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The Apple Experience in Seoul

Tuesday, April 11th, 2006

The 30 gb. iPod video
Today I had some time to kill and made my way to COEX, a giant mall in southern Seoul where there is an Apple Computer store.

It is aptly named “The Apple Experience.”

Here’s my Apple experience.

When I walked in the spacious, brightly lit, distinctly Apple-esque store I asked the guy at the front counter if he spoke English and if he could answer some questions about my iPod. He told me no, and pointed me to the Help Desk around the corner.

I walked over and sat in the small waiting area along with a few other people — all with their iPods. Each of the others were called up and taken care of in a few moments. I suppose they may have been simply asking how a function on the iPod worked.

When it was my turn I walked up carefully, almost tentatively. I worried the Apple-certified help guy wouldn’t understand English. And if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be surprised or upset by it. But as I approached, Mr. Ko, as his name tag read, said “How may I help you?”

Whew, I thought. Relief.

“First I want to tell you I love my iPod,” I said as a preface, assuming he would take my complaints personally. I guess because I was about to unload on him my three problems with the sexy little gadget I wanted to make sure he knew I wasn’t completely unsatisfied.

“But…” I began. “The battery dies after only three hours, the memory claims to be 30 gigabytes, but is only 27.8 gigabytes, and the screen is all scratched up after only two weeks.” This was all said in my “Native-English-speaker-talking-to-a-Korean-with-a-minimal-working-understanding-of-English-and-a-need-for-slow-and-ennunciated-speech” tone.

He asked me what format it was and then hooked it up to the Windows-based laptop in front of him and ran some diagnostics. I made small talk and told him I would buy a Mac in six months or so and then change the format to Mac and reload my music. He nodded at this and then told me the tests had shown that my sleek, black media player was healthy.

Without asking me, he then hooked up my iPod to the Mac laptop and ran what I thought was some other test. When he was done he handed it to me and said, “There, now it is formatted for your new Mac.”

“WHAT? Are you kidding? Why did you do that?” I screeched.

“You say you have new Mac,” he replied defensively.

“I said I WANT a new Mac, but not yet.”

“Oh,” he said and paused for a minute while his error sunk in. “I am sorry. I will change it back.”

“Thank you,” I replied, relieved he was going to fix his error.

“But,” he added. “You will have to reload all of your music again. It has been erased.”

All I could do was laugh. I had come in to buy a protective rubberized case for my iPod and ask a few questions about the machine and was leaving — so far — with an empty iPod which I wouldn’t get to enjoy on my one-hour commute back to Hongdae.

But my Apple Experience didn’t end there.

I found the case I wanted and saw that it cost 35,200 won. So I left the store and found an ATM to get a little money and go back.

When I placed the case on the counter, the guy scanned it and smiled at me. He was the same guy who didn’t speak English earlier and decided it wouldn’t be worth trying any Korean on me. What he didn’t know was that money was the only Korean I was fluent in. You really can’t survive if you don’t understand how many won something costs.

The screen for the cash register wasn’t facing me so I handed him four 10,000 won notes. He opend the drawer and gave me back 200 won. I was owed 4,200. When I aksed him where the rest of my money was, he showed me the receipt for 29,800 won.

Shit. How will I explain this?

“I gave you sa man won,” I said. (40,000 won)

“Ne. Sam man won,” he replied. (Yes. 30,000 won)

“Anio. SA man won. (No. 40,000 won) The price there says Sam man o chun ee bek won (35,200 won),” I said and pointed at the sign on the shelf. “So I give you SA MAN WON.”

At this point a young girl who worked there and spoke some English came up and asked what the problem was. There was no anger between us, only confusion. I already had a blank iPod, why would getting ripped off $10 bother me now?

I showed her the receipt for the case and explained that I had gotten 70,000 won out of the bank and only had 30,000 left and showed her that receipt and the money as well. She nodded sympathetically and touched the screen on the cash register and brought something up.

Then the guy says in English, “I must count money. Please wait.” He then proceeded to run all the bills through a counting machine and add it up on a calculator — twice.

The count came out in my favor. He handed me 10,000 won and said he was sorry.

I accepted his apology and asked the girl to hand me the case I had just purchased so I could go. She told me they had made an error and re-rung it. Then she asked me for 35,200 won!

“You already have 29,800 won,” I said, exasperated by now. She shook her head and gave me that dismissive wave Koreans give when they think someone is wrong.

So I did what Koreans do to me when I don’t understand their provincial accents or their mouths stuffed with food: I took the calculator and typed in 40,000, subtracted 35,200, and handed them 5,000 won. The girl smiled and took my money and gave me another small pile of coins in return.

And as I walked out the door the man called out to me his favorite phrase in English:

“Have a nice day.”

