The Weight of “Home”

Posted on January 6, 2016 by juicethesqueeze

There really is no greater feeling than being with loved ones for the holidays you hold close to your heart–especially after experiencing them far away. It’s not so much excitement as it is comfort because, no matter how long you’re away, nothing changes. Nothing changes, yet everything is different. How cliche, right? Ok, fine, if I’m really being honest, coming home has been the one of the loneliest times of my life.

I happen to think traveling can be unbelievably lonely. You interact with people in the same superficial manner every day, and few conversations venture outside of backpacker pleasantries. You get used to not being touched–including, but not limited to, kisses, hugs, cuddles, and pats on the back–to the point where a friendly stranger’s passing graze makes you jump a little bit. Everyone is at least held at arm’s length, and the few that penetrate the fortress of pleasantries to really get to know you are far between. And for however long you are with them, they’re you’re family. They give you the physical and emotional reassurance you crave when you’re alone in a foreign country.

I kind of thought coming home would be a little like that. All the things that people didn’t know about me before I started traveling are standard stories and personality traits/quirks all too familiar to my friends and family at home. Just a few weeks ago a girl told me she could never imagine me as a brunette, and yet each person I see these days almost immediately opens up with: “Oh my God, you’re BLONDE!” Which is just funny. Two totally different perspectives on my life that have little to do with me as a person.

These amazing people always open up with “Welcome home!” or “How was it??” or “How are you??” and I really do think they mean well, but lets break this down:
Welcome home– Pretty safe. Positive. Asks nothing and expects only a thank you in return.
How was it?-Yes, let me just tell you right now about all the ups and downs, amazing and brutal experiences, and both good and bad life changing moments in the next sentence in which I will respond. No, but seriously, how the fuck do you want me to answer this question? (The answer is that they don’t really care. They want to know in a 30 second–TOPS–explanation how the last year and a half of your life was. Proceed with cautious optimism.)
How are you??– They mean well, they really do. But they don’t want to know the real answer to this question, so I just stick with “good,” which served me well every day after school growing up when my mom would ask me how my day was.

That’s right. After traveling so far and learning so much about the world and myself, I’ve summed it all up with “good.” Which, by the way, is a word I never let my kids use when I was teaching…BECAUSE IT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING.

Fact: People don’t understand why I left, why I’m home or what I did while I was away.

Fact: I have no memories from America for the last year and a half.

Fact: When all you can add to a conversation are stories about your wild time in a foreign country you look like an asshole.

Fact: For all the people that ask about your travels and experience, only about 1% is actually interested in really hearing about it. These people will seek you out for your time. The rest are simply obligatory pleasantries.

Fact: Coming home is overwhelming and no one that hasn’t been through it can really understand how.

You see, all those things that are the same at home–the people, the roads, your house and surroundings–remind you that this is familiar and comfortable. But all the little changes, like marriages, new purchases or acquisitions, gas prices, stores and restaurants in town, all remind you that you’ve missed something. In fact, you’ve missed a lot of somethings. And everyone you see or talk to will be talking about those somethings and you feel like all the comfort and control you felt when you first arrived is melting away. Slowly. And then you remember that all those little changes that you didn’t see coming cower in comparison to what’s changed inside you.

Yeah, ok, my personality is still basically the same. As are my habits, likes and dislikes, style, etc. The “big” stuff is the same. But the way I see the world and interact with it is entirely different than before I left. Sometimes–more often than I’d like to admit–I find more comfort in strangers than in people I know. People that know you, or at least think they do, have certain expectations about you and about how you’re going to be. And now things are different and kind of uncomfortable. I don’t know who I can trust for what, and frankly trying to figure that out has made me withdraw into myself more than I ever have in the past.

Those of you that know me are sure that if I have something to say, I’m going to say it. And that’s true for a lot of things, including my needs and emotions. So when I say, I need this, I need you, or I’m not ok, I expect it to be heard as a call for help. And when that call is ignored by the people I reach out to, I lose trust and retreat further into myself. The things that seem so little and insignificant to people at home are the things that are literally changing my life and how I interact with the people around me.

Being in large groups makes me anxious. But only large groups of people that know (or think they know) me. I am an emotional loose cannon. I am happy. I need my alone time, but I also need time to explain how I’m feeling to the people willing to listen. And, as cliche as it is, in coming home you find out who really cares and is there for you. I’ve personally found that these people have come, maybe not out of no where, but they’re definitely not the people I expected to understand, care and give me the time and attention I need. It really throws you.

Beyond lonely, that’s how I feel–thrown. Physically and emotionally thrown. Thrown for a loop. Thrown away. Bruised, battered, confused and alone. Thrown.

So when I considered that there are people that know where I was and what I’ve seen, people I either met along the way or I had been talking to while I was gone, I started to lean on them. But they’re all over the world with their own jobs and lives. And if there’s anything more challenging than nursing a relationship in person, it’s using other people to try and heal yourself from 10,000 miles away. These people don’t get it either, as much as they understand exponentially more than people at home. They try, in earnest, to reminisce and talk, but they have their own lives and obligations…and there’s only so many hours to talk to someone on the other side of the planet. And sometimes, in the worst of times, these beautiful relationships end. Maybe out of fear or loneliness or distrust or simply distance, losing even more people you thought you could count on doesn’t just sting, it cuts you open.

I’ve been wondering if there are stages to this, like grieving. I wonder what stage I’m on. The cut open stage? Does that mean I get sewn up soon? Or do I have to bleed more? I’m not opposed to leaking shitty people out of my life like a sieve with a wide weave, but are the good ones slipping through too?

If you can’t tell by now, there’s a lot going on in my head. Coming home isn’t easy and I never expected it to be. I expected it to be brutal and painful and even harder than leaving home for a foreign country. And it is. But as much as you are aware of what’s coming, like a tsunami or tornado or the slow death of a sick loved one, you can’t prepare for it. You can pretend like you have your shit on LOCK. But until that tsunami hits, the tornado touches down, or that loved one dies, you have no idea how you will react, no matter how much you have prepared. There’s no such thing as an emotional storm cellar to keep you safe in times of trouble. Pushing emotions down isn’t the way to handle it, and frankly it makes me sick to try. Like physically ill.

The gym is the only thing that makes sense to me right now. My body is the same body I took with me to Asia. I know how it moves, where it aches, and what pain feels like. And I know that no matter what continent I’m on, the barbell never lies. You can lift it or you can’t. The weight doesn’t change–you do. If you could lift 200lbs yesterday and you can’t today, you can’t blame anyone but yourself because the weight hasn’t changed–you have. 200lbs is always 200lbs.

The only option I see now is to be brutally honest with all of you about what’s really happening in my life. This post is for the people that are about to come home–prepare yourselves, and then prepare to feel completely unprepared. This post is for my friends abroad that became my family over the last year and a half–I love and miss you every day, more than you can imagine. This post is for my friends and family at home–Consider this a call to arms. I need you guys more than you can comprehend. And, finally, this post is for me. Because we all need some kind of therapy.

If you want to talk, you can find me in the gym. Happy new year, everyone.

