Already Gone and the Farewell
Trip Start
Sep 24, 2005
1
9
10
Trip End
Oct 25, 2005
Seoul,
Korea Rep.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
A friend of mine asked me over e-mail what I thought about maybe going to Japan to teach English or study. This is what I wrote back:
'As for Japan, I don't think so, at least not now. My heart really isn't in to traveling right now for reasons that I can't quite figure out. I think, though, that I've just been lonely for a long time, and recently, just before I left, I stopped feeling lonely. I don't think I can face being lonely again for a long stretch. I'm not up for it yet, or maybe ever. It leads me to dark places that I don't want to face.'
Professor Burke e-mailed me back this week
Bench
. He gave me a pretty typical academic response, not really answering my questions but giving me the titles of two books I should read about studying world history. He did say, however, that 'most doctoral programs will want you to be fluent in Chinese, Japanese, and Korean, though some may only require two.' He went on to say that of these Japanese is probably the preferable. That figures since it's the hardest to learn how to read to write, which is mostly what they expect out of me.It's discouraging. I've noticed that the Mickey Mouse (which is to say not well known or established) professors say that I don't even need to go abroad to learn a language, or that if I do one year of study is sufficient time. The heavy hitting professors, the authority in their field professors, advise me to study languages abroad for two years.
I don't think I'm up to that. I'd like to have a career before I turn thirty.
On Wednesday I took a trip on my own to the Korean War Memorial museum. I brought my camera but forgot to charge it before hand, and consequently it wasn't good for anything. No photos for this one.
Cool looking glass
The museum itself was in the middle of the allocated grounds. The rest was taken up by a park, outdoor statues, and dozens upon dozens of decommissioned tanks, planes, missiles, and other weapons of war. Some of the missiles were a good twenty feet tall and were somewhat scary things to look at.
I came in through the front entrance. There, set before a cloudless blue sky, was a tower of green and maple. Sections of it were cut out so that there were three prongs on it, with the maple side facing in and the green side facing out. I read the tower's explanation plaque. It said something about the maple signifying the tree of life and the green symbolizing the color of defense, or something along those lines.
To either side of it there were bronze carvings of people charging forward. At the forefront of these were soldiers with weapons and flags, some carrying the guns of the modern era and others carrying ancient swords and spears. What struck me about the mural was not the people at the front of the line, however, but the people at the back. To one side there was a woman carrying a child flagging behind and looking frantic to catch up to the leading soldiers. To the other there was an old man who had fallen down, with a young, shirtless boy standing over him and looking back, as if to protect him from some pursuing danger
Dragons and Chinese characters
. I wondered about those left behind, what they signified. Unfortunately there was no plaque for this one.I moved on from there into a spacious courtyard filled with large squares of stone. It was surrounded by a number of flag poles, each flying the colors of a different nation. Ahead on the roof of the museum itself was the Korean flag, higher than all the others.
I started towards the building when something caught my eye off to the right. I walked in that direction and through a few stone columns to get to some decommissioned machines. I wondered about a large artillery gun that was pointed in my direction, and the kind of damage it would do to the stone wall next to me.
I wandered for a few moments through the columns and came across a hall with twelve tablets of aligned black stone. Each held the names of many Korean servicemen who died in the Korean War. At the center of the room there was a book. I couldn't understand it, but I suspect it had the names of the dead and some information about them; maybe just name, rank and serial number. There were flowers set at each tablet. The sun shown through the spaces in the columns and gave the slabs an obsidian gleam
Ear Lobes
. I stood there for awhile, listening to the running water from a pond down below that housed an old submarine.I walked up to the museum and was directed to the ticket office outside. I paid and then once again wandered, catching a glimpse of another hall of the dead. I entered and found this to be the international one. The names of English and Canadian and French and other foreign soldiers who had died in the Korean War were there, but most of the names came from America and were sorted by state. These ones had no flowers and the names were cast in metal instead of stone, but they were good all the same. As I stood there looking through the names for a Clemens or an Etchevary (there weren't any) a large group of Korean schoolchildren, clearly on a field trip, came tearing through, shouting and laughing and running. I had a moment where I was put off, but then it was gone. All in all, the scene made a certain sense.
