Responding...

As I continue to work on wrapping up the Korea 2006 portion of my blog, I'd like to respond to some of the comments that I haven't addressed yet:

JAM wrote:
The one thing I know about South Korea is what our German friend, Marius, told us. It's the only country (or was) to have professional gamers who make a living from playing computer games and getting endorsements. He was very jealous.
At some point (maybe during the Korean Wave lecture) we saw a TV story that mentioned such gamers. I'd be a little surprised if by now there aren't other nations in which such "careers" exist, but who knows -- maybe Korea has the lock on 'em.

Daniel wrote:
Pictures, cool! I wonder what they use those huge TV screens for? Advertising? Were you able to tell?
Yup -- advertising. And huge indeed -- we calculated that some of them must measure at least 20' x 20'. And they're all over Seoul. Time Square has such screens, yes?

Brian C emailed:

I think your mood change might be related to your ability to
be open to the culture and the significance of the Buddhist
Temple.
Maybe.  But (as usual) I think you are giving me too much
credit. I think it would be hard not to be impacted by the
Buddhist Temples (and likewise for other religions' ancient
sacred places).

JAM wrote:
So what did you sing? :) I've always thought there must be
something about karaoke that I just don't get.
HA!  I sang nothing -- it's almost impossible for me to imagine
my inhibitions so relaxed that I would do karaoke in public.
But as I said, the first 30 minutes was fun to watch.


Daniel wrote (in response to my diatribe against Samsung):
Probably all true, but should "happiness" really be the ultimateall,increagoal?
After all, ignorance and lower IQ's have both been
shown to correlate with increased levels of happiness. I would
be the first to say I prefer knowledge and intelligence over
happiness. Of course, material possessions is another case.
I'm not sure I'd say that happiness is my ultimate goal; for
me that's probably Truth-with-a-capital-T. But I have questions
as to whether one can know such Truth with absolute certainty
this side of Death's Yawning Chasm.  In lieu of reaching that
goal, happiness suffices for me. I should say that I'm not
arguing in favor of hedonism as understood in modernity.
For those interested, Here's a link to several articles in
Time magazine by Daniel Gilbert, researcher and writer
extraordinaire on the topic.

One final point, as you note in your last sentence, the formula
on which I was commenting wasn't "which is better as a life
goal -- knowledge or happiness," but instead I was expressing
my irritation with a company that (like most companies) suggested
that its products permanently enhance one's life.  Perhaps that's
so, but I think the evidence often says otherwise.


There are probably other comments that warrant response, but as
is so often the case the tyranny of the clock prevents me from
doing so.  I hope to throw a few select photos
up on the blog and then I'll be ready to pack it up.

Visiting the DMZ -- The Weirdest Tourist Trap on Earth**

N. Korea is only about an hour and a half north of Seoul, and one doesn’t have to travel far to sense the increasing tension. What appear to be giant bulletin boards over the center of the road as one passes the outer perimeter of Seoul are in fact “tank-drops” – massive concrete barriers on relatively thin supports that can be knocked out from underneath quickly, allowing for the quick erection of a last-ditch defense should North Korean troops make it that far in an invasion. Our guide – I’ll tell you more about him later – cheerfully remarked that such tank-drops are somewhat outdated, as the military learned during the Gulf War that allowing enemy tanks to congregate in convoys on a highway makes for a superb target – creating a highway of death. Soon after leaving Seoul we noticed a tall barbed-wire fence lining both sides of the Han River, and buoys holding up nets throughout the water. These are part of the fortifications to catch infiltrators (a problem as recently as ten years ago). Sights such as these become more common as one approaches the border. Guard posts along the fence become more numerous. Soon the bus must zigzag slowly through fences partially blocking off the road. Soldiers ask to see one’s passport or ID, several times. Eventually one must change buses in order to travel into the DMZ.

Note: I've not given a step-by-step description of the DMZ tour, but you can quickly read a well-written account here.

