Planes, Trains, and Wagons East

This is usually the part where I make fun of the fact that people were worried about me going, cause I'm generally an asshole to people who care about me, but strangely enough I don’t have to do that this time. Not because it was dangerous and the worries were justified – the complete opposite in fact. South Koreans, the people who live in the shadow of the most heavily fortified border in the world, many within a few kilometers (Seoul of 10 million people within 50 km), did all the making fun for me. I went with a meet-up group of fellow foreigners, and upon arrival at our first stop along the DMZ, found a relaxed atmosphere and an amusement park. That’s right. An amusement park. No one was using it, of course – why come to the DMZ for a roller coaster – but it was there, not 100 meters from the fence. Along the fence we saw a grand total of two soldiers in a guard post. This place, mind you, is where the only train entering the DMZ from South Korea travels across “Freedom Bridge.” This was the touristy area and, fortunately, not our only destination.


The next stops showed more of what makes this area one of the tensest in the world. We went inside two tunnels supposedly dug by the North Koreans after the armistice in an attempt to launch an invasion if necessary. Four such tunnels have been discovered along the DMZ, each of which are capable of funneling 30,000 troops into/out of North or South Korea per hour. It is strongly believed that more tunnels are out there.


Inside these tunnels I learned the most valuable lesson of the day: Hard hats work wonders. Those Koreans that dug the tunnels were quite short, and I was forced to trek through the tunnels hunched over. My back still hurts. Of course I still managed to crunch my hard hat against the rock many, many times. My head never hurt.


We also hit a couple of observation towers. One was located at the thinnest part of the DMZ which averages around 4 km in width between the two countries.


From there we could see a North Korean outpost, and through some great binoculars, the shape of a North Korean soldier.


Another stop was an old train station that used to operate along a rail route that would have connected the two Koreas today, but in its day serviced the one and only Korea, under Japanese occupation that is. Near the station were the remains of a train bombed out during the war.


Our last stop was a North Korean “Labor building.” Labor, of course, meaning torture. This building, also bombed out but still standing thanks to some South Korean efforts, was an eerie reminder of the horrors of war. More so than bombed out trains or fully functional tunnels, this building screamed of atrocities as loud as its former inhabitants. Though empty, it has the presence of something horrific. The broken, bullet-riddled stone spoke of terror, the silence in which it stood echoed screams of the past, and the blue sky against which it shone embraced flames of malice emanating from the efficiently organized structure.


This is usually the part where I would comment on the whole North-South situation, the US continued involvement, Bush, Kim Jong-il and the like. But I won’t. I still don’t know enough about what happened and what continues to happen. All I know is that so many people, on both sides of the fence, want the same thing: reunification. And so do I. All Koreans deserve it, and, hopefully, it will happen soon.

So I’m sitting here in the dark listening to Paul Curreri’s I Can Hear the Future Calling. I’m in the dark because my overhead light has gone out and I have no idea how to ask my landlady for a new bulb. Hopefully I’ll get that figured out tomorrow when I go into work. I’m listening to that particular song for a few reasons. First, I love and miss Paul Curreri. Second, when I was looking through iTunes I decided that the title fit well with what I wanted to tell you all.

I got my visa for entry into Kazakhstan today. A week ago I got my Chinese visa. That’s two of the three visas I need to have beforehand to legally enter the countries through which my train will travel on the way to Paris. The third, Russia, I couldn’t get today because today is a Korea holiday. It celebrates, I found out from my wonderful coffee shop friends Jenny and Jennifer, a private in the Korean army, a woman, who fought admirably against the Japanese invasion a long time ago. Thanks, Ms. Whoever-you-are, for prolonging my visa quest. Fortunately, I can get it in Kazakhstan if I run out of time here in Korea.

Here’s how the journey maps out so far:

Ferry from Seoul to Beijing
Beijing – Xian – Dunhuang – Urumqi – Almaty, Kazakhstan – 4 day train to Kiev – Krakow – Budapest – Prague – Amsterdam – Paris (meeting my dad) – Venice (meeting my mom) – Naples/Sorrento – Rome – ?

If you can think of any other interesting stops along that route, let me know.

The past few days I’ve been more nervous than excited. I’ve never done anything like this before. Two months is a long time to travel alone. It would be so great to just come home and start a settled life. But then I got my visa. Just seeing that piece of paper in my passport, knowing I can visit a place I know nothing about, got me all excited again. I can do this, and I’m going to.

Anyway, if you’re still keeping up with my blog you’ve been extremely patient. I know pictures are the real reason you tune in, so I shall indulge you.