Unpopular Opinion: Air Strikes Are Acts of Love

Posted on December 19, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

tattered-american-flag_2436462 Living in Korea taught me a lot of unexpected lessons, not the least of these are tied to the US military. I learned a lot about the men and women serving our country during that year, and dating an Air Force Staff Sergeant has taught me even more than I could have learned on my own. You see, before I left for Korea I would have considered myself a left-leaning moderate. Like most Americans, though I considered some force justified in specific situations, I couldn’t wrap my head around the whole killing other people thing.

From the outside, it looks like our soldiers kill insurgents. It appears that air strikes, while largely harming civilians, are probably a necessary evil in times of war. Many of us can even justify the killing of civilians for “the cause”–whatever that is. However, I always saw these deaths as a sort of elitist scapegoat. From the outside, it appears that American service members look at the people they’re fighting and see something less than human, less than themselves. And from the outside it appears that this is how killing is justified.

We are all familiar with the rhetoric that these gun-wielding, sandal-wearing, IED-burying men (and women) are “animals.” And as such, we can justify the killings. They are not human, they are “animal” and they are undeserving of our compassion. Now, the left-leaners get all hot and bothered at this point, talking about how these are people, not animals, and that killing them indiscriminately makes our brave men and women the animals, or monsters. I agree that this as justification for the deaths of innocents takes us to a level of “monster” I’m not comfortable with. But this is all the view from the outside.

The media baits us, all of us, throughout the country, with it’s harmful and misleading rhetoric. From the outside, we see our armed forces killing civilians without concern. From the outside, war-mongers and conservatives shoot off their guns in rag-head justice approval. From the outside, liberals watch the decay of the empathy and intelligence that brought out the highest highs of humanity. From the outside it looks like it’s “us against them,” but if history has taught us anything, it’s that this war doesn’t matter. That’s not to say it isn’t a necessary evil, but consider the fact that the United States is the ONLY country to ever drop a nuclear bomb. And the country we crippled is now one of our strongest Asian allies. We put Japanese-Americans in camps in our own country because we feared them, and now we’re best buddies.

The view from the inside looks much different, from what I’m beginning to understand. With few exceptions there are no men or women that really enjoy taking a life. And the ones sent to do just that are pawns in this dangerous game, controlled by someone who gets paid a helluva lot more than they do. Our gun-wielding, boot-wearing, air-striking patriots do not decide where to go and who to kill. Those decisions are far beyond their pay grade. They simply do all they can to ensure that the guy to the left and right of them gets home.

It’s as simple and as complicated as that. Drone strikes are an act of love when called upon to cease the gunfire. Someone is proud of their job calling in air strikes because it allows them to keep their guys alive. They kill because they love.

In a way this does become an “us against them” mentality, almost indiscriminately. But, rather than viewing air strikes as something disconnected and impersonal, I challenge other laymen (as I am absolutely one of these when it comes to the military) to see it as intensely personal–more than you could possibly imagine. Do you think that, given the technology, the man shooting at you wouldn’t hit the red button and blow you sky high? Sure, maybe he’s doing it for some convoluted and fetishized version of God, but he’s also doing it to save his own ass. To save his buddies’ asses. To keep his family and his way of life safe.

Air strikes are acts of love that cause carnage. Tell me about a time where love existed and there was no danger. Tell me about the time you loved someone and there was no passion. There would be no need for love if it weren’t for hate. Sometimes the most beautiful acts of love are disguised as inexcusable acts of war. Perspective. In war, killing is an act of love.

Slice of Pai

Posted on October 11, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

I have yet to meet someone who disliked Pai, Thailand. In fact, I have yet to meet someone who didn’t LOVE Pai. But rather than tell you about the motorbike adventures, waterfalls, lazy hammock days at Spicy Pai, and psychedelic nights at Sunset Bar, I’ll just insist you go there and find out just how great it is for yourself. You won’t be disappointed.

Here are some gems of Pai:

Laos

Posted on October 9, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

Atop Kuang Si waterfall.

I had originally planned to bus it from Siem Reap to 4,000 Islands in Laos and spend some days there hanging out in a hammock, but since I had just spent a week longer than anticipated doing just that on Koh Ta Kiev I decided to fly all the way to Luang Prabang in northern Laos.

Luang Prabang way out in the distance.

I had heard some mixed reviews about Vang Vieng, and mostly lukewarm reviews about the capital, Vientiane, so I decided that my Laos adventure would begin and end in Luang Prabang. No regrets.

One of many temples throughout Luang Prabang.

Coming from the tourist Mecca that is Siem Reap, Cambodia, Luang Prabang felt like going home. It’s a town of 50,000 people and you can feel it as soon as you arrive, be it on plane, bus or boat.

Small town feel. With a Mount Phousi off in the distance (notice the gold on top).

I treated myself to my own room, ensuite, which was invaluable, it turns out. I’ll get there in a minute.

I spent at least two days there just walking around, exploring and taking in the feel of the city. I visited some shops, ate some amazing food, and walked across an old, rickety bridge that had my palms sweating like a teenage boy anticipating his first kiss.

The two defining aspects to Luang Prabang, in my opinion, are the monks and ecotourism. A tradition that is under threat is the morning alms. Tourists come through, gawk, get too close, and commonly disturb the procession of monks in saffron robes chanting and pacing through the streets, collecting rice from the Buddhists in the town. The people of Luang Prabang are up no later than 6am to sit on tiny stools on the street in order to give a small portion of rice to each monk that passes. This is their fill for the day, though they do compile and divide it evenly once they return to the temple.

Repurposed “decorations” for a business.

It’s a beautiful ritual I’m grateful to have witnessed far from the crowds, as smaller groups walk through most neighborhoods in the town, not just on the main street. I simply walked out of my guesthouse and witnessed the ritual without cringing at the thoughtlessness of other travelers.

Ecotourism is also a really cool thing about Laos. It is incredibly beautiful and filled with smiling, friendly people seemingly everywhere you go. The first day of exploring led me to the Aussie Bar simply because as I was passing I noticed the Rugby World Cup on TV. Here I met a Kiwi woman about 30 years my senior who invited me on a trekking and kayaking tour with her later in the week. I accepted.

Kayaking on the river.

Unfortunately, the day before this trip I fell ill with food poisoning…bad. (Here’s where the personal room and bathroom comes in to save the day) But despite how shitty (ha) I felt, I decided to do the tour anyway. We drove to the river, crossed it by boat, and toured a village that houses three different hill tribes.

One of three types of houses in the village. Each tribe has their own style of house.

We happened upon the school here while the kids were on their mid morning break and I could not get enough of their smiles and playfulness.

As we moved through we saw people weaving baskets, embroidering clothing and pillow cases, and staying in shade to keep out of the heat.

Embroidering while the baby sleeps.

We strode straight through the village to a jungle path and trekked along the hills a while. We passed countless rubber trees on rubber farms on our walk, which was pretty cool. How much rubber do you use in your daily life? Yeah, well, I got to see it leaking from a tree, collecting in bowls en masse.

A rubber tree! The farmer peels off a strip of bark so it leads right into the bowl. The white stuff is unprocessed, natural rubber!

