visited the Third Infiltration Tunnel, as described here.

The Koreans I've spoken to say they're not so keen on reunification. They're OK with two Koreas but would like to see some travel restrictions lifted, if only a bit, so family members can occasionally see one another. We waste some time at the Dora observation post.

No photographs are allowed beyond the yellow line for trumped-up "security reasons." Like the Norks have no access to satellite photography. You can look. You can take notes. You can draw a watercolor. But you can't photograph. Absurd.

The Dorasan Train Station is a monument to the reunification fantasy. "The roof of the building shows a figure of clapsed hands," reads a sign. Presidents Kim and Bush met here in 2002.

But there is no rail service to the North. A few shipments were made to the North's Gaeseong Industrial Complex more than a decade ago, but they stopped when North Korean soldiers killed a South Korean woman on a beach and refused to apologize.

In fact, the station is empty most of the day.

These four passengers are headed south, toward Munsan.

A fanciful destination sign. Strictly theater, and a little insulting to the serious visitor.

We're entering Camp Bonifas now, named after Capt. Arthur Bonifas, one of the soldiers killed in the 1976 Ax Murder Incident.

A Capt. Lawrence enters the bus. He'll be our guide the rest of the way, and we must once again produce passports.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "are you ready to see some North Koreans today?"

We board a different bus and are taken to a briefing room.

Portions of the presentation, preceded by some reminders from our Korean guide:

jsa.briefing from Sluggh McGee on Vimeo.

We are handed "visitor declarations" which state, in part:

"The visit to the Joint Security Area at Panmunjom will entail into [sic] a hostile area and possibility of injury or death as a direct result of enemy action. ... "Fraternization, including speaking, gesture or any association with personnel from the Korean People's Army/Chinese People's Volunteers side, is strictly prohibited."

I give up my right to sue and sign.

I've been waiting a long time to visit this place. Walk in two single files, Lawrence said, and don't stop for anything.

dmz.joint.security.area from Sluggh McGee on Vimeo.

ROK soldiers stare at their Northern counterparts, deliberately obscuring half their body so as to limit their exposure to any gunfire.

Or so it is told.

I stand in North Korea, affecting a strained taekwando pose.

The door behind this soldier leads to North Korea. He won't let you through it. I am not sure why. Seriously, I don't get it. I understand the North Korean army expending a lot of manpower to keep people wading across the shallow Tumen River into China, and the heavily mined DMZ has pretty much reduced the number of defections south to zero. But what is South Korea's interest in keeping its citizens and foreigners from straying north? Nobody wants to, for one thing, so what's the big deal?

To my knowledge there is just one American defector still living in North Korea. His name is James Dresnok, and he's a complete fuckin' tool, obviously. His story is told in a pretty good movie called "Crossing the Line," available via instant Netflix streaming.

Microphones on the conference desk separating North from South record everything spoken here, year after year after year. I was hoping a North Korean soldier would peer into one of the windows, as they've been known to do, but nope.

The North Koreans give tours in this building, too. It's available on a first-come, first-served basis. Interestingly, Americans can visit the JSA from the North, provided they're not journalists and are willing to be accompanied by minders at all hours of the day. Oh, and you have to bow in front of pictures and statues of Kim Il Sung and his offspring and surrender your cellphone, but pretty much anyone can visit Pyongyang. It's not a huge deal. The U.S. discourages it, obviously, and tries to scare Americans away by telling them if you get sick, it will cost $30,000 to charter a medevac helicopter to Beijing, stuff like that.

My first glimpse of a North Korean soldier. We're watching him and he's watching us.

Once Capt. Lawrence points him out, he hides for a bit, then returns without his binoculars. Or maybe it's another guy.

Bill Clinton called this "the scariest place on Earth," but on this day, it seems more like a good place to lay down a blanket and have a picnic. I'm surprised by the lack of tension. Birds chirp and there's a sense of calm knowing that aside from a couple of incidents -- the ax murders and the Soviet defector shootout -- not much has happened here for the past 60 years.

We're then taken to relatively isolated Observation Post 3, where we're surrounded on three sides by North Korean observation towers, including this one.

From here we can see the North Korean village of Kijong-Dong. Naturally, our hosts referred to it as "Propaganda Village" and insisted the town consisted of mere concrete shells, with lights timed to go on and off. A few people are employed to give the place the illusion of activity, they said, but basically it's a Potemkin village, just for show.

There's so much propaganda back and forth, I just tend to tune it out.

I thought a lot of these zoomed photos would look like shite, but once I put them through PicMonkey, they really came to life. This free photo-editing site carries Sluggh's recommendation.

Just to prove I was here. The NK flagpole is barely visible at right.

South Korean soldiers patrol near the military demarcation line. I guess it's not really a border, per se. This is where the Korean War settled into a kind of equilibrium, and both sides decided to take a 60-year break. A state of war still exists.

The Bridge of No Return. At the end of the active conflict, some 30,000 POWs from both sides were brought here and offered a choice of where they would like to live, North or South. Having made the decision, there was no going back. I can't believe they didn't let us off the bus for this. Totally lame.

Another in a parade of gift shops.

I admit buying some DMZ golf balls. The world's most dangerous golf hole, surrounded by mines, is supposed to be nearby, but we weren't shown it. Another demerit.

North Korean booze for sale.

Capt. Lawrence is an OK guy, I guess. He's in the fifth month of a yearlong deployment and confesses to being bored. My problem with him is he's a showman with little substance. He enjoys the attention he gets from tourists but offers them little in exchange.

Case in point: He had showed us an anti-tank barrier, rigged with explosives, that would block a road in the DMZ in the event of a North Korean invasion. (We weren't allowed to take pictures.)

"I'll now open it up to questions," he said.

Sluggh: "Are there anti-tank barriers on the highway to Seoul?"

Capt. Lawrence: "I can't talk about that."

American Woman with Hand Tattoo: "Can I take your picture?"

Capt. Lawrence: "There will be plenty of opportunities to take my picture, ma'am."

Sluggh: "If the North starts shooting, can the South respond unilaterally, or do those decisions need to be made jointly with their partners?"

Capt. Lawrence: " I can't talk about our rules of engagement."

Filipino Girl: "Will there be a gift shop at the Dorasan Train Station?"

Capt. Lawrence: "Yes, ma'am."

And on and on ...

We stop for dinner at an odd cafeteria, where we're presented with the rare opportunity of buying a North Korean beer for 10,000 won (about $9.25). I'll never get this chance again, so I spring. Better than anything I've had south of the line, for sure!

The pastries at lower left are a mind-check. I go back for thirds. I swear I've gained two and a half pounds on this trip. :)

On the hour ride back to Seoul, it becomes clear to me that these tidal flatlands to the west are viewed as a prime incursion threat. Observation posts, soldiers with M-15s and floodlights are everywhere for the next 40 miles.

If war ever does break out, it is a given that tens of thousands of Seoulites will die in the first few minutes. This war game has long been mapped out.

U.S. fighters scrambling from Japan and carriers in the region will take out North Korean artillery positions and turn Pyongyang into rubble. If the North is able to set off a nuclear device, I suspect the U.S. will react with restraint, and if not, China will enter the fray and life on Earth will be forever changed.

When you think of Seoul, try to imagine its venerable palaces and temples, it's cutting-edge financial and trading centers, its indoor driving ranges and hole-in-the-wall restaurants, its astonishingly vast arts and shopping scenes, and raise a glass. Few cities are in so much peril, and few need so much protection.