Radiation in Seoul

Since the nuclear plant explosion near Tokyo at the Fukushima Dai-ichi plant, the Japanese economy has plummeted. Food exports are way down as some foods have been shown to contain high-levels of radiation, and tourism has been sadly reduced, resulting in little fuel to stimulate the depressed economy. A friend told me earlier today that from Seoul, S. Korea she could get a ticket for next to nothing, just 75 round trip. I think that translates as US$75 or even possible 75,000 KRW (Korean won), which is approximately the same. Japan is desperate to promote their tourism.

Well, tomorrow I fly to the US and have a short stopover in Japan, just a couple of hours. However, when I checked-in online earlier today, a notice popped up stating that people willing to be bumped could give notice at the Delta desk in Tokyo. I've been bumped a few times when not in a hurry, and am not feeling particularly rushed this round; however, I think checking the radation level for a 24-hour stay in Tokyo might be health-wise.

Hmm ... Some quick sleuthing online brought up a rather shocking bit of info: basically, Seoul has more radiation emission than Tokyo! According to the July 11, 2011 listing of several majors cities around the world (printed below but also linked), Tokyo's radition yesterday was .057 while Seoul's was .111, pretty close to double that of Japan's. The caption marketing Japan as not having dangerously high levels of radition is clearly stated in the title caption: "The dose of radiation in Tokyo is not high in comparison with that in major cities in the world."


So I thought I would follow the proffered link to find out more about radiation levels in S. Korea. The up-to-date reading states that 고산 (a bit southeast of Wonju and located centrally inland) is recording the lowest level of radiation today with a fluctuation between 63 and 67 [does that translate on the model that Japan is using as .063 and .067? - not clear as a different testing scale could be used in measuring these numbers] while 속초, on the east coast and a city closest to Japan, registers a fluctuation between 178 and 181 [ .178 and .181? - again not clear]. This is recorded in 국가 환경방사선 자동감시망 감시결과 which loosely translates as "Automatically Piloted Country-wide Environmental Radiation Observation Results".



I'm still not sure whether I'll ask for the layover or not, but living - not just passing though - a country that has such high radiation levels is a weee bit unnerving.

Symbolism in a Royal Garden

At the back of Kyungbokkung Palace, the largest and oldest palace in Korea, is a tiny garden in which the women in their isolated seclusion and prisoners from the commoners' eyes were allowed to wander. The garden is Amisan, a slice of verdent greenier nestled at the back of the queen's living quarters with access by the queen and the multiple concubines. In the terraced garden are four hexagonal chimneys obviously reflecting a rich household due to their distant proxemics from the building (the farther the chimney, the more statused the household) and also reflected in the quality of materials (fired bricks), 8-directional shape, size and most importantly, artistic design elaborately incorporated on the sides of the chimneys.


The symbols and designs are not coincidental but carefully planned and imbued with auspicious meanings. The phoenix, the imaginary celestial bird that appears when the king is considered a good and fair ruler and all is well in the kingdom, is an important symbol for the garden. The phoenix also is the representative bird for the queen, and another meaning of the phoenix is the animal representative for 'south', a delightfully auspicious direction and favored for house positions (and indeed, the garden as do all the palace buildings carefully face south). Although I don't know my trees, I'm sure that originally and maybe even at present the palownia tree spreads its branches somewhere in the garden as the palownia tree is the only tree which the celestial bird, the phoenix, will deign to land in.

Other symbols on the chimneys are bats for good fortune, plums and chrysanthemums symbolizing a man of virtue (why not a woman since this is primarily a garden for women???), and the 10 longevity symbols (십장생): crane, deer, herb of eternal youth, pine tree, bamboo, stone, etc. [A study on longevity symbols will reveal that there are a few more than 10; 8 of them seemed standard but the remaining 2 change by speaker, time period and who knows what reasoning.]

On the lowest terrace are two stone tubs or reflecting pools: Hamwolji and Hakhadam, which translate as "a pond containing the moon" and "a pond that reflects the sunset". These are significant within the terraced garden as the tiered garden represent a mountain while the stone reflecting pools symbolize lakes. The decorative motifs on the chimneys are symbolic of the world of plants and animals, and in total, Amisan was the representative garden-world for the higher mortals to linger in the natural world of the immortals.

Rainy Season

Ah, the monsoon season has come again and this particular year is a drowner! For the people living along the eastern coastline and in particular Pusan which in places has been built out another 50+ meters or so on reclaimed land into the East Sea (usually referred to on maps as the Sea of Japan, a name which the Koreans keenly resent due to centuries of historical conflicts), the monsoon season brings the direct hits of typhoons. I remember several years ago a typhoon hit so strongly that it flipped a large vessel along the shore, killing a number of people on board. It was one of the most talked about news stories of that year, but that came after I "believed" in the power of monsoons.

