During the last week of September, I had what you might call a miniature nervous breakdown. This tends to happen to even the most normal person when a) one has not slept for three weeks due to incessant noise, b) one's water and toilet have been mysteriously shut off for two weekends in a row and c) one is coming off powerful drugs (prescribed by a Western doctor) which have been messing with one's hormones for six weeks. I was frustrated, moody, anxious, bored, and deeply depressed at my situation. Culture shock? Possibly. Who knows...
I called a friend, and she suggested I needed to get out of town asap. Kathy, her boyfriend, Emma (who was also having a trying time), and I decided we were going to ALL "get out of Dodge" by taking the late train to Jeongdongjin. Jeongdongjin has the unusual distinction of having the "closest train station to the beach in the world." Guinness confirms this claim, and you can see in this picture how close the station actually is to the beach (photo taken from inside the train).
Because I was a "latecomer;" my seat was separated from my co-travellers, but we were in the same carriage. My seatmate was a very polite middle-aged woman, who courteously offered me bits of her food. I really appreciated the gesture, although the food belonged to the class of "interesting aroma." When a row of seats became empty, she moved so she could lay down. I gratefully spread out across the seats and fell asleep.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. At abour 5:30 a.m., we arrived in Jeongdonjin. Jeongdongjin is famous among Koreans for having a very intense sunrise. Taking the midnight train is considered a romatic date, and couples like to camp out on the beach or boardwalk before sunrise to await the dawn. The trains arrange their schedules accordingly so that passengers can watch the sun come up over the East Sea (Sea of Japan, for the politically incorrect); remember, the sun rises in the East!
We arrived an hour before sunrise, so we checked into a "love motel" and crashed for awhile. Every time I have stayed at one of these establishments, I have been without camera, but this time I was lucky. This motel had 1970s porno decor, complete with a round bed and strategically-placed mirrors...The requisite big box of tissue was on the bedstand, with cigarette tray close by for those post-coital moments. I didn't have the time or energy to check, but I bet ten to one there were condoms in the drawer.
We dropped off our things, and headed to the beach to watch this fabulous sunrise. We brought some kiwis, egg salad sandwiches, and other goodies for breakfast. We dandered along the crowded boardwalk, dodging canoodling couples huddling under inadequate blankets and trying desperately to look romantic. The atmosphere,however, was not particularly conducive to this sort of activity. It was neither quiet nor exactly peaceful; sleepy parents dejectedly chased down well-sugared toddlers, and "romantic" music (think circa 1950-1960) trickled out insistently from every bush and tree (where they hide the speakers). A SIDE NOTE: This is one thing that especially irks me about Korea; every activity must be accompanied by music. This includes mountain hikes, public parks, and even the parking lot under the Byeongjeom overpass (which inexplicably plays Chopin's "Nocturne in E minor").
As we went down the stairs towards the beach, we beheld yet another of Jeongdongjin's wonders - a random cruise ship on a mountain. Some entrepreneurial soul bought (or constructed) a cruise ship, and, though a stroke of genius or extremely bad taste (you decide) placed his "Love Boat" on top of the tallest headland! Next to this excrescence was a smaller boat with sails; I later found out from the guide book that the smaller ship is, in fact, a grammaphone museum!
We found a place on the beach to camp out, and plopped ourselves down with little ceremony. We munched on our sandwiches thoughtfully, and our token romantic couples tried their best to be, well, romantic. No one had brought a knife, so Emma and I added to the murmur of cooing voices with soft ptoooiiiis as we bit into each kiwi and spit out the skins.
Suddenly, an enourmous noise echoed through the beach. Everyone gazed in amazement as a speed boat came ripping though the oceanfront. The vehicle screeched around the bay, spewing water in the wake of ridiculously tight curves. The boat then turned towards the shore, and came roaring towards the beach! People nervously crept back a few feet. The boat clearly had no intention to stop. Within only five feet of shore, the captain cut the engine, then the boat bumped its way onto the sand. The man, unruffled, loudly began hawking rides. Incredibly, a family with two young boys took up his offer, and they all went squealing away as the lunatic captain spun his boat into increasingly tight and wet circles. Amazingly, yet another boat pulled in with the same sort of fanfare; clearly, this was a local tourist trap.