It had rained quite a bit so parts of the path were slippery…and some very steep. When the lady at the tour office said flip flops were fine for the walk, I figured it would be mostly flat. I wore my hiking sandals just in case, but they did not save me from sliding halfway down a muddy hill on my ass. Mental note: trust no one.

After our final descent we crossed the river yet again to collect our kayaks. 20 minutes later we were at Tad Se waterfall and it was time for lunch. I laughed in the face of lunch. My body still couldn’t handle food. Though I despise elephant tourism, of which there was plenty here, I did enjoy my time at the falls.

The water was cold and blue and looked quite fresh. I had intended to swim, but feeling as icky as I was, I was happy to simply lay in a chair on the man-made deck adjacent to the swimming area. It was nice enough.

The waterfall “swimming area.”

After an hour or so we were back in the kayaks for our final push home along the river. It was downstream, which was nice, and the sun was shining. I swear I haven’t seen a sky that blue since I left home. Asian smog blues. The sky was a deep blue with fluffy white clouds and luscious green mountains all around us. Stunning, frankly.

The falls empty to the river. They are just behind me in my kayak.

As tired as I was when I got back, I decided to take my new friend, Jess, to watch the rugby match at the Aussie Bar. We made it to halftime.

Kuang Si waterfall.

The next day I happily slept in and rose only when I was ready to hire a tuk-tuk to take me to the “big” waterfall, Kuang Si. First and probably only time I’ll sit shotgun in a damn tuk-tuk.

A lower terrace of Kuang Si waterfall.

This time I really did wear flip flops, even though I was instructed to climb all the way to the top of the falls. I survived.

Before you get to the falls, you are greeted with sunning bears in a sanctuary. Traditional Asian medicine calls for bear bile, among other things, to heal people of various ailments, and here these bears are safe. They were playing and lounging around. I especially liked the guy in the hammock–bear after my own heart.

A nice thing about this waterfall is the amount of places you can get wet. There are terraced pools of perfect blue water, like a beautiful lagoon, even at the very beginning. There are even some with tables and benches built right in. Keep climbing and you’ll find the grand fall. There is a bridge and some walkways built around and over the water here to facilitate the countless peace sign selfies that grace its face.

The perfect, calm lagoon at the top of the falls.

While I considered this could be the top, I laughed when I saw the stairs to the left of the fall. Up, up, up I went. Flip flops were not the best idea, but I wasn’t alone. Part of the path includes another fall, but the stairs you climb up are basically inside the fall, so watch your step, it’s slippery. When you continue on there are two paths. Many people were coming down the one to the right so I figured that’s where we had to go, not knowing exactly what I was looking for. Bad idea. Go left. Same place, easier path.

The stairway inside the falls.

I finally found the beautiful lagoon at the top of the fall and felt like I had entered Eden. The water was freezing and blue and rapid, but I swam up there for about an hour, surrounded by lush green, looking to the mountain peaks through the breaks in trees.

Peering over the top of Kuang Si waterfall.

Pathways to cross the bkie lagoon at the top of the waterfall.

I descended in half the time it took me to climb up there and I was on my way. Well, sort of, my tuk-tuk disappeared and his buddies told me to sit tight for a few. Everything was fine then.

This picture is Laos in a nutshell.

These are the things I really enjoyed about Luang Prabang, but there’s a lot to mention. Some highlights include:

-Utopia Bar & Restaurant. This looks like the perfect place to get stoned. It’s not. They’ll literally call the police on you. And I was told (and am unsure how true it is) that you don’t get fed in prison in Laos. Apparently your family must bring you food. Don’t get arrested.

At Utopia.

At Utopia.

Otherwise this is a really cool spot. You can take yoga for about $5, lounge on the deck overlooking the river, enjoy some good eats (try the river weed), and have a drink or two if you fancy. This is also the place where people go out at night because it is open latest, until 11:30pm. There is a midnight curfew so all business are shuttered before then…with the exception of the bowling alley where many people file to after Utopia closes.

Yoga at Utopia. Get there early as they start on time and it fillsbup quick. Bring cash!

-Food. Laos has some great food, stemming from a lot of regional and colonial influences. They even have their own version of Korean BBQ (yum!). There are nice curries, tasty veggies and tender meat dishes–I recommend the buffalo. And, as always, sticky rice with mango for dessert. My fave.

-People. Get to know some people from Laos. They’re so kind and friendly and you’re not going to find people like them easily in cities like Siem Reap or Hanoi.

After five days, me and my stomach bacteria headed for Thailand…again…on a mission to Pai.

Holiday In Cambodia

Posted on September 21, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

You might think that Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Thailand would be relatively similar to one another, given how close they are geographically. You would be wrong.

These are ethnically rich and culturally diverse nations that have been influenced by a lot of the same people through periods of war and colonization. There is a very stark difference in the way people interact with you as a foreigner in Indochina and in some places it’s a bit overwhelming.

Messing around at the Royal Palace.

I foolishly assumed that cities within Cambodia would feel similar, and I was greeted with four very different experiences in each place I visited. Phnom Penh was chaotic. An authentically dirty, third-world capital city. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t made for tourists, but there they (we, tourists) are, obvious strangers in a strange land. Here the obvious, nearly obligatory, attractions are the Killing Fields and the S21 museum. They are fucked up reminders of the extreme horror that humanity is capable of, and though it isn’t easy to see, I believe it is our responsibility to learn as much history first-hand as possible. If you want to know more about that, read my last post “War Crimes in Indochina.”

In Phnom Penh I also visited the Royal Palace, including the Silver Pagoda, Russian Market and Night Market. Don’t we all just fucking love palaces, markets and temples?!?! I’m rolling my eyes.

At the Royal Palace.

The Silver Pagoda at the Royal Palace.

Many of these are beautiful, worthwhile and amazing, but would you go to Europe for two months and only look at those things? Maybe you would, you loser. But what I like the most about traveling is getting a feel for the city and for its people, and how you are different and the same. I definitely enjoy markets for this reason, to be fair, but I also enjoy spending time just observing.

The Royal Palace.

I didn’t observe much in Phnom Penh because, frankly, I was a bit culture shocked at first. And my hostel sold joints and had a pool so I was stoned a lot of the time. Didn’t stop me from sightseeing, but I was pretty content. I flipped that switch pretty hard when I landed in Sihanoukville. And by landed I mean arrived after a five hour bus journey.

I didn’t really spend much time in Sihanoukville proper, but it’s low season now and everything is quiet. No complaints from me, though, that’s for sure. I scurried my way to Otres Beach, a 15 minute or so tuk-tuk ride from the town center, and when I walked into Sea Garden I fell in love instantly. Though it was the last sunny day I would see there, I’m glad it was shining when I arrived.

Sea Garden is one of a handful of bungalow accommodations directly on Otres Beach and the vibe there is everything. Go there. Just do it. Tell Joe that Kate sent you. He won’t remember me, I’m sure, but tell him anyway, he’s a cool dude. This place is clean, friendly, cozy and chill while still being very minimal. It’s just an awesome place I’m grateful to have experienced.