Choi’s Tacos: Muy bien!

Tuesday, April 4th, 2006

From The Korea Herald, April 5, 2006

CHEAP EATS
Choi’s Tacos: Muy bien!

 ChoisGoodHorizontal.JPG

 By Tracey Stark

It’s 8 p.m. and the place is packed. There’s a line forming outside the takeaway window, the smell of seasoned beef and chicken is wafting through the air and everybody is smiling. Especially Thomas Choi.

 

He has good reason to smile inside his 11-seat Shinchon restaurant. It’s busy and it isn’t because of bulgogi or dalk galbi. It’s Mexican food he sells; food he learned to cook from a chef in Los Angeles and then later in Mexico City.

“Many Koreans don’t know about Mexican food or about our menu,” Choi says. “But when they see the ingredients and see me cooking, their eyes get big. Whoa!”

He said he chose Mexican food because it’s different, yet it’s spicy enough to attract Koreans. The shop is often packed with foreigners craving a little something different as well as younger Koreans.

On this night two well-dressed elderly American couples sat along the far wall under the wooden cutout of Mexico covered with Post-it notes from adoring customers. When they left they praised Choi’s cooking and suggested he might even make a good Mexican.

He laughs and moves on to the next four people who immediately fill the empty seats.

I was attempting to go vegetarian for a time and see if I could lose some of my gut. But when he asked if I would have the usual, I couldn’t resist. Especially when one of the other cooks was sauteing steak in front of me in Choi’s special recipe marinade.

The beef burrito (3,300-4,800 won), medium (there is also a super burrito, which is not for the timid) and the cheese quesadilla (2,500-4,000 won) came hot and fast. Weighing in at close to a pound, I dove in to the burrito with closed eyes and an over-active salivary gland. The taste of refried beans, shredded cheese, seasoned rice, and marinated beef made it the most satisfying event of my week. For variety I got a side of guacamole (700 won).

The quesadillas come in two sizes and can be a meal on their own if you get the larger-sized beef or chicken variety. After I finished my meal I ordered another quesadilla and promised myself a trip to the gym the next day.

Other items include tacos, fajitas, nachos and soft drinks.

Partway through my meal Choi excused himself to go eat dinner – Korean food.

“I had Mexican for lunch,” he said and rubbed his ample belly.

Sometime in the near future Choi plans to host an event such as a taco eating contest.

I will admit that all this cheese and sour cream can’t be too good for you. So I suggest going no more than four or five times a week.

To get there:
From Shinchon subway station, exit and follow the signs to Yonsei University. Take the smallest of the five roads that meet at Shinchon rotary. Turn right at the first street (opposite Sybarra Records) and walk down the right side about 100 meters.

Hooked on Korean Phonics

Saturday, April 1st, 2006

A chain of news stands all over Seoul.

The Accidental Journalist

Tuesday, March 28th, 2006

From The Korea Herald, March 29, 2006
By Tracey Stark

When Oleg Kiriyanov was ready for college in 1991, the Soviet Union had just celebrated a year of formalized relations with South Korea. This changed not only the course of history, but young Oleg’s life as well.

Almost 15 years later Russian journalist Kiriyanov can say he has been a witness to it all.

“There was a lot of excitement about Korea, so I decided to study the language at St. Petersburg University.” Because of the USSR’s relationship with North Korea to that point, the Korean language was a well-established field of study.


In 1994 he decided to take it to the next level so he came to Korea to study International Relations at Seoul National University. In the six years that followed he collected both a bachelor’s and master’s degree and wrote his thesis entirely in Korean.

If someone had told him when he was a child that he would be in Korea for more than a quarter of his life by age 30, he would have laughed because he had another dream from the time he was 7. “I wanted to be a military officer and was planning to enter Military Academy – nothing related to Korea. But my eyesight was not good enough and I failed the medical check up so I had to change all my life plans.”

After graduating from SNU he had to find a way to put his degree to good use. The business climate in Russia was still very difficult, so he opted to try his hand as a foreign correspondent in Seoul.

“It was kind of an experiment,” Kiriyanov says. Two years later and he says it’s still up in the air.

But the opportunities his life here has afforded him could not have easily been duplicated in Russia.

As a fluent speaker of Korean he’s able to cover the same stories as the Korean press. As a holder of a foreign passport he’s invited on the foreign press junkets, like a recent Gaeseong Industrial Park trip and the first outing for foreigners in recent years to Dokdo Island last April.

Among other things Kiriyanov has been able to do as a fluent Korean speaker and foreign journalist were to train with the Korean Army (including parachute training, though, regretfully, he wasn’t allowed to jump) and to go out for a day’s work with squid fishermen in the East Sea.

