Color, Kim Chi and Korea

The idea was to escape the early cold of Mongolia to catch the last warmth of Korea, but I think we left it too late. After our flight was delayed by snow in Mongolia, we were welcomed by a cold wind in Seoul. But a few days were enough to recharge our batteries and get a taste of another city, one which is clean, organized and modern.

We weren't quite sure exactly what we wanted to do, but had a few things on a tentative list. Part of our first day was wasted trying to get money from an ATM, that venture eventually taking us to the Seven Luck Casino... no, not to win but to exchange cash. When we looked at the map we were close to a park and tower, a friend had said it was worth a visit, so we inquired from the doorman how to get there. He looked at us and said it would take an hour and a half to walk to the top and suggested we use the cable car, we were happy with that. Maybe he thought we walked slowly.

When we got to the top....what a view. Seoul is bursting in autumn color, carpets of yellow on the ground, mixed with red and orange still hanging on the trees. From the mountain top it all looks like a mosaic. We shared the sunshine with the locals who were out walking their pampered pets, families enjoying the free entertainment and couples pledging their love as the wrote on padlocks that were sold in the gift shops. The locks, in their thousands, adorn rungs of a fence, reminding us of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, but done with more of an Asian flair. There were couples having photos taken, fingers in a V shape while they stood looking like twins in their matching outfits.

Our walk down from the mountain top proved to be a challenge, steep stone stairs wet from the rain and covered in autumn leaves. Now I wish that we had bought a return ticked for the cable car. By the time we got to the bottom my legs were twitching, we needed a rest. I had walked down, muscles tense with the fear of falling and breaking a limb.

Seoul sits under the sign of the cross. A habit that I picked up in Vietnam was to look up above street level and take in life a few stories up. Doing this in Seoul gives a view that is testament to the strong Christian presence here, steeples topped with a crucifix that would flash with lights at night. If not churches there are multistory buildings signed with different denominations.

But we did discover a few delights in the way of Buddhist temples. A cold wind blew us down the footpath toward what, at first we thought was a park but as we ventured in, found a fantastic floral display in the courtyard of a temple. We wandered the paths, camera snapping away, then I realized James had been swallowed up by the potted chrysanthemums. That was, till I saw the sign that invited foreigners in for information. We were welcomed, sharing a pot of tea while we chatted with a delightful young lady who told us about the temple and asked us about our travels.

Before we hit the footpath again, I went inside the temple where women were all bowing and saying their prayers before three big beautiful Buddhas. There was a graceful rhythm in their prayers.

Seoul is in the midst of a Lantern Festival. A canal through the city also acts as a walking trail and it was here that large floating figures were lit at night. Attracting all the locals, it was a display of Korean historical lifestyle, enthusiasm dampened by a cold wind and drizzle, but still worth the walk. At the end we took refuge with hot chocolate in a cafe.

Next day, back on the tourist trail, we walked up to an area called Bukchon, streets that wind up the hills to a height where you can look back on the ancient tiled roofs. The buildings on the main roads are mostly shops or cafes, but if you leave there and go into the back streets, you get more of a feel for the old Seoul. Behind heavy wooden doors are central courtyards of old houses. The streets are steep and narrow, the houses hidden behind high walls, fine branches of trees reaching over the wall toward the street.
We had fun finding our way around, more than once passing the same spot. There was a lady making a delicious "green tea pancake" and we stopped in front of her twice, it was really yummy.

When it looked like rain was going to spoil our day, we found the bus stop for the city tour bus and did a loop of the city. There was lots to see, although we needed to constantly defog the window. But we were warm and dry and it gave us a chance to plan our next stop. We were taken through the fashion districts. Koreans are very stylish and the young seem to be very fashion conscious, especially the boys. They were carrying designer brand shopping bags as much as the girls.

Plastic food on display

Tea for sale from a cart in the street

Our other main form of transport around town had been the subway. It was very efficient and cheap but we did feel out of place. Just about every traveller comes complete with a mobile phone and they sit or stand with earplugs in, either playing games or watching videos. How they don't miss their stop, I don't know. Peak hour travel was most uncomfortable, with people backing into the carriage and pushing so that the doors could shut. Wedged tightly against the next person does stop the risk of falling off balance, but is extremely uncomfortable for a half hour journey. Every so often, there would be another foreigner who would catch my eye and share a smile, understanding that it really translates to "this is impossible" or words to that effect which are too descriptive for print. When we got off the subway on our last ride, I vowed never to do it again.