A bungalow at Sea Garden in Otres Beach, Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

Anyway, the whole point of me going to Otres beach was so I could catch a boat to Koh Ta Kiev, the island no one has heard of. It took me uncharacteristically long to get there because I was misdirected, then the tuk-tuk broke down, then I ran uphill pushing the tuk-tuk. When I arrived at the boat pick-up spot for when there’s inclement weather (a Navy base), the entrance was blocked, so I got out and started walking. One of the boat captains cruised through a small gap in the fence on his motorbike and myself and another guy hopped on the bike with hi–three people, four bags, one bike–and rode to the water.

Sea Garden.

Sunset at Sea Garden, Otres Beach, Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

This other guy, who fancies himself one of those authentic travelers (but is really a deluded hipster), told me (with confidence) to get on the wrong boat, which led to me switching boats on the water. When I finally arrived on the island I saw no one, except a smiley Khmer man waving me along. The guys unloaded the supplies onto a tractor. Once the gas can, water, beer and ice were loaded, I also got on the tractor. The smiley man, Mr, Kojun, and I drove through the jungle for 20 minutes and I still had no idea what was going on, but I was optimistic about my odds for survival. I was right. I’m alive. Hooray.

The tractor.

Rainy season left the bungalows, called Ten103 Treehouse Bay, nearly deserted, as well as the rest of the island. My second day I went for a walk on the beach, and in two hours I only saw locals–a Khmer mother and son, and two men who looked like they worked on the island. A secret beach and a jungle adventure.

Riding the tractor with all the supplies.

Sunset at Ten103.

I seriously loved this place. I would love to go back for several months and live as a part of the incredible team of humans who live and work together for Ten103 Treehouse Bay, whom I got to know pretty well. No wifi, no electricity, no running water, no problem.

The water right off Ten103 Treehouse Bay on Koh Ta Kiev island.

Low season is rainy season and there was only one night that the storms got to me. By that point I was comfortable with the jungle and the noises it makes, but a HUGE storm rolled through after visiting Japan and Vietnam and started fucking with the trees around the dorm where I was sleeping. With three walls to the dorm, we could watch the storm over the ocean, but also hear branches falling on the roof. On the top bunk I convinced myself a tree was about to fall through and crush me. It didn’t. Hooray.

Breakfast time at Ten103.

Anyway, paradise. Yep. Bucket showers are a-ok with me!

After several days I returned to the mainland and reconnected. I showered and it was glorious. I sat down to pee and it was amazing. It was also still raining but I decided to hang at Sea Garden again for a couple more days to re-acclimate.

I got an AMAZING massage at Relax in Sihanoukville, posted a package that required me to lick about 13 stamps, and chilled out with some new friends. But I did have to move on, so I took an overnight sleeper bus from Sihanoukville to Siem Reap.

Leaving Koh Ta Kiev.

Lucky for me, I had some solid bunk mates. We all had shared beds on the bus. As a solo traveler, I slept next to a really nice stranger, an Australian girl, and we talked with the two across the aisle from us. Canadians. After several stops, some sketchy pee breaks and 11 hours, we arrived in Siem Reap.

Day one was a wash as it was raining and the Canadians, plus three Brits they knew, and I drank all day. We experienced a party hostel off season, which was mildly pathetic, and Pub Street, which is exactly what you’d expect it to be.

The next morning I rolled out of bed for a solo adventure (with my awesome tuk-tuk driver, Vanna!) and we headed out to a temple I should really know the name of. It was much less crowded than the internationally known Angkor complex, though a Chinese family, part of a large tour, did throw their baby into my arms and proceded to take turns in pictures. #familyalbum

We walked the temple and grounds, hung around on vines and watched some kids fish.

At this point I was dead tired and hungover. But we were headed to one of the floating villages…which was actually much more interesting than I thought it would be. I hired a boat and our driver turned the key in the ignition and steered us out with his Honda steering wheel and gas pedal. We cruised to the village, seeing lots of fish traps along the way.

People of all ages were in boats, working or playing in the water. I’m surprised they haven’t evolved to full amphibian. At the far end of the village there were some restaurants and a beautiful floating forest. A little further was Cambodia’s response to the Great Lakes. I couldn’t see the other end of it, just water and weeds as far as the eye could see, even standing on the bow of the boat. Vanna told me that you could travel to Phnom Penh on that lake. Crazy, I had absolutely no idea that existed.

We turned back to grab some food. At the floating restaurant we messed with the caged crocodiles (farmed for food), lazed in hammocks, ate and stared into the flooded forest.

Floating/Flooded Forest.

On the way back, the boat pulled up to shore so we could walk through the village. When the rains come and the village floods this part is under water, so it wasn’t the cleanest. Still, I almost stepped on a decaying rat…about 100ft from where I saw a naked toddler playing with a 6in knife. I don’t know.

Lunchtime.

Next thing I know I’m surrounded by tiny perfect angel children and a woman is telling me to purchase books and pencils for them. Obviously I did. Because I’m a humanitarian. And I’m a sucker for kids even when I know I’m falling victim to a scam. But whatever, those kids were happy and so was I.

Angel babies.

That night I passed out at 7:30.

Day three I was up at 4:30am to head to Angkor Wat for sunrise…me and everyone else. And, as it turns out, both the Canadians and the Brits. It was a pretty underwhelming sunrise with a huge crowd, but the temple complex was really cool.

Reality.

Expectation.

After sunrise we all grabbed coffee and headed into the temple. The architecture, carvings, reliefs and composition are just so damn old and unlike anything I had seen up to that point.

We saw four or five temples over the span of several hours, and by the time the day was ending they started to blend together, so here are some gems:

Staged photo, but still pretty damn cool.

Does this remind anyone else of Legends of the Hidden Temple??

Monks at Angkor Wat.

At Angkor Wat

The Brits, Canadians and I all went out for some pizza that night and I passed out super early again. No shame. We all chilled together the next day until I had to leave for the airport. And damn, Laos is a whole different animal.

War Crimes in Indochina

Posted on September 16, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

The sky above Vietnam.

I left Hoi An for Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) and stood on the grounds of modern history. The busy streets of Saigon were more friendly than those in Hanoi, but equally as crazy.

The palace, where the South Vietnamese finally surrendered.

The Post Office in Saigon.

The Vietnam War was a crazy time. It was a war my father was drafted into. It is something I can talk about with many of my family members for a first hand account of what that was like. This wasn’t some battle thousands of years ago that’s completely unrelatable. This was recent and super intense. In one day we visited the Cu Chi tunnels and the American War museum. I had some really intense mixed emotions going on.

Actual size entrance to one of the VCs tunnels.

The two hour drive from HCMC to Cu Chi was pretty uneventful, save a tourist trap stop that featured people affected by Agent Orange exposure creating Vietnamese crafts, and a video about the American war.

To be fair, this video looked like 1960s propaganda. It was super retro and played in black and white. But, honestly, I had never felt a huge, overwhelming, sudden surge of patriotism so intense before watching this video. The video showed re-created battle scenes and talked about the war and the people who fought. The Vietnamese weren’t paid to fight in money, but in honor. So they introduced people who won medals for “killing 160 Americans” and things like this. After 10 minutes I fell asleep and just couldn’t listen to it anymore.

Inside one of the entrances to the tunnel system.

The tunnel tour was super basic and that was fine. The tunnels made me feel claustrophobic and I cannot imagine living like that. Considering how I felt makes me understand more tangibly the situation above ground for all people. Definitely not a good place.