Yet the one negative aspect he can find about life in Korea has to do with his job.

“I’m only one man here, so it’s difficult to cover everything I need to cover.” Besides Kiriyanov there is only one other Russian journalist in Korea and he works for a separate news organization.

But he does love his job. “It’s quite flexible. My office is my home,” he says, then adds with a smile, “and the closest bureau chief is 9,000 kilometers away in Moscow.”

His main purpose here, he says, is to bridge the cultural gap between Russia and Korea through his writing.

“Most people in Russia don’t know about Korea. They think I’m here working for Kim Jong-il,” he laughs. “But Koreans don’t know much about Russia either. There is no big picture.”

As Russiskaya Gazeta is a government-run newspaper, his priority is to cover issues that have a direct impact on Russia or involve Russians in Korea.

One such event was the APEC summit. But he wouldn’t end up covering it as a journalist.

“There was a shortage of Korean speakers in Russia, so I was ‘rented out’ to President Putin’s press people,” Kiriyanov says.

Over the years he has seen big changes in Korea.

“Basically I felt the change of the attitude towards foreigners. At the beginning sometimes I felt like a being from another planet, but gradually that changed, more foreigners came,” Kiriyanov says. “At the beginning when I talked to my Russian friends many Koreans thought it was English, but not now.”

After living in Korea for almost eight years, he says he even thinks like a Korean.

“When friends ask me ‘why do Koreans do that?’ I sometimes don’t see any other way,” he says with a laugh.

Of course Kiriyanov misses Russia, he says. His family and friends are there and the country is so vast and beautiful.

“I miss the sense of distance in Russia. I mean, 400 to 500 km is not a distance at all but here it’s the end of the country.” He looks up as if to capture a memory. “And I like enjoying nature without being crowded with people. That’s why I probably like traveling to Siberia.”

Kiriyanov likes his life in Korea. He has a lot of Korean friends, including some he has known for more than 10 years. He has no language problem and an interesting job.

“You know sometimes I have a strange feeling like I have two homes: here I miss Russia, in Russia I miss Korea.”

After Korea? Kiriyanov hopes for another assignment in Asia. Maybe Japan, since he speaks a little of that language as well.

The Best of Mexico in Hongdae

Wednesday, March 22nd, 2006
                                                                  
(From The Korea Herald, March 22, 2006)                                                                     
                                                                                 
By Tracey Stark
                                
When Hwang Sung-won returned to his native Seoul from studying in Denver – one of America’s Mexican-food capitals – and decided to open a restaurant, it was a no-brainer as to what he would offer.          

Margarita Mexican Bar and Grill offers the standard Mexican fare of burritos (4,900-5,900 won), fajitas (6,900 won), quesadillas (7,900 won) enchiladas (3,500-6,900 won), nachos and the not-so-Mexican chicken wings.

For the third time this year I sat down amid the cacti and miniature Spanish chandeliers in one of the window seats and tucked into a grilled steak burrito. It’s served in a basket and stares up in a come-hither manner. And thither I went, slowly this time, so I could tell you what keeps me coming back.

Enchiladas at Margarita Bar & Grill

The burrito was packed with Spanish rice, beans, lettuce and small bits of seasoned grilled beef. The jalapeno cream cheese and green chili sauce kept it from being bland. I would have liked shredded cheese too, but that’s not included.

On the side were tortilla chips, sweet mango salsa and sour cream.

When the burrito was gone, I headed for my dinner companion’s plate under the guise of “research.” She was eating the crab and shrimp enchiladas, which consisted of flour tortillas stuffed with mixed seafood and cheese sauce, then topped with cheese, enchilada sauce and green chili sauce. Again, delicious.

I admit I have a more-than-healthy appetite when it comes to Mexican food. So when I see a plate of quesadillas stuffed with chicken and cheese my hunger quickens. And at Margarita I’ve never been disappointed by the quality.

But the portion sizes do disappoint me. The meals don’t come with any sides, unless you count the chips that come with the burritos.

The prices, though, make it affordable to get an extra main dish or appetizer for every two people. For under 15,000 won each you and your friends can have a main dish-and-a-half and a Margarita (recommended) or a beer (Corona for only 5,000 won). Nonalcoholic drinks are 2,000 won.

Before I left, Hwang informed me that he’s changing the menu and adding a new weapon to his kitchen arsenal: French-trained chef Sim Soon-chul, formerly of the Park Hyatt.

Overall, Margarita is a good “cheap eats” value in the heart of one of Seoul’s hippest neighborhoods.

How to get there: From Hongik University subway station (Line No. 2) take exit No. 6, turn left towards Hongdae’s shopping and restaurant district, cross the second street and turn right. Walk 100 meters and look for Margarita on a side street to the left.

