The Mist

There is something in the mist. There should better be, otherwise the plane will fall into the sea soon. Torrential rain has set in a while ago, its only sign of having descended below the clouds. Suddenly a thump, the wheels have touched the ground at Jeju island international airport. Outside the window is still just bright gray, but looking down one can recognize the tar of the landing strip.

This is the main holiday destination for Koreans, but during the monsoon its virtually empty. Jenny and I take a bus to the far east, which takes three times as long as the flight. K-Pop with thumping bass blares from the speakers, but at least the driver seems to like it. He scrolls his head to the rhythm like Michael Jackson.

Finally we reach Seongsan-ri, the small town at the bottom of the 'Fortress Hill' Ilchulbong, an extinct volcano rising from the sea. We are the only guests in the small guesthouse on top of the cliffs at the waterfront. Rain drums against the window and the sheets are so damp one is tempted to wring them--but it is quiet at last.

I am restless, waiting for an email of German magazine GEO, whether they will support me in China next month. So I decide to go to an internet cafe. There is none here, the clerk at Buy the Way (my favourite convenience store chain) declares. I am flabbergasted, usually there is one of the gaming grottos at every corner. Thus we go to the police station to ask for help. Jenny asks in Korean and a long discussions follows. Nothing happens, but we are shown a place to sit. Five minutes later, the head policeman grabs his car key and asks us to follow. He is a big fan of the German soccer team he declares and drives us to the PC shop in the next town in a police car. I am thankful they made it to the quarter-finals, otherwise I would most probably be walking now.

Just before dawn the monsoon takes a break, and for a short while even the fog is blown away by a sudden breeze. We take the opportunity to climb to the top of the spectacular Volcano. Halfway up the fog returns, swallowing the sound of the crushing waves below and reducing the sunlight to a faint gleam. Reality is reduced to a circle only about twenty metres wide. Fortunately there is a path and we reach the top soon later.

When we return, daylight has almost gone. The mist has returned and firmly engulfs the town like a giant macrophage. Fishing boats light up the night with powerful headlights. They look like fen fires lost on the horizon, unable to find the safety of the land. Moanful singing emerges through the mist, becoming clearer as we walk on. On a bench overlooking the rocky bay an old woman is singing Korean folk music. A nice change from the nightly Karaoke dose in Gwangju.

Jeju Island

Urban Dweller

I am adjusting to my new environment. Every night the thumping bass from the karaoke bar opposite the motel spoils my eardrums with a gentle massage, sending me into sweet slumber. Initially, I reacted with burning rage, but with time this has changed to irate resignation. The block where I live is surrounded by 6 to 8 lanes of heavy traffic in every direction, which I need to overcome whenever I leave the rancid functionality of the Venice Motel. Decaying rubbish lines the street, in between abundant flyers depicting the more intimate parts of the female body. There are no trees and there is no silence.

Sometimes I feel the urge to escape. Yesterday morning was like that, so I took a bus to Mokpo, a port town about 80km Southwest of Gwangju. The first sign of leaving Metropolitan Korea was the absence of any Latin characters. Instead I had to resort to my fairly limited hangul skills to decipher the timetable for buses back to Gwangju. But I managed to get by and with the help of the LonelyPlanet I took local bus no. 1 in order to get to the waterfront.

Vast quantities of fish, in the process of drying or already crumpled to meager caricatures of marine life, attract my attention from the bus. As I get off, I am instantly enveloped by fragrant vapours that almost take my breath away. People, most of them well into the latter half of their lives, eye me rather sceptical. Out of defiance I start waving friendly at the most grumpy looking ones and grin aggresively. It works quite well.

As I turn a corner I witness a woman empty out a waterbucket full of octopus on the sidewalk, then picking up the animals by the handfuls slamming them back into the bowl. Maybe the shock makes for a better taste. Business seems to be rather slow, most people doze away in their tiny shops and I attract too much attention to take any pictures. I proceed into the fishing harbour.

The boats are--like every national treasure and apartment block--individually numbered, something people seem to hold in high regard here. I watch two fishermen loading their ship up with ice in preparation of today's trip out. I would like to go with them, but I have no clue how to formulate this question in sign language and leave again. Next to them old people are mending their way through endless threads of broken orange nets. From one of the boats, a fisherman shouts at me "Where are you from", I respond routinely with "Togil" for German, then waving off the stream of Korean words he shouts back. I begin to be frustrated by the fact that I cannot communicate with anyone, although I would have so many questions. Who does he work for? Is there one conglomerate controlling all numbered ships or are they all held by individual fishermen trying to make a living? How far does he go out to the sea? Where do all the octopus come from?...