B52 bomb crater.

Here we were taken down a path and shown various life size dioramas of how the Vietnamese handled the war at home, as well as some tunnels and traps. Like I said, the tunnels made me claustrophobic, but the re-created traps made me sick. Thinking about the thousands of Americans that died or were maimed in these traps, people whose story is still discussed first-hand, got me angry. I don’t think either side of the war was in the right, and I believe that awful acts were committed by both the Vietnamese and the Americans, but I was upset at that place. It was a strange feeling to see war from the perspective of the other side.

U.S. tank .

Seeing as my countrymen died in this tank, I felt like I shouldn’t smile. But I did. Because I can be awkward.

After the tunnels it was time for the American War museum. Now, many people would say that this is all just a bullshit propaganda museum. They probably wouldn’t be wrong, but I have to believe that at least some of it is true, even if I don’t want to. Seeing pictures of extreme ailments and deformities caused by Agent Orange exposure, pictures of American soldiers behind beheaded VC, recovered ammunition, guns and weapons, kinda fucked me up. I mean, I cried a significant amount in there. Thinking about their lives and their families really made me so sad. I saw the cages prisoners were kept in, and there were lots of US military vehicles outside, as well.

So at this point I’m feeling an overwhelming sense of American pride and shame simultaneously. It was a weird day, emotionally, so I ended it with a few beers.

Two days later I was at the Killing Fields in Cambodia.

Tuk-tuk in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Mankind is capable of such beautiful and terrifying extremes. Every beautiful thing I know and love is, somehow, connected to humanity, but so are my nightmares. The Tuol Sleng Genocide (S21) museum and The Choeung Ek Killing Fields are stories of horrors even more recent than the American War in Vietnam.

Human remains on display at the memorial pagoda at Choeng Ek.

The museum is in the same buildings and rooms that were used to torture and detain prisoners arrested by the Khmer Rouge in Phnom Penh. Each room contains pictures, beds, restraints, cells, or a combination. There are rooms filled with mug shots taken upon arrival at S21, almost all of which were murdered during the Khmer Rouge genocide that killed nearly 2.5 million people. There are survivor stories that haunt and always end with a reminder to learn from this and not turn a blind eye again. There are still a few blood stains on the floors of the tiny cells and there are skulls exhibiting how each person was killed. Torture was also explained. It was very hot and a lot of reading, but well worth the understating, especially as a prelude to the Killing Fields.

One of four sides of the memorial pagoda at Choeng Ek.

Here you are given a headset in your native language and use it to guide you around the mass graves and former sites of Choeung Ek’s execution site. No matter where you step, you are likely walking on bones. You can see bones and cloth rising to the surface all over the place. The paths tightly wind around the graves, which seem endless, honestly. There are a few graves given special attention, like the biggest one (by amount of people), and the one that was filled with women and children. People have placed bracelets around the fenced area, and even offer food and things at the base of the most chilling place on site.

Mass grave at Choeng Ek.

Because ammunition was scarce and expensive, executioners often bludgeoned people to death. At the killing tree, executioners regularly smashed children against the trunk of a tree until they were dead, and then tossed them into the adjacent pit. When this place was discovered, there was still blood, bone and brain matter on the tree.

The Killing Tree.

The centerpiece here is the memorial pagoda. It is stacked several stories high with skulls and bones of the people found here. Each one is marked with likely cause of death…and it is gruesome.

Memorial Pagoda st Choeng Ek Killing Fields.

Human skulls in the memorial pagoda.

The brutality of humanity is amazing. Terrifying and incredible. And for all the blood that spilled in this area in the last 50 years, the people are welcoming and kind overall. They are poor but never stop smiling. And I can’t help but think about what many of these people must have seen. I guess this is why we travel.

Bones and clothes that have surfaced over the years.

Hoi An & Solo Romance

Posted on September 9, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

A lantern shop in Hoi An.

I said goodbye to Niall, Amy and Hanoi, and I headed to Central Vietnam. Hoi An is considered one of the most romantic cities in the world (according to Trip Advisor) and so, naturally, I thought it would be a great idea to take a solo trip.

Hoi An alleyway.

You can see the in-your-face romance basically everywhere in the town, with delicate artsy souvenirs hanging and candle-lit lanterns dancing through the river at night. Indeed, this probably was once a very romantic, sleepy city. Bustling with tourists, however, Hoi An is very busy and everyone there is trying to make a buck (aren’t we all).

Lanterns in the river.

Literally. Those lanterns cost a dollar and they’re everywhere. Litter in the river to send good wishes for important people who have passed. Rapidly approaching 10 years without a father I, too, sent a lantern into the river.

Hoi An does have a smaller town feel to it than many places I’ve visited and, for that, I’m grateful. I was lucky to have chosen two truly awesome tours in the area. The first was through Hoi An Motorbike Adventures. In a small group we went out on their Mountain & Delta tour to really get into the rural parts of central Vietnam. I don’t have a motorcycle license so I had a driver. Here are some pictures:

An ancient temple of the Cham people. Don’t worry, it’s supposed to be fallic.

On the “ferry” across the river with the motorbikes.

We ate this fresh, yummy bowl while the victim’s. cousin (another huge pig) was penned up in back.

One of the coolest things was being on this former US Air Force base. Here I am standing with the motorbike on the runway.

The “ferry” unloading people from the other side.

Many people believe that when you die, you enter the spirit world. But in the spirit wprld, you like the same things as you did while you were alive. The caretaker of this temple puts full lit cigarettes on the incense for his family members to enjoy in the afterlife. Re: not vandalism.

The bikes available at Hoi An Motorbike Adventures.

We had a great time seeing the countryside and eating some awesome food. The trip ended with a nice cold beer…and later a much needed shower.

The next morning I was on the beach by 4:30am. I had planned to do a sunrise paddle with SUPmonkey, but a windy morning tempted the other two girls with a lie-in and I accidentally had a private tour with Craig.

Sunrise at An Bang beach near Hoi An.

We paddled out from An Bang beach and headed into the rising sun over Cham island. After a while we took a break to just chill and lay on the boards. And what an amazing feeling that was.

Paddling toward Cham Island.

My happy place.

We stopped off near Cua Dai beach, the main tourist beach that is suffering from terrible erosion, for a coffee at his local. After our pit stop we cruised the shoreline back to An Bang.

We finished our tour with a BLT on one of Vietnam’s famous baguettes, and some quail eggs bought from a trolling beach vendor. They were delicious.

I stayed at that beach the rest of the day for some shade, a nap, and some much needed swim time. Sunburned and salty I headed back to Hoi An for what would hopefully be my final fitting for the custom clothes I’d gotten made in the city.

Hoi An is known to have the best tailors in Vietnam…and I took advantage by buying a custom made Wool coat, Leather jacket, four dresses, a leather backpack, sandals, and a bag each for my mom and sister. I spent a lot of money. But that’s ok. I shipped everything home and was happy as anything so no complaints.

From Hoi An I moved along to Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City, where I visited my friend Adam and experienced another taste of Vietnamese city life.

