grab some cocoa, this is gonna be a long one folks...

The Real North Korea
I wish I could fully put into words what my weekend trip to North Korea was like. Unfortunately, it takes one to know one. One overused word that tends to sum up the entire experience: Surreal. After an 8 hour work day, we board the bus to Seoul. 10 pm honeybread and beer. 11pm begins the all-night bus ride to my first communist country. You'd think a 6 hour bus ride would provide enough sleep to suffice. Unfortunately the rest stops every hour, complete with noise and lights didn't offer more than 50 minutes combined shut-eye. If you know me, you know sleep is not a nicety but a necessity to me. The idea of a weekend of no sleep was not appealing from the get go. But hey, it's North Korea we're talking about right?

Pre-sunrise we were standing around with our group at a rest stop. Our 2 buses of foreigners stood out amongst the 20 others packed with South Korean climbers. Now, I should have blogged about the wonders of Korean Mountain Climbing before but in short, it's intense. All ages, but usually those my grandparents age, deck themselves out in any and all gear they can get their hands on. Complete with -matching red jackets, vests, sun hats, walking poles, knee-high socks (usually argile) tucked into their boots, and of course in Korean fashion, gloves. Our leader tells our sweatpantsy, flip-floppy group to "prepare for the hike". I put on shoes. Again, 20 minutes later..."You should all be preparing yourselves for the hike". I drink a little water. "Prepare" again. I sit down and dread a 4 hour hike after a night of no sleep.

Passing through the DMZ (see earlier blog) was a little anti-climactic only consisted of a few guards and some obnoxiously big fences. Where's the cameras, pointed guns, brink of nuclear holocaust? Though we discussed the amount of voltage on the electric fences...We come to the North Korean immigration. Every few hundred feet you'd see the NK guards, in the middle of nowhere, standing at attention, holding red flags to the side...creepy. You would think in all of North Korea's 'glory' that they would want you to see only the best. Unfortunately the intimidation lessened as we walked into a green tent, no bigger than my backyard. Probably the most fear of the trip was felt as that guard stared into my eyes. Looking at my English passport, yet not knowing a word of English. With a sharp nod and a slam of my passport onto the counter, I had officially made it to North Korea. Our baggage was all x-rayed and our electronics 'inspected' which looked like more of a glance. All our previous warnings and reading had instilled more fear than the actuality of it. No mp3s, good cameras, or arguable reading material would be allowed. For all they know, I could have had an escape route to South Korea on my ipod. Guess if I wanted to revolutionize the North Korean people's lives, there was my chance. Now gone. Oh well.

We switched to NK buses and were given our lifelines: ID badges that must be worn at ALL times or else...(dum dum dum) Those large plastic pouches would prove daunting in everything from hiking to washing hands. Our first encounter with their "Great Leader" as they call him, Kim Jung Il, was a giant picture of him at the front of the first building we saw. We knew then, this country meant business. 20 minutes of NK's mountainous scenery along the coast, spotted with those ominous guards in the most unpredictable, desolate locations brought us to the village we'd call home for 48 hours. Another thing, we weren't allowed to travel outside of this square mile or else...

I step off the bus into this pristine village, with a handful of buildings, a nice hotel, a dome (where we later saw the circus) and a lot of cleanliness. Upbeat Korean music filled our ears reminding me of Disneyland. Complete with cartoon picture opportunities. It was again, surreal. Something just wasn't right, though I couldn't tell you what. We found out the music was odes to none other than Kim Jung Il. They had a Family Mart (7-11) that took American and Korean money. Why, with America as their arch rival, would they take their money? We had big theories about how it was to create an economic upheaval in America...unfortunately my $50 probably wouldn't give them much punch. Someone called it the Whistler of North Korea. It literally looked like a Alpine Ski Village. A little too pristine, too clean, too out of place. North Korea? Where was the famine and poverty? Apparently we we're viewing the mask, the Korea they wanted us to see. Still an experience none the less.

Our first hike of two began at 10am. We were previously informed of a few vital rules. No spitting, no trash, no swimming. Is this the same adulterated land mass as South Korea? All actions would be reimbursed with a fine. It was clean, crowded like the South, and beautiful. The first reality check came when we approached these carvings in the mountain walls. (pic) Poems of praise to Kim Jung Il. Are you kidding me? Indoctrination cannot be escaped. An hour of hiking did me in, until I was convinced to take the "long route" that provided more sore calves, thighs and butts than I'm happy to admit. After much moaning, muttering and complaining we were rewarded with a breathtaking view. Though I had enough outdoorsy activity before the age of 16 to set me for life, I can still appreciate the view from the top. I learned on that hike to NEVER let a sweaty man carry your backpack of clothes...because his sweat will indeed soak the backpack as well as YOUR clothing. Towards the end, the pristine pools of turquoise water tempted us. Most of us were willing to take the $15 for a gratifying dip, but opted out because after all...we were in a Communist country.

