"Getting to work"

We were discussing different modes of transportation in one of my older classes today. It was a great lesson soley for the fact that they are starting to pick up on sarcasm. It makes me proud. Mickey, the only boy in a class of 5 females (four of which, excluding myself, are hitting puberty and express their love for the poor child through hitting and mean jokes), said that he flew to school today. I wouldn't put it past him, he is a little off in class sometimes... As for me getting to work (being on South Korean transit in general) is always interesting.

For instance just today I was riding bus #22 when a Korean woman said I was beautiful. I find it hard to respond to this. If I say she is beautiful she'll think I am just saying it to be nice. With the limited English vocabulary I'm assuming she has I can't go into my love for her country and culture because of simple encounters like this one I'm having with her 'cause her stop is next. Instead I say, "Thank you, anyang he kassayo," my version of good bye in Korean with a thick Waygook accent. It's these simple conversations, when Korean people engage me in conversation or offer me help, that wakes me up out of my routine and makes me realize where I am.

There was another wake up call about two months ago. This time I was walking to work for the very first time. The weather was bearable as the hot days cooled down making the fourty-five minute walk possible. Along the main road there are shops, restaurants (one of which serves dog), a small trash heap, thrift stores, trees and a steady flow of people. On days I'm not in a rush and need a walk I opt for this way of getting to work.

October 15th was my first day of walking as well as the first time I saw evidence of the true divide between South and North Korea. My students don't say they're from South Korea when I ask, they say Korea. They aren't South Korean, they are Korean. On postage, it isn't South Korea, it is The Republic of Korea. I was beginning to assume, that while they do have differences and they are seperate countries, citizens think of it as one big Korea. That was until the first day I walked to work.

When my walk began I thought I heard sirens (like the ones they turn on for a tornado) in the distant. It was a clear day and as far as I know they don't even have tornadoes in Korea, so I ignore them and put on my ipod. I pick up my pace about half way to not be late. But as I pick up my pace all other traffic slows down gradually until all vehicles come to a hault. The cars, buses, even scooters (that abide by no rules) have some reason to stop even though the lights are green. I knew something big was up then because the drivers are crazy here. They run red lights, swerve into on coming traffic, don't wear seat belts and don't have car seats for young children. Seeing them at a dead stop was weird since they are constantly on the go. Soon enough I get to a cross walk where even foot traffic has been stopped by a little man with a sash in Korean (which I guessed was stating his authority) drapped across his chest. A van is broadcasting some sort of announcement from a loud speaker behind him. I kept trying to sneak past the sashed man but he was a quick fella with a strong will that kept men, women, children and even clueless foreigners from keeping to their steady pace. Deciding I should at least pretend to know what's going on I take off my ear phones, furrow my brow and listen intently to the serious Korean coming from the van. I wait with the rest of the crowd until the loud speaker is quiet, the sirens stop and traffic resumes as if nothing happened. I went all day confused about what happened. Later that night my friend Liz, another American, told me that her walk to work was also inturrupted by a similar situation. Others experienced the same thing. It seems that all of Busan, perhaps all of South Korea, paused to listen to this broadcasting. But why?

Turns out that North and South Korea are not as united as I assumed. Yes, they are in fact still at war. No, they are not friends. Liz filled me in that this was a drill, a drill in case North Korean was to attack. They were not tornado sirens as my simple Georgian mind thought, they were war sirens. Maybe it's time for me to learn a bit more Korean so I know what to do the next time I hear them...