I don’t even know where to begin describing the past week. If starting orientation six weeks ago with 63 other Americans seemed a little less than overwhelming, leaving orientation and moving to my homestay has certainly been the opposite. And the event labeled on our schedule as “DMZ Pool Party” the day before certainly didn’t help make the whole thing feel any less surreal.

Wednesday was the DMZ tour, a well-orchestrated bus ride led by two very perky tour guides through land mine areas and checkpoints, into the Joint Security Area and right up to (even a couple of feet across) the North Korean border, culminating in the opportunity to snap a picture next to a stone-faced, clenched-fisted South Korean soldier. Twenty-four of us were broken off from the rest of the group and shoved onto a bus with a group of Japanese tourists, so I got to hear the whole tour in both English and Japanese, though somehow the Japanese portion always took about twice as long. Hm. Anyway, the first tour bus stop was at Unification Park. Before getting off the bus, though, we had to cover a few of ground rules...First rule: NO POINTING. Why? Because random finger pointing could look like someone pointing a gun and therefore could conceivably justify possible retaliation from North Korea. Pointing cameras, on the other hand, is no problem. Second rule: NO SCANDALOUS CLOTHING. If the North Koreans somehow obtained a photograph of some American in hot pants and a tube top, it could be used as part of their anti-American propaganda. (I wonder if anyone actually believes that tourists dressing appropriately at Unification Park will keep anyone from obtaining pictures of Americans looking unwholesome....someone in North Korea must have the internet, right?). Final rule: NO SANDALS. In case we are attacked and have to run away. Obviously.
Actually, Unification Park was probably the nicest, least contrived part of the tour. It was basically just a stepped hill with a bunch of different memorials—one to rebels in the north who had resisted the communist government, a few to individual generals or lieutenants (inscriptions like, “His being is carved indelibly into the foundation of our nation and the psyche of our people,”), and one very large, central monument with no identifying plaque. Perhaps a monument representing the hope for reunification? Thus the name Unification Park? Not sure. Anyway, I liked the park because it didn’t emphasize the sort of exotic scariness of having an evil dictator in control of the northern half of Korea the way the rest of the tour seemed to. Maybe I’m just dense, but before coming here the line between North and South Korea seemed pretty definite to me—two totally different countries. I mean, it’s been that way MY whole life. But whatever, I think the saddest I’ve seen the Korean students I’ve met here get is when they talk about North Korea, half of their country sort of stolen from them, all the people just cut off. The desire for reunification seems very personal, not just a matter of politics. Which I guess I could have figured out if I’d bothered to think about it more.
After Unification Park we got back on the bus and headed to a sort of glorified rest stop 10km from the North Korean border. Here we hopped out and saw the Peace Bell (very large) as well as the Stone World Peace Memorial. The memorial was basically a display of 100 different rocks collected from battlefields around the world. Even one for the Civil War, picked up from...Nevada. We were instructed that it was fine to take pictures, just not in a northerly direction.
Next stop, lunch. Very delicious. Ate kimchee.
Hm. After eating we headed toward Camp Bonifas and started passing through checkpoints, being warned not to throw ourselves off the bus in case of land mines, etc. At some point we were commanded to leave all of our things behind and actually switch to a different, presumably more secure bus. I dunno. We drove through a lot of chain link fences covered in barbed wire. Eventually we were shuttled into a little log cabin and given a lecture about the UN. All the buildings were brown huts that reminded me of nothing so much as the set of the TV show M*A*S*H. That along with our Disneyland-style tour guide made it very hard to remember that we were supposedly in a very dangerous area. (It also made it easier not to worry about the fact that twenty minutes ago I’d signed a form saying that the tour was not responsible if I died in a North Korean attack....our guide promised to return the sheet after our safe return as a fun souvenir.)
At one of the stops, after much rigmarole and tense scurrying on the part of our tour guides we were instructed to file in two straight lines through a building, past some very rigid guards and into the MAC building, a little cottage that straddles the border between North and South Korea. It was in this building that we were able to cross, very ceremoniously, over the N Korean side, as well as have our picture taken with the S Korean soldier (I had unfortunately forgotten my camera). He had to stand there while twenty Japanese ppl followed by twenty Americans stood next to him, more often than not flashing the peace sign while their pictures were being taken. Nice. After our photo op, we all filed up to this very precarious tower about 20 m from the border, where we were allowed to take pictures of North Korea and the single guard they had stationed outside their tourist building. (The two buildings facing off across the border are both designated “tourist buildings.”)
On our way back we stopped at Checkpoint 3, which has a lovely view of what the South Koreans call “Propaganda Village,” just in case the North Koreans thought they were fooling anyone. A very mysterious place, where it’s said that small children are bussed in daily in order to play in the streets and make the village look like a fun place to live. Whether or not anyone actually does live there is uncertain. Very unlike the South Korean Freedom Village, located nearby, where all the incredibly productive farmers make $82,000 a year people have to compete to live there. (Space is unfortunately limited, so only the oldest sibling of every generation is allowed to stay...younger siblings and their families are forced to move out.)
Last stop was the gift shop. I had left my money at home with my camera, so I wasn’t able to buy any of the available DMZ t-shirts or the toddler-size South Korean uniforms available there. Actually, a real bummer, ‘cause I REALLY wanted to buy the purple velvet-covered journal with a butterfly embroidered on the front and the words “Joint Security Area—DMZ” woven in loopy script on the back.

The pool party, it turns out, was a separate event (very disappointing). Actually, it was a BBQ at the American ambassador’s residence in Seoul, which is BEAUTIFUL. The residence is right across from the Seoul Art Museum (now hosting a huge Picasso retrospective) in a very busy part of town (actually, every part of Seoul is a very busy part of town). The residence is surrounded by a high brick wall, though, and as soon as you pass through the gate it’s like the rest of Seoul has just disappeared. Our little party was held next to the pool. Omigod. They fed us hot dogs, hamburgers, Doritos, seven-layer dip, macaroni and cheese, NON-PICKLED vegetables with ranch dressing, chocolate chip cookies, gummy bears, Ritz crackers and Triscuits with real cheddar cheese...it was amazing. After more than a month of eating bad Korean cafeteria food we all fell on the buffet line like starving dogs. People were piling food on their plates about as high as was possible...Robin passed by me on the way to her seat holding a plate with a mountain of food in one hand and clutching a burger with everything in the other. We must have looked like such complete pigs. Oh well, one last hurrah before being shipped off to our homestays where Korean food is IT.