Hanoi and Ha Long Bay

Posted on September 1, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

Ha Long Bay

I left Korea a week and a half ago but it honestly feels like it’s been much longer. Having adventures regularly will do that to you, I guess. I started out this whole thing in Hanoi, after a horrendous plane ride from Korea sat next to the fattest, most misbehaved little Korean boy I’ve ever encountered. This could be a slight exaggeration, but he was awful and his Omma (Mom) seemed to encourage his rudeness and gluttony as she didn’t scold or stop feeding him for the entire five hour flight.

I digress.

I landed in Hanoi and immediately realized how much I’ve changed in the last year. Landing in such a hot and frenzied place this time last year would have probably given me a bit of pause for concern, of which I had none this go-around. Fight with the taxi drivers, make them take you all the way there, try and fool me. I dared them. They didn’t.

Just like in Korea, the Vietnamese try to stay out of the sun by covering up as much as possible. Many women were wearing clothes like this over their normal clothes on motorbikes.

I got to where I was meeting my friend, Niall, without issue and I was unexpectedly calm. Not really nervous, not really excited, just kind of another day, the first one of many on the move until December when I fly back to America.

I had a great time staying and catching up with Niall and his fiancée Amy at their apartment the next couple days. Once I figured out how to cross the (chaotically) busy intersection in front of their apartment building without crying, I was golden.

Hanoi, Vietnam

We ate some delicious food the first night and signed me up for a boat cruise in Ha Long Bay, something I’ve been anticipating for a while now.

HA LONG BAY

I signed up for the not-so-expensive but non-party boat tour for two days and one night. We took a very small bus from Hanoi to Ha Long Bay for about three hours (ROUGH) with one tourist-aimed stop between. Our guide was really sweet and funny and overall it was a good time.

The tour included a stop off at a huge cave, called the Gate to Heaven, I believe. It was a huge, beautiful cave decorated with the ugliest, tackiest colored lights. This is also the first time I realized how jaded I am.

This place was discovered and ruined because the Vietnamese knew they could make money off of it by selling the “experience” to tourists, and here I was…buying it. I hated myself for it. And for all the little staged things we did on the trip, like kayaking with about four other cruising boats at some staged “fishing village” and anchoring for the night with even more other boats off of Cat Ba island, where other tourists slept.

All my cynicism couldn’t take away from how amazingly beautiful these limestone islands are, however.

We all went for a sunset swim in the (quite literally) piss warm and murky water. Not exactly what I had expected, but then again things rarely turn out how you expect them to.

After a chill night of dinner, beers and conversation, I went to sleep and *luckily* didn’t see any cockroaches in my room all night. Yay!

The next day we learned how to roll up spring rolls as we headed back to port. We ended up eating the delicious things as part of lunch, while listening to the unfortunate sounds of an AWFUL British girl yelling at all the workers because the tables were too small for her highness to dine at. She was a bitch. I hate her.

I digress.

All in all, as obviously set up for tourism as it was, I had a good time. I met some great people and experienced Ha Long Bay in the most common way. A couple days later and I was off to Hoi An…where I spent all of my money.

10 Things That Will Kill You In Korea Faster Than MERS

Posted on June 18, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

Last weekend thousands of people turned up to Olympic Stadium in Seoul to attend a music festival that almost didn’t happen. Ultra Music Festival (UMF) is one of the biggest touring EDM festivals in the world. They are hosted in Europe, Asia, Africa, South America and the OG event, Miami, FL. A truly global festival that was poised to make probably billions of Won was on the line because of MERS. The pandemic that is sweeping South Korea and killing people in droves.

…Oh wait, that’s not a thing. A handful of people have died, a few more have contracted the virus and a couple thousand have been placed in quarantine. Which has been broken more than once. Long live Korean stubbornness.

Anyway, Ultra did go off with only slight hiccups, including big name cancellations like Alesso and Nicky Romero. Nervo, the blonde Aussie beauties, took over one of the slots and frankly I think we were all happier as a result, so fuck ’em, you know? Other than that the only odd thing festival-goers had to endure was the sanitization and overall MERS panic when entering the stadium.

Your first steps through the gate were met by masked workers supplying a not-so-optional squirt of hand sanitizer. Then you walked through some kind of blower to sanitize the rest of you. Another zig-zag station of sanitizer and boxes of available masks ended with a thermal scan of your body to check your temperature. On a hot, humid summer day at a music festival. Effective. The final line of defense came in a quick sanitizer squirt before ticket check and a forehead temperature reading as you walk through the final gates.

Cool. At this point we are all sanitized and ready to get sweaty and rub up on each other. Until the grody squatter portapotties get covered in excrement and the tables adjacent run out of sanitizer. But that’s neither here nor there, right? Right.

The point of writing this is, of course, #MERS. The virus and its menial number of cases has caused temporary school closings, event cancellations and overall widespread panic in Korea. They’ve even quarantined camels in zoos (yes, really) to prevent the spread of the disease. Honestly, if hygiene was a thing here like it is in America and much of the Western world then this wouldn’t be an issue, but washing your hands and covering your mouth aren’t really practiced. People spit, cough, share spoons and foods, touch each other and spend more time looking in the mirror post-poo than washing their hands.

Even so, here in Korea there are many things, both in my opinion and statistically proven, more likely to kill you than the dreaded MERS. Here are 10:

1. Cars

If I’ve learned anything in Korea it’s that pedestrians are not safe. You do not have the right of way. No, not even on the sidewalk. Not in the crosswalks. Not obeying traffic laws and walking only at times you’re supposed to. Any person who’s been here longer than a few days will have many stories about near misses by speeding cars down tiny alleyways, crazy bus drivers, and many will even have stories about ending up in the hospital after an accident. Traffic accidents are the eighth leading cause of death in Korea. I personally know of one foreigner who was killed, one of my students who was hit and one friend of mine who ended up in the ICU with a shattered pelvis, all from car accidents this year. Drivers in Korea seriously don’t give a fuck that they are in a motorized killing machine and you are flesh and bone.

When in doubt, jump.

Last week I tried to explain to my adult class of colleagues in my elementary school that in America people stop for pedestrians in crosswalks. Their response, with a puzzled look, was “How do you get them to do that?” This won’t surprise any waygooks (Korean for foreigner) but it did kind of make me laugh. Unlike in Korea the police in America do more than just herd drunk old men away from the general public. They enforce traffic laws…among other things. In fairness, I can’t speak too highly about abuse of power, but that is a separate issue. Walking and driving in Korea are dangerous, mmmkay??

2. Soju

Who doesn’t love soju, amirite??? I mean, soju is CHEAP, which makes it many people’s drink of choice here in Korea. Did you know that soju, specifically Jinro Soju, is the most consumed alcohol ON THE PLANET? In 2013, Jinro Soju sold TRIPLE the amount of cases as runner-up Smirnoff, according to Drinks International. Apparently soju has topped the list effortlessly for more than a decade. Cheers to you, you cheap, cheap hangover-waiting-to-happen.

We know what you’re sippin’ on, don’t even play.