Obviously NOT peak hour

Our last day was the only one that was planned. On advise from a guy visiting UlaanBaatar from the Australian Embassy in Seoul, we pre-booked a tour to the DMZ. At first I thought he was giving us a tip on a restaurant, but into our conversation realized it stands for De-Militarized Zone. I’m not sure if we had to pre-book because of its popularity or because they needed to check us out. The shuttle bus picked us up early for a rendezvous with an even bigger bus at one of the big hotels. We thought of coffee while we waited but the cost  of $11 dried up our thirst.

Once we set off, we were watching the city traffic which slowly thinned as we made our way north. First stop was an observatory where we were shown a film depicting life in North Korea, the comparison shameful. There was a young guide who was a defector, having fled the north for China, before being sold to a Chinese family by the people smuggler. Here she was married and produced a child before leaving it all behind to move on to Cambodia and Vietnam, before returning to the south of her homeland. She told us how, while she was in China, she was treated as a non-citizen, having no status at all. After she had fled to Cambodia, her father had visited relatives in China and suffered a heart attach and died. The North Korean government, believing he too had fled, took the remaining family and she hadn’t been able to trace them since. Of the group of 17 who had fled North Korea with her, 8 survived either death or recapture.

We were ushered outside where we looked across the river to the North. The border was marked with rolled barbed wire, the line studded with watch towers, each side watching the other. To think that that line of wire divided families, the river narrow enough that they can call to each other, but have to live their lives apart. A distance that was nothing in the zoom of the camera. The other side of the river looked barren, tree that could hide people escaping having been removed.

There is a park where families from the South go, to spend the day close to those they have left in the North. There is no real contact between them, ribbons are tied to fences and messages left. There is a bridge which is barricaded at both ends. It is the closest they can get to those they love, not knowing  if they are alive or dead.

After lunch we moved on to Camp Bonifos, an American base where the United Nations help to keep the peace. We had to show our passports, leave our bags behind and board an American army bus before crossing the threshold. We had to sign a disclaimer and agree not to carry knives, guns etc.

There was a strict dress code and we were told that we would be informed when we were allowed to take photos. Apparently, if you wear sling back shoes, the North can take photos and use it as propaganda against the South, saying they are too poor to afford a whole shoe.

We had a cute American soldier to escort us, his uniform told us his family name was Martinez. Another movie to fill us in on the history and  displays about the conflict, then we went to see the JSA - Joint Security Area.  This part was a bit surreal. There were three blue buildings which apparently are shared by both sides. Through the middle of the room passes the border, marked by the microphone cable on the table, and outside a concrete path. Outside the southern end of the building were three soldiers who stand at the ready, facing the north. At a big building on the northern side, was a solider taking photos of us, while we all snapped photos of him, the border between us. Inside the building we were free to hop between the two countries. Doors at either end are locked to keep the other guy out, depending on who is in the room at the time. Forming two straight lines, we were escorted back to the bus, on our way to the gift shop, past the Bridge of No Return.

The microphone cable on the table marks the divide

Outside the window you can see the concrete strip which is the border

The South watching the North. At the top of the steps is the guy who was photographing us, hope he got my good side.

The Bridge of No Return

I realize that this is serious business, but it had the feeling of a movie set. Thank god nobody sent a balloon flying, or we may have found out just how nasty it can get. Part of the history lesson was about the Southern side deciding to trim a tree so that the view of the north wasn’t obstructed. The Northern guys didn’t like this and came to talk about it. What ensued is now referred to as the Axe Murder Incident, a fight having broken out and two Americans being killed with the axe used to trim the tree.

Safely back on our tour bus, we followed the line of barbed wire and were on the road back to Seoul. There was lots to think about as the sun set on the North.

The next day we were making our way to the airport and back to our “home” in Mongolia. We were greeted with snow and slippery footpaths. Unfortunately, there still isn’t the feeling of belonging here, not like arriving at an airport in Australia or Vietnam. For now, this is where we are at, and it is a case of putting up with the cold. The beauty is looking out the window at the stunningly blue sky and being grateful for the liberty we have, being able to travel at will, being warm and safe, having the freedom to phone or write to family and friends as I choose and knowing the next generation will have that same freedom.

Where Eagles Soar

It seemed like I had only just got home and I was packing my bags again. This time for a short holiday to the Golden Eagle Festival in Bayan-Olgii Province, a state in the north west of the country. Apart from the 4.30 am pick up to head to the airport I was really looking forward to the adventure.

We were a group of seven traveling together, all Australian volunteers, and we were all bleary eyed as we arrived at the airport in the dark. But the check-in was efficient and the security very thorough before we were on our way in a tiny thirty-seater, twin propeller job. A cold toasted sandwich and hot coffee saw us all happy.