I entered the museum and went straight ahead into a hall with the busts of about two dozen Korean heroes from the modern era. Their deeds were carved in stone beneath their visage, and they ran the gamut. Some were generals, but some were just infantrymen who gave their lives to save that of their company.
At the end of this hall was the crowning portion of the Korean War Memorial. At the center of a circular, domed room with stone sides was a large bowl, maybe four feet high and seven feet in diameter, filled with overflowing water. The water quietly pooled in a small indent two steps down from the main floor. The water there and in the bowl itself was very dark. It looked bottomless, like you could throw a coin inside and watch it fade into nothingness
Fire Signal
. However, at the very center of the bowl the water was clear, and you could see that there wasn't that much of it after all. At the top of the dome a beam of light perhaps a foot in diameter shown down to the center of the bowl, alighting the water there and shining off of a circle of crystals. The only sound in the room was the soft trickle of running water. To the right of the bowl and against the wall there was a book under glass in the floor with a bouquet of white flowers next to it. There was also a plaque that said in English: 'please observe a moment of silence for our fallen soldiers.' Though I was silent already I bowed my head all the same.
From there I moved downstairs to the pre-modern portion of the museum. I walked past a number of stone placards from Korea's Bronze Age. They were taken from the tomb of an ancient king and bore carvings of the 'warriors of the zodiac', meaning dog, dragon, tiger, rat, ox, etc., the animals you hear about at Chinese New Year. A plaque there said that they were thought to give 'divine protection in all directions.' I thought they were pretty neat.
After that I came to a second hall of heroes filled with maybe twice as many busts as before, all of these from the pre-modern era (in this case before the Korean war). I stopped at the one of Admiral Yi Shun-Shin, a great man whom I've read about.
In the 17th century the Japanese invaded Korea with designs of conquering it and then China. Their invasion was very successful on the land, and they very nearly won the war
Forest Stuff
. What stopped them was Yi Shun-Shin and his 'turtle ships.' One of these was actually on display at the museum. It was a treat to see because when I've asked professors about them before they have been unable to describe exactly what they were or why they were so effective (these were Japanese history professors and didn't take it upon them selves to know such things). The turtle ship's inventor has been implied to be Yi Shun-Shin himself, though I'd guess this is inaccurate and the inventor is simply not known. They are small vessels, maybe thirty feet, which are wide and propelled via a sail. The sloping top is covered in spiked metal plates and above the water line the sides are filled with cannon holes just large enough for a small barrel to fit through. At its prow is the carved image of a fanged turtle head. These ships proved to be virtually indestructible at the time, the Korean version of the two 'iron sides' from the American Civil War. Yi Shun-Shin led a group of these that demolished the numerically superior Japanese navy, halted supplies of food and troops, and eventually led to a Korean victory in the war. Unfortunately, as Yi Shun-Shin was harrying the Japanese retreat from Korea a stray bullet made its way through the hull of his ship and killed him.My martial arts instructor, SoonHo Song, once told me a translated quote from Yi Shun-Shin just before I had to leap over three people bending over and touching their toes, clearing them into a safe forward roll
Fronds and Temple
. The quote goes: 'he who is not prepared to die will surely perish; he who is prepared to die will surely live.' The quote worked, and I told myself 'I'm just going to do it, and I'm not going to be afraid.' I cleared all three and rolled through just fine.I wandered around looking at old weapons and suits of armor. They had a series of arrows there that were called 'sounding arrows.' They had metal pieces with slots in them near the head, and I got the impression that they whistled when they flew. I thought they must've made one hell of a noise with a few hundred of them in the air at once.
The swords were interesting too. They came in two varieties: lithe and subtle, or absolutely huge. There were swords on display that stood higher than me and must've weighed close to a hundred pounds. I can only assume that they were for display purposes only.
I then went up to the top floor, where all the Korean War items are kept. At the entrance to the first series of displays there is a mural in a circular glass case. Two guns prop each other up and are bound by barbed wire. Resting on top of the higher of these there is a helmet torn to shreds with bullet holes and shrapnel
Grave Stones
. From the barrel of the gun, held up by its sight, is a dog tag. I went through the Korean War exhibits without finding much of interest. Having already studied the Korean War there weren't any major revelations, and though I did stop to read about many of the displayed items I also passed a few up after glancing at the first sentence. There was a lot of propaganda involved, which is something I've come to expect from South Korean museums. It's also something that I don't care for and try to avoid.
