Day trip into North Korea, from Marc Metzer

Marc Metzer is spending a year in South Korea teaching English. He graduated from Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo, with a degree in Ag Systems Management in June but wanted to spend a year in Asia before he started his career. He just got back from a day trip into North Korea, which he shares below.

I have been keeping busy with teaching and hanging out with friends. I have not had any special trips lately other than the North Korea trip I just back from. It was a guided tour into Kaesong, North Korea which took about an hour to get to from Seoul.

All the people in the tour, about 35, met at Hongik University Subway Station in Seoul at 6am. The bus left around 6:15am and we arrived at the first checkpoint before getting into the DMZ. A South Korean soldier boarded our bus fully armed ready for battle with Aviators and rifle, yelled some Korean, walked up and down the aisle, shouted some more Korean, we clapped, he got off, and the bus proceeded to the DMZ boarder. The only Korean speakers on our bus were the driver and three tour guides. So none of the rest of us knew what the guy was saying.

From here the bus drove over a bridge and around military barriers set up on the road. At this point we were not allowed to take any more pictures from the bus. Our next stop was the South Korean-DMZ border. This is where we had to leave all our electronics behind other than our camera. We were only allowed digital cameras so the North Korean’s could look at all our pictures and delete any that were unacceptable when we left North Korea. I had to exchange my Korean won for US dollars because this is the only currency the North accepts from tourists, kinda ironic. We also received our North Korean passport because the North does not recognize/accept our foreign passports. This is also the place where about 7 other buses full of Koreans joined our group. From now on, the buses were always together with three escort vehicles in front and behind our group. Other than our busses and North Korean military vehicles, I think I saw about two other vehicles the entire day. So we basically had the roads and highways to ourselves.

As we were driving through the DMZ, we were able to see two gigantic flag poles a couple miles apart in the distance. The North Korean flag happens to be a little taller than that of the South, and is also the world's tallest flag pole, 136 meters. After driving about 10 minutes we arrived at the North Korean Border Office around 8:15am. We had to take all our belongings with us as were going through a border and had to go through a metal detector and send our stuff through the x-ray machine. We also had to do this when leaving the South. The difference was they stamped our new "North Korean Passport" instead of the real one. But I had the tour guide ask them if they could also stamp my US passport, which they did. So, I added 4 more stamps to my collection: leaving South, entering North, leaving North, entering South. We were also not allowed to bring in any propaganda: newspapers, magazines, etc.

Now I am in North Korea. Along with our tour guides, there are three North Korean officials keeping an eye on us in our bus. We were not allowed to take picture from the bus at any time. We were not allowed to take pictures of any soldiers or military equipment. Along with this, we couldn't take pictures of buildings under construction or any "humble" buildings, meaning dilapidated. All along the side of the roads there were soldiers stationed about 200 meters apart that just stood in one place, didn't break face, and made sure we didn't take pictures of anything. This was all along the tour, and we drove several miles to get from one stop to the other over the course of the tour. If the soldier sees a person taking a picture, he raises a red flag, the bus would have to stop, and they would find the perpetrator. Luckily this did not happen and I do not know the consequences.

The first buildings we saw in the North were all in the new industrial complex. The roads were paved nicely, there were traffic lights (but no traffic), and construction was brand new. We were told by our tour guide that a train comes in once a week from South Korea with building supplies to build factories. The factories are all South Korean owned and all the products go back down to the South. This complex is very unique for the country and after we passed it - we saw the real North Korea.

All the hills are ruined from deforestation and all the crop land goes towards either rice or cabbage. I saw a couple tractors, none running, but I did see several water buffalo used to pull equipment through the fields. Everybody rode bikes or walked, there was no other means of transportation. I wish I had pictures to show, but pictures were not allowed. People's homes were scattered through the country and looked as basic as a house could be.

As we got nearer and nearer Kaesong, pop. 300,000, we saw more and more people walking on the sidewalk. It was very interesting seeing what people were doing. I always wondered where they were going. Very few looked at our convoy, as I assume they are discouraged from doing this. I would think it would be hard not to look at a convoy of buses full of foreigners driving through a city which has no need for traffic lights.

As we arrived in the city itself our tour guide pointed out a huge sign in Korean that read something like, "Down with our evil enemy America". Talk about a warm welcome. The city was extremely interesting, the sidewalks had tons of people riding and walking their bikes, along with people carrying produce or children walking together going somewhere. All North Koreans have to wear a red pin on their shirt. The women's is a red circle that has something on it, while the men wear a Korean flag pin with a picture of Kim Jong-Il. We drove straight through the city without stopping and headed towards our first stop, Pakyon Falls.