The first impression that I want to share of the DMZ itself – and the one you need to keep in the back of your mind – is that the military standoff on both sides of the DMZ makes for one tangibly tense situation, despite the over-fifty years post-Armistice. To get a feel for the somber atmosphere, think of the seriousness surrounding the Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Washington DC, except that in this case one has to sign a waiver releasing responsibility should anything happen after proceeding “into a hostile area and [the] possibility of injury or death.” Upon crossing into Camp Bonifas, our military escort authoritatively took command of our every action, including frequently forbidding photography and the constant prohibition against pointing at anything (since the North Koreans capture every movement on camera and could construe something like pointing as in some way admiring of their side and regime). His control of us was so total that it felt theatrical, except for the guns and stories of axe-wielding North Korean soldiers and all. So impression number one is of rigid, fierce and longstanding military confrontation, of a fratricidal war that was never officially ended (talk about the need for closure, Rachel’s got nothing on the DMZ).

Colliding directly with this 24/7-armed readiness is the daily flow of tourists, as if visiting Disney World or the Shipshewana Flea Market. For all the foreboding talk of ever-present danger (“don’t step outside these lines as the N. Koreans have sowed the surrounding ground with landmines”), the reality is that American soldiers spend their days at the DMZ leading bus after bus of tourists. Notwithstanding the waiver we signed before going forward, no tourist has ever been hurt or killed visiting the DMZ. And our guide (the one we brought with us from Seoul, not the soldier escort) confirmed that for all the reality of a face-to-face standoff, at least some of what one sees at the DMZ is in fact theatrical pomp. For example, ROK (Republic of Korea, aka South Korea) soldiers stand in a modified tae-kwon-do pose as they “take cover and offer less of a target” by standing with one half (vertically) of their bodies behind a building wall.

(these are the ROK soldiers; the tall building in the background belongs to North Korea-- and one can easily see N. Korean soldiers inside and stationed on the steps.)

Our guide was in the infantry for over a decade early in his career, and he laughingly pointed out when we grilled him on the bus ride home that if one really wants to avoid a bullet, standing perfectly still with a full half of one’s body showing isn’t the way to do it. He deflated another story as well – that the N. Koreans are so full of bizarre animus toward the South and the USA that when they are alone in the building used for negotiations, they take off their boots and walk all over the table-tops to show disrespect to our side. In fact, our military escort earnestly pointed out the footprint. But later our guide told us that whomever may have made that footprint, it’s been untouched and unchanged for a long time, so either the cleaning people don’t to their job very well or our escorts are reluctant to give up such a good story.

That example illustrates how hard it was to figure out what was real and what was merely showmanship, perhaps created by the elite young soldiers who spend long days on the border with little to occupy their minds. Even if a few shots are traded here or there barely anyone pays attention, because few expect the war to re-ignite. Otherwise there wouldn’t be another tour bus rolling up every hour. Nor would there be a gift shop with DMZ memorabilia, including N. Korean liquors and limited edition plaques with a piece of barbed-wire from the DMZ fence (ask to see mine sometime).

So add to the first impression of a tense military standoff frozen in time the surreal notion of tourists crawling like a stream of ants through the DMZ all day long. And maybe that makes sense. If the chances of actual war are slim to none then why shouldn’t civilians visit this visceral scar of separation, as they visit war memorials the world over?

Except that sometimes the grim reality of actual danger reinserts itself into the conversation. As happened when I was discussing with our guide (I promise I’ll write about him soon) the four tunnels that South Korea has found deep underground, penetrating southward so as to allow North Korean troops the ability to move massive numbers of soldiers deep into South Korean territory unnoticed until they arise from the depths (ala C.S. Lewis’s “The Silver Chair”). We took the self-guided tour of Tunnel #3, and one word says it all: impressive. This thing is so deep that people with heart and knee problems are discouraged from seeing it, as the slope to get down that far is steep and long. And once one gets to the bottom and walks through the tunnel, an understanding of how much forethought and skill went into it’s creation crystallizes, as it was blasted in complete secrecy out of solid granite (the blasts were undetectable because it’s so far underground). But enough about the tunnel itself; the scary moment of realization for me occurred when our guide told us that ROK and US forces have reason to believe that another 18 to 20 such tunnels exist, as yet undetected. And thus no one knows how far said undetected tunnels penetrate into South Korea. Having seen first-hand how blasé and nonchalant most South Koreans are about the North, I asked if anyone even worries about where these tunnels are and what they might be used for. Our guide replied tersely, “The South Korean Defense Minister worries about them every day.”

