the dmz

Writing this is a little daunting. I’m not sure how to describe the experience I had going to the Demilitarized Zone. It wasn’t overly emotional or anything. But it was strange. I’ve never been that close to war in my life. Thankfully. So very thankfully. And it’s not like the horrible attacks that happened just last week, which I can’t begin to fathom either. But it is still a war zone and it was a life changing experience, just the same.

To be honest, I’ve always been fascinated by the Cold War. Not interested, per se, but fascinated. There’s a big difference. When I went to Berlin for the first time not so many years ago, I had a similar experience. The thought of locking people into a country just fascinates me. I don’t really understand it. I try because it’s my nature to want to understand what possesses people to do such things. I find people in general fascinating. I love figuring out why they do what they do. But the stuff that the Cold War was made of I cannot even begin to understand. Try as I might.

Back to not being interested. I don’t really care about the facts and figures so much. The dates of attacks? The military strategies? Not my thing. What fascinates me is the indomitability of the human spirit, the deception of a few evil people and the desire for power so great that one would do horrible, unthinkable things to get it. Or to get the illusion of it, because let’s be honest, it’s not real power. Real power comes from respect and love, not fear.

In any case, when I made the decision to visit Korea, I hadn’t even thought about the DMZ. I didn’t even know you could visit it. I’d seen pictures and videos on TV, but I didn’t realize it was a tourist attraction. And I’m not really sure what motivates everyone to go there. But I know what my motivation was. I wanted to see North Korea. I wanted to actually see the land behind the barbed wire fences. And see it, I did. And it was pretty eerie.

Prior to going there, I also started reading a book, a memoir, written by a survivor of a North Korean “re-education” camp (aka concentration camp) called The Aquariums of Pyongyang: Ten Years in the North Korean Gulag and it has been a very good read. It also made the visit that much more effective, I think. And unlike visiting Berlin, a place that no longer has concentration camps, looking over into North Korea I could imagine the people who are still experiencing such awful things and it was powerful.

Okay, enough of that. I will now give you a tour in photos because that’s how I roll. I’m going to apologize in advance for the poor quality of a number of them. I might have accidentally taken some unauthorized photos along the way. Also, I have no time to edit pictures these days (other than the occasional crop), so these are all straight from my camera.

It’s hard to see, but on the other side of the river is a propaganda village. Essentially, a fake village that was built in order to encourage defectors back in the days following the Korean War (or the fighting part…the war is still technically happening). 
These mountains in North Korea used to be covered with tall trees. Our tour guide told us that most of the trees near the borders are cut down in order  to make it harder for would be escapees to hide in them. 

An old train that used to run throughout Korea before there was a North and South, damaged during the war and now a monument in Imjingak near the Bridge of Freedom, where it is reported that POWs were exchanged during the war.

The bridge…and how sad that this river just goes to waste because it sits in the DMZ. 

Before we went into the Third Infiltration Tunnel (aka the Third Tunnel of Aggression), we watched this super creepy, propaganda filled (the South is guilty of it to) film. It was slightly traumatizing.

The tunnel down to the tunnel…a 300+ meter hike down…and back up.

A photo that accidentally ended up on my iPhone. The tunnel was creepy and made for the average Korean (aka short people…no offense to my Korean friends) 
Kijong-dong is a city just inside North Korean (another accidental photo). The former propaganda village now houses factory workers as there is a factory that exists there supported by South Korea.
A better shot with my real camera from behind the yellow line (where I could take pictures)…I had to hold my camera up and shoot blind though, so it still isn’t fantastic.

This train station has been built in anticipation of the reunification of Korea. It is the last train stop before North Korea and will beginning of the link that will connect Korea to Europe. 

if san francisco and paris had an asian love child

Her name would be Seoul. And I would love her as much as I love San Francisco and Paris.

I had such a wonderful experience in South Korea. Before I get into it, because this is going to be a serious undertaking and will require multiple posts, I need to share with you that I have never in my life had any desire to visit Korea. Ever. But then I moved to Japan and it’s just a two hour flight across the Sea of Japan (had no idea that’s what it was called until right now). And then a friend of mine from childhood moved their. And, I don’t know, it just seemed like a fun thing to do.