It was a pretty cool waterfall, but the colors of the country were amazing. There were bright red, green, orange, and yellow trees all packed together. I even picked a couple leaves to take home with me, free souvenirs! There were several food stands in the area that were selling basics such as coffee, cornbread, and cookies. I bought some stuff just so I didn't feel as bad when I asked the women if I could take a picture with her. By the way, if you’re interested, it was $1 for half a Dixie cup of instant coffee. Wasn't all that bad though.

We loaded up on the bus a little after 11am to go to lunch. We drove into the city once again and had lunch as a group in the restaurant. Basically everybody had about 14 covered bowls of side dishes in front of them to eat. I opted out for this and decided to eat at Taco Bell down the road. I went for the standard bean and cheese burrito, double decker taco, and Mexican pizza. It filled me up and I was ready to continue the tour. Just kidding – there isn’t a fast food restaurant in all of Korea. Honestly, the Korean lunch wasn't bad and it did fill me up. The bottle of beer probably had something to do with this, too.

After lunch we were able to go walk on a street in the city. As tourists we were separated from the North Koreans, but we were still able to take some pretty cool pictures of an empty street in the city. We were half way up a hill with a golden statue of one of the Kims above us and we were able to see clear across to the other side of the city. It was very cool, the only people on the road were N. Koreans crossing from one side to the other. They were not allowed to ride their bikes or walk in the lanes. There was no trash along the road or sidewalk and no cars parked anywhere. This is where I took my picture with my “I Love Spinach” Monterey County propaganda. Lunch and this sightseeing lasted about an hour and then we got back on the bus.

We drove to Sonjuk Bridge, which took about 5 minutes and was just down the street a little ways. It's not a vehicle bridge but a stone foot bridge. This is the bridge where Jung Mong-ju was assassinated by Lee Bang-won in 1392. The blood stain is still on the bridge which can be slightly seen in one of my photos. We also looked at some other buildings but nothing too exciting. There were walls all around us and we couldn't see any civilians. The tour guides and North Korean officials would prevent us from standing tall to look over the wall, which I thought was more interesting to see than the bridge itself. All the stops in the city had women in hanbok, traditional Korean dresses, selling the same things from a stand.

After the bridge stop we went to another place two minutes driving away which was some type of school or something. It looked like it hadn't been used for awhile, anyway we didn't even go in it. We walked behind it, up a hill and looked at some building thing. I don't know. It is/was some type of school I think. Maybe an art school because there appeared to be a stage. I wasn't too impressed, but there was a pretty good view of the city - which we weren't allowed to take pictures of. I tried to sneak a couple pictures, but don't know how well they turned out. After this we walked back down the hill and all sat on the curb watching citizens of Kaesong walking by on the sidewalk across the street, about 2 first downs away.

It was weird that none of them made any eye contact with us, which is a complete contrast to South Koreans who basically have a staring contest with you every second you’re in public. We did see some adults that prevented their kids from looking at us. This probably had a lot to do with the soldiers across the street keeping an eye on things. When we were in the bus driving back the chances of getting someone to wave back at us dramatically increased. I got pretty good at it, I had several people wave back at me. I was even able to snipe out a guy from a building's third story window, I’s got skills! Anyway, we sat there for 15 minutes, being not allowed to take pictures or say hello to any of them.

Our next stop was our last stop of the tour. This too was about five minutes away and was the Koryo Museum and a couple shops. The museum wasn't much of a museum, more like courtyards and a couple stages. I don't know, there was a cool tree with a huge hole in it which I got in and had a picture taken of me. I also got a good picture with one of the North Korean officials. Ya, I put my arm around his shoulder. The funny thing was, these officials did not crack much of a smile outside, but seemed to relax whenever they got back on the bus with us when we drove somewhere.

I did a lot of "shopping" here, too. I spent about $40. I bought three pieces of artwork, a fan, a bottle of beer, blueberry wine, and soju. Although I don't smoke, I bought two packs of cigarettes and a little doll thing that can be used as a Christmas ornament. I also bought a pack of cookies, which I gobbled up in the bus.

We left the museum, our last stop, around 3:30-4:00 and headed to the North Korean border check, driving through the city, country, and industrial complex. In customs we gave our "North Korean Passports" back to them and I also had the guy stamp my US passport for fun. And yes, I have a fresh untouched page in my passport with one entering and exiting North Korean stamp. We went through metal detectors again and got our bags x-rayed while our bus was checked for the third time. The N. Koreans hastily looked through our cameras for pictures that needed to be deleted and such. No problems. Back on the bus, through the DMZ and into the South Korean border check - you know, just the same old routine by now. Take everything off the bus, x-ray, metal detector, body heat sensor, bus search, and propaganda search. Ya, they look for stuff like stamps, postcards, etc. Luckily they don't check for it around your waist or tucked in your left sock.

The tour is over. We got our cells back, got on the bus and headed back to Seoul.