Living on the edge: The 53-year Mission of the NNSC

Saturday, March 11th, 2006

 
 

(From The Korea Herald, Feb. 23, 2006)

By Tracey Stark 

Hidden from the view of most visitors to the misnamed Demilitarized Zone at Panmunjom is an enclave of nine soldiers representing the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission, an important but often overlooked part of the 1953 Armistice Agreement.

Resembling a woodland retreat, surrounded by evergreens and rolling mossy hills, it is the home of the Swedish and Swiss contingents of the NNSC whose jobs are to act as supervisors, observers, inspectors and investigators along the DMZ and, more specifically, in the Joint Security Area. 

Palpable tension

Visitors to the NNSC are ushered into the theater, a building that comfortably seats about 30, and are introduced to five Swiss and four Swedish soldiers. Five of the nine salute and are dismissed. A PowerPoint presentation then begins, describing in detail the work of the NNSC.  

Head of the delegation, Maj. Gen. Gerhard Bruegger of Switzerland explains their mission. It’s his turn to present this week and his Swedish counterpart, Maj. Gen. Lars Frisk, stands at an adjacent podium and only interjects occasionally.

“We see ourselves as a symbol of the armistice, having not been in the conflict,” the 53-year-old Bruegger says.

He explains that the ongoing task of the NNSC is to observe and report troop deployments and rotations, and to conduct special observations and investigations where violations have been reported. Their findings must be reported to the U.N. Military Armistice Commission.

They would conduct an investigation for the KPA – North Korean People’s Army – if they were asked, but that hasn’t happened in more than a decade.

As times have changed, so have their tasks. In 1995 all formal contact with the DPRK ended. Now they engage in confidence-building measures to try to bring the North back to the table.

They are also developing new tasks, such as validating the nature of any military exercises engaged in by the United States Forces Korea, the ROK – Republic of Korea, and the United Nations Command as well as the verification of helicopter flights between Camp Bonifas and the Joint Security Area.

The latter task was a result of complaints by the KPA about the flights, which were subsequently suspended from 1991 to 1997.

“We aren’t tasked by the UNC to do these things. It is entirely up to us,” Frisk, 55, interjects.

From time to time the NNSC will interview a defector, most often a soldier, who has crossed to the South through the DMZ. But these interviews are purely for humanitarian purposes, Bruegger insists.

“We don’t do intelligence work.”

In the NNSC’s earliest incarnation, the Swiss and Swedes – chosen by the Republic of Korea and the U.S., were accompanied by Polish and Czechoslovakian contingents – selected by the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea – or North Korea – and China.

In 1993 the Czechoslovakians left, as their country in its previous form no longer existed. In 1995 the Poles were asked to leave by the DPRK. The Poles continue to participate in annual plenary meetings.

Additionally, the NNSC engages in public relations work and gives tours to media, VIPs, and government and military officials. In 2005 more than 2,000 people visited.

Last Wednesday the two major generals attended the elementary school graduation of Koo Je-won, the only sixth grader this year in Taeseong-dong, a farming village in the DMZ.

Palpable tension

Despite the availability of office and conference space in their own camp, the Swiss and Swedes hold weekly meetings at the JSA, a short ride down a narrow road. This is part of the protocol according to the Armistice Agreement.

They lead the way to building T-1, an aging, tin-covered structure straddling the North-South border. (The T stands for “temporary.”) On the center of the conference table sits the flag of the NNSC. It is blue, yellow, red and white – the colors in the flags of the original four members.

North Koreans have an entrance at their end of the building and although they are welcome to attend, they don’t sit in on the meetings.

Just inside the North Korean entrance are cubbyholes for exchanging papers. The Swiss and Swedish boxes are empty. The North Korean box is filled with summaries of the weekly meetings left by the NNSC. They date back to Aug. 2, 2005.

Frisk says they occasionally clear out the box and start over again.

Outside the windows of T-1 stand two KPA soldiers in their brown uniforms and Russian-style winter hats looking in at the delegation and guests. When a camera is raised to take their picture they scurry away.

On the South Korean side, the ROK soldiers stand in the ‘ROK Ready’ stance, which is a modified Taekwondo pose with one half of their body behind the cover of a building’s edge and the other half in the open, facing the North.

Bruegger and Frisk are unfazed by the hostility and tension that is palpable in the air at the JSA.
They are neutral, after all.

Living on the edge

Outside the theater is a reminder of the war that never officially ended.

A rusty yellow sign reading ‘Military Demarcation Line’ marks the border 50 meters away, a few feet to the other side of a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. The fence curves around the camp and away from the border proper, partially enclosing the dozen or so acres with a false sense of security. In the event of an invasion, it could be likened to a “stop” sign – more suggestion than deterrent.