I saw very few people during my visit, but as I went through the Korean War portion I did run across a group of about fifteen Chinese tourists, each holding a large speaker device to their ear that apparently told information about the exhibits. They were looking at the portion entitled 'China enters the war.' This part was especially propaganda heavy, and I wondered what the Chinese thought about it. There was one display that claimed that China 'sought to extend hegemony throughout East Asia' by entering into the Korean War, a very narrow interpretation of China's actual reasons for involvement. I wondered if that translated to the same thing to the Chinese tourists, and what they thought about it.
Josh in the Excerise Yard
Somewhere among the displays I came across a large photo of General Macarthur with a short biography below it. I got a frown on my face just looking at it. Though Macarthur was undoubtedly a great general, he was eventually removed from leadership of the Korean War effort due in part to his constant pestering of the U.S. government to allow him to use nuclear bombs. One of the last straws that led Macarthur to 'resign' was that he asked congress to approve a plan that would drop a three mile swatch of Cobalt-138 along the North Korean-Chinese border. This action would have almost undoubtedly ended the war by halting the flow of all Chinese troops and supplies, but was rejected because it was utterly barbarous. You see, Cobalt-138 is so radioactive that it will kill within a matter of minutes. It has a 69 year half-life, and would've made the North Korean-Chinese border impassable and uninhabitable for at least that amount of time.
I watched the movie 'Patton' while I was over here. I was struck when reading about how great a general Macarthur was that it takes a mad man to be great at war.
After about three hours of wandering around I finally left the museum. On the way out I perused some of the statues outside
Josh looking at the scenery
. One I was particularly interested in. At a glance I thought it was a soldier hugging his son as he returned home. The larger man is cradling the boy's head and looking down into the boy's upturned face. It looked very touching. Then I went up and read the plaque beside it. According to that, the small, decidedly childish figure in the statue is actually the large man's younger brother. The larger man is a soldier from South Korea, the smaller boy is a soldier from North Korea, and they are meeting on a battlefield in the Korean War. Supposedly this is a scene from a famous story. Looking at the statue was a little frustrating. Propaganda is blatantly self-interested and has very little respect for the truth. I found the statue to be almost imperialistic in its level of propaganda, and knowing the meaning behind it ruined the image for me.The day was still relatively young and the weather was nice so I decided to wander the streets for awhile. After a time I came upon an American Military base. I was surprised to find that patrolling outside the base and guarding its entrances are Korean police instead of American military, though why this is I don't know.
I wandered into a district that was adjacent to a women's school and packed sidewalk to sidewalk with females
Light
. I saw maybe three men in the more than twenty minutes it took me to pass through.Beyond that there was a mixed school district. I passed a huge group of school children, easily over a hundred, weaving through their ranks to get beyond them. As I was doing so one small boy of seven or so looked behind and saw me. He pointed and exclaimed 'meguk!', meaning 'American.' A bunch of the kids turned and looked and I gave the pointer a wry smile. The kids within ear shot of his voice gave me a wide birth and I came through.
I also passed by middle schools and high schools. High school guys seem to have no problem walking with their arms around each others shoulders here. It seems a little odd to me and I think that's a shame, since there's no reason why such a friendly gesture should.
Eventually my hips started to hurt (despite all my time off from Tae Kwon Do recently they bother me when I walk for extended periods of time and its clear they have a great deal of scar tissue built up at the joints) and I found a subway (I passed six on the walk, to give you an idea of the distance covered). I headed home and chilled out for the rest of the day.
For much of the time while I was wandering I was struck at how different things felt now that I was a tourist and not a man trying to absorb the language and fit into the culture. My expectations that I put upon myself became very different and much more realistic. I no longer felt bad and frustrated when I couldn't understand something being said in Korean because after deciding to come home it didn't matter
Local Yahoo
. My goal shifted from cultural emersion and assimilation to simply seeing what there was to see and taking in what I could. I like that goal much better, though it may be short sighted of me.The next day Josh made a comment about me wasting my opportunity to travel and see things in Korea and East Asia. He said it as a joke but I could sense a hint of seriousness behind it, jealousy mixed in with reproach. I said that I understood his point, but that the bottom line was that my heart just wasn't in to the trip. I've said it many times and it bears repeating. Ideally I could've done more here, or seeing how I am already here I could've traveled through Japan or China or all sorts of places. Later in life I may look back and regret not doing so. But only in passing. I'm not getting much out of the places I visit here. A moment of beauty here, an interesting attraction there, but there's always something in my heart that holds me back.