Surfing in Bali

As I took my first step off the airplane, the intoxicating mixture of sweet incense, burning trash, ocean trade winds and Indonesian cigarettes hit me. I was in Bali.

My luggage was waiting at the door and consisted of one bag packed with three surfboards and a backpack with all the clothing I would need for a month of traveling.

For my friend Matt and I, this would be the surfing trip we had been talking about since high school.

Jetlagged but eager to start our adventure, we found our way to a "home stay" which cost 100,000 rupiah, or roughly $10, a night. It didn't take long to estimate out how far we could go with a good exchange rate.

After renting motor bikes, we secured our boards and headed to our first destination.

The beach at Uluwatu Temple was like a dream. It is a travel destination for any surfer who wants long peeling waves that barrel over a fluorescent living reef.

We watched near the cliffs as the women knelt with offerings to the gods and fishing boats sailed past the 6-to-8-foot waves wrapping around the point.

My first wave in the warm Indian Ocean sent me speeding past other surfers and allowed many turns. The wave gracefully pitched over my head encasing me in a watery tube, then it forcefully spit me out.

After a long surf session we ate at a local warung, ordering the traditional dish nasi goreng: rice, vegetables and chicken with a fried egg on top.

On the way back to our home stay, we noticed several locals carrying large tuna from the beach. We stopped to see what was happening and saw a huge ship tipped sideways on the reef.

Authorities told us it was an abandoned Taiwanese ship that had been missing for months after the Balinese crew mutinied against the captain and shut off all communication. The boat crashed into the fragile reef of the famous surf break Padang Padang early that morning, and now the locals were throwing fish and computer equipment from the freighter to smaller boats below.

After a week and a half surfing beaches across Bali, we traveled to the nearby island of Java. Leaving in the middle of the night on a hired transport, we boarded a ferry and then trekked down a long, rough dirt road to reach the Bay of Grajagan, known as G-Land.

When we finally arrived in the morning, Matt and I stood speechless as we watched 18-foot waves exploding along the shallow reef at Money Trees. Behind us a troop of monkeys swung by in the dense jungle and the sounds of birds could be heard in all directions.

From Launching Pads we got thrown into some serious barrels, but survived without too many collisions with the reef. Other surfers weren't so lucky, breaking boards and even tearing ligaments. The wave there was so long that some guys could pull into tubes for 100 meters and still see the light of day.

The four days we spent in Java went by in a blur, but it was the closest I have ever felt to being Indiana Jones running through the jungle.

The eight-hour ride back left us feeling lethargic, but there were still plenty of waves to be ridden in Bali. Because we both turned 21 on this trip, we had a celebration on the beach with all the people we had met while traveling and locals who had helped us find waves.

A pig was prepared and roasted for five hours, and plenty of Bintang beer was consumed. Local music played while we each shared stories from past adventures and the warm night rolled on.

The 23-hour plane ride back to the United States gave me plenty of time to reflect on what I experienced and to dream of future endeavors. One thing is certain; the Indonesian spirit will always be with me after a trip such as this.

Patrick Makenen can be reached at pmakenen@montereyherald.com.

LEBANON ... NOTES FROM A COUNTRY ON THE EDGE — Jean Brenner, Carmel

Bright green wheat waved in the morning sun as we drove from the border of Syria into the Bakaa Valley in Lebanon. We passed billboards showing women in bathing suits, something never seen in conservative Muslim Syria. Then our driver turned down a lane lined with poplar trees and we came to a modem Italian style building. This was the home of the oldest winery in Lebanon, Chateau Ksara. When we had been able to find wine in Syria, often in the Christian quarter of the larger cities, we drank Ksara. After a tour of the cellars, we went to the modem tasting room to sample wine with young girls dressed in jeans. It was hard to believe that we were still in the Middle East.

But then everything changed. We drove on to Baalbek, home of very impressive Roman ruins, and the militant Shiite group, Hezbollah. The entrance to the town was festooned with banners and huge portraits of Muqtada al-Sadr, the Ayatollah Khomeini and martyrs of Hezbollah. Our hotel, a relic of the French Mandate (1920-1943), was filled with atmosphere, but no one else. There weren't any tourists here, or as we were to discover, in the rest of Lebanon either.

As I wandered alone in the market area of Baalbek I was met with stares, but no real hostility. Then, as I took a photo of a rack of black abayas (cloaks) hanging next to some skimpy Western style dresses, a man called to me and asked if I were "police". I quickly left and that was that. In this conservative town the women wore abayas or long coats and head scarves and teen aged girls covered their heads and wore dresses over long pants and long sleeved shirts. We had seen this in Syria too. There seems to be a resurgence of conservative dress among the women in this part of the Middle East. I went on to the produce market where a kind old man showed me how to eat green almonds. I guess I didn't seem so threatening to him. The blaze of color behind him: red tomatoes, purple eggplant and bright green cucumbers, showed off the bounty of the Bakaa Valley, the bread basket of Lebanon.