They say they occasionally see North Korean soldiers near the fence collecting firewood, but not too often.

Despite their ranks and uniforms these neutral soldiers have no weapons in their encampment, located half a kilometer east of the JSA.

Bruegger leans back in the soft blue sofa and unwraps a chocolate from a bowl on the coffee table in the Swiss Club. He looks out the window toward North Korea 20 meters away and says, “You cannot do diplomacy with a gun.”

Frisk looks equally at ease sipping his coffee in what has been described as “the scariest place on earth.”

“Security is an issue, of course,” Bruegger says, “but we don’t feel that we’re unsafe.”

He adds with a chuckle, “There are probably more ways to get killed in Seoul than here.”

The Swiss club is a cozy building with a pool table, bar, fireplace, soft chairs, highly-polished coffee tables and a satellite TV.

“You can learn a lot from watching North Korean television,” Bruegger says earnestly.

On the top shelf of the club’s bookcase sit 32 volumes of “Kim Il Sung: Works.” Other books about the two Koreas, war, diplomacy and history fill the shelves and appear a bit more worn than Kim’s tomes.

The walls of the club are lined with plaques and photos illustrating a five-decade-long NNSC history.

One black and white photo shows a barren landscape, covered with tents and temporary structures. It is the NNSC camp in 1955, at its largest. There were 400 members from the four nations stationed in either the camp or the 10 designated points of entry in both North and South Korea.

But when the points of entry were abandoned by the NNSC later in 1955 the need for so many members was gone as well. What remains today is a camp that Frisk estimates could comfortably hold “five more people” on top of its population of nine.

The Swedish club across the grounds is equally comfortable and contains the same collection of works by “The Great Leader,” but lacks a pool table. (The Swedes keep theirs in a separate building.)

To get to the Swedish side of the camp one must walk along a concrete path and across a bridge over a dry creek bed, then up a flight of stairs on a small hill. Today it’s slightly misty and the colors of the evergreens are muted and dull. But in the summer, they say, the place explodes with life and color.

Frisk says that he has seen wild boar, deer and foxes, along with some stray dogs that roam freely throughout the DMZ.

Down the hill, next to the dining room, stands a metal sculpture of a winged bull. It would look aggressive were it not for its silverware wings made of knives, forks and spoons. Perhaps another symbol of the members’ neutrality.

While the two delegations have separate camps, they are equal in size and design. The members each have single rooms and adjoining offices – larger than the average Korean apartment.

With Seoul close by, most of the Swedes keep an apartment at Yongsan as well, provided free of charge by the U.S. military, where they spend up to two days a week with their wives.
Only one member of the Swiss delegation is married.

The right stuff

Becoming a member of the NNSC is no easy task. Surprisingly, it’s a very popular assignment.
“It is totally voluntary,” Frisk says.

Both the Swiss and Swedes sign one year contracts to work on the DMZ and have the option to extend. The heads of delegation have longer contracts; four years for the Swiss and two years for the Swedes.

But not everybody can cut it for a year.

“We need people who can cooperate, who are settled,” Frisk says. “They are not only representing the camp, but also their country.” He says it requires a lot of self-discipline.

People have dropped out in less than a year for various reasons, but it’s rare, Frisk says.

Each member is trained as a military observer. The course is run by the United Nations and lasts three weeks.

“We are basically put through all of the situations that could be encountered,” says Lt. Col. Marc-Andre Ryter of the Swiss delegation.

This includes being abducted in the dead of night. “But the abduction is not for an extended period of time,” Ryter explains. “Remember, the course is not very long.”

They are also subjected to rigorous psychological tests to assess their ability to cope amid such tension.

While Bruegger rejects the notion that they are to be considered elite, he concedes with a laugh that they are at least “mentally stable.”

The future of the NNSC

“When the Armistice Agreement was signed, nobody thought 53 years later it would still be the only valid document governing, technically, the war that is still there,” Bruegger says.

Frisk explains that there are really only two ways for the NNSC to leave the DMZ.

The first possibility is when the NNSC’s status is reviewed annually by the UNC. If it is agreed that their mostly-symbolic neutral presence is no longer needed, then it may be suggested that they leave.

The second is if a formal peace agreement is signed.

If there is a contradiction in pursuing a diplomatic mission while wearing a military uniform, Bruegger is the first to acknowledge it.

“It was the second secretary general of the United Nations, a Swede, who said, ‘Peacekeeping is not a job for soldiers, but only soldiers can do it.'”

(traceystark@heraldm.com)

Night Scene

Friday, March 10th, 2006


A small alley off the main street of Insa-dong in Seoul. These alleys are usually the best places to find good Korean food in small, family-owned restaurants.