So I booked a plane ticket for my first long weekend. Then I rebooked it when I realized that I had to be there super early Saturday in order to take a tour of the DMZ. I was planning on arriving Saturday morning to save myself from spending money on one more night in a hotel…instead I ended up spending a small fortune changing my ticket. But there was no way I was going to visit Seoul and not go to the DMZ because I knew I was only going to go there once, so I needed to do it all!

How wrong I was. I will definitely be back.

Maybe it’s because the only other Asian country I’ve been to is Japan. Maybe it’s because I had really low expectations. Maybe it’s because I hadn’t really been out of Tokyo since I got here. Whatever it was, I fell in love with Seoul.

Here’s the thing about going to foreign countries by yourself for the first time, especially when you don’t speak the language. It’s scary. At least for me. I don’t ever want anyone reading this to think that I just do these things and it’s the easiest thing in the world. Up until I got on the plane…no, to the hotel in Seoul…I was wondering what on earth possessed me to fly, alone, to a country where I had never been and didn’t speak the language and wouldn’t have an iPhone (at least not with any service) to help me out. And no where does a 5’8″ blond haired, green eyed girl traveling alone feel more foreign than in Asia on a flight between two Asian countries.

In transit to my hotel on the Limousine Bus, I got really stressed. (I probably should have taken a taxi, but I’m equal parts crazy and stubborn and I am a firm believer in cheap transportation). The bus driver didn’t understand me. I showed him the address (in roman letters) and it was clear he only understood part of it. (No idea why I didn’t pull the map out at that point.) When I finally did pull it out was when he was instructing me that it was time for me to get off and my pride (it’s an issue) made me just hop off without asking or pointing to see if I was really in the right place.

As it turns out, I wasn’t. I wandered around for about 10 minutes before it was clear that where I was was nowhere on my printed out google map. And it was a Friday night in Gangnam (which is where I was…as I would find out later) and there wasn’t an empty taxi to be found. So, I did what anyone who’s lived in a big city would do (I think). I wandered down a big street until I found a subway station and figured out where I was and where I needed to go. Turns out I was just one stop from my hotel, so I hopped on the subway, figured out exactly which exit I needed and found my hotel. My very nice, very clean, very happy hotel.

Now that the stressful part was over, I was starting to really like this place. (Yes, a hotel will do that to me.) And then I got to my upgraded room on the top floor (20th) and looked out my window upon this incredible view. Like was becoming love. You can tell a lot from a skyline.

I fell into bed completely exhausted.

On Saturday, when I got back from the DMZ tour (a post of its own), I wandered around for a while, enjoying the city and having no real plan. I randomly saw this changing of the guard performance at one of the palaces.

Then I used my little iPhone app (iTour Seoul – I recommend it) to find a good place for lunch. Unfortunately the map in the app only works when you’re online, so there was a little more wandering involved since the directions are pretty basic, but it ended up being a great restaurant, so totally worth it!

Galbi, delicious Korean BBQ ribs, with kimchi and all the fixins. 

After lunch, I decided to head toward N. Seoul Tower, at the top of Namsam Park. I had had no intention of climbing up the mountain, but without a map (don’t ask…I have no idea what I was thinking) and no sense of where I was, the tower itself was my only real point of reference, so up the mountain I went. And I’m so glad I did. I wandered through this little folk village (tourist attraction) first and happened upon a Tae Kwon Do concert (did you know that they are called concerts?) which just made me smile. (It’s a little long…)

And now, an onslaught of photos. This was the path up the mountain and the view from the top. I think you’ll understand how I fell in love with this place. Enjoy the photos. More to come…

The view…already half way up to it.
A cool tunnel
Along the way

I couldn’t resist

Up, up, up…
And up some more..
Looking back down to see how far I’d come
A lookout point…half way there
So green
Almost there
A yuzu smoothie at the top
Locks of Love

gangnam style

So, the South Korea trip post (or maybe posts?) is coming, but it’s going to be a serious undertaking. In the meantime, please enjoy this little gem of a video. Gangnam, by the way, is a neighborhood in Seoul and where I happened to have been dropped off (accidentally, due to a translation issue) my first night there, at 11:30 pm about half a mile from my hotel. It’s a crazy place at 11:30 pm on a Friday night. ๐Ÿ™‚
P.S. Thanks, Harrisons, for the introduction to this awesomeness!