The next day we turned south and drove along the coast to the Biblical cities of Sidon and Tyre. We passed checkpoints manned by young men in fatigues and AK 47s. Then we came to the refugee camps which were surrounded by walls topped with barbed wire and guarded by tanks. There are 500,000 Palestinian refugees in seven camps around the country, some of whom have been there since 1948. These two towns, with their Roman ruins, Crusader castles and dark souks (markets) were delightful, but signs of conflict were never far away. As we walked through a large Roman necropolis we saw on the other side of the fence an old refugee camp. From a distance it didn't look so bad since the old two story buildings were separated by trees. It was only when I used my zoom lens that I saw few people and empty windows gazing at me like blank eyes.
In Tyre we were close to the border of Israel and the Palestinian Territories and we saw lots of blue United Nations vans parked by a deserted seaside resort. The UNIFIL troops have guarded this border for years. Along the road there were signs with the symbol of Hezbollah, a machine gun. Near by were posters of two raised hands which are also used by Hezbollah to advertise the humanitarian wing of the organization. This group has done much to help the people repair the damage done during the July 2006 "Israeli Aggression" as the Lebanese call it. The gutted buildings we saw along the way were reminders of this conflict.

Lebanon is a country whose history goes back some 6000 years. From Neolithic to Babylonian, Phoenician, Persian, Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine, Muslim, Crusader, the Ottoman Empire and finally the French, each civilization left its mark. The boundaries of present day Lebanon were carved out of the Ottoman Empire and what had been "greater Syria" at the end of World War 1. When the government of Lebanon was established in 1946, half of the population was Christian and half Muslim, so the president was to be Christian and the prime minister, Muslim. However, many Christians left during the terrible fifteen year Civil War (1976-1991), and that, combined with a declining birth rate, has left the Christian population with only 30% while the Muslims make up the remaining 70%. Of that, about 30% of the Muslims are Sunni and 30% are Shiite. The government is in such disarray this point that they don't even have a president.

After the Civil War ended, Prime Minister Rafiq Hairiri and his foundation rebuilt the central part of Beirut in hopes of again making it the "Paris of the Middle East" as it had been known in the 1950's and 60's. Apparently tourists were returning until Israeli bombs began to fall on the city in July of 2006. We visited this area late one afternoon and found charming outdoor cafes and attractive buildings -~ut no one in sight except armed soldiers. Nearby Martyrs Square is dominated by a large heroic statue, pockmarked with bullet holes, looking out to sea. Even the frescos in a nearby St. George Cathedral show evidence of gun fire in the church. Because of its location on the green line that separated the Christian and Muslim sections of the city, the National Museum was also heavily damaged during the Civil War, but it has been restored and now proudly displays artifacts from the country's rich history. Around the comer we saw tanks with machine guns guarding a fenced off section of Martyrs Square where families of the "disappeared" have been living in tents since December. They were demanding information about their missing relatives. One day, as we drove out of town, traffic backed up and we saw a backhoe digging up the median strip. A group of people stood watching from the other side of the road and we were told that there was a rumor that some of the "disappeared" had been buried there. The rumor eventually proved to be untrue, but such is life in Beirut today.

We traveled north to the historic cities of Tripoli and Byblos, as well as the Chouf Mountains with its picturesque villages and Mt. Lebanon that overlooks the coast. It is hard to imagine that fighting has taken place in these mountains only a few weeks ago.

How do the Lebanese people cope in such an uncertain envirom-nent, I wondered. With unemployment at 25% jobs are scarce, especially in the tourist sector. Some young
people I talked to were thinking of going to Australia, if they could be assured of a job. Marcelle, our guide, is unmarried so she lives at home with three generations of relatives. She has a sister already living in Australia and her brother may go too. Her parents welcomed us into their home and treated us to ice cream and homemade sweets. Yet, in spite of their outward good humor, we soon saw how the strain of living on the edge can take a toll on older people. Their frustration and anger became obvious as they talked about their future. Yet no one seemed to have any idea about what to do.

If only the blue sky and sparkling ocean that we saw while walking along Beirut's fabled Corniche could blot out the memory of soldiers, guns and barbed wire. The sidewalk was crowded with people enjoying the late afternoon sun and they laughed and talked as they strolled by. There seemed to be a natural optimism about these people that amazed me. I wish I could be optimistic about their future too. But after the events of May 5-13 it is hard to see how all of this will end. We left Beirut less than three weeks before Hezbollah closed the airport in retaliation for the closure of their telecommunications network by the government and gunfire again echoed through the streets of Beirut.