The view of the landscape below was just a hint of the surprises the country had awaiting us, rugged and varied. We landed and virtually waited beside the plane for our luggage before leaving the quaint little airport. We were staying at "Traveler's Guesthouse", a small family run business. We were actually in gers in the yard of the main brick house, within the city limits. But the location didn't offer too many creature comforts. It was very cheap, $7 per person per night but...I was back to the long drop squat toilet and no shower. The toilet looked like an Aussie outback dunny and smelt the same. And I reckon that fellas are still poor with their aim, no matter where they are. Every time I entered, I hoped that the board floor was strong enough that I wouldn’t end up in that horrid pit. Fortunately, there was a city bath house, which was close by, clean and cheap, and we did have a stroll up there for a nice hot shower.

As a group, we set out to explore the town. I guess a typical Mongolian country town, we found the main square, complete with red star on a monument, before checking out a rather extensive museum. In here there was a huge collection of stuffed animals, the entry cheap but if you wish to take photos, you need to pay about four times the entry fee. Outside, there were cows grazing in the main street and we noticed an abundance of old Russian jeeps and vans. I wanted to take home one of the battered Russian sidecars that just had so much character.

The people here are Kazakhs and their culture is evident in their clothes and language. Some do speak Mongolian and they seemed to respond to a few Russian words too. The Kazakhs are of Turkish decent and have roots in Islamic culture, although apart from no drinking or selling alcohol on Friday, religion doesn't seem to be a big force. They first came to this region in the 1840's grazing their sheep during summer in the mountains and after the 1920 revolution, were designated a land of their own.  

After a meal in a Kazakh restaurant (where James ordered horse meat), we ventured further to explore the city, while a few of the group took off further afield for an overnight climb in the mountains. The two James (James A and James G) and I found the local market and we ourselves were quite an attraction for the locals. There were sheepskins for sale, complete with trotters, lots of Russian treats, knives that Crocodile Dundee would be happy with and lots of warm clothes. I found a leather coat for 50,000 (about $30) that I hope might be an advantage for winter.

James made a market purchase

We bedded down for the night in our ger, to say it was cold is an understatement. There were four beds around the circular wall, and my James and I decided to share, firstly because it was warmer and secondly, because my bed was literally a hard board. About an hour after we had gone to bed, our host came home and brought in a fire for us. With a head lamp perched on her head, she first struggled in with a large flat rock, followed by the flue which she aimed toward the hole specifically in the roof of the ger for it. Then, in came the chamber of the oven. Next coal and I could hear a gas blow torch to light it. Within a short time we were complaining it was too hot and the oven was literally glowing metal. But in the middle of the night it cooled quickly and I was so glad I could cuddle up with my personal hot water bottle next to me.

It is easy to make new friends in places like this and the next day we joined up with another Aussie and a Swedish guy to take a tour out to a lake. I was excited when we piled into an old Russian van, I had not been in one like this before. I can now tick that off and hopefully not need to do it again. There is no suspension and the dust was forming a cloud inside as we bumped along. And that was before we left the city limits. The quality of road only got worse but the scenery made it all worthwhile. This country just keeps unfolding surprise after surprise. There were snow capped mountains on one side and sweeping plains on the other. Huge rocky crags erupted out of the flat steppes. At times it looked like a lunar landscape, not a tree or bush in sight (which meant no hiding to do a wee). The sun created a palate of color with shadows and reflections, it was so beautiful.

The ride was so incredibly bumpy that we were thrown around inside the van and  conversation was difficult but that didn't matter, it made it easier to soak in the beauty. Occasionally we would pass another car and once or twice our new Swedish friend asked to stop so we could take photos. Trouble was, once I got out of the van, it took heaps of effort and lots of pushing and pulling to get me back up, bit embarrassing but worth it. I need longer legs.

We stopped at a Kazakh house for some typical hospitality and a lunch of meat and rice and milky tea, $7 for six of us. The house was simple and made of mud bricks with a flat roofed. It was a chance to meet a family and check out their toilet, I wasn’t brash enough out on the steppes. A small brick enclosure in the corner of the yard, no roof so the guys had a fantastic view of mountains as they looked over the wall. Inside the house was a large stove, sunk down into the floor, which acted both as a cooking stove and central heating. Pipes ran around the walls carrying hot water. There were two bedrooms with garish color schemes.

