The Danger Zone

        If you know me, you know that I've always lived on the edge.  Where'd I grow up?  Saint Louis, one of the most dangerous cities in America.  Then it was off to Phoenix for university, a hotbed of drugs, gangs, and kidnappings. So while I've enjoyed the safety and seclusion of my little town in South Korea, I can't say I've ever been concerned for my life.  And that's just not acceptable.  But lucky for me, I heard about a magical, treacherous place that's only a few hours away by bus.  That's right.  I went to North Korea.      

        One fateful weekend, a few friends and I drove up to Seoul, and then took the two hour bus ride to the border.  You can't really get access to the area unless you're with the military or a tour group, and we went with the latter.  The area we were headed to is called the DMZ, or demilitarized zone. Basically, on each side of the border there's a one mile buffer zone for extra protection, I guess.  Our bus pulled into a little town outside right outside the DMZ so we could register with the military.  We were greeted by soldiers and barbed wire and signs warning of land mines.  At certain random points, we were told not to take pictures.  Apparently, South Korea is afraid the pics will end up on Facebook, North Korea will see them, they'll get a strategic advantage, and then the nukes will come out.  Or something.  Anyway, the most interesting thing we saw at this stop was the exchange bridge.  After the Korean war, 50,000 POWs were traded on this bridge, crossing the border by train.  Across the way, there was an abandoned amusement park/carnival.  Because it's Korea, of course.

The POW bridge...

...and the carnival to its right.

       Next, we headed closer to enemy territory and down into the tunnels.  Even after there was a truce and the war ended, North Korea started digging tunnels under the DMZ, presumably preparing for the next attack.  South Korea found a couple and naturally asked, "Umm...what are you doing?"  North's response:  "We're digging for coal."  Then they painted the walls black to make it more convincing.    Pretty sure they weren't fooling anyone.  According to our tour guide,  30,000 men could get through the tunnels and cross the border in an hour.  And so far, only four tunnels have been found.  They think there are more than twenty out there.
       My own experience in the tunnel wasn't bad, but it wasn't great, either.  They're pretty utilitarian, so there's not much more room than necessary.  In most places, it's about five or six feet wide and six feet tall, which meant I got to repeatedly hit my head on the rocky roof.  Thankfully, they gave us all hard hats, and I did try to hunch my back to avoid getting too many concussions.  Still, every few steps there'd be a THUNK CRACK THUNK, my head against the ceiling.  But I was alright with it.  If you're not in some physical pain, you're not getting the full North Korean experience.

At the end of the tunnel. 

       After the tunnels, we headed up to an observatory where we could get more of a bird's eye view of the border.  It was a nice clear day, and from our vantage point, we could see everything in the area.  The coolest part was the North Korean ghost town.  Right on the edge of their territory, the North built up this fancy prop town, trying to convince Southerners to defect.  But all the buildings are uninhabited, and without windows or interior rooms.  They're essentially empty shells.  I looked through a pair of binoculars for a few minutes, and I didn't see a single person over there, and it was three in the afternoon.  Who knows?  Maybe they were taking siestas.       

The view

North Korean prop town.

   

  

North Korea on the left, South Korean on the right.

       Along the way to our next stop, we got the chance to shop at a few touristy places.  We were given more cryptic orders about not taking pictures while crossing bridges or when a soldier came on the bus.  At the tourist shop, we figured we needed to experience some more North Korean culture, and we decided the best way to do that was through their alcohol.  What kind of alcohol does the North make, you ask?  The kind with deer antlers shaved into it.  At the beginning of the bottle, it actually wasn't that bad.  But by the end of it, it started to taste a little bit musty and toxic.  Overall, I'd say it was kinda awful.
      Our last stop on the tour was the train station which connects the South to Pyongyang.  Needless to say, this place doesn't get much traffic.  But it did gave us a great chance to use our imaginations.  We bought tickets, and then walked through the gates (past armed soldiers, of course) and out onto the platform.  After a few minutes of waiting for a train that was never coming, we got bored and went onto the tracks.  Then we started posing in boy band photos.  Some soldiers yelled at us after a while, but I think they enjoyed the show.

