Dramatic DMZ Adventure

This was my Friday night. I took the high speed rail 3 times that night...because I'm dumb.

The plan was to go to the DMZ on Saturday morning. We had to meet at the army base in Seoul at 7:00 or 7:30, Australia and I weren't sure which because England had planned this. She had found the tour, booked it, and even told us to dress in layers because it'd be cold. She's sort of a motherly figure. We had to go Friday night because the earliest KTX wouldn't get us there in time so we thought we'd go down Friday, have a nice night out getting tacos and whatnot. England had a late class on Friday night so Australia and I went right after work and got there about 9:10. We casually got on the subway, took the right line in the wrong direction, stopped for a taco so we weren't starving while we waited, and then headed to the hostel that England had booked. The owner met us outside as he was heading to get his own dinner. He knew Australia and England from paragliding last weekend. He asked where I was from and said we were a real international group.

Suddenly Australia said, "Did you remember your passport?"

"No."

"Shit. Me neither."

It was about 10:30 and the last KTX to Cheonan is at 11:30 and takes 40 minutes to get there. We're looking at slow train schedules, subways, buses, everything. We were ready to take a taxi from this city to the next, that city to the next, and so on until we got back to Seoul. We didn't want to miss this tour because it'd be a month or two before the next one was open. But everything closed too early and started again too late.

Then the hostel owner saw on his phone the KTX schedule for "tomorrow" which was everything after midnight. He told us, "The last one from Cheonan to Seoul is at 12:3--"

Australia interrupted, "We gotta go now if we're going to make it."

We paid for our rooms because we were sure we'd be back. We ran through the neighborhood to the mini-New York with all the cabs. We flagged one down and went to the KTX station. We booked it through the station, weaving, shoving, wrecking our way to the ticketing counter because Seoul Station is always busy and there's always a protest outside and there's always shopping and people heading here or there. It's a hub for everyone.

We got there in time for the second to last train, but it was full. No first class, no standing room, nothing. So we got first class tickets on the last train back (because that was all that was left) and we had to wait 30 minutes. We got KFC and checked the time constantly. We were planning the journey in our heads. 40 minutes to Cheonan, maybe 3 minutes delay, 5 minutes by cab each way. We'd make it by seconds if it's 12:30 and it goes smoothly. Australia asked "Was it 12:30 or 12:40?" We couldn't remember.

We got back to Cheonan and bought our tickets for the next train before getting a cab just in case they sell out. We ran to the cab stop outside the station but everyone who just got off the train needed a cab too. There must've been 50 people waiting.

But there was another cab stop about 5 minutes on foot away. It was icy and cold but we ran (skidded) anyway. We got within 200 meters and saw a cab with its light on at the stop. We couldn't even check the time because it'd be too damn depressing how little we have.

The cab pulled away.

We waited for maybe three minutes. The ticket said the last train leaves at 12:39, so we had time, but we were waiting for a cab and all of them had passengers or they were headed the wrong way.

We saw one that was going to pass us without stopping so we ran into the street and waved him down.

We wouldn't have time to get another cab back at the apartment. It'd take too long. We had to figure out how, without limited Korean skills, to tell this guy to wait for us while we got our passports. We also had to tell him we weren't running off without paying. We headed to the apartment. There was no real traffic. The roads weren't icy so he went normal speeds. But we only had 10 minutes and it was 5 minutes each way.

And there was a light that would not turn green. Actually it was green, but it wasn't a green arrow so he wouldn't go. There wasn't even anyone that'd hit us or anything!

But we got to the apartment, told him to wait, bounded up the stairs two at a time, got our passports and were down the stairs in 30 seconds. We had 3 minutes to get to the station.

There was no traffic, but he took the long way around the station. It was 12:38, one minute left.

We paid with exact change then took off for the station running across the ice, taking the stairs three at a time, even going up the escalator the same way. We got to the tracks and...

There was no train.

"Fuck," we both said.

Then...

30 seconds later, the train rolled in. We saw the board and it said the train was delayed 3 minutes.

We were so excited! I got out my ticket and Australia went for his but...where is it? This pocket? That? Nowhere! He had dropped it when searching for his keys at the apartment! But they never check tickets so we risked it anyway and got on the train. We were talking about how dumb we were and what if we had bought the tickets after getting back or if we had made it in time for the second to the last train and what if this and what if that and would we have still made it?

And then we thought, well what if we just weren't dumb idiots who forgot their passports.

We got to Seoul Station and had to go to Itaewon where our hostel was. The subways were all closed and the cab stop was busy so we decided to walk to the next cab stop. It was snowing and quiet and nice. But we never saw another cab stop so we walked for an hour to get there.

The DMZ was a lot more interesting than I expected. We crossed a bridge with live explosives attached to its supports in case of tanks. They were friendly explosives, I guess.

Home

I’m home. I’m on my laptop, sat upon my bed, drinking a jukalash cawfee (chocolate coffee), and I’m comfortable. Korea has gotten to the point where it feels like home.

That sounds more permanent than it’s meant. Illinois was my home. Iowa never felt like home but Bangor did for a time. And I left all those places and came to Korea and one day I’ll leave Korea too. I’m okay with that. I’m always okay with leaving home as I’m not much for feeling sentimental over that stuff. I miss my dog. I miss taco bell and I miss hockey nights with the one-eared freak, but I was okay with leaving Illinois.

