Busan, Korea - May Day, 2006

Wha...what is this medium..a bl..blag? If you can believe it, the nomad is back on the web, three long months since my Kohphanghan, Thailand post. Let me catch you up on things since then: Bangkok, Koh Samet, Seoul, Sokcho (east coast), Seoul, Seoul, Seoul, Seoul...... ahhhhh. But at last, let's take the soju canteen back off the shelf, wipe those cobwebs off the backpack, we're going to Busan for May Day.

I had just finished teaching my last class on Sunday, finishing at 7:30, and was racing to get all those grades in the books before packing up and fleeing the scene. Jini and I reserved tickets for 9pm, so there was enough time to race home, switch gears (and shed the dorky suit jacket), and get to Seoul Station with enough time to pick up a pack of Uno cards and a mini-Jenga set (classified under: must-haves). The Busan-bound KTX train itself is an amazing development, modeled after the Japanese Shinkansen, the original bullet train begun in 1964. Racing southeast through major city after city, the television monitor above the aisles proudly informed us that we were flying at around 288km/hour (180mph), which, on the ground is pretty damn cool by any speed-demon's standards. Unfortunately it was too dark to see the Korean countryside fly by, but I had an alternate plan anyway - blink (sleep) and wake up in Busan, 3 hours, 400 miles later.

From Busan Station, it's another 25 minute taxi ride to Haeundae (해운대), the beachfront neighborhood. The view was riddled with shipyards, skyscraping piles of shipping containers, and unsurprisingly in Korea, construction. Part of me felt the usual jaded "Is this Seoul Jr.?", while another part of me was thrilled to finally come to the second largest city in Korea. But, I didn't come to appreciate it so much until the next day, when the sun came out.

The next morning, I couldn't believe I was still in Korea at all. In fact, I dare say that I didn't believe a Korean city could be clumped in the same sentence with the word "beautiful", but this moment proved me wrong. The city limits stretched right up to the shoreline, where there was a 2-3 kilometer stretch of beach from Dongbaek (a rock promontory) to Moon Hill (달맞이고개), and from the coastline was a panorama of ships, craggy sea peaks, and blue, blue mist. On the "Hill that meets the Moon", the mist seemed to leap right out of the ocean and cover the hill, giving it a mystical mini-planet-that-just-crashed-into-Earth visage. Not something I see on my daily commute across the Han River.

We wandered around, lounged in the sand, explored the Dongbaek peninsula, where the 2005 APEC summit was held last November (Asian-Pacific Economic Cooperation). I didn't take much notice to the summit as it was happening last year, but it's not hard to put together why Bush, Hu Jintao (China), Tran Duc Luong (Viet Nam), Thaksin (Thailand), and Arroyo (Philippines), and others from Asia and South America were under the same roof - to advance the liberalisation of trade and promote the agenda of the WTO. I mentioned these particular leaders because they're all despised in either in their own countries for abuse of power and corruption (Bush, Thaksin, Arroyo), or despised from the outside for the same (the remaining "communist" lot). Naturally this debate never crosses threads when discussing liberating Middle Eastern folk from their assorted yokes. If I sound cynical, it's because I am. The building left standing after the summit was a museum full of awkward photos of Bush and Roh wearing hanboks, glitzy APEC 2005 souvenirs and memorabilia, and anything else to commemorate the multi-million dollar occasion. If I had a protest sign at the time, I'd bring with me a stolen petting zoo sign that reads "please do not feed the animals".

After our stroll around the tiny peninsula, we made our way back to the beach and plopped down in the sand for a round or three of Uno, yes, the same card game Sam and I used to play to no end on summer vacations. Playing with an Uno rookie is a real test of ethics and trust, however, as I found myself creating rules and limitations wherever necessary or convenient. "No, Wild Draw 4's can't be placed on top of yellow cards, and no, you can't choose blue with a wild card. I don't know why, it's just a rule." I don't mean to take a stab at Korean culture, but it is rather analogous to the ill-necessity of explanations in this hierarchy-dependent culture. Workers don't ask their bosses why they have to do something, they just grumble, nod, and do it because the boss says so. I encourage my students to break this habit with every opportunity. "Teacher, why am I doing this?" is met with no greater welcome.

Snapshots from Busan