Stomach and liver cancers are the number five and number seven causes of death in Korea, respectively. Anyone whose been out anywhere in Korea has seen one or all of the following: Belligerent old men either yelling outside of a GS25 or stumbling down the sidewalk; a person who has passed out and vomited on themselves on the street or sidewalk before midnight; girls unable to stand at or walk out of a club; and breakfast (or lunch) routinely meeting people still out and drinking from the night before. If you didn’t think Koreans were big drinkers, I’ve got news for you, you’re dead wrong. Cheers, Korea. Who’s got the soju??

3. Pollution

Don’t worry, be happy.

Don’t be fooled into thinking the mask-donning Koreans are doing so simply because of MERS. They wear them often. And anyone who has ever tried to run outside in a big city knows that masks should be more than recommended. Let’s just say the air in Korea ain’t so great. It’s no Beijing, but you’ll be hard pressed to see a crystal clear blue day without the hover of smog, even in smaller cities than Seoul. Some say it’s a problem that’s improving, but others warn of heavy metal mining in China making things even worse for Koreans. Do the research yourself if you like, but breathing is just one of those things as humans we should be able to do without much trouble. The more you know.

4. Stroke

Stroke is simply the number one cause of death in Korea, accounting for over 65 deaths out of 100,000. I’m no expert, but I don’t think MERS has anything to do with this one. I don’t know how one could go about preventing it…I suppose it would depend on the kind of stroke, but I doubt closing schools and cancelling events would be helpful.

Here’s to you, #1.

5. Smoking

Lung cancers are the third most common cause of death in Korea. Anyone who’s lived in or visited this country knows that everyone smokes. Except women. They only smoke it back alleys because it’s frowned upon for those delicate flowers to pollute their lungs. And though the government has made strides by recently (at least in Gwangju) banning and enforcing smoking indoors, you can still see people smoking everywhere. All the time. And cigarettes are cheap. Lung cancers account for over 27 deaths per 100,000.

6. Overall Neglect

Hopefully by now we’ve all heard of Sewol, a true Korean tragedy that could have been prevented. Then there are the 16 people that died at a K-Pop concert last October when a ventilation grate they were standing on collapsed. And, most recently (to my knowledge), two people fell through a sidewalk sinkhole in February.

A truly Korean phenomenon, in my opinion, is the speed with which establishments are vacated, torn down, built up and renovated. It’s not uncommon to go to a restaurant or cafe a week after your last visit to see an empty lot. That empty lot will be built up again in two weeks time, leaving everyone rolling their eyes and saying “Oh, Korea” to one another. The neglect and mismanagement of Sewol is not something to joke about, but it’s been clear in the months following the tragedy that not much has changed when it comes to regulations and routine maintenance, and more people in other places have paid with their lives. Maybe it’s time to slow down a bit, eh guys??

7. Overwork/Exhaustion

Life is just so hard.

This one could be attacked from all kinds of angles. The Korean workday can easily be 14 hours long. The idea and expectation of showing face for employers and higher ups is just a normal thing here. If you think you’re getting out at 5pm, you’re wrong. It’s time for dinner, and then drinks, and then more drinks, and then sunrise when all of you just head back into the office again. You see, turning down drinks or finishing eating before someone above you is considered heinously rude. The social etiquette in Korea makes for a stressful work life.

Another way to dissect overwork is by taking a look at education in Korea. Suicide is the number six killer in Korea. Suicide. Many of these are youth suicides as a result of the extreme pressure students feel to succeed in academics and their future career. I am an elementary school teacher and even my kids can be in school until 9pm. They usually go to normal public elementary school, then to their music or Taekwondo lesson, then home for dinner, and lastly to their Hagwon (private institution) for English or some other subject before coming home and doing their homework. Then they sleep. Until the morning and they start all over again. I honestly do not know how they do it. They’re just KIDS. The pressure gets worse as they get older and some of them, not surprisingly, can’t handle it. Suicide shouldn’t be in the top 10 killers anywhere. It’s just tragic.

8. Knife-Wielding Burglars

So, Korea has some odd laws. There’s no such thing as self defense here and some of the more fucked up cases I’ve heard about are some derivative of person A being assaulted or robbed by person B and when person A defended their person or property and injured person B, person A was subject to lawsuit. There was even a video a little while back showing a man wielding a knife and attacking a woman in a store. The only other person present was another woman who bravely stood up for the first woman who was being attacked. Passersby saw what was going on and one even came inside…and did nothing. Be aware of yourself and your surroundings. Korean laws will get ya.

It’s not self defense, it’s ballet.

9. Hiking a Popular Route

Hiking in Korea is amazing. There are lots of places to go and mountains to climb. There are beautiful sights to see all over the peninsula, and then some. However, many popular routes and mountains become very crowded with touring foreigners. Koreans love to hike. And they love to spend money on multi-colored hiking gear they’ll look cool in when they meet their friends at the mountain. Koreans of all ages. And though the hiking is generally plentiful in this country, these crowded routes can get REALLY crowded. In America I’ve never had to wait minutes to continue down a path just so a herd of other people could pass me by. On a cliff’s edge you can smell your fate. And that high up, death by Ajumma shove is a lot more plausible than death by MERS.

10. Overfeeding by Ajumma

Kill me with delicious food. I’ll shuffle for ya.

Ajummas are older women in Korea. It actually just means married, but I’ve rarely heard the word tossed around when speaking of younger married women. Anywho, Koreans, bless their hearts, love to feed you. They’re like the Italians of Asia. And here, as in many other cultures, it’s rude to refuse food. When you encounter a generous old woman be prepared to get stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Now, while I would personally choose this as my way to go, I still think it’s a lot more plausible than my contracting MERS and dying hacking a lung in a crowded hospital. I choose you, Ajumma. Feed me.

(All death stats came from worldlifeexpectancy.com. I am in no way claiming each word in this is factually accurate. Some people are going to take this post way too seriously, and they’re probably the same people worried about MERS. Sorry I’m not sorry if I’ve offended you.)

North Korea, Into The Hermit Kingdom

Posted on May 29, 2015 by juicethesqueeze

Last weekend was a holiday both here in Korea and in America. It was kind of cool getting a three-day weekend and Memorial Day off, even though I’m thousands of miles from home. I wouldn’t say we flaunted our American pride as we would back home, but Allison and I did stand toe to toe with North Korea…and that was surreal. I could write about our crazy adventures around Hongdae for partying or about visiting temples for Buddha’s Birthday (the Korean holiday that coincided with Memorial Day), but the DMZ is really the only thing worth talking about.

I booked this tour over a month in advance to secure our places. All tours that include passage through the Joint Security Area (JSA) are booked weeks in advanced. Though there are many tours to the DMZ, I was certain I needed to go as far as the JSA, which I’ve seen on numerous documentaries and have pictured as this stern, serious, kind of scary environment. I guess it is, given that it is technically a war zone, but frankly with tours going in and out, it felt like a remake in Disney World or something. Like a North Korean part of Epcot. That probably sounds crazy, but we were ushered in and out of the Demilitarized Zone (very officially with many pre-set and day-of rules) by both military and civilian tour guides. Tour guides.