The Apron Girls

Thursday, February 9th, 2006

I live in an area chock full of art schools, universities, and did I mention art schools?

A funny thing about Korea is that they like to stick all similar businesses next to each other. Go to any area with restaurants and you will frequently see all the galbi restaurants in a row and then all the pork restaurants in a row, then all the seafood restaurants clumped together.

The same holds true for the art schools of Hongdae. There are other places suitable for art schools, I’m sure. But the majority of them are along a single road in Hongdae, home of Hongik University.

The students in the Hongdae area are similar in one way: they are all striving to be different. But they want to be different in the same way. As art students they have an idea of what they should look like and then they all go for that look. That affords them some comfort in that they ARE different from non-art school students, but they are the same as the rest of the art school students. No one will stick out like a sore thumb and will not have to suffer for being too different.

So in the art school section the way they differentiate themselves is by wearing full length aprons everywhere they go. Six days a week you can see them walking down the street in their aprons. Who knows if they even have art class that day? It doesn’t really matter.

Girls (and they are mostly girls) wearing blue aprons won’t walk down the street with the girls in the green aprons. They clump together or walk alone. But they never cross the line. Even talking to an other-apron girl is unheard of.

When I first moved here and saw this I thought it had to do with all the restaurants in the area. But I realized that there aren’t THAT many restaurants. And finally I noticed the paint splatters on some of the aprons. A lot of this paint appeared to be strategically placed on the apron in a very artistic way.

What bothered me when I realized this was a status symbol was that it seemed ridiculous to walk down the street in an apron, when you could just roll it up and put it on when you get to class. I expressed this opinion (in a very negative and accusatory way) to a friend of mine. She told me to calm down and not let this be seen as a pretentious “look at me, look at me” statement I was making it out to be.

But what else can it be? First of all, art school is usually attended by pretentious idiots anyway. And second of all, in Korea the need to conform overrides all other rational thinking.

“No,” Aly protested. “It’s just like letter jackets jocks wear in high school in the U.S.”

“No,” I argued. “Letter jackets serve a purpose. They keep the wearer warm for one thing.”

“But they are really just worn to differentiate the wearer from everyone else.”

After a while of pondering this and the fact that most of these girls are really only 18-21 years old, I began to accept the fact that it really was harmless and probably no more pretentious than a letter jacket.

Maybe my problem is that I never had a letter jacket or an art school apron. Or maybe it’s because I never gave two shits about conforming. Just like everyone else.

Danger in Korea: Western Myth No. 1

Tuesday, November 15th, 2005

(From The Korea Herald, November 15, 2005)

Very few Koreans can imagine the possibility of the North attacking

The following is the second in a five-part series of articles on how Korea is perceived by foreigners and what efforts Koreans should make to enhance its images abroad. – Ed.

By Tracey Stark

It is a commonly held belief in the West that the Korean Peninsula is a powder keg waiting to be ignited by some random event, resulting in a second Korean War.

A foreigner might also believe that in Seoul – a scant 50 kilometers from the North Korean border – there is palpable fear and worry that their northern neighbor, nay, their brothers, are inclined to attack. But ask any Korean or foreign resident walking down the street and they will tell you the same thing: Anxiety over the communist state to the north is minimal and seldom a subject of everyday conversation.

“When I traveled abroad it was something people asked me about often,” said Lim Seung-eun, 27. “I was even urged not to return to Korea by my friends in Australia.”

A teacher in Gyeonggi Province from the United Kingdom, Graeme Armitage, 27, recalled before coming to Korea more than three years ago that although he and his parents didn’t have any preconceived notions about Korea, he had friends and family who continually confused North and South Korea, and thought he was going to live in the communist North.

“There was no concern from my parents that I was in any danger, but other relatives weren’t so clued up on Korea. They knew very little about the place.”

Western media may be partly to blame. News with the mention of Korea is most often sensationalized stories about the looming threat of North Korea, or a story involving large animals running wild through Seoul. (Recently a story about a woman in Seoul whose baby stroller got caught in the doors of a subway is being shown frequently on CNN.)

That is changing these days with international events being held in Korea like the World Cup, Pusan International Film Festival and the current Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit being held in Busan. While the coverage may only last a few days, and then return to the ongoing saga of the six-party talks, it is effective in separating myth from reality.

“Before I came to Korea I didn’t know what to expect. It seems like all the news you hear about the country has to do with North Korea’s aggressive stance,” said Dan Secor, a 34-year-old American, who lives in Ilsan with his Korean wife. “But you get here and see that this country has been neglected by the media.”

Secor added that on a trip home to Massachusetts when he told people he was in Korea the second most frequent question – after the North Korean issue – was “Did you see the elephants run rampant through Seoul?” referring to an isolated event in a very small part of a very large town.