cooking again

When I moved here, I decided I was going to really commit to observing Sunday as a religious day of rest, per my religion. In New York, I wasn’t super, well, religious about this. But I know I’m a happier person when I actually make Sunday a break from the every day. Plus, I figured it would be good to have one day when I wasn’t eating out. And so, after the first week (I am realistic in my goals…I arrived on Saturday at 5 pm), I have been very committed to this. This meant I was actually going to have to cook again…at least if I was going to eat real food.

The first thing I did was figure out how to use my Japanese rice maker that has no English on it anywhere. And while we’re on the topic of rice, can we just all acknowledge that Japanese rice is better? I know most of you haven’t actually had rice in Japan, but I’m telling you, it’s amazing. So good, in fact, that I’ll be hauling a two-kilo bag home for my sister in November because she likes rice even more than I do. Moving on…

I figured out the rice and just started with something basic. I absolutely love to bake, but cooking is a whole different ball game. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, but it’s more about speed than precision and I was made just the opposite. Even when I’m making savory things, everything I’m good at is something you put together and bake (swiss cheese chicken, leg of lamb, lasagna, Thanksgiving turkey…yes, my repertoire is weird) or something that requires people to cook their own food (fondue, raclette, paninis), so actual cooking without a recipe…not my strength.

Well, apparently, basic was a good place to start because it was delicious.  It might also help that I think the Japanese have much less tolerance for mediocrity (yeah, that’s right, I’m calling most Americans mediocre) when it comes to food. They are definitely quality over quantity.

So, this was a good start. But then, a couple of weeks ago, I was at my friend Holly’s house for dinner and she had made tonkatsu (this delicious breaded pork amazingness that I’d had one at a restaurant) using chicken instead of pork and it was so good. As good as the restaurant’s, in fact (you know, if the pork had been chicken…). And Holly also informed me, by showing it to me, that you can purchase tonkatsu sauce in the grocery store. It is available in the US, as well.  
Restaurant version

Well, that inspired me to branch out a little and try a fancier stir fry. It turned out quite nicely (I used squash instead of carrot and overcooked that slightly, but otherwise, it was delicious). That’s what I struggle with the most…getting all of the components of a meal hot, cooked, and ready at the same time. Baking is soooooo much easier.

And then I was at Holly’s again, to babysit while she and her husband went out on a date (maybe their first one sans baby since moving to Japan?), and she had made another delicious meal. This time it was gyudon, this super yummy beef on rice thing (bottom right) along with no-bake cookies (and they had a DDP for me, which is not an easy thing to find in this country, a cute baby, and Hulu Plus–if you want me to babysit for you, it doesn’t require much to make me happy).

Side note – I kind of love Mindy Kaling’s new show.
I know the gyudon may not be much to look at, but let me assure you it was unbelievable. I might have considered licking the frying pan. I didn’t, although I’m sure none of you would have been surprised if I had with only a baby to witness it. In any case, this convinced me to do two things. The first? To attempt making tonkatsu (it seemed easier than gyudon). The second? To buy a Japanese cook book. 

So, on Saturday while out and about with another friend, Erika, we found a bookstore and she, being Japanese, helped me find a really good cookbook. We went to a huge store in this lovely part of town, had dessert (it has a restaurant in it), and then wandered over to the cookbook section and found a few books in English. I’m super excited to try so many of the recipes. Unfortunately, the only recipe not in the book I chose was gyudon (it might have been in another book by the same woman and I might have taken pictures of the recipe…it makes me feel better to know I found almost the same one online when I got home that night).

And on Sunday, I made tonkatsu using pork. I didn’t follow the recipe in the book (here’s one from the Food Network if you want to try it). I just did what Holly did and it was incredible. Hot and crispy on the outside, tender and juicy on the inside. The only difference between this and the restaurant in terms of the cooking was that I pan fried, while traditionally it’s deep fried. My Japanese teacher, Sawaki-sensie, also informed me that it is typically served with cabbage. Next time. That said, it was still so delicious and how delectable does it look on a bed of oh-so-delicious sticky?