I'm usually good at figuring out the motivations behind my feelings. I'm a pretty logical man, and I pick things apart pretty easily. But I haven't figured this one out yet, at least not completely.
On Wednesday Josh and I talked about my reasons for going home over a few drinks after dinner. I came out of it feeling good about going home, mostly because after explaining myself to him I felt more justified in my decision. Loneliness came up, but it's not what we talked about most. I suppose this is because loneliness is something that can be overcome, even though signs point to it being a difficult thing to get rid of here. In talking to Josh, mostly I brought up things about Korea and Korean language study
Locked building with cool glass
. I told him that I didn't love Korea, that it was just a place, that there were things that I liked and hated about it and that I wasn't keen on devoting a life of study to the history of a place that I'm not even sure I like, let alone love. I expressed my concerns at the amount of time in language study it would take me to get a doctorate in Korean history. It was one thing to add one year of language study into my plans of getting a doctorate, but it's another to spend two years on Korean, not to mention the fluency that I would be expected to gain in Japanese, Chinese, or both. Overall, I told Josh that it looked like I wouldn't be starting a career until my early thirties, and I wasn't keen on that. By that time I'd hope to be married and into a career, not about to start one. I haven't made any concrete decisions save one: this is not the right time for me to be in Korea. I haven't even entirely decided to give up on Korean history as a field of study, but I think that it's clear that if I do take that path I'm going to want a few years of college level Korean before coming back to Seoul.
Bah, this is sounding a little muddled, because frankly that's the way I feel on the subject. But after talking about it, I did feel good about coming home.
Main Temple
The next day Josh got sick with a wicked ear infection. I gave him a bottle of Advil that I had brought with me. That kept his fever down during the night and the next day he went to the hospital. He's moaning and groaning a lot about the $56 that he had to pay for the brief check up, but the anti-biotics he was prescribed are doing the trick as of the time I'm writing this.
We went out for dinner on Thursday night and found that the temperature had dropped considerably. I put on a thick coat that I had brought to get me through the winter months. I'm happy I won't be seeing them because I know now that it is clearly not warm enough. The nights here are dropping into the forties, and it made for an uncomfortable walk for grub.
On Saturday Josh came and got me in the morning, saying that he had heard that there was a Buddhist temple in the hills near our apartment complex. Together we set out to explore.
We wandered through residentials for awhile and actually did come to a temple in the hills. It was an operating monetary as well. It was very quiet, and not in the meticulous repair of the more touristy temples. I liked it. Altogether it had a level of authenticity that I enjoyed, and the temples here are neat places to visit. They're very solemn and peaceful, and they tend to have interesting sights to see. I took pictures.
We wandered through the temple area and up into the hills, following a path that we assumed would lead us to other parts of the temple
Modern building
. As it turned out, the path led up to a series of trails that ran throughout the hills. These turned out to be crowded with people looking for some Saturday exercise. We walked the trails through the forest and started making our way towards the top of a nearby mountain.About two thirds of the way up we came to an exercise area complete with weight machines and gymnastics equipment. I'm beginning to think that the Korean government must maintain and sponsor such places since Josh and I found a very similar set up on the road to Seoul Tower. I went up to a pull-up bar and only managed two repetitions. My upper body strength has really been in on the wane since I haven't been able to do Judo in almost three months. I felt pretty weak.
Josh had an interesting adventure on the bar next to the one where I did my pull-ups, which was slightly higher. He began swinging himself as if getting ready to dismount into a forward flip only to over do it and lose his grip on the backswing. He took a belly flop onto the packed dirt. The only thing hurt was his pride, and the Koreans there looked at him like he was an idiot.
After climbing for awhile we reached the top of the mountain. It turned out to be the site of an old smoke signal station that was used to warn of coming attack during the Chosun period (8th century to late 19th century, if I have my dates correct). The view from there was very nice, and Josh pointed out that we were actually higher than we had been after climbing to Seoul Tower.