And he has reason to know. This guy has some impressive bona fides, despite his quiet manner and innocuous presence. He retired at the level of lieutenant-colonel a few years ago, having served in the American forces in South Korea for over twenty-years. For six years in the 1990’s he was directly involved in the negotiations with the North. He’s getting his PHD in Korean studies in Seoul. So at first it seemed odd to me and my comrades (shout out to Mary & Sonya) that for all his acquired knowledge and expertise, his day job now is Chief of Community Relations for the US military in Seoul -- basically just a euphemism for tour guide. But then it struck us like Joe Wilson kicking Karl Rove in the groin; he’s got a heck of a more important job, one that needs the cover of university studies and a silly community relations title. I’m no Robert Novak, so I won’t spell it out, but I’m sure you Can Imagine All the possibilities.

**I lifted that phrase from Ron Gluckman's excellent piece.

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Let's do this thing

Okay I won't bore you (any more than normal, anyway) with how I can't get my sleep schedule quite back to normal and how it's just screwed up enough (EG: awake last night from 2:30AM to 5:30AM) to keep me from being productive which explains why I still haven't wrapped up the Korea section of this blog. Nor will I admit that my unproductivity might be in some way partially due to watching episode after episode of the season finale of Six Feet Under (forget the movies... if you haven't seen this series all five seasons are now on DVD). All I'm going to say is that I've decided to bite the bullet and in some way finish this section of the blog, because it's now fewer than 48 hours till my school year begins, and once that starts on Thursday I doubt I'll be writing about Korea much. (It won't be long, however, till I start writing about my upcoming trip to Japan).

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Back home, but now I need to go away again...

... just to find time to wrap up my account the Korea trip. Brian C. writes via email (and with only just touch of hyperbole, I'm sure), "Okay, I'm hooked on your blog... So don't forget to write about the dmz. I'm considering moving to the Concord district so I can enroll in your classes."

I will try to finish my DMZ post and a couple others sometime in the next 50 hours or so. If it doesn't happen by then, it probably won't ever.

In the meantime, here's a link to pics of the sort of 4th of July parade I'd enjoy.

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This feels like a Dantesque version of torture...

3PM, Tuesday, August 8. Just got back from the DMZ. Holy cow. I don't even know where to begin, and the profound frustration of this moment is that I don't have time to write because I have only a few minutes to change into my suit and tie for tonight's closing ceremonies. In fact, there's a good chance I won't have time to write much at all before getting to the airport tomorrow.

So I'll save my post on visiting the DMZ for another day when I have time, and sign off for now with three possible titles that I've thought of for my DMZ post:

“Today I’m pretty sure I met a CIA agent.”

“DMZ: Twilight Zone of the East.”

“38th Parallel – Equal parts bizarre, surreal & mind-boggling.”

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Monday return to Seoul

5:18PM, Monday, August 7, arriving in Seoul and only 30 minutes or so out from the BV.

The return ride from Gyeongju marks the beginning of the end of this trip. In 36 hours, I’ll board the flight from Seoul to Chicago and this time will go back in time, so to speak.

I’m not nearly enough of a wordsmith to be able to write about this ending phase without resorting to tired clichés, so let’s just condense this down to the basics: Yada yada yada, endings are bittersweet, yada yada yada, always carry a bit of Korea with me, or, alternately, I’m leaving something of myself in Korea, yada yada yada, grateful for this life-enriching and perhaps life-changing experience, yada yada yada, met some wonderful people and seen some amazing sites, yada yada yada, wish I could have brought you along in reality rather than simply vicariously, yada yada yada.

