Guns & Roses (ok, mostly guns)

I spent a whole lot of time writing this e-mail three days ago and I'm
pretty annoyed with myself that it didn't go through. I guess I'll blame it
on the typhoon blowing through the south of South Korea that day.

Let me summarize my last days in Korea (for those who care, I'm already
home, so some of the charm is lost as I write this).

My trip to Panmunjeom was one of the highlights of the trip, as I
anticipated. Panmunjeom is in the DMZ, the de-militarized zone, right where
the North and South have a staring contest. I paid a lot of money to take a
day-long tour, which started off pretty weak, visiting shrines and bridges,
and finished with an awkwardly quiet bang. I'll skip the boring part and get
to the good stuff.

Our caravan of Japanese, British and German turisti had to be escorted into
the twilight zone with the aid of an American soldier from New York named
Perrione. We had a briefing beforehand about how to act -- no pointing, no
facial gestures, no sudden movements. No sandals, no jeans, no trackpants.
You know, if the North Koreans see the rest of the world wearing flip-flops,
holy hell might break loose.

They led us around in a big UN bus through the encampment of soldiers - men
only, thank you - where I got a few of the ROK (Republic of Korea) soldiers
to smile and wave. I'm charming, what can I say? They pointed out lots of
places where people had been shot, maimed or famously axed to death as the
North tried to sneak into the South, or vice-versa. Naturally, all this
mention of ax murderers was very comforting.

We went into the room they always have on TV, where there's a big table full
of fingerprints where all the dignitaries sit and talk about peace (but more
likely last night's episode of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"). It's divided in
half by a microphone cord, and surrounded by three armed ROK guards who have
to stand at this menacing "ready" taekwondo position. I wanted to spar with
them, but I didn't think my high green belt would get me too far this time.

All of the soldiers were toting AK 47s and wearing dark, reflective
sunglasses, because not being able to see their eyes makes them all the more
intimidating. Or at least that's what "Justin," our lovely Korean tour
guide, told me.

When the ROK soldiers walk around, they jingle, so I asked Justin about
that, too. Apparently, they have marbles at the bottom of their cuffs which
serve two purposes: 1. They make their pants hang down straight, making
their legs look bigger; and 2. They make more noise when they walk around,
so the enemy might think they have a big weapon on them. I think they like
it because they can play marbles between standing around and looking mean.

So there we were, standing about 3 feet away from little white pickets that
separate the North from the South. A North Korean guard was at first hiding
behind a pillar on their side, checking us out. He eventually walked around
his building and stood in the center, on the top step, just watching. What a
job.

The entire place is filled with cameras that are forever monitoring each
other's every move. If you couldn't tell, it was tense.

What was also interesting was our trip to Tunnel Number 3, an underground
tunnel (oxymoron?) burrowed 60 kilometers outside of Seoul. As an American,
I couldn't tell you how many miles that is, but looking at the map, it was
pretty close. Anyway, our group of goofs trekked down to the bottom to a
sulphurous cave, complete with drip drops of water and plenty of mood
lighting, a'la Disneyland.

It was pretty rough around the edges, literally. Can you imagine those
Northerners toiling down there for years, dying along the way, just to
burrow into the south a few feet?

Supposedly the North could move 30,000 troops across the border overnight if
they were so inclined. Tunnel 3 is one of four in total, although they think
there are about 20 deep beneath the earth. Like good capitalists, they've
turned it into a tourist trap.

Now on to the roses part of this e-mail. Take a break, if you need it.

Yuno's wedding was the stuff of dreams. I spent the entire week with her
shopping for her hanbok (traditional Korean dress) and western-style white
dress. We found the perfect dresses and she was all set to go.

Korean weddings are funny. I don't know what I expected, but there was a lot
of clapping, singing and grandeur. It was very fairy-tale like at the hotel.
For instance, when she entered the room, two wide doors swung open slowly
while white smoke filled the floor and the spotlight centered on the bride,
smiling with her dad by her side. She floated into the room and bowed to her
husband. We clapped.

The Korean pastor had the same diction as the MovieFone guy, which was
highly entertaining, even though I didn't know what the hell was going on.
Everything was translated into Japanese for her side of the room, and Shun
took pity on me from time to time, explaining in English. Most of it was
lost on me, though. There were some confusing highlights:

- At one point, her husband, Jeong, dropped and did 10 push-ups. We clapped.



- Everyone at my table bawled when Yuno and Jeong read letters to their
parents, and I felt cold-hearted just observing with a giggle. Then we
clapped.

- Shun and I sang a horrible rendition of a Josh Groban song. Everyone
politely clapped, taking pity upon us.

I was super-impressed when Jeong told the crowd of about 150 thanks for
coming, first in Korean, then Japanese, then finally English. I know he was
talking directly to me, thanking me for coming all the way from America - I
felt really special, as the only whitey non-Asian speaking friend.

The rest of the wedding was just as beautiful. Yuno had a total of four
intricate costume changes, enough to make Celine Dion jealous. As per usual,
the wedding night ended in some rambunctious renditions of Ricky Martin at
the karaoke bar. It was fun.

Those are the highlights of the trip. The 10-hour flight home was uneventful
and I was shocked into fall weather -- when we left, it was 90 degrees,
today it's 50. Ugh.

My next adventure? I got a request to go to Iceland next summer, so we'll
see...

Thanks for reading!

