Old Korean Path

Past the Dunkin' Donuts, between the Mercedes and BMW,  

And way beyond the endless, tall apartment complexes that fill the horizon, 

You can still find an old mud path that runs alongside a shimmering green rice paddy. 

Take it to the end, turn right,

And there you may catch a glimpse of the old Korea you once knew.

Village homes in countryside near Daegu, 1974

Stream and fields near Daegu, 1974

Mud path heading back in time

North Korea: Unwrapping the Mystery Inside the Enigma

The U.S. State Department’s bulletin of May 21^st was unambiguous. It strongly recommended against travel by Americans to North Korea. This warning was based on several recent and worrisome incidents; the arrests of two U.S. citizens, one apparently after asking for asylum, the second for allegedly leaving a bible in his hotel room. Yet another American was serving a sentence in a North Korean labor camp. He still is.

It is not easy to sit on the fence when it comes to North Korea, also known as the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK). Its leaders have been characterized as ruthless, its policies and actions interpreted as reckless.  It’s universally seen as an international pariah--a rogue state like no other. In his January 2002 State of the Union Address, President George W. Bush, famously labeled North Korea (along with Iran and Iraq) as one of three countries comprising the “Axis of Evil.”

We flew on Russian-made Air Koryo jets between Beijing and Pyongyang

Visiting North Korea had long been on my bucket list. I felt that I needed to experience this secretive and vexing place for myself. Once I discovered that U.S. citizens could, in fact, legally visit North Korea going through China, I signed myself up.  Our tour originated in Beijing, only a two-hour flight from my residence in South Korea where I teach English at a large private university. Koryo Tours, a British outfit, scheduled a mandatory briefing session, in their Beijing office, the day before we departed on our 8-day tour of North Korea. We listened intently to their recommended “Do’s,” and mostly, “Don’ts.” Don’t stray from the group at any time. No photos of soldiers or military installations. Don’t ask our North Korean tour guides challenging political questions that might be interpreted as insults to the leadership there. Suddenly, this adventure was becoming uncomfortably real.

Koryo Tours Office in Beijing, where we met for a pre-tour briefing

Our Russian-built plane landed in Pyongyang, North Korea’s capital of 3.5 million, clearly the showcase of the country. The many photos of Pyongyang I had seen suggested a dark gray metropolis, devoid of color, with wide empty streets, its citizens, drab and humorless. Pyongyang, also known as the City of Monuments with its seemingly endless parade of statues, museums and edifices that honor the State, does lack both the vibrancy and excitement of its South Korean counterpart, Seoul. But it’s a city that somehow seems to make due in spite of endless obstacles, including an inferior infrastructure, and regular power outages. When the lights go out, no one misses a beat. Its subway, bus and trolley systems make impressive use of antiquated vehicles from the 70’s, 80’s, even the 60’s—most imported from former Eastern bloc countries.

View of the capital city, Pyongyang, from the 36th floor of our hotel

Our tour covered a wide swath of the southern half of the country and included a visit to Panmunjoem, along the DMZ, and the nearby historic city of Kaesong, where 120 South Korean-built and managed factories provide employment to over 53,000 North Korean workers.  Having previously visited the DMZ from the South Korean side, I was surprised by how low key and non-bellicose the North Korean soldiers were. In fact, I struck up a conversation with an officer who led our tour there. He was cordial and posed for photos with a number of us on the tour. Such informality never happens with their more serious South Korean army counterparts.

A soldier, Mr. Park, led our tour of Panmunjeon, at the DMZ. He was
surprisingly cordial and genuinely curious about my connections to South Korea.

I was impressed by the general friendliness of the North Koreans we encountered everywhere we visited. They are very much like the South Koreans I have come to know and respect for their earnestness, generosity and diligence. North Koreans seem to genuinely love their country and they are a very proud lot.  However, that should not come as a surprise.