There, that’s done. Of course the platitudes are true, but unless I think of a more original way to mark my thoughts, I won’t be returning to the topic. Tomorrow we head to the DMZ, a side-trip that I’ve been anticipating excitedly ever since I first learned about the Korean Studies Workshop back in April.

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Cross "go to karaoke" off my life's to-do list

Sunday, August 6, 3:30PM
Thanks to persistent cajoling by some of my trip-friends, I gave in to peer pressure and went out with them last night. Today I suffer. I’m just one of those lame guys who needs plenty of sleep, especially given the stress of being away from home, now for a week and a half. I’ve been able to absorb some of the significance of the sites that we visited today, and hopefully I will write a few words (or more, as I am want to do…) about them tomorrow, but right now the tyranny of the clock means that I don’t have time to say more than this: Karaoke can be fun, but it helps if you are someone who enjoys silly fun. I’m not so much that kind of person, but I did enjoy the first 30 minutes or so and laughed a lot. Then it started to get a bit dull, from my perspective, so I headed home, earlier than my buddies but still a good three hours later than I prefer. Tonight I’m going to relax in the hotel sauna and then (I hope) get a good night’s sleep in preparation for tomorrow’s religious sites and the bus ride back to Seoul (and gratefully into the soothing embrace of the Beloved Vabien).

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There’s a cheesy platitude in this, I’m sure

Saturday, August 5, 9PM
Today was the best day of the trip thus far. I’d try to tie in an appropriate moral slogan, but I’m notorious for butchering them in my recollection. If you know of one that’s well suited to describe my transition from miserable complaining yesterday to deep happiness today, feel free to leave it in the comments (all I can think of offhand is something about night being darkest just before daybreak, or some such saying).

Here’s the scoop: Initially yesterday’s funk carried over into today when I discovered that our first excursion was a two-hour bus trip away (are you picking up on just how unbearable I find sitting travel by bus?); you’re lucky I didn’t have the laptop with me ‘cause the grousing would have been fierce. Offhand, I’m not sure when my spirits started to lift – I think perhaps it was the rugged beauty of the green mountains that cheered me a bit. Think south-central mountains of Pennsylvania, though with even more humidity, somewhat more pointed mountaintops and brilliant, emerald green rice patties carpeting the valleys.

Our journey led to Haein Buddhist Temple, a site that radiates the wisdom, serenity and sacredness accumulated over its 1,000+-year history. It’s a fairly remote spot; after the bus dropped us off we walked a good twenty-minutes or so uphill through scenic woods.
I could feel something special in the air as I passed stone statues and pagodas, worn by water and wind over the centuries, but I wasn’t prepared for the awe-inducing quality of the Temple itself. I’m not making a religious statement here; there’s something universally powerful about religious sites that were built with reverence and treasured by faithful adherents as hundreds of years have passed – whether this Haein Buddhist Temple or the cathedrals spread throughout the world. Plus I’m just a sucker for really old things. Combine that with extraordinary beauty (both natural and man made), and the obvious sincerity of visiting pilgrims, and I think it’d be awfully hard not to be moved.

One of the more-worldly and selfish groovy aspects of the visit is that I finally realized what I want to take home as personal souvenirs of my time in Korea, so I purchased several wind-chimes and outdoor bells at the temple and the little mountain hamlet where we lunch later in the day to build a simple Korean bell and chime garden in my backyard. Come by sometime and sit outside with me for a listen.

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Saturday morning update

After yesterday's long lament, I'm happy to report that all is well this morning.

• Dinner last night was relaxing and good -- another gorgeous spread of Korean buffet style dishes, including some terrific spicy fried shrimp rice.
• My roommate seems like a nice guy (not someone I've hung out with previously on the trip) and I slept decently well.
• There is a rudimentary Internet hook up.

So I leave you with the knowledge that I may not be quite the happy camper I was in Seoul, I'm ready to suck the marrow out of this day. (and you can be sure I'll let you know if I choke on the bones...)