Korea has turned into home, seemingly suddenly but I've been here three months and the realization was sudden though the process was not. I know where the Lotte Mart and Emart Traders are and I know my budget and how much I always go over. I could get to the DMZ if I wanted or to Busan or Seoul and I know the prices of KTX tickets. I know how to get places the KTX doesn't go and how to speak to the cabbies. I know when to say “Ne” and what hand motions to use to say no to emphasize “Aniyo.” I no longer worry over dealing with the cashier at the 815, though sometimes I’ll get some chicken and they’ll point to it and say something I don’t understand and I imagine they’re saying “This is dog, you know,” just because it gives me a laugh and I know it’s not true.

I plan to go at the end of my year here, so June 2014, but who knows? I can’t speak for the future but I can tell you that right now I’m home.

I got some Oreos

How many cookies were you allowed as a kid? After dinner, if I remembered to ask, I'd get two and some milk. Two Oreos or two fudge stripes or, around Christmas, two peanut butter blossoms. Two thin mints or two tag alongs. Sometimes I tried to apply this rule to brownies or pieces of cake. My parents just cut the piece in two.

One summer, I spent my afternoons with a friend, Max, and we'd go swimming at The Racket Club nearby and I was amazed after lunch when Gruba, his mom, pulled the flimsy plastic from the crinkly foil packaging and just left the Chips Ahoy! for us and his three younger brothers to devour. As many as we wanted! The youngest couldn't reach so he'd have to rely on the good nature of the rest of us and usually when we pulled two or three cookies from the container, we'd toss half of one his way. The five of us only got through three of the four rows, but still! The allowance of cookies was a greater freedom than recess.

But even after that experience, I still always settled for two Oreos as a kid. It was the rule. I'd break them apart and make double stufs or if they were double stufs already, quadruble stufs. Or I'd lick off the cream and just dunk the cookie in the milk. Sometimes I'd be feeling depressed and I'd do nothing special to the cookie before letting it soak, and as my thoughts fell upon my elementary troubles, I'd forget to withdraw the cookie and it'd crumble to the bottom.

I allow myself a box of cookies a week. Each box is generally the same: each serving is wrapped with foil. Some boxes have each cookie wrapped. Others follow my rule of two. But Oreos--they're for when you want to indulge. They're the treats among treats. They're not more expensive than the next brand, maybe $1 for two foil packages. But each contains five cookies.

These Koreans spoil me. 

Place Holder

I have stories from Busan and ones from Hulk's camping but I probably won't be posting too many.

If I do, they'll go here. 

Burnt Galbi

Minnesota’s girlfriend, Wisconsin, is Korean. But she doesn’t speak Korean; she grew up in Wisconsin and I don’t know if she was born in America or what. But she looks Korean enough that when we went for dak galbi (short rib barbecue) tonight, the waitress would address her in full-speed Korean. Wisconsin navigated it perfectly with “Ne” and nods. To the waitress, she was the guide showing a few waygooks around the city.

The place was crowded, even by Korean standards. I think we almost got turned away because there was no room, but I can’t be sure because Australia was handling it since his Korean exists and ours is limited to a dozen words between the three of us, but a table cleared up and they cleaned it as they sat us. After wiping off the spills from the last patrons, some guy came in with white burning charcoal and stuck it in the center of the table and put a grill over the top. Then the waitress came back with six big cuts of ribs and some mushrooms and tteok (rice cakes) and she cooked two big cuts of ribs in front of us then left us to take care of ourselves. It’s not that hard, right? You flip the meat when it’s ready and then eat it when both sides are cooked.  This was my first time going for dak galbi, but it’s not so different from bulgogi (fire meat, barbecue, I think beef) and samgyeopsal (pork barbecue).

But we burned the meat. And the waitress scolded Wisconsin for it. The boys weren’t to blame—we were just dumb waygooks. But a real Korean girl should be familiar with dak galbi. 

The Champ

Australia and I went to the boxing gym tonight, 한국의 BEAT 한국의, which we went to a few weekends ago but it was closed. We met the Korean champ.

He was very friendly. And patient. He spoke almost no English and I don't speak any Korean but Australia knew enough to get by but still, if I had known we'd be meeting the Korean champ, I'd be too scared he'd knock my face in. He asked me if I liked Tyson. 

Explaining that we just wanted to pay for one night of training was hard but we eventually we were told we couldn't do that. There's another gym by Cheonan Station where they speak English well because the instructor is married to a waygook (foreigner) from America. It's about a 15 minute cab ride there. We might go. Or we might train with the Korean champ for a month and see how it goes. 

The Korean boxing gym just says [korean] BEAT [korean]. 

Sorry

So Minnesota just arrived Thursday and we went out and had a drink and I sat there and tried to explain to the waitress that I don't drink but she brought a beer anyway and someone else drank it.

LA and Canada left this morning. While we waited for Director Lee to pick up Canada to take him to the train station, we sat around and chatted and they imparted the last bits of wisdom we'd soon forget. Negotiate everything. E-Mart has pretzels and American bacon. Canada also gave us things he couldn't take with him (toilet paper, slippers, books, pancake mix). Then it was time to go. We helped Canada carry down the luggage.

Well, Minnesota has been staying at Director Lee's. So when he picked up Canada, Minnesota hopped out and all the stuff we were taking from Canada's apartment was still in Canada's apartment.

So we showed Minnesota around: Here's how you turn on the hot water. Here's the AC remote. Here's the gas, etc. Oh, and by the way, all this stuff that's in your apartment is ours now.

Sorry we ransacked the place right in front of you.