It was a pretty good time out, a nice walk
Monks wear gray
. There were times though when I wished I had done it alone and had time to reflect. Josh is something of a babbler. Ironic that I would complain of loneliness and then turn around and complain about company. I suppose the problem is that my conversations with Josh are generally pointless. His stories usually go to bitter places that I suffer but don't contribute to. I'm not sure mine are any better, but it's tough to tell given that I can't speak for more than a minute without him breaking in with some comment or another, usually a poorly timed and unfunny joke. In the end all it amounts to is chatter, and the conversations that I have with myself are more interesting.
But I try hard not to get down on Josh. It's been nice having him here.
On Saturday night Josh and I headed of to Yeoido Island to check out a fireworks display. The crowds were fantastic. There were probably a good ten thousand people who came out to watch the show just in the area where Josh and I were. We got there just as the fireworks started. We hopped up onto a wall and took in the sights, keeping our hands in our pockets to protect them from the cold.
It was a great display. Besides the normal fireworks that I was used to they had some that were very cool and unique. There was one that exploded golden and then branched out with lines that latticed the air. They made designs that looked like giant snowflakes. It looked like the shape was being drawn in the air, and I don't know how they did it.
More earlobes
There were also ones that exploded and sent of dancing balls of light so that it looked like a ball of white shot up into the air and exploded to release fireflies of blue or red or green that scattered and winked out. One set of fireworks looked like blossoming flowers, and I mean more so than a regular firework. The center of these were dense nebulous bursts of color rather than the fragmentation of a normal firework, and they formed wonderfully intense dandelion shapes in the air. Finally we saw some that exploded and released shapes that looked like snakes slithering down to earth, weaving back and forth with burning heads.It was an impressive show that I liked very much, but we left before it was all done because Josh was getting cold. We wandered the streets for awhile just for kicks, but didn't find anything of particular note except more crowds.
That night I got home and briefly logged on to AOL Instant Messenger, an online chat program, to see if I could catch my parents on. Instead I got a surprise message from Avi, a friend of mine at UCSC that I also trained in Tae Kwon Do with. Avi is currently teaching English in Japan. We talked for a little while. He is keeping busy, but ultimately not having a great time of things. The village where he's teaching only has six people who speak English. Two of them are hostesses, meaning that he'd have to pay to talk with them. He seemed rather forlorn and lonely, especially for him since Avi tends to be an upbeat guy. Still, he's making the best of things.
I should've asked him whether he would go to Japan if he had the decision to make over again with the knowledge he knows now
More eaves
. I remember he said that he was not planning to stay in Japan after the terminus of his one year teaching contract, but I'm not sure he actually regrets the decision. Well, next time we talk I guess.
On Sunday night Josh took me to Outback Steakhouse in Korea. The food tastes exactly the same, but after eating nothing but Korean food for a month it turned out to be awfully heavy. I couldn't finish even half of my main course. Prices here are a bit above those in America and all the waiters and waitresses are Korean, but otherwise I could've been eating in the states. The menus they brought us were even fully English, though I'm sure that's not the normal. The only big difference I noticed is that Outback in Korea doesn't serve hamburgers. Outside of Burgerking and McDonalds, I haven't heard of any place that does. I wonder what the Korean aversion to burgers is. It just seems strange that I can get a burrito in Seoul but not a non-fast food burger.
On Monday I wandered a lot.
I closed out my account at Woori Bank with minimum fuss and was handed a paper sack filled with a rather large amount of money, more than I've ever carried on my person at one time
Mural
. I stuck it in the inside pocket of my jacket and zipped it up until I got home many hours later. The weather was sunny and the temperature rose from cold to mild. I was a bit uncomfortable bundled up in my coat. None the less, I felt nervous having so much cash on me and stayed the course.Afterwards I rode the subway out to the Itaewon tourist shopping district to look for a souvenir for my brother, the only person in my immediate family I haven't bought for yet. I was looking for a carved or sculpted tiger of some kind, since he really loves the species. Unfortunately I didn't find one there. I started wandering hoping that I would find one elsewhere, but after two hours I gave up and returned to my apartment. Hopefully he'll still like what I'm bringing him.