A group of dedicated Koreans have taken up the task of spreading the truth about South Korea. The Voluntary Agency Network of Korea began in 1999 and now has 15,000 members and set its task as the disseminating of the truth about Korea.

“All VANK’s members are guiding overseas Koreans and foreigners so that they can better understand Korean culture, language, or situation, etc. through e-mail or postal-mail and at the same time we are building friendships, bridging cultures and changing the image of Korea as cyber diplomats,” VANK’s website, www.prkorea.com, says.

But the question must be posed: Why would people worry?

For starters, in the event of a war, the initial bombardment on Seoul would be in the neighborhood of 500,000 rounds per hour landing on Seoul, according to the U.S. military. This bombardment wouldn’t be contained for several days. The outcome would be disastrous.

Secondly, North Korea dropped out of the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty and then subsequently bragged about possessing nuclear fissile material – enough for several warheads. They have also advanced in short- and long-range missile technology.

With the breaching of multiple international agreements on the part of North Korea, it is accepted by many in the South that the North’s government can’t be trusted. But with recent progress in the six-party talks and the nuclear threat diminished, the world may be breathing a collective sigh of relief.

Very few ordinary Koreans can conceive the possibility of the North attacking them.

“They look like us and we speak the same language. The only way they would attack is if they were attacked first,” said student Cho Hyun-i. She added that it was unlikely that South Korea would make such a move and pointed to the United States as the most likely catalyst of a war ever starting on the peninsula.

With a population of 48 million in an area about the same size as the U.S. state of Virginia (population 7.4 million), crime can be another worry.

The numbers show this to be false as well, as 2002 crime rates for Korea were significantly lower than those of neighboring Japan, in most areas, and the United States, United Kingdom and Germany in all categories.

The overall crime rate was 1,674 incidents per 100,000 people in Korea, while those numbers were more than one third higher in Japan at 2,240 per 100,000. The United States and the United Kingdom followed with 4,119 and 11,240 per 100,000 people respectively. Murder rates in 2002 for Korea, the United States and United Kingdom per 100,000 were 2.1, 5.6 and 3.5 respectively. Rape and sexual assault in those same three nations were 19.8, 33 and 86.6 per 100,000 respectively.

“I feel safer walking down the street late at night in Seoul than I did in Boston,” said Secor. He added that the drug culture of the big cities of America were what led to higher crime rates. “Korea seems pretty drug-free.”

An outsider may be surprised to see many busloads of Korean police around the city, but this in no way reflects a high crime rate. They are most often used as crowd control around important buildings or to prevent the frequent protests from getting out of hand around the capital.

“It’s a reflection of our growth as a democracy to see so many protests. Under President Park (Chung-hee) these things would not have been permitted,” said university student Cho.

Although it may not be an urban utopia, Seoul has lifted its status in the world from the center of government of a less-developed, semi-democratic nation, to a rapidly growing, culturally diverse, center for international business and travel. Infrastructure improvements and an economy that made a quick recovery from the 1997-98 Asian financial crisis has proven to the international business community that Korea is no longer a poor Hermit Kingdom.

“Life is too short to worry about such things. We have learned a lot from our mistakes of the past. We will someday be united and that will make everyone in the world safer,” Lim said.

(traceystark@heraldm.com)

KFC Target of Bikini-clad PETA Protest

Monday, October 24th, 2005

(From The Korea Herald, October 2005) 

by Tracey Stark


Brandi Vallodolid and Christina Cho stayed in a cage for more than an hour on Monday, October 24, 2005 to protest the inhumane treatment of chickens used by KFC in Seoul.

Two bikini-clad protesters squatted in a small cage for more than an hour yesterday in front of a KFC in Seoul to protest the inhumane treatment of chickens supplied to the fast food chain.

As the regular lunch hour was beginning in Seoul, two women in yellow bikinis and silver high heels walked down the street carrying a small wire cage and signs that read, ”KFC Tortures Chicks,” in both English and Korean, stopped in front of the fast food restaurant, squatted on the ground and placed the cage over their heads.

They were in Seoul as part of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals’ ongoing protest – called ”Kentucky Fried Cruelty” – against what they say is the fast food chains’ suppliers’ continual inhumane treatment of chickens.

The cage was less than one meter wide, and three-quarters of a meter deep and tall. But the women were not complaining about the cramped space.

“It’s not as uncomfortable as having a beak cut off and being trampled in a cage my entire life,” said Brandi Vallodolid, who works at PETA’s main U.S. office in Norfolk, Virginia. 

“We have way more space than the chickens do. Their personal living space is smaller than a standard sheet of paper,” Christina Cho, a classical pianist and part-time activist added.

