On the line.

From 1910 until the end of the World War 2 Korea was a Japanese colony.
At the end of the War the super powers of that time arbitrarily divided up Korea pending the return of Korean independence. The north was placed under the care of the Soviet Union and the south to the USA. The line they drew on the map was along the 38th Parallel.

In the early 1950’s as a 6-7 year old I remember a friend of our family went to the Korean War. It was a very serious undertaking even to me at that time.

The last weekend I was in Korea we drove north to Seoul then east to the coast. We stayed in a magnificent condo overnight, such luxury. Next morning we drove north along the coastline which was guarded by barbed wire and soldiers; we were getting close to North Korea. We stopped at a beach where we had breakfast; large frozen persimmon that had been slightly thawed, you take off the dried leaves on top and let the contents slide into your mouth, MUSUSEYO!

While the others also had the mandatory pink rice I wandered over to a sign to see where we were.

I could not believe I was in such an historic place; I could only stand and marvel. I wanted to share this special moment so texted a couple of young people who may have known of the 38th Parallel or would look it up on the Internet to see where I was.

One of them never replied and the other txted back to ask if I was on the Equator! Never mind, they are another generation away from the memory, so it then becomes

history, and it is a bit haphazard as to whether you know that

bit of history.

I stood drinking in the significance of this place, the war that had gone back and forth over this line, the hopes and dreams the Koreans on both sides of the conflict have of reunification ~ either peacefully or through war. The thoughtlessness of super powers who look at a line on a map and thus divide a country! What lack of insight that shows!

Yes, I have stood on the 38th Parallel!

I have seen the North Star!

It was a strange feeling to go down to ground level and look around. Driverless cars were racing through the streets, I could only stare, and then laughed as I realised the steering wheel is on the ‘other’ side when cars drive down the ‘wrong’ side of the road!

I spent October in South Korea, with a student I had taught English to last year, her husband and family.

South Korea is 3 times smaller then New Zealand.
It is 70% mountains where no one lives.
There are 4 million people in New Zealand.
There are 50 million people in Korea!

Everything there was different. Customs, food, appearance, language, money, bathroom set-ups, homes, expectations, everything!

In almost every restaurant everyone removes their shoes at the entrance and goes to a low table. There one sits on the floor to eat using chopsticks and served only with a bowl of pink/red rice. On the table is laid about 15-25 side dishes, all different, from which people serve themselves constantly in small amounts. Amounts so small they may never get onto the rice but simply go from side dish to mouth. The proximity of a side dish does not give you possession of it so someone can skilfully pick from your circle of food the only thing on the table that you find appetising. It is not done to offer someone a plate of food they must help themselves.

I found myself in a café for breakfast one morning. I was as always the only westerner in town. They have a theory that all western people eat eggs for breakfast so along with my rice, beef, pork, veges etc I was always served an egg especially fried in my honour. My host family asked for a fork for me, and the owner proudly gave me the only fork in the restaurant, a small decorative cake fork, no problem.

During the meal the conversation flowed around me and I followed snippets of it. It was all about me to start with. I was an English teacher from New Zealand, in Korea as their guest. The café owners had a daughter who was also an English teacher and had lived in Canada and Scotland for 5 years ~ what kind of English did she pick up in Scotland!! Everyone present now became firm friends and I became a very special focus. I realised it would be appropriate to speak some Korean in response to them so I asked Peter for the Korean word for delicious to murmur to them as we left. ‘Mususeyo’ I said it over and over to myself. Monica brought me a small plastic beaker of pretend coffee, tasted ok. I stood to find my shoes and leave but as I turned around everyone in the restaurant was looking at me, silence. Clearly my opinion was called for. MUSUSEYO! I said with a smile and the tension was broken. The westerner was happy. Everyone laughed and my host family glowed.

I did it right that day!