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Someone remind me how wonderful this is

6PM, Friday, August 3. The bus journey continues. I’m trying – really I am, somewhere deep down in my heart – to focus on the gift of this wonderful opportunity. But ungrateful, internal whining keeps rearing its ugly head. I realized today that I haven’t spent the last week traveling, per se. Instead I was comfortably ensconced in the Beloved Vabien, nurtured and protected, and thus kept in good enough shape to find our forays around Seoul exciting.

But today is devoted to the actual act of traveling. First there was the unpleasant act of packing, as I attempted to anticipate my needs for the next four days. Then the torturous travel by bus, reigniting my PTSD resulting from the sardine-can trauma of my recent trip via bus to Washington, DC. But to add insult to injury, we are now being “handled” by a different organization than has been the case for the past week. The prior guides treated us like competent adults. An oh-so-charming woman, who wishes to explain every little minute detail to us, is hosting this four-day excursion. Examples of the information she feels compelled to talk about ad infinitum include the comparative lengths of the rivers we pass along the way; the translation of Korean word after Korean word that only tangentially comes across our path and such insightful comments such as, "Those are Koreans swimming in the river. Now you see them swimming. They love the water. You can take a picture of the Koreans swimming if you want" (don't laugh, I think someone just snapped the shot).

I saw a Seinfeld episode last night (back when life was good, at the Beloved Vabien) in which Jerry is assigned a assistant who attempts to give him the best of care by going over EVERY, SINGLE detail with him. Like, “Jerry, now I see you got your coffee. That’s just wonderful. I want you to know that I checked and they also have decaf available, with sugar or cream if you want it, or sugar AND cream.” I paraphrase, but you get the idea.

(Really, our hostess is sincerely nice, caring and helpful, but that doesn’t make it all any less irritating.)

The tipping point occurred when she chose to wake us upon arriving at a stop with blaring heavy metal music. Korean heavy metal. Unforgivable.

And then the other shoe dropped: she told us that we’d been assigned roommates for these four days – no more blissful isolation for me to recharge my batteries. Now I know why Koreans have this theme of Han (pain, suffering) running through their music and theater.

I don’t want to end my post on such a down note, nor do I choose to continue complaining (trust me, my friends, the list is long), so I’ll try to name five sincerely-felt positive things about today, in honor of Wandering Angie, the queen of optimism.

1) Our lunch stop was interesting. It was the first time we’ve had Korean “barbecue” on this trip. Pretty good stuff.

2) Hostess woman played an unexpectedly engrossing Korean film. It was three parts Shakespeare plus one part Tony Soprano. Power, passion, violence, Oedipal issues, cross-dressing, and memorable lines far too explicit for this student-friendly blog.

3) We had two afternoon stops; both were good so I’ll break them into two different entries (especially as I’m worried about getting to five). First we went to a secluded and very old Confucian school called Byeongsan Seowon (pics here, but these were taken in a season when it wasn't the lush green paradise we saw today; info here). Though a national treasure notable enough to have been visited by George H. W. and Barbara Bush, it’s a bit off the beaten path – even the road leading up to the school isn’t paved. Once there the lush beauty of the landscape, both natural and planned, was enough to at least somewhat overshadow the heat index (not another word about that, lest I fall back toward complaining, and frankly though I’m no stoic I don’t think complaining about the weather is worth the breath it takes, so I especially don’t want to step into that trap). The buildings emanated a palpable serenity and wisdom. It’s the sort of place where I’d love to sit quietly alone.

4) And the second stop was also reasonably groovy. Andong Hahoe Village has survived the foreign incursions and wars of the last several hundred years, so its architecture has remained unchanged. And real people still live there. So that’s pretty cool. But almost as interesting is the commercialization that has grown up around and in the midst of these ancient roads, walls and buildings. It’s basically one souvenir stand after another, some selling quality goods and some… not so much. Part of me is used to reacting against tourist traps – I haven’t been to Shipshewana in years, for example – but I was comforted that though such a noteworthy site had been polluted, as it were, at least it was a trap for Koreans – not Americans. Almost none of the signs were in English, nor did the proprietors appear to know English. Clearly most of their clientele is Korean. So at least in that sense I was getting an authentic Korean experience.