Thinking about that I wander back towards the city. Then a man on a bicycle approaches me, shouting "Hello!". Not again, I think and respond rather splenetically. But as it turns out he can really speak English. Kim Gyeong-Su, as he introduces himself is a painter of traditional Korean art, but with a love of classical Western music. "I paint oriental pictures, but I love Western music, its ironic" he says. Beethoven and Brahms, Mozart and Mendelsson are his favourite composers. This man, blinking into the sky through strong beatnik-era glasses and speaking with a bit of a nervous tick, quickly manages to turn my mood around. I ask to have a look at his paintings. "I have been a painter for 30 years and used to have my own gallery, but not anymore. Today people dont buy oriental painting anymore, people only like the Western art now." he say. He shows no sign of regret.

Mokpo

Monday Darkness

Yesterday one of the worlds greates jazz pianists and one of my absolute favourite musicians, Esbjoern Svensson, died in a diving accident. A dark day. Fortunately, his music will live on and make him immortal, continuing to give joy and inspiration to everyone listening to it.

Liberty Park

I am tired. But the sauna/motelroom is driving me mad, so I decide go for a stroll around town looking for a park or someplace else to relax. May 18 Liberty Park sounds good, such a great turn in Koreas history is sure to have a huge park. It turns out pathetic. A couple of trees next to an 8-lane road. No shade. Fresh smog. Great place. It is surrounded by the picturesquely grey appartment blocks no. 102-108. For some reason all apartment blocks have numbers starting with 100 printed on them in huge letters here. Potentially because they are all absolutely identical.

So much about the park. Opposite to is the huge Kim Dae Jung convention center catches my attention. At least the hero of the democracy movement got an appropriately sized monument. Might be something interesting inside. I steer away from Liberty Park. Only to be engaged by a group of teenage boys shouting random english sentences, attempting to surround me. I swiftly evade them, having becoming more experienced a kojangi.

As I enter the convention center, a sign tells me the "2008 IT Forum Expo" is held here. Loud music comes from the inside. So much about relaxing I think, but enter annyway. As big stage takes about half the room, thats where the music is coming from as well. Its a professional counterstrike gaming contest, with a live audience, TV cameras and live commentary by two anchormen and a woman. The speakers are so obscenely large, everytime one fires his gun the feeling is similar to being punched in the guts. Nobody seems to notice this, however. I watch the happenings for a while, but lose interest soon. Its still just computer games.

I walk on. Young people in all sorts of costumes are gathered around tiny stalls with a mysterious purpose. Then I pass an exhibition stand where two models with huge plastic guns catch my eyes. "FOREEIIGNNEEEERRR" somebody shouts. I swiftly look around, there are only black capped heads, so the somebody must be meaning me. To my disdain I now notice a guy with microphone and camera stepping brusquely towards me. "INTERVIEW!?" follows the inevitable request.

It is quick and effective. Where I am from, he wants to know. "Togil", I say and he screams in delight as this is Korean for German. Do I know the game 'Gold Slam' he wants to know. I have to say no. Do I know the ... game, he then asks. I am not interested in games I say, a smart move as he loses interest at once. Still, I am not free to go yet. "Today you are not photographer" he says pointing towards my camera, "You are model!". "M-O-D-E-L" he spells as a small crowd has gathered around us and shoves me between the two models I had seen earlier. A polaroid picture is taken which I can keep. It turns out nice, the photographer perfectly catches my awkward feeling.

Any feeling of balance I might have had left before has gone now. I leave. Or at least I try to. The main crowd of weirdly dressed people has gathered around the exit. Demons and Androids are taking pictures of two kids dressed as smiling breads chasing each other. Somebody walks along dressed in a black rectanglular costume reading "Death Notice" in big white letters. What is this? An uneasy feeling comes creeping down my back, because I notice him following me as I walk on. I stop abruptly and turn around, but just then he walks away. Was he really following me? Maybe I am getting paranoid.

In the subway I take out my 'Gwangju Metropolitan City Tourist Guide Map' and find "Uncheonsa Temple" is just a short walk from the next station. 'This is it.', I think. Tranquility, finally. But no. I stray around for one hour, cursing the crude map. Perhaps they should have invested less energy in naming it, but in actually drawing the map. A 5-metre-high metal hoarding blocks the way to where the temple is supposed to be. At last I reach a gap, only to see everything behind the gigantic fence has been cleared out to make room for another construction project. There is no temple. I return to the motel room.

IT Convention

Kojangi in Seoul

Seoul

Huge Drums and Mad Cows

It is the 10th of June. 21 years ago the Korean military government finally stepped down after intense public protest and the first democratic elections were held in South Korea.
Thousands of people have gathered in front of the stage today to celebrate this anniversary, but also to protest against the free-trade-agreement with the US. They feel betrayed by their president, who has signed the controversial agreement, because it includes the release of the import ban on US beef--what will bring the Mad Cow disease to Korea, people fear. On a popular poster, a cute Korean child is standing crying and helpless in front of an approaching ship full of menacing cows with skulls and bones symbols on their heads. This might be a slight exaggeration of the possible danger, as only 3 people have died from the human form of the disease in the United States since its discovery.