The best part about this goal to not go out to eat on Sundays (or shop, etc, etc) is that this cooking thing is now spilling over into my weekday life, too. Part of it is that some night’s I’m just so exhausted that the thought of having to use my brain enough to try and order food in Japanese is too much to handle. But the other part is that I’m not so overwhelmed by it anymore. Oh, and knowing that, if I leave my dishes in the sink all week (rinsed, of course), on Friday the cleaning lady will do them. Yeah, my life is pretty awesome. Now, don’t you wish you lived here so I could invite you over for dinner?

learning japanese

Japanese lessons…

When I found out I was moving to Japan, I was a little nervous about the language. In fact, even when I found out moving to Japan was an option, I was nervous about the language. People like to tell you that it’s not necessary. They like to tell you that everyone in Tokyo speaks English. People lie!

Okay, not really. The truth is, you don’t have to speak Japanese, but not speaking it definitely limits you. Which, if you’re a tourist, is just fine. Big deal if you can’t try 25 new restaurants or figure out whether you’re buying shampoo or condition. And so what if you have to use a little creative sign-language over the course of the week or so you’re here.

Well, I am not here a week. And I’m not the type to be okay not understanding or being understood. Not only that, but I love languages and I love reading and the thought of not being able to have some clue of what the words all around me are saying on subways, on menus, on street signs, on billboards, etc, etc, was not a happy one. And so, even before I knew I was moving here, I started to look into learning Japanese. To say it was overwhelming would be a complete understatement!

So, here’s your 60 second lesson in Japanese. There are two syllabaries (like the roman alphabet, only much longer), hiragana and katakana. Together these are called kana. The two syllabaries cover the same exact syllables, only one is used for Japanese words (hiragana) and the other is used for foreign words (katakana): words like “cleaning”, only when written in katakana it’s “kuriningu”. It’s pretty fantastic.

And then there are the kanji: Chinese characters adopted by the Japanese. There are over 6,000 kanji characters. School children are expected to know 1,006 (the basics) by the sixth grade. End lesson.

Can you imagine? Yeah. Me neither. But I’m trying. Really hard.

Friday night flash cards and pizza…

I am proud to say that I have both syllabaries memorized now and I’ve begun the basic kanji. While I don’t know how many I’ll be able to memorize, even having some sort of sense of what they mean is proving extremely helpful. What’s more challenging, though, is that there isn’t just one pronunciation or use for each kanji. Depending on how one kanji is being used, it’s pronunciation will change. I know, pretty awesome, right? Especially when you’re trying to learn it as a 30-something and when there are really no words (at least not full Japanese words) that have a latin or germanic base.

It is challenging. So, I use apps on my iPhone, flash cards, books, and then my semi-weekly Japanese lessons. And then I try to speak it whenever I can.

With all of that, it seems to be coming along. Slowly. Very slowly. The problem is I don’t have to speak it. I just want to. But because I’m not forced to, it requires a lot of self-discipline and it is EXHAUSTING. It is paying off, though. Yesterday, I was able to describe my family and my new bike to my Japanese teacher and then she sent me an email written in kana and I could read AND understand the entire thing. And that felt AMAZING! Maybe if I stay here long enough, I’ll actually start to get it. Wouldn’t that be exciting?!

ใ˜ใฆใ‚“ใ—ใ‚ƒใฎ ใ—ใ‚ƒใ—ใ‚“ ใ‚ใ‚ŠใŒใจใ†๏ผ   ใ‚ฏใƒญใ‚จใ•ใ‚“ ใฎ ใ˜ใฆใ‚“ใ—ใ‚ƒ ใฏ ใ‹ใ‚ใ„ใ„ ใงใ™ใ€‚
ใ˜ใ‚ƒใพใŸ

Kind of awesome that I can read that, right? And I love that my teacher is so impressed! (I’m so praise driven, it’s kind of sick.) Now, if only I could speak as well as I’m reading…then we’d really be getting somewhere. (Did I mention patience is not a virtue I possess?)