5) Uh oh. I has optimistically planned that surely the pair behind me who hasn’t stopped talking for the ENTIRE TRIP would settle down to nap, so I could celebrate their silence as my number five, but they are still going strong. (Full disclosure: each of them is really pretty cool, definitely two of the people I’m most likely to maintain contact with, so this isn’t personal. I’m just ready to be free of their banter for a few precious moments of peace.) I tried putting in earplugs, but those actually seem to make it worse by filtering out the ambient noise. Am I still stuck here on number five? Shoot. OMG, they just started talking about famous leaders who had venereal disease. I wonder if I could break out this window and jump for it?

Sorry folks, no number five. Other than that I can’t wait to get home in five days. I’m crossing my fingers that I’ll have Internet access in my shared room tonight. Otherwise the next three days are going to be very long. Oh, wait! – good thought, this could be a belated number five – in four days I get to go see the DMZ. That’s something I’ve been excited about for a while.

Well, time for Cowells to shut up.

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Drink the kool aid**

10:43AM, Friday, August 3.
Back on the bus now, having just finished left our tour at Samsung. I can conceive a scenario in which I’d have enjoyed the Samsung tour: observing a production line, or walking through the RD department, along perhaps with a lecture by a company expert, predicting where the tech sector is headed over the next decade or so.

Instead we were subjected to an hour-long propaganda tour that celebrated all products Samsung. First came the eight-minute commercial, in which Samsung promised to bring world peace and happiness (I jest not). Then the next fifty minutes or so were spent on a guided stroll of Samsung cutting-edge products, few of which will ever be affordable for teachers (e.g., 80” plasma and LCD screens, refrigerators that do everything short of cooking one’s food and setting the table, washer/dryer combos that also dry-clean, etc), and none of which, studies have proven, will increase one’s happiness.

It’s not that I’m a Luddite; on the contrary, I’ve been dubbed a power user by no less an authority than systems administrator extraordinaire SWT. But I resist commercial manipulations and bragging, and that’s all this was – “bow before the great god of technology and his chief emissary on earth, Samsung.

Not, mind you, that most of my accompanying teachers minded. Frequent exclamations of delight and awe surrounded me, accompanied by covetous mumblings. Evidently most of my fellow travelers remain woefully ignorant of the hedonic treadmill. I tried to explain to some of them that such innovations don’t produce an overall gain in individual or communal happiness, but for some reason my arguments – indubitably told with sensitive compassion rather than harshly barked out between gritted teeth and folded arms – fell short.

Alas, the pathway of truth can be a lonely one…

**

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This is one of the parts of traveling that I detest

7AM, Friday, August 3.
As much as I’m looking forward to our weekend trip to the southeast region of the Korean Peninsula, having to pack everything up after comfortably settling into the Beloved Vabien for a week is just a pain in the butt. We have the option of leaving part of our luggage here in Seoul, so I’m trying to squeeze the necessities into my briefcase-type carry-on, with the leftovers going into every available nook and cranny of my laptop case. Suffice it to say that it’s a tight fit. Then there’s the frustration of trying to anticipate what I will need, or might need, and thus ought to bring along. Oh, well, once I’m done with all this unpleasantness, I get the ultimate reward: A seven-hour bus ride.

Oh joy.

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Seoul -- ancient and modern side-by-side

(Note: I haven't quite figured out how to publish photos and captions in a way that doesn't look completely infantile, but as I've been trying for over an hour and am now behind schedule I'm just going to leave them as is. Despise me if you wish. )

Here's a pic I took of Gyeongbok Palace. I cleaned this one up slightly, so the humidity doesn't quite come through, but you can see it in the next two.

And here's the view standing in the same spot, just turned about 90 degrees.

And a third turn still at the same place shows another of the giant TV screens that are so common throughout Seoul.

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A smattering of photos

Outside art = good. I'm not a complete neanderthal -- gardens and landscapes fascinate me the way pottery and paintings interest more standard artistic types. Here's one of the Amisan chimneys, in the back garden of Gyotaejeon at Gyeongbok-gung Palace.