Getting ready for the big trip to Pyongyang!     

The road to North Korea.  I think this sign says "stop."

The newest Kpop sensation, the Kimchi Bad Men.

        In the end, we headed away from the border and back towards Seoul.  No bombs had gone off, nobody was attacked, and there were no murders.  It wasn't quite the adrenaline rush I had hoped for, but I guess I have to take what I can get.  So was there ever a point that I feared for my life?  Only after drinking that North Korean alcohol.  Shit was terrible.

The Candy Man

        Parties are supposed to be fun.  You eat some food, grab a few drinks, and usually it's a pretty good time.  Of course, school parties are gonna be a little different than the ones you’d throw in your own home, but the general rules should still apply.  So this Halloween, I decided to give my classes a little taste of American culture (and a lot of candy) by hosting one of my own. I figured it’d be a harmless, semi-educational way to spend the day. What I failed to realize, though, is that going to a party and creating a party are two very different things.
        First, I had to plan the whole event.  I wanted to play a few games and I needed materials, which led to the most insanely complicated approval process ever.  I had to write out a lesson plan, which I showed to my assistant, which we then brought to the head teacher, who gave it to the administrative dept., who approved it and gave it back to the head teacher, who finally took me shopping.  Jesus.  I mentioned it to the kids about a week beforehand, and they seemed really excited, so that was good.  But on the day of the party, I realized they might’ve been too excited.  My first graders rushed through the door, but instead of the usual five or six, there were sixteen.  Word had gotten out about my plans, and the other kids wanted in.  Can’t blame them, I guess.
        Our school had some costumes in a supply cabinet, so we passed those out and let the kids get dressed up.  Since we couldn’t do trick or treating the traditional way, we had to get a little creative.  I had them line up at my desk, knock on it, and say the magic words.  And then I gave them a bunch of candy.  I have to say, they seemed pretty happy about the whole deal.  We ended up spending the better part of the next twenty minutes “trick or treating.”

        After that, I had them play the old “guess how many pieces of candy are in the jar?” game.  If there had been five or six kids, the game might’ve worked.  But with sixteen, it was a mess.  The first few kids wrote down their guesses, and then started running around the room wreaking havoc and stealing candy.  I went over to try to corral them, but that only caused more problems.  Back at the guessing jar, I saw that kids were writing down their guesses, and then pulling out handfuls of candy for the road.  By the time the last person got up to guess, they could’ve easily counted the remaining pieces.  Mostly because there were two left.

        Next, I brought them back to their desks for snacks and drinks.  Of course, they immediately swarmed me and started shouting out what flavor of juice they wanted.  By the time I’d filled a few glasses, the first kid would finish his drink and be begging for more.  Eventually, I convinced them all to sit down, and that made it a little less chaotic.  For the rest of the time, though, I basically ended up going around the class like a waiter, refilling glasses and handing out food.  I put on a classic short film— Mickey Mouse and the Sorceror’s Apprentice—and they all screamed like I’d just put Teletubbies on or something.  They absolutely hated it, which I still can’t believe.  MICKEY MOUSE IS TIMELESS, YOU LITTLE BRATS.

        The fifth and six graders were next, and big surprise, there were quite a few more students than usual.  We did the costume and candy thing again, as well a toilet paper mummy contest.  I thought it was pretty fun, if only because it kept them standing still for a little while. 

Everybody likes toilet paper.

Harry Potter teacher.  Wand: chopstick, 9 inches.

Some Halloween decorations we made for class.  These are my drawings...

And these are from the kids.  Some really talented artists.  

        By the time my last class rolled around (3^rd and 4^th), I was exhausted.  We went through the whole thing one more time, and by the end, I was just giving out handfuls of candy to the kids.  But I think it’s justifiable.  After all, it’s my job to introduce them to American concepts like "excess."  See, I’m teaching them culture.

        Once it was all over, I picked up the last few candy wrappers and scraps of toilet paper that littered the floor, and then I headed home. I walked through the door, collapsed on my bed, and went to sleep.   It had been a long day of work, although I have to admit that I managed to have a little bit of fun, too.  But at the moment, I just needed some time to recover.  Like after any good party, really.