That afternoon, we had the option of another hike...and so I opted for food and sleep. We were told previously that the NK restaurants were too expensive and not worth it. So a group of us found a food court that offered the Korea traditional foods as well as my lunch...fried chicken. Fried chicken in North Korea? I was hungry. This food court though was a bit odd. About 6 restaurants, heaps of tables, yet no customers but us. We sat there, pop music playing, eating, as 20 employees watched our every move. Here we got to meet a group from our tour, consisting of Australians, Japanese and of course, Americans. Great people.

A circus was offered, and of course I partook. It was all the glitz, spandex and amazing human feats that you could ask. We've all heard the stories of the intensity the NK athletes endure for training and figured the circus people we're no different. With every baton dropped or wobble, we cringed to assume the aftermath of mistakes for a NK circus troop. The MC was this stunning girl dressed in a honbok, the traditional Korean costume. But everytime she spoke (in Korean, obviously) was in this high, almost ghost-like tone. Apparently, everytime their Great Leader is mentioned, they talk in this fashion. I can only imagine what the Koreans tourists heard...

Our one evening in NK had us determined to do it right. We heard rumors of clubs and noray bongs (my beloved Karaoke rooms). Unfortunately, people reported the club was not worth it nor any other options feasible. And so, a group of 20 or so sat around in the largest game of Kings I'd ever seen. It ended up being a fantastic time, though we were indeed doing the same exact thing we'd have been doing 200 miles to the south, in a free country. It was up to us to make our own fun. The night inevitably lead to the group cleaning out the Family Mart's beer selection (a proud moment for some males). And of course, the noray bong, as you should expect, came about. It was epic. Joe and I have learned the ways of noray bong, and directed it in like fashion, with many newbies present. We brung on the noise, and all the best songs as well. For 2 hours the room was rocking, people singing their hearts out, tables appropriately used for dancing and an all around stellar time.

The next morning started at a brisk and bitter 6:30am. Our grandiose hotel offered a welcomed semi-western breakfast (more than gimchee and rice)! The second hike of the trip was awfully harder yet more spectacular than the first. Not so much hiking, as it is climbing more stairs than I ever care to mention. Hoardes of people, in slow, elderly (as in their age) fashion shuffled up the mountainous mountain. Early on I broke a sweat. The view at the top was beautiful. Ocean to one side, mountains to the other. Now the hordes of people were fighting over the ironically small peaks of these mountains. After waiting, you were allowed to stand and enjoy the top for about 30 seconds before getting pushed back down. Ah, nature. My bottle of water got me to the top, but was severely missed on the way down. You know when you're legs are so tired from going UP something that they kind of quit you on the way down? Yes, if I were to stand still at any given moment, my legs began tremors that would put anybody with Parkinsons to shame. It was grueling.

On the drive back to the village we stopped at a huge mural of the Great Leader. We weren't allowed to take pictures ourselves, but some people snuck them in. (pic) A hotel worker took a group picture from us, because apparently the entire mural had to be pictured...? We were peeved that we couldn't get individual shots, but glad to get something. Our last stop in the village offered another fried chicken lunch. We had already checked out, so unfortunately I was stuck in my sweaty, climbing nastiness for the next 9 hours. The workers in the village we're all pretty quiet and wide-eyed to our foreign looks and behavior. We come to find out, with great disappointment, that the majority of the workers were South Korean transplants. The very few North Koreans that we did encounter each had pins with the face of Kim Jung Il on them. I tried to talk to a NK trail guide on the mountain in my usual friendly manner. I was politely trying to ask him where he lived, and my sparse Korean managed "where house?" To which he got immediately offended and had to be convinced by a Korean-speaking friend that I was not trying to invade his privacy. Whoops.

The bus trip back was devastatingly longer than the first, but actually offered a glimpse of the Korea we'd imagined. From a distance we saw nicely painted ramshackle houses, people constantly laboring in the rice fields and a disturbingly archaic scene. It reminded us (as if we didn't already know) that Kim Jung Il showed us exactly what he wanted to: beauty and grandeur. Joe had mangled his ID badge in an unfortunate incident involving a sink. Directly behind me in line, and unbeknownst to me, he managed to get "detained" by NK immigration for damaging the badge. A lot of angst, a cruel joke by our stolid tour guide, and a $10 fine later, he was released back to freedom...and of course, ate up the story to be told. Nine hours back to Seoul offered a lot of conversations of NK bewilderment, a beautiful singing attempt from Ben the Australian, laughs from the weekend, and of course, a phallic-themed shop (apparently Korea is obsessed?). We missed the last train to Pyoungtaek, and at 1am and a wits end later, spend the night in a Jim Jil Bong; a Korean sauna to you other weyguks (foreigners). Complete with communal showers with many Korean women of all ages, looking out over the Seoul skyline, matching pink sleeping jumpsuits, and an uncomfortably warm group sleeping room.

What a trip. I came back to work that Monday, more exhausted than after a week of teaching butt-poking, screaming, disrespectful children. My eyes have been reminded of the devastating effects of traveling, have been opened to the harsh reality of communism (or alteast what they let the world witness), and for these reasons and countless others... why I am actually living and surviving oceans away from my home. My time in Korea continues to be a priceless combination of words and the lack thereof.
Cheers to North Korea and the South as well.