The control of information by the State is complete and unrelenting, and has been since Kim Ill Sung came to power in 1945.  Authoritarian leadership, handed down through 3 consecutive generations of the Kim dynasty, now resides with 30-year old Kim Jung Un. North Korean newspapers, TV broadcasts, schools, billboards, banners, even public loud speakers, extoll praise for the country while spewing forth propaganda against the enemy, usually in the personage of the venomous Americans.

The ubiquitous statues of Kim Il Sung
and Kim Jung Il

The “elephant in the room,” is the network of prison camps long revealed by satellite imagery and confirmed by the few individuals fortunate enough to have made it out alive. Most recently, Shin Dong-hyuk, author of “Escape from Camp 14,” described the almost unimaginable brutality of the camps. It’s in these camps where 3 generations of family members are banished for crimes committed against the State. All North Koreans belong to neighborhood watchdog groups, comprised of 25-50 families.  Known as inminban, they are led by hardened middle-aged women who keep tabs on everyone and everything, cementing the foundation of the enterprise of fear run by Kim Jung Un and his minions. Everyone on the tour is aware of these camps. But, we avoid the topic for fear that just talking about them would put our guides at serious personal risk.

Our tour stops included a fertilizer manufacturing plant in Hamhung, an agricultural university in Wonsan, both cities along the east coast of the Korean peninsula, and a historic residence of a former king. At each site, we are greeted by a lovely hostess wearing the traditional and colorful Korean clothing called a hanbok. The story they tell us is always the same. We’re made aware when either Kim Ill Sung, Kim Jung Ill or Kim Jung Un visited the site and the amazing wisdom or expertise they imparted while there. Pictures of the visit are shown and the chair, pen or desk that they used, invariably have become sacred items.

Fertilizer factory in Hamhung with 1950's era equipment and rotary phone

Every North Korean wears a pin picturing one or both of the former leaders on a red background. Just as predictably, their framed photos are carefully placed visibly high on a wall in every family’s residence. Patriotism, devotion and obedience, at least publicly, appear to run wide and deep. They fill the spaces between everything, like mortar, securing the bricks of the State.

Manager of Pyongyang trolley maintenance yard wears badge with leaders'
photos--as does every citizen in the DPRK

Where does genuine loyalty begin? Where does it end? In what places does fear reside? It’s nearly impossible to discern in this place of cartoon-like images and monuments on steroids. During a radio address in 1939, Winston Churchill uttered these now memorable words. Russia, he said, “is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.” North Korea, its people, and its exploits, to this day, remains more of a mystery than Russia ever was.

Tour guide heads back to Juche Tower after giving tour

Photo credits:
Koryo Jet photo courtesy of Wikipedia
All other photos by Steve Schuit

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round--Sort of

A parent cannot casually consider, let alone confide in others, their preference for one child over another. To say "I love her more because she...," is a kind of parenting taboo, a quiet truth, yet a public blasphemy. And so it is when discussing Japan and Korea; children by experience from travels over decades. I walked the lanes of Kyoto as a 23-year old vagabond in 1974. Its streets were still musty from the rebuilding decades of the 1950's and 60's. I returned to Kyoto in 1988 after attending the Summer Olympics in Korea, and also took in Osaka, Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Just recently, I returned to see the Osaka and Kyoto of 2014. 

Several contrasts between Korea and Japan are striking. For the moment, at least, I'll leave the possible explanations behind. The dynamics between drivers and pedestrians, the cleanliness of the streets, and the approach to day-to-day customer service, are amongst the most noticeable differences. 

In Korea, simply crossing the street requires guile, courage and faith in a higher power. Korea's roads are not only the intersections of vehicular traffic and pedestrians, they're where the Wild West meets Russian roulette. The rules are anyone's guess and your life is thrown to the whims of fate lying behind blacked-out car windows, hiding drivers lacking both time and discipline. In comparison, the streets of Japan are calm and predictable. A soothing courtesy, mixed with Japanese predictability, bestow order along Japan's streets. I was shocked by the lightness in my step as a crossed the streets of Osaka and Kyoto.