The young son of the family joined us when we were back in the van and we bounced off to the home of a Kazakh family who are Eagle Hunters. The whole family, three generations, came out for our visit while Dad proudly showed off his eagle to us. Grandma produced a fox pelt as evidence that they really do hunt. I think we frightened the little girl at first, we are such strange looking people, but with a few games of peek-a-boo, she warmed up and we had her laughing and joining in. The whole family appeared very proud of what they had but it looked like an extremely simple life. They may be lacking in the material things and their environment extremely harsh but they are surrounded by such stunning natural beauty, I hope they notice it.

Another push up and scramble into the van, a step ladder might have been more elegant, and we were back on the rocky road being thrown around as we headed back toward home. As we passed a lake, we turned in and headed toward two gers on the waters edge, a request to take photos.  Although an impromptu stop, we were invited in by the lady of the house to see the inside and to sample their aaruul, a dried curd which is left in the sun till hard. Such is the hospitality in Mongolia.

Aaruul, the curd out drying

The proud owner inside her Kazakh ger

Back at camp, a visit to the city bath house and that was the end of our day. Tomorrow was the 16th Annual Golden Eagle Festival, and the main reason we had come to town. We were traveling by bus about 8kms out of town to an area shaded by a mountain to watch the craft of the Eagle Hunters. This trip did have me concerned for my safety a bit, working out in my head the impact of half of Mongolia's Australian volunteers coming to grief when this bus slid over the rocky embankment. But, surprisingly, we did get there safely. As a penance for my mistrust, we had to endure the speeches of the opening ceremony but we did learn the event is sanctioned by UNESCO.

The festival was an exhibit of the local Kazakh hunters who, while on horseback, hunt with eagles on their arms for wolves, fox, rabbits, basically anything they can find. They dress suitably for the weather in big fur hats and coats made from the skins of previous catches. There was one guy with a coat made from the skins of seventeen foxes, that would be some winter warmer.  If not dressed in fur, their clothes are embroidered in a chain stitch with patterns in bright colors. Kazakh handicrafts all have this same embroidery and their gers are decorated in big curtains around the wall that become family heirlooms. These curtains are never finished, one side left unfinished because they say, life is never ending, so neither should the curtain be.

While waiting for their event, the eagles were kept hooded with leather hoods embellished with studs and gemstones until ready to hunt. The hunter, wearing a thick leather glove, sat on his horse at the bottom of the mountain, an off-sider had climbed up the mountainside with the bird. The hunter gives a wailing call as he starts to gallop and the bird is released. If the eagle does as it is supposed to, it swoops down and lands on the moving arm of the hunter. Of course, some eagles just wanted to play in the thermals. While the hunter called louder and louder, eventually getting off the horse and throwing raw meat in the air to attract the bird. I think that looses points. 

The hunters are expert horsemen, they are extremely agile while sitting in the saddle. One of the competitions was being timed while riding at speed and picking up a token from the ground. How they didn't fall off, I don't know. The horses are reasonably short and quite stocky, but they have to be sturdy to manage the terrain of rocks and stones.

I guess like any festival, there was local food on offer. We had a BBQ kebab, pieces of meat alternated with lumps of fat and painted with a yummy sauce. With this came a piece of bread and warm milky tea. The warmth from the tea bowl was really welcome, the wind was bitterly cold and cut straight through the layers that I had thought would be ample protection. There were stalls, well not really stalls because everything was on the ground, of handicrafts for sale. Lovely thick fur hats which are a must for the Mongolian winter, embroidered bags and purses and trinkets significant to the event.

James and I took a wander during the lunch break. We walked down by a river over an  incredibly rocky expanse. The walk to the river was easy but the return was harder, evidence that walking rocky ground is more difficult than it looks. But the views of mountains, a river and trees with autumn colors was our reward. We were back in time to see the last of the camel race and a few closing events.

Yes, it was cold

The Festival from the distance

Back on the bus, we were disappointed to have work commitments that were going to have us leave before the second day of the festival. But with things like tug of war, two riders using a gutted goat while on horseback and display of eagles hunting a fox, I am happy to miss the bloody parts of the show. While we waved goodbye as the bus set off for the second day, we were entertained by our hosts kids, two cute little boys. Nazka, our host, is Kazakh and her eldest son speaks both Kazakh and Mongolian. She runs the tourist camp by herself, with a little help from her brother and 85year old mother-in-law. She said that at the end of this month her family will do their slaughtering. One horse, one cow and seven sheep will see the family of four through winter.

Everyone was making new friends

Now, we are at the airport waiting for our flight back to UB. And again at the end of my travels, I'm looking forward to a long hot shower and a soft bed. I guess tomorrow it will be work and reality will set in again.