Haze of the North, Fog of the South: Ice Cold

When I told people that I'd be teaching in Korea for a year, I would invariably receive one of two different responses. The first was "Why?" The other was "Which one?" (And then, after specifying South Korea, people often asked if that was "the good one or the bad one"). Well, last weekend I broke the bonds of capitalist oppression and went to the North. That's the bad one.
That little strip of concrete in the middle there is the official Military Demarcation Line. This whole area is called the Joint Security Area, and there's a nice symmetry to the place. Or, there would be, if the North Koreans didn't insist on making all the buildings on their side of the MDL just a little bit bigger. Perhaps they think that if their side of the border is heavier it'll make the whole peninsula tip toward them and we'll all just fall into North Korea. Huttah! Over on the other side, if you squint, you can see a North Korean guard watching us. Sometimes they walk around the JSA and swear at the tourists, but we had no such luck.

The blue building on the left is neutral territory where negotiations between the two countries take place. Here's an inside shot:
Those guys in there, for all that they look a bit like bad guys, are the good guys. They're South Korea's very best; seventh-degree black belts who will punch you if you touch them and look great in aviators. They don't talk and they don't move, they just stand there. Cool.
This guy's job is the best. He gets to stand right at the border. The left side is South Korea; the right side is the North. The other guy in the room guards the door to North Korea proper, and as long as you stay out of roundhouse-kick-range, you can get someone to take your picture with him!
Max was down with the photo taking too. I'm not sure why they let him wear that bandana - it's a map of North Korea.
We drove by the Bridge of No Return, which is pretty much what it sounds like. I chose to stay on the south side. Note the haze of Yellow Dust, which wafts over in great clouds from the Gobi Desert in China every spring and makes my all my outdoor photos blurry.
We also visited a tunnel that the North Koreans dug under the DMZ in the early 70's. The South discovered it by accident, and in a wonderful twist of capitalist irony, they now charge people to go into it themselves. It's about 6 feet high and 6 feet wide, and very long. We weren't allowed to take pictures in the tunnel itself, but it's worth mentioning because Max got saddled with a 9-year-old ADHD poster child named Eric. His mom is claustrophobic, and when she said "I don't think I can go down there" to her son at the informational meeting, Eric simply pointed at Max and replied, "That's okay. I'll just go with him!" And he did. Max did good, though - after we came back from the tunnel, Eric made him mom buy a blue bandana so he could wear one just like Max. Awwww.

*commercial break*

Max teaches chemistry, and wanted to procure a little dry ice for a lab activity. The school's secretary may have misplaced a decimal point when she made the order, because a 50 pound box was delivered to the school this morning. Yes, that's 50 pounds of frozen CO2. Science!
Everyone learned a lot. For example, the 11th graders learned that you can pour dry ice fog on each other. You can also stab it with a knife.

The 8th graders learned that if you wear lab coats while playing with dry ice, you might get yourself into the school's advertising pamphlet.


And Gabriel the 3rd grader learned that he can look cute and a little goofy while holding dry ice soap bubbles.


Anyway, despite my best efforts, we still had about 30 pounds of the stuff left at the end of the day. It doesn't keep in the freezer very long, so it had to be used immediately. Good thing Max and I have a bathtub. I said science! Science again!







Here's the preparation.














The execution:












The effects:


What we learned: dry ice is cool. Science!

Cheese is why you're fat

And lack of it is why Koreans are skinny. But you know what? It might just be worth it. I'm going to go make a sandwich.

Yuletide Miraculous

Team Awesome reunited this past weekend for a triumphant return to Wando. Wando is an island off Korea's south coast, and it is appropriate to say its name in a loud call-and-response:

"Waaanndoooo?"
"Waannnnndooooooo!"

Do that a few times with a Louis Armstrong-style rasp and you get the idea.

Here's a brief run-down on what happened last time we visited Wando in September:

1. I swam with my wallet. My wallet, as far as I know, is still swimming.

2. Max and I got pulled onstage at an outdoor 300-person schoolkids' talent performance and handed a microphone. We were given no instructions (other than a vague suggestion to play "Taxman" by the Beatles) and so we opened and closed our performance in a hurry: "We love Wando!"

3. We ended up hanging out with a national celebrity comedian and his entourage. Here he is in the middle:
One thing led to another, and soon we were invited to a private karaoke room courtesy of his brother, Wando's gundal (Korean mafia) boss. All in all, a nice bunch of guys, and everything was free! That's respect, baby.4. The karaoke session ended with an epic rendition of "Creep" and Mr. Comedian Man giving Max a squid-suction-cup-style kiss on the mouth. I'm not going to go into the details. You can ask him.

So Wando (Waaannndooo? Waaaaannnnndooooooo!) had a lot to live up to. We were dedicated to re-experiencing Wando in all its Grand Wandosity. And because we'd never leave something as important as Wando-ridiculousness to chance, we made sure to bring the right equipment for the weekend: tents, meat, six airsoft pellet guns, and a 4.5-liter bottle of scotch, which was presently dubbed Robot Juice.

Waaaannnndooooooooooo!
Right. We set up camp at a campsite by the beach that was probably closed but otherwise quite nice. Tents went up, bananas were eaten, and soon we were a bunch of robots hanging out on the beach. One of the other robots malfunctioned and ran into the ocean, getting sand in all its joints and seawater on all the other robots that went to go retrieve it. It required a rather long system reboot.

Note to parents, grandparents, and potential employers: the above section in no way endorses guns, alchohol, or any ill-conceived combinations of the two. The Wando Robots were in fact model campers; practicing excellent fire safety, keeping noise to a minimum, and fastidiously cleaning up after themselves. The above passage is intended to illustrate the absurdity of The Robots' mission and the impracticality of their stated objectives. We, the Wando Robots, would like to thank you for your understanding. Or, we say in Robot: "Bleep! Bloopity-beep-beep-shaBloop!"

Naturally, as with all plans laid out as meticulously as ours, everything soon went horribly wrong. We got to Wando in Kory's trusted 1993 Hyundai Santomo, nicknamed "The Dongchim" after we had to use the dog's poop-tongs to break into it from the outside. Long Story. Anyway, the Chim has about 150,000 miles on her, but she's got a good heart and room for seven. So: we woke up early on Sunday morning and took a ferry trip from Wando city to a nearby island and back. When we hopped back into the car to get back to the campsite, it wouldn't go.

Bleep.

Well, it would go, but not faster than 10 mph or so. Which isn't really fast enough. While the Dongchim may have spirit, her lungs weren't working too well, and she'd backfire herself to a stall every time we took her past 1500 rpms. Here's a picture of Kory driving in circles in a futile attempt to cure the Chim of her sniffles.
We couldn't get the Chim repaired, because naturally none of Wando's mechanics work on Sundays. So we held our breath, gritted our teeth, and began driving back to the campsite at a pace just slower than a tortise that's eaten way too many burritos.

But hark! 30 minutes (and 4 miles) into our journey, we were visited by a Christmas Miracle! The Chim managed to crest a hill a few miles from camp, and once she got rolling past 25 mph, something inside clunked into place and she began running smooth as a Swiss dream. Her sickness may still be there, but the Chimmer not only made it to camp, she brought us all the way home to Gwangju the next day! Huzzah!

Our good luck held for the rest of the expedition: the weather was good, the burgers were great, and we made friends with some other robots who were camping down the beach. On Monday morning, victory was declared and Team Wando Robot Awesome headed home.
Waaaaaannnnndooooooooo!