Clean and predictable: navigating Japan's streets is usually not a do-or-die situation

I remembered my incredulity when I visited the Japan of years past; how clean its streets were. Not just clean in the sense of "This place is relatively clean for a city of its size," but remarkably clean in the sense of "No cigarette butts to be found anywhere?" or "Hey, there's no trash blowing in the wind." That particular Japan remains unchanged. Meanwhile, here in Korea, to my utter chagrin, the street corners of my Korean neighborhood are essentially open-air containers for residents' trash: random furniture, food remnants of all types, assorted debris, garbage and even panes of broken glass--all pile up in spaces adjacent to where children play and people stroll.  These open and dangerous eyesores exist practically everywhere in Korea. They are frustratingly part and parcel of the landscape. The Japanese would not tolerate this. 

Much to my chagrin: a street corner in my Korean neighborhood

Recently, I ordered a few replacement parts for the LG refrigerator in my apartment. Two days later I was notified via text message that the parts had arrived at the local LG service center. The price was fair and the service I received at the center was prompt and courteous. It matched the slogan on the walls: "Excellence You Expect." That's the good, and the bad. Actually, I talked about the great service for several days because I was surprised by it. It is not what I have come to expect here in Korea--at least not consistently. 

At every turn in Japan (at least during this brief trip, to be fair), the working Japanese we encountered seemed to exist only to be of service. When we asked where the nearest ATM was, the clerk would turn to us and insist that he personally escort us: "Follow me." When I requested that an iron be delivered to my room, it seemed to arrive only seconds after I put down the phone. When we asked about the somewhat confusing ticket machines in the subways, a door suddenly opened where I thought a wall was. A head and white-gloved hands popped out pantomiming helpful directions. It became apparent: I should expect, not be surprised by, great Japanese customer service.

It's precisely because I love Korea that I find this all so unsettling. At every turn I hear that Korea aspires to be a top flight tourist destination. Truth be told, I've heard this refrain for four decades now. But as long as tourists have to risk their lives crossing Korea's streets, or dodge piles of trash as they travel from place to place, they won't be here long enough to enjoy the otherwise great Korean customer service that awaits them, here and there.

Korea's Safety Paralysis

These days the Sewol Ferry disaster is the talk of the country. The tragedy has squeezed every ounce of spirit out of Korea's conscience. As of this post, the bodies of dozens of young students still float in the cold, murky waters off Korea's southwest coast. What will the fallout of this deeply troubling saga be?

The ferry Sewol during headier times

Writers, analysts, citizens, parents and families who have lost children, and casual observers are all casting blame for the ship's sinking on an April morning as it was making its way from Inchon to Jeju Island. Some blame the captain and the crew for telling the passengers to stay in their seats while valuable time was lost. The crew, it seems, lost no time exiting the ship and saving their own lives. Many blame the president and governmental leaders for their questionable handling of the rescue. The prime minister has resigned and leaders of various maritime agencies have been prevented from leaving the country. Still others blame the ferry company owners for recklessly altering the ship, overloading cargo, and failing to even minimally train employees.

Far and wide from the site of this disaster, makeshift memorials dot the landscape of this grieving country. In a park here in Daegu, yellow ribbons hung along a line in the sun. Teenage girls, the same age as the victims of the Sewol, wrote messages expressing their sorrow. For now, sadness fills every nook and cranny of this country.

Students, about the same age as the students aboard the Sewol, place yellow ribbons
at a memorial

A student writes a message in memory of the lives lost

A Korean friend shared her perspective on the disaster. "Korea may lead the world in technology and manufacturing," she said, "but in terms of safety, we still behave like a developing country." Moments earlier, as I was about to cross a major thoroughfare to meet her, I watched half a dozen cars run the red light as pedestrians stood nearby.  It is common, in fact routine, to see Korean drivers run red lights here. Stop signs? Many are hidden from view, obstructed by poles, trees, and overgrown shrubbery. Otherwise, they are totally ignored.