I bought these for a snack at the National Folk Museum at Gyeongbok-gung Palace. Most of them are chewy rice cakes with a sesame filling.












This dish in the forefront is haepari-naengchae -- thinly-sliced jellyfish in a mustard sauce. Pretty good, actually!









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Thumb-nail sketch of last two days

Two days have passed since I updated; here are the highlights:

Five lectures. Two of which were definite attention-grabbers ("East Asian Security--Korea's Choice" and "The Korean Wave and Cultural Exchange in East Asia") but for me a couple from yesterday were painfully mind-numbing (is that a dichotomy?), especially the last 45 minutes of "Korean Art Through the Ages." Someone alert John Paul Stevens -- that was cruel and unusual. (Truly I wish I wasn't such an ignoramus; many of my colleagues loved the art lecture, yet I couldn't help but wish several times that JAM could take my place).

The East Asian Security lecture largely focused, of course, on the problem of North Korea, but the lecturer approached it from a fascinating angle -- outlining the conflicting motivations of each of the six nations engaged in the multi-party talks. Our professor, who works with the S. Korean government, bluntly said that he doesn't foresee Kim Jung Il giving up his nukes anytime in the near future.

We spent several hours on Tuesday afternoon at the National Museum, which just opened last year and is every bit as impressive and informative as any of the Smithsonian exhibits. Considering that I'm not much of a museum-going kind of guy, I found it quite good.

After the museum we had dinner at an upscale restaurant that was described to me as a "Chinese take on Korean food." Terrific stuff. At some point I hope to assemble a post on the trip's food. After the meal I jumped ship with a small group and we memorably explored a bit of Korean night life.

Yesterday was my version of "hitting the wall" on this trip. I was operating on such low reserves that what was needed was a neon warning message saying: "save-all-work-and-recharge-because-this-system-is-about-to-shut-down." About the only part of the day that I was really able to focus on was the Asian Security lecture, and in all honesty it took all I had to do that. I didn't realize how tired I was until we went to an afternoon performance of Nanta -- an explosive show that both entertains and involves the audience. And yet I sadly kept nodding off; really my energy level at that point was pathetically low. The show was great, if more silly and comedic than I prefer; certainly I'd recommend it anyone who has a chance see it. My fellow teachers LOVED it.

Last night I was going to do some laundry for a couple hours (we have these nifty washer-dryer combos in our rooms) and then do some neat sightseeing with the same group I hung out with the prior night. But I fell asleep soon after coming back to my room and didn't wake until 5AM, some 11 or 12 hours later. There are vague memories floating 'round my brain of people at the door several times trying to rouse me, but I was proverbially dead to the world. Though probably I'd have had a great time exploring, the sleep did me good -- now that I've been up for a couple hours and enjoyed several cups of coffee, I'm ready to rock n roll.

But the downside is that now I'm behind in laundry and will have to offer explanations to my new friends when I see them this morning.

Today's schedule: lectures this morning and a visit to the War Memorial of Korea this afternoon.


Tomorrow we leave our beloved Vabien hotel for a weekend side trip to Gyeongju (map link here). Though I am loathe to check out of Vabien, the itinerary is particularly exciting: ancient Confucian and Buddhist sites, Korean taffy-making, hiking in the mountains, to name but a few planned stops. We'll be in the territory of the ancient Silla, a Korean kingdom that predates the United States by roughly a thousand years.

I'm not sure how this side-trip will affect my blogging. The four+ hour bus ride will give me time to type in Word, but I may not have the same easy Internet access in Gyeongju. So if all communication ceases for a couple days, don't start blaming Kim Jung Il too soon.

Time now for me to hit the shower. Maybe I'll get a chance to upload a few pics before we leave in an hour. It's occurred to me that though I'd rather read narrative than look at pictures, that's likely not true for y'all, and certainly this October when I keep a blog in Japan for my students back home it will probably help keep their interest to include more photos than I have on this trip.

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