We never did see the sunrise; it was cloudy and overcast. We went back to the motel, and slept for about two hours.
Refreshed, we went to breakfast on the main drag. I noted with some amusement that most of the eating establishments possessed signs screaming "CAPPUCINO! COFFEE!" Not a bad idea for a place that capitalizes on sunrises! We continued on our tour, wandering aimlessly. We followed the signs to the "World's Largest Hourglass," but got hopelessly lost. As it turned out, the Hourglass was on top of the hill we kept on passing! We wandered down a country alley, wherupon we saw a poor Jindo dog caged up. He was so beautiful, but his eyes were dull and sad; they followed our movements, but the dog never lifted his head.
We then decided to head towards the Unification Park. This park was build to "commemorate" the North Korea Submarine Incident, October 1996. This was the last (acknowledged) skirmish between North and South Korea. Jeongdongjin is only a few kilometers from the DMZ coast, which makes it prime spying ground for submarines. The small submarine (I believe Russian-made)is meant to hold 6 people; the North Koreans crammed in 30 specially-trained spies. Their spy mission was effectively scuttled, however, when the warcraft got trapped by some unusual weather and scraped a nice hole in the bottom of the vessel.
Here the story itself gets slightly scuttled; what is certain is that the North Korean c.o. shot and killed 16-17 of his own men, then shot himself in the head. The incriminating paperwork was set alight inside the sub; you can still get a whiff of burned plastic in certain parts of the shaft. The computers are also melted. One report states that the bodies of the excecuted men were found on a nearby hillside; another report says the men were found inside the sub. The rest of the men fled into the neighboring hills. All of them were taken out by the South Korean military except for two; one man got away, and one man was captured. The captured man was very cooperative with his interrogators after they reportedly plied him with soju...There were also civilian and South Korean casualties in this incident. All of this info can be accessed on the Internet in various sources (links to come later).
The Unification Park is actually quite a clever piece of propoganda. The small spy submarine sits on a large waterfront property right next to....a huge decommissioned American battleship, given to the South Koreans by the US in the 1970s. This battleship, incredibly, is not in the water, but on land. From the seaside, it looks like the big bad Warship is squeezing out a small turd...Size does matter, after all. The jokes about "potency" and "size" apparently hit below the belt in these sorts of matters in certain Korean press releases...
The area is still under security; there are guard towers and soldiers at attention, surveying the rocks for any sign of trouble. The soldiers are in full fatigue and carry mean-looking weapons. There is also razor wire and "jacks" on the beach nearby. Even so, people were allowed to wander around both vessels at will. Korean tourists were even taking sneak snapshots of the guards.
At the entrance of the submarine, there is a rack with hard hats and a caution sign. We giggled at each other and took pictures, feeling a bit over-protected. Well, there was a good reason for the hats. The sub is built for senior midgets; I cracked my skull at least three times. Even Shane, who is short even for a Korean, had some difficulty navigating the tight space. There are no lights or placards; the exhibitors have left everything strictly as it was. A peculiar burnt plastic/burnt electrics smell premeated the room, as well as someting more elusive. I was very surprised to note that the melted computers and electronic equipment were in English! Hmmmm...
We ended our tour early, as I had to take the train back to Seoul. It was 6 hours each way; I was that desperate to get out of Byeongjeom. Refreshed, and deliciously tired, I slept all the way back, pausing only to eat my meager rations of roasted eggs. Roasted eggs are a popular Korean treat, however I think they would serve a better purpose as industrial rubber - very chewy and tasteless. "Great preparation for returning home," I mused sleepily.
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