Our campus is dotted with red stop signs located at various crossings and intersections. Over a period of 2-years, I have never seen a single Korean driver stop at any of these signs--not once. It is not surprising then, that Korea's per driver fatality rate is twice as high as that of the U.S.  Koreans seem to think that stopping at a stop sign is optional, more of a guideline than a law.

Disregard for safety,  it appears, was a key contributor behind the Sewol disaster. The ship had been dangerously overloaded nearly every time it left port since the inception of its service in Korea. Maritime and government officials at all levels seem to have either colluded with fleet owners, or overlooked freight safety regulations.

Many Koreans are expressing dismay and embarrassment about the state of safety in their country. Others wonder if their cultural tendency to rush from one thing to another, a dynamic known as "ppali ppali," is causing them to cut corners and to put people at risk.

Are Koreans moving too fast to "think safety?"

As I ponder this situation, an iconic bumper sticker comes to mind, "Think globally, act locally." Koreans have ridden the wave of success generated by their global icons such as Samsung, LG, Hyundai, KIA and even Korean K-Pop. Yet when it comes to safety, safety close to home, most turn away.  As I was about to leave the park in Daegu, on that bright and sunny day, I watched hundreds of people, mostly young children, having fun biking in designated riding areas. Everyone was enjoying themselves. Only one child was wearing a safety helmet. Safety in Korea, it appears, is someone else's problem.

Safety, in Korea, is someone else's problem

What's In a Name?

It seemed like an insignificant event at the time, as normal as licking a stamp and placing it in the corner of an envelope, or like leaving a bookmark on the last page you’ve read in a book. Little did I appreciate the gift and the meaning it would have in my life, as Professor Chae Joon-ki handed me the sheet of paper.

The professor had studied the names of each of the Peace Corps volunteers in our group in Korea. Using the letters and sounds from our first and last names in English, he tried to create a Korean name that would be a meaningful match.

Professor Chae Joon-ki in 1974

I was given the name Song Su Nam. As Korean tradition places the surname name first, my family name is Song, from the Chinese Song Dynasty. Su, means long, like the length of a river, or a life of many years. Nam, is Korean for namja or man. 

That's me, aka Song Su Nam, as a Peace Corps Volunteer (1975)

Since that cold, sunny, January day in 1974, my Korean second name has taken on special meaning for me. I've envisioned myself an old, wise man who lived in Korea during the days of the Song Dynasty, sometime between 960-1279.

Actually, I am quite proud of my original birth surname Schuit, which is purely Dutch for “boat.” That would have been the vehicle that transported my grandparents to America during the second decade of the 20^th century. The name was probably chosen in the early 1800’s as a result of a mandate from Napoleon who, as he conquered Europe, dictated last names as a sign of modernization. No doubt, my ancestors’ occupation had something to do with the sea.

My Korean name, however, has come to take on a bit of magic in its own right. Years ago I had my Korean name inscribed on a traditional Korean stamp (doh-jang). Until fairly recently, the outline of your name, in thick red ink, constituted your signature in all official transactions here.

My Korean name stamp

When referred to endearingly by Korean friends, the word “shi” is added verbally as a suffix, making my given Korean name, Su Nam shi, an expression of closeness and caring in a relationship.

Recently, I acted on a long standing, but unfulfilled intention to get a tattoo. In a tattoo parlor in the Gangnam District in Seoul, In-nyung, a lovely, quiet, young artist took me full circle. On my right leg, she drew the name given to me over forty years ago by Professor Chae. Long since retired from Kyungbuk National University, I was sad to learn that he passed away just a week or two after I got my tattoo.

My Korean name

A name, of course, can be more than just a “handle.” Sometimes, it’s a passport to an entirely different world.