However, the sentiments are running high amongst the protestors, mostly young people from high school or the early semesters of university. Nobody knows who is behind the campaign, but the fact that it is mainly very young people who flock to the demonstrations in masses might suggest that a powerful interest group is aggravating people's fears intentionally to weaken the president.

In Seoul, the government has entrenched itself behind walls of shipping containers in fear of the demonstrators. Still, almost nobody has been injured (one Korean newspaper reports of 11 people injured alltogether), with tens of thousands on the streets thats incredibly few. In contrast, the police here in Gwangju are sitting around the peaceful demonstration looking bored. The mood is cheerful, it is a giant festival.

Then the drumming starts. The stage simply erupts in a sudden thunderstorm of sound. It is like nothing I have ever experienced. Five drummers hit their impressive instruments in perfect synchrony. Amplified through the huge soundsystem, the beats shake the ground and fire up the crowd. To top it, the drummers then dunk their sticks into gas and ignite them before continuing to play. I catch a shower of gas, because I too close trying to take some pictures. The effect is majestic, for a short while it seems as if a firestorm is sweeping over the stage.

The crowd is ecstatic. Frenetic applause accompanies the musicians from the stage. Now two speakers take the stage and hold a fiery speech in Korean, of which I unfortunately understand nothing. I try to find somebody who speaks English, but I soon give up as it is futile. In between they animate the people to do a mexican wave with their protest candles, as it is getting dark. It is remarkable there appears to be no violence at all. At demonstrations of this kind and especially this huge size, in my hometown Hamburg there would be intense clashes between armored police and hooded protestors, the police probably using water cannons to disperse the crowd. There might be something true about the cliche of the Confucian mindset and its ideal of collective harmony...

FTA

first

The reception has for an yet unknown reason decided to switch off my aircondition, so I have been sitting directly in front of the fan for the past 36 hours to escape the obscene heat creeping in through the window. Communication is a challenge, to find out how to switch on the machine took no less than a day. Still I hope for them to eventually change their mind about the heat treatment.
Two days ago I ventured into the unknown city for the first time. Gwangju is famous for its art and culture scene and Thus I decide to start my expedition at Gwangju's 'Art Street'. Antique shops, full of unknown scriptures and sculptures mingle with modern art galleries. Inside the shops there is often either nobody visible or somebody sunk into a deep slumber.

Hidden underneath the street I discover an old tea shop, quite an unique place. Melancholic, otherworldly singing transpiring from below draws me inside. With every step I take down, the temperature to sinks by about one degree, a relief to the heat on the street. The walls are covered with Calligraphy on yellowed paper. A woman dressed in black hums along to the beautiful music floating through the air, stopping only as briefly as possible to greet me with a friendly "annyeong haseo". There is nobody else inside. I do not dare to order something as I do not want to be the only customer and without any knowledge as of how to behave in a place like this. "Beautiful" I just say to her and left after staying as long as seemed appropriate. I dont know if she understood.

When I re-enter the harsh sunlight and unforgiving heat outside, this whole episode already seems like a dream. Art Street is short, and soon I am back in the normal city race. It appears everything has to be noisy here. every second shop has either brutally loud music blaring out of a PA system in front of it or somebody shouting at everyone passing through a portable amplifying unit. In this case it is a blessing to look obviously foreign, as most promoters ignore me. Walking past a shop entrance I glimpse a young woman kissing a minuscule dog with pink makeup on its cheeks. At the next corner stands a group of small schoolgirls, they circle me instantly as I try to pass, shouting "HEEELLLLOOOO" "WHERE YOU FROM?". I escape quickly through a small breach in their lines. From the distance I can hear thumping bass on the main street, where I spot a group of students in pink dress marching towards democracy square.

The demonstrations! Today is the 21st anniversary of the democracy movement in Gwangju and this must surely be part of it. I run into the underground shopping complex right underneath the square to catch a picture of the group from the other side. Unfortunately I am too late, the group has already dispersed around the gigantic 'democracy bell' made in rememberance of the movement. While I try to take some pictures, two guys with a camera approach me. "INTERVIEW!?" they shout over the music from the huge speakers of the truck heading the demonstration. The language barrier is almost impenetrable despite brave efforts. They are from University TV, finally one of them manages to explain. I agree to be interviewed, although I have no idea how to be part of an interview with only one person speaking English and the other one not speaking any Korean. "What do you think?" he simply asks me and points camera and microphone into my face. I want to help them, so I just start a monologue about whatever comes to my mind. Instantly a group of curious people gathers around us, I quickly finish and escape again.

Meanwhile, on the street an impressive soundsystem is set up from a crane while huge drums are lured onto a stage for the main celebrations. This is only just the beginning, I realize...