At the Seoul Royal Hotel, swish posh

Greetings Americans and Not,

I've gone from rags to riches in three subway stops. Today I left the
United Nations of assorted misfits at the youth hostel, much to the delight of
my sore back (dreadfully hard bunk beds).

I made friends, naturally, with the wackos.

My favorites included:

* Dawn, a chick from Singapore with fake eyelashes, hair extensions (and
bad ones, girlfriend, I could see those roots from six feet away), and a huge
bandage on her nose -- her agent told her to get plastic surgery so she could
get more film roles.

* Brendan, a 6-foot-6 firefighter from Cleveland who quoted Dostoevsky
and Jung to me over a plate of fried chicken - I lied and said I'd read
Vonnegut in a pathetic attempt to impress. It worked...

* and Carolina, who wasn't that offended in the end by my blatant
ignorance of Mexican interests in Asia. For the record, she is not a wacko, but
a very sweet virgin who couldn't stop giggling when we passed a booth at the
market selling beautiful stone and wooden phalluses (phalli?). Boy, is she in
for a surprise.

And I cannot forget the bevy of Aussies, who can safely be lumped in the
same category - loud and lewd, but a helluva lot of fun in karaoke.

I have moved into the Seoul Royal Hotel, a real touch of class in the
center of complete chaos. The days of showering in the toilet are over, sort of.
There is a super fancy toilet in the bathroom which is warm to the bum, and has
lots of fancy buttons for squirting water and air after you're finished.
Everyone in this hotel speaks English, even the bellboy. I asked where I could
find good bulgogi today (thinly sliced beef marinated in something yummy), and
was sent to a completely dead restaurant.

The manager instantly fell in love with me (I must be irresistible with
my permanent expression of bewilderment and confusion), and started bringing
over trays and trays of kimchee, peppers and a stove to cook everything on.
Maybe he wasn't in love - I think I got screwed because I didn't ask how much it
would cost upfront, but in the end it was only $15 and damn good, too.

I had a meltdown yesterday when sitting outside a Krispy Kreme shop in a
mall with Carolina, Yuno's sister and her friend. A bit of peoplephobia if there
is such a thing, being around too many at once. It's a constant flow of human
bodies marching to and from wherever, pitching in to the economy on every block.
Everything is so loud here. And everyone is talking at the same time. And if you
can't hear them, they just talk LOUDER. And on top of the clatter of Manolo
Blahniks is 50 Cent and Snoop Dogg. And they don't play the censored versions,
so people enjoying their donuts are doing so to the tune of fucked up bitches
and hoes.

I had to go home and have a nap.

Tonight Yuno arrives with her mother, so we are going to have a big
reunion - I am absolutely looking forward to it. Tomorrow I think we will go
shopping for her wedding dress and make fun of the kids dressed like Mary-Kate
and Ashley Olsen. Whatever's in the closet, just pile it on.

Random notes: I saw 7 Starbucks within a four block radius this
afternoon; a blind man wandered through the subway cars with a basket for change
and a tape recorder playing "Amazing Grace," when one of the passengers decided
to be a complete prick and blocked his way for five minutes for no apparent
reason; there is a five-story billboard of Hines Ward (an American football
player for Pittsburgh for those of you who don't know, or don't care), pitching
a bank card; there was a Mariners game on TV today.

How are my ducks doing so far?

Until you read again...

Greetings from South Korea

Greetings unwitting readers of my travel blog,

I am writing to you from Seoul, South Korea, a all the lights and bustle of Tokyo with none of the charm.

I arrived to a cloudy autumn day with a sprinkle of rain spitting up on sidewalks filled with rough farmers selling squash, bananas and lots of other plants I did not recognize. The flight was fine -- only 25 percent full, so I was able to take advantage of lying around on all three seats the entire way.

The Incheon International Airport is something to behold. For those lucky enough to use the bathroom, try pushing the "Courtesy Button"next to the toilet. It prompts a recording of a very loud flush, to mask any unseemly sounds you might be wont to make on your own.

On the bus ride to the hostel, I was lucky enough to sit next to an Aussie couple who filled me in on the dos and don'ts of Korea. For instance, I'm forbidden to give money to the cashier with my left hand -- it's rude. And if older people start smiling at me in the middle of a conversation, it's because they're embarrassed, not because they're happy.

And they warned me to be prepared for people just not giving a shit. People here don't walk as fast as they do in Tokyo, but they are pushy and they don't seem to really care that I'm a foreigner. Of which there are not many -- I can safely say I was the only whitey roaming around the street today searching for my hostel. But that's because my bus driver dropped me off at the wrong station.

Come to think of it, he didn't seem to care about me either, but the people who helped me decipher my map in the stores were very nice.

Another highlight was a ride past the Red Light District, which measured one paltry city block. The girls were very literal in their interpretation -- the windows and doors were, indeed, showered with red light, but they weren't in their undies. They were fully dressed and seemed chatty. I guess business doesn't pick up until later.

I haven't had much time to see anything else, although I am rooming with an Aussie girl and a Mexican (!) who is studying Korean. I asked her if she was the first Mexican to ever come to South Korea, and I think she thought I was pretty stupid.

Everything is small here, which I expected. Although I didn't foresee the toilet being in the same 3'-by-5' room as the shower at the hostel. Wonders never cease. But they didn't have a Courtesy Button! Tomorrow I'll hunt for the imperial palace and see about a tour of the DMZ.

To be continued...