My Co-Teacher didn’t really understand why I was so interested in visiting the DMZ. She said that it’s strange that foreigners want to go there. Unlike the sentiment in America, most South Koreans just want to see peace and reunification of the two Koreas. Many of them have family in the North, or roots, and have hopes for a peninsula no longer divided. In America we perceive North Korea as a threatening dictator-run society that’s ready to take advantage of any weakness their enemies (us) show. Which is probably true, given that at one point I was standing several stories underground in the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel, just 170 meters from North Korea. A tunnel the North dug to surprise attack the South. A tunnel I was standing in with many, many other tourists. TOURISTS. What in the actual fuck are we doing touring a place like that? It’s apparently safe enough, or it wouldn’t be done, but still. It’s more than surreal.

This is probably the hardest blog post I’ve written about my travels because the feeling of being there is so hard to explain. We were mostly American tourists staring out at the North Korean soldiers in the DMZ. Many were there on vacation. All of us were curious, but here we were, taking photos of the buildings and of the parts of North Korea we could see. This isn’t a monument in Washington D.C., it’s a country, dislodged from the world stage in economics and politics, a place where people are routinely starved or worked to death, a place people risk their lives just to escape. Many have died trying to defect from North Korea. People have been forced into slavery after successfully escaping to China and being caught. And here we were, a privileged group of foreigners from all over the world just trying to get a glimpse inside.

Our tour guide was a South Korean woman who was very knowledgeable, albeit scripted. She talked basically the whole time we were on the bus North from Seoul. We crossed over the Unification Bridge into an area for authorized access only. The bridge itself is interesting because the way blockades are set up is so that you cannot drive straight down the bridge, but must go around the barriers which alternate sides of the road. This is miles and miles away from the border and even here they have a line of defense. Yet on we went North.

Our first stop was the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel. We had to wear helmets, which I was initially annoyed by, as we descended the 23 stories into bedrock, but as the tunnel became lower and narrower I hit my helmet on a jagged piece of rock above my head. Thank you, helmet. This place is not for the claustrophobic or the tall. Or the weak because you descend the same way you crawl back out…up an down a steep-enough slope. Some people had to stop and catch their breath on the way up, which is understandable. It’s hard to breathe down there. I even got lightheaded at one point. We should have eaten breakfast…oops.

Now, of course, it being Korea, the land of the selfie, there were places outside to take pictures. No cameras were permitted inside the tunnel so the photo-op (clearly labeled as such) was set up outside the tunnel. There was a fake river, some platforms to sit on, a few benches, and a small section of fence set up with barbed wire attached at the top with “DMZ” spray painted on it–you know, so people could smile and pose near it. (I repeat-WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THIS PLACE??)

Allison and I ate some Cheetos and drank canned Korean coffee while we mocked this hellish Disney-scape at an actual zone of conflict. I digress. We boarded our bus again to travel just a few minutes to DORA Observatory where we actually put coins into binoculars, like I did when I was little at the top of the World Trade Center in New York, to see out into North Korea.

Looking out into North Korea.

They even had a map of things you can see with said binoculars. Most of it was green and just like the South, but it was mysterious because we were actually looking beyond friendly soil into North Korea.

Interestingly enough, there was a statue of a Buddha on the opposite side of the building in front of, what I assumed to be, a peace bell. This Buddha was directly in front of a barbed wire fence. Not something you see every day.

From here we went to Dorasan Station where there are trains to Pyeongyang.

There is also a car toll there for passage to the North.

And the whole place felt like a ghost town. The security area was empty, the train doesn’t actually go anywhere, no cars were going through the toll. But here we were, standing next to a train that used to travel to Pyeongyang for tourism, that now sits idle at the station. At Dorasan station we had lunch, as well. Our choices were Bulgogi (meat) or BiBimBap. After lunch we headed for Camp Kim and the absolute highlight of the tour, in my opinion.

Now I know I have a thing for dudes in uniform, but this place was incredible in reality. We had to take a military bus up to the Joint Security Area and we swapped our Korean tour guide for an American military guide. He checked our passports, gave us a brief powerpoint history lesson of the Korean war, DMZ and JSA, and we headed out. When we filed off the bus at the JSA we were told to get into two straight lines. Side note: Civilians trying to do any kind of formation is actually incredibly hilarious. Once we were all assembled we were led up the stairs, past ROK military (Republic of Korea–that’s South Korea for those of you who are not aware) and American military. and through the doors to stand in formation on a platform overlooking the cornflower blue buildings I’ve seen so many times in pictures and videos. At this point all of us were standing face to face with North Korea.

There’s an understood quiet and respect that’s paid at moments like these. When people you probably wouldn’t associate with in the real world are calm and attentive, listening to our military guides’ directions. We came in on two busses, formed four lines, and were split between two parts of the compound before we switched. First, we entered the room where all meetings take place between the North and the South. We were briefed on the goings on, history and rules within this room before we were permitted to take pictures for a couple minutes. And here we were, standing on (technically) North Korean soil.

When we switched places with the other group (after our guides had to yell at people who wouldn’t stop taking pictures when asked. Stupid.) we stood back on the steps looking out toward North Korea. At the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea soldiers facing us from their tall staircase.

We were given more instructions and some more history. And we were also informed that directly to our right was a North Korean guard post. We weren’t allowed to look over there. But we were allowed to take pictures of the compound, including the North Korean side, which allowed me to send what, in my opinion, was the most epic Snapchat I’ve ever sent. We eventually filed back in, through the building and to the busses for our final stop at one of the guard posts.

Here, we were surrounded on three sides by North Korea. We had a great view of the North’s Propaganda Village, as well. It’s called this because after the South Koreans created a village on their side, the North Koreans matched it. But no one lives there. Many of the buildings have windows that are painted on, or no floors. Much like a warehouse. They also have an intentionally massive flag pole and flag because anything the South does, the North must do bigger and better.

On our way out we drove in front of the Bridge of No Return, where prisoners of the Korean War were exchanged and made to choose what country they would live in with no chance of returning to the other side.

We also briefly stopped in front of the monument to the ax murder incident where Southerners and Americans were confronted and attacked by North Koreans when they attempted to cut down a tree that was in their field of vision from the guard tower. Incredible.

This was the last interaction we had with Northern soil. It was incredibly informative, interesting and, as was said several times, surreal. Something random and amazing about the DMZ, however, is that because it’s been completely uninhabited and undisturbed for decades, it’s an incredible natural wildlife sanctuary with several endangered species living within it. There’s always a silver lining.

So that was the DMZ and JSA. It was a great tour and I’d highly recommend going with the USO through Kooridor. There’s no stop off for shopping or anything that is not specifically purposed for a DMZ experience and I was grateful for that. It’s 100% worth the money. As weird and touristy as the experience was, I’m not naiive enough to think that if the DMZ did not exist, if the American and ROK military weren’t there to stand guard for our safety on the tour, as well as the safety of South Korea in general, I would still be here in Korea today teaching. So, I’d like to sincerely thank all of the people in this country who keep us safe, no matter what flag you pledge your allegiance to. Coming to Korea has given me a profound understanding of and appreciation for the US military, and has instilled in me serious pride in my country, our troops, and all that they do for us home and away. A healthy side-effect of more than 23,000 people in the US military in Korea. I’m so grateful I wasn’t born in North Korea.

Until next time.

Juice The Squeeze

Ensuring with each step that the juice is worth the squeeze.