I did a lot of thinking as I walked, though not as much as I would've done three weeks ago. There isn't much left for me to think about, at least not in terms of Korea. I passed by some tourist attractions; a shrine here, a sign that said 'Korea National Museum' with an arrow pointing off into the distance there. I found myself thinking about the things that I missed out on doing here, about the days that I wasted. I starting second guessing myself. I walked by the International Dormitories on my way out and heard two groups of people outside talking in English (one group with a heavy accent, but still English)
Old Temple
. I wondered if there were more potential friends in the program than I realized, if I had been wrong in my estimates. I passed by the gym where Tae Kwon Do classes take place and wondered if I could've made some friends there. I wondered if I was just quitting because it was the easy thing to do, if I was chickening out in the face of adversity. But ultimately this place is still wrong. It's wrong for all the professional reasons and because it's lonely here, but beneath all that it's just wrong. While I was second guessing myself I tried a mental exercise. I put all my loneliness aside. I put aside my trepidations that this is the life path that I want to be on. I put aside all the miscellaneous reasons why I don't want to be in Korea. I thought about wanting to stay with all of those things on the back burner, locked away out of mind. And there was still something wrong. A gut feeling that I have that I can't quite explain.
I don't know. Maybe it's no more substantial than my subconscious making excuses to take the easy way out. But it's there all the same.
Near the end of my trek I passed a pet store with two puppies in the window
Pagoda near the top
. I got all wide eyed at the sight of them, and I thought of my dog Merlin waiting for me at home. I've had lots of home thoughts here, things I miss. Going for walks and having conversations with my Dad, going to lunch with my Mom, talking movies or video games or philosophy with my Brother. I even miss my in-your-face and annoying Sister (I love you all the same, Lainy). I miss my buddies in Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay and San Francisco. I miss my martial arts studio. I miss a lot of things.I'm happy to be going home.
On Monday night outside of my apartment building I debated whether to get Josh for a last dinner together. To be honest I sort of wanted to reflect, but I decided that I'd be doing Josh a disservice not to go eat with him this one last time.
We passed a tense conversation. Josh told me that he spent most of his life trying to 'bridge the divide', trying to get from the out-group to the in-group, trying to be understood. I ventured that maybe he had been trying to hard; since I know from being around him that he does in fact try way too hard. I told him that relationships can't be forced like that. He said that maybe I was right, and that these days he just 'didn't give a shit' about being understood.
But the rest of the night he kept trying to get me to understand about trying to understand people. It made for a very obtuse conversation, and ultimately he seemed to get angry when I didn't agree with some of his assertions.
Painted Woodwork
To quote the catalyst one, he told a story about a fight (I'm almost certain this story was bogus, or at least part of it, but he presented it as truth). A girl sees a male friend of hers. She has a black eye, and the guy asks her how she got it. She says that her boyfriend hit her. The guy proceeds to drive 300 miles to a bar where her boyfriend is known to frequent. He finds the boyfriend and beats him up. Josh's big point on this was that the guy never asked for a story, never got the 'why' of the situation. I asked Josh if the boyfriend had actually hit the girl. He said yes, but the black eye was caused by her stumbling after a slap and hitting her eye on the edge of a table. He seemed to think that this point had great relevance to the story, and I didn't see how. I said as much and Josh explained that I was missing the point, that the guy didn't know what the girl had done to get her boyfriend to hit her. I said that I didn't think that made any difference, given that the boyfriend had no business striking a girl no matter what the circumstances. At this point he got angry, started talking about how he had 'seen some fucked up shit' in his life and apparently I hadn't, or I wouldn't think that way. I felt insulted by that, and in the end I'm not sure exactly what he was trying to get across to me.
So, our friendship ends in some minor drama
Path
. Ultimately Josh is the grown up version of every terribly awkward, tries too hard, gets picked on a lot in high school, loser. That is a harsh but honest assessment. He's bitterer than a jet black cup of coffee, and he's not much fun to be around. Nor is he interesting, since he cracks very poor jokes in the middle of everything I try to say.I don't mean to bore you with the specifics of our friendship, but I try to report the facts and major happenings of my time here. Josh has been a big part of that. He has been a great boon and he's gotten me out to do some interesting things. Without his companionship my time here would've been many times more miserable. But I'm happy to be getting away from him.
Cheers to that. I'm going to rename this travelogue: 'Jonathan's Bogus Journey.'
So, in closing, I guess all I have to say is...
San Demas High School Football rules!
Regards,
Jonathan