According to PETA’s website and a documentary narrated by actress Pamela Anderson, the chickens supplied to KFC live in over-crowded conditions, develop diseases from high ammonia levels, become lame and crippled from drugs that speed up growth and accidents related to being top heavy, and when they are caught for slaughter they are often thrown violently into small containers, resulting in broken legs and wings. The video also showed the operation of a beak-trimming machine used on young chicks.

The slaughtering process, PETA claims, is even worse. First, the chickens are hung upside down, then run through a stun bath, with voltages so low the chickens are often completely conscious. The chickens’ throats are then slit and they are next dipped into scalding hot water for feather removal. Again, PETA says, the chickens are still often conscious.

“The beak-trimming machine shown in the PETA video … is no longer in common use in our industry,” said Richard Lobb, a spokesperson for the National Chicken Council.

PETA spokesperson Bruce Friedrich insisted that all the video was shot within the last year and a half of its release.

KFC could not be reached for comment, but animal welfare guidelines and press releases at http://www.kfc.com/ refute every accusation that PETA has made.

“As a major purchaser of food products, we have the opportunity, and responsibility, to influence the way animals supplied to us are treated. We take that responsibility very seriously, and we are monitoring our suppliers on an ongoing basis … As a consequence, it is our goal to only deal with suppliers who promise to maintain our high standards and share our commitment to animal welfare.


They also show their animal welfare and poultry guidelines, covering comfort and shelter, catching, transport, holding, stunning, and humane slaughter. ”If an audit reveals dirty or sick birds, corrective action at the grow-out house must be taken by the supplier,” KFC’s website said.

The website also lists an animal welfare council consisting of animal welfare experts. ”In consultation with our Council, Yum! Brands (the parent company of KFC) has developed guidelines and audit programs for our suppliers in the broiler industry,” the website said.

Broilers are chickens used for their meat.

Several of the people still listed on the website have recently resigned their posts over a proposed confidentiality agreement: Dr. Temple Grandin, Colorado State University and Dr. Ian Duncan, Department of Animal & Poultry Science, University of Guelph, Ontario. The agreement would prevent them from speaking to the press about any of their findings or conclusions related to KFC suppliers. 

In a Chicago Tribune article former advisor Adele Douglass said that KFC ”never had any meetings. They never asked for any advice, and then they touted to the press that they had this animal-welfare committee. I felt like I was being used.”

Although PETA had no concrete information about suppliers of Korea’s KFC restaurants they say it is the same everywhere.

“We’ve never done an investigation anywhere where there weren’t egregious violations. It’s the nature of mass production, but they have to find a way to do it humanely,” Vallodolid said.

One such supplier was Pilgrim’s Pride, in West Virginia. Hidden video cameras caught workers stomping on the chickens, drop-kicking them like footballs and throwing them violently against a wall. And it appeared that the workers were doing it for fun.

The footage was shot by a PETA investigator who worked from October 2003 to May 2004 at the Pilgrim’s Pride plant in Moorefield, which won KFC’s ”Supplier of the Year” award in 1997.

KFC’s president Gregg Dedrick said in a press conference after the release of the video in July 2004, ”As a responsible corporate citizen, we require all our suppliers to treat animals humanely. This behavior by Pilgrim’s Pride employees is not only appalling, it violates the standards we have in place for all our suppliers.”

“We think it’s outrageous that PETA is unfairly singling out KFC. They’ve done this because we’re the most recognized brand selling chicken today, and our name, Kentucky Fried Chicken, is synonymous with chicken. So we have become their target. The truth is, we sell about 5 percent of all the chicken in America today – that’s less than the leading burger chain.”

Dedrick added, ”PETA’s campaign distorts the truth and we would ask the media to report the true facts of the situation.” 

Cho was arrested in Korea in January this year for a similar protest in Myeong-dong, Seoul. The difference then was that she and a cohort were topless. She was charged with indecent exposure and blocking traffic. 

She added that the policeman who arrested her told her that he didn’t want to, but had to do his job. ”He said he hoped his daughters would be like me and stand up for what they believe in.”

As for protesting in bikinis and even topless, they say it is the best way to attract the most attention.

“It’s the MTV generation. We have to do something flashy or we just won’t get people’s attention,” said Jason Baker of PETA Asia-Pacific, and one of the organizers of this protest. ”If you just hold up a sign people just don’t care.” 

He said that he has been in the cage before on demonstrations and attracted a lot of media attention. ”But nothing like this,” he said, pointing at the swarm of camera men and women.

“We’re not here to make a problem. We’re here to bring awareness to people everywhere,” Cho said from inside the cage.

Vallodolid added, ”This leads to more hits on the website – http://www.peta.org/ – and that leads to change.”

The protest ended after about an hour without incident.(traceystark@heraldm.com)