Only familiar with the Michigan Lake effect of thundering storms and powerful winds bringing summer rains, my first experience with the screaming winds and slashing rains of typhoons was my first year in Korea two decades ago. At the time I lived inland in Kwangju and was planning on taking a bus to Pusan to meet a friend and then hopping on a ferry for a trip to Japan. Colleagues warned me of a coming monsoon, but I just pooh-poohed what they said as I thought they were trying to use friendly scare tactics because I was taking an exciting vacation but they weren't. I blithely boarded the bus to Pusan (the last that left the station for Pusan for a few days - a not-so-surprising fact which I found out later). Half-way to Pusan we slowed to a crawl because of deluges of rain and mudslides (notorious in mountain regions on that narrow 4-lane snaking highway). We arrived in Pusan but I was new to Korea and the landmarks I had been told to look out for just weren't visible and of course I had basically zippo Korean. Road sides were littered with half-submerged parked/stalled cars making the place seem full of parking lots, but we could see little beyond the cars. Buses were still able to move forward because their engines were higher off the ground; however, they stayed in the center of the road where the water was not as deep. Even when letting out passengers (almost no one was boarding), they stopped in the middle of the road and people just waded 2-3 feet (if more, the buses wouldn't stop) to the more visible sidewalk.

I was able to communicate that I needed to get off at a certain department store, and so kind Koreans aboard were on the lookout for me and told me when. Well, only murky water swirled where a road should have been but I jumped out into the more than knee-deep water and waded to the sidewalk. Water was horizontal and my Mary Poppin's umbrella was instantly flipped inside-out and my backpack saturated before I could get into a nearby building. And whew! My friend just happened to be passing to exchange our ferry tickets to Japan for the more expensive plane tickets. Of course we wanted the ferry experience so planned on returning that way. And yet, even returning eight or so days later was not a smooth sea-crossing experience. The massive ferry that could transport at least 2,000 had less than 20 people.
We slept alone on a slightly raised open-roomed floor that would normally hold at least 100. Well, I slept. My friend would turn horizontal to the rolling waves, then vertical, then back again, complaining of seasickness. I found the movement rather soothing, at least until I tried to ride a racing horse video game that moved in weird directions while the ship moved in others ... and my head said to GET OFF.

So this rainy season kicked off with another tremendous typhooon, thankfully one that was off-shore. Though in Seoul, a couple hundred kilometers inland, we still received powerful wailing winds, slashing rain and of course flooding. I love taking walks right after a huge rain and so yesterday, the first day that was clear, I zipped outside to the riverside paths. However, the low bridge that headed north was completely submerged. Some fishermen were out enjoying the fishing opportunities from it and the neighboring newly created sandbar and some brave bikers would walk their bike through the water. This young kid actually had the nerve to ride his bike through and get wet by not only the water-tail from the back tire but also the feet from peddling .... but it sure beat just staring across and turning around, because if you walked very far on the riverside paths after deluging rain, you are sure to come across some kind of water barrier.

A Tea Ceremony

The tea ceremony can be greatly ritualized, depending on who and how you are entertaining. The highly ritualized ceremonies were those of gisaeng, Korea's geisha. Even today there are highly ritualized ceremonies but they must be conducted within the aura of the traditional and not in a hotel cafe or brisk place of business. The ceremony is to be conducted with soft soothing music and to be contemplated upon. Having a tea ceremony within the precincts of the traditional palaces with their heavy red pine timbers and polished wooden floors and clockless mulberry papered walls are perfect for the aura necessary for quiet contemplation and the giving of regard and esteem to the person being served.


On holidays, weekends, and for cultural teaching of the Korean young, foreigners, and particularly the foreign wives of Korean men, conducting tea ceremonies has become a popular cultural event. Wandering around in Kyungbokkung Palace between rain-drenching clouds, I happened across such a ceremony; this one aimed primarily at foreigners who wandered far back in the royal precincts and also for the Korean youth. Some couples were in attendance enjoying their couple-time together and probably the 이차 or second dating event of the day (coming to Kyungbokkung was their first as it wss still well before noon when I wandered around), and with more dating events to take place as the day progressed - such is the strange modern and rather materialistic dating culture of the present-day youth.

On a table in front of a palace pavilion with awning stretched above were rows and and rows of tea service trays with white ceramic pots and matching handle-less cups that can easily be nestled in the cupped palm. The services were ready for a multitude of guests to take their tray and sit on designated bamboo mats within the pavillion.

A lady dressed in hanbok conducted the ceremony by explaining the ettiquette in detail ... "at this time pour the tea but smoothly and do not spill a drop", "fill your counterpart's cup before yours", "cradle the cup with your right hand flattened beneath and slowly look into it, enhale its essence and then take a small sip", "do not swallow hastily but enjoy the rich flavor" ... Parents guided children and gave additional instruction. I was too late to participate but watched with some interest a father guiding his 10-year-old daughter in proper tea ceremony conduct and was amused that now the fathers are participating in raising their children as women can hold jobs, and the majority do, after marriage. Of secondary interest were 3 types complimentary rice cakes which I would loved to have nibbled on as I wandered further in the recesses of the palace.

Seocheon, a Little Known Strip of Seoul

Robert J. Frouser, PhD, gave a very interesting slide show with chronological commentary over the past several centuries of a little known area of Seoul, Seocheon, located in a narrow strip next to the famous Kyungbokkung Palace (Palace of Shining Happiness). His titled presentation "Seocheon: Wandering Seoul's Last 'Untouched' Neighborhood" gave insights on the development and growing awareness of this little known but not secluded groupings of hanok (traditional style homes), small shops and new renovations of one-story buildings into artsy galleries.


Location

Kyungbokbung, as the oldest palace in Korea constructed in 1394 by King Taejo, needed court officials to help with the governance of the country. The more prestigous the position of the offical, the more likely he was to live on the eastern side of Kyungbokkung. According to pungsujiri (fengshui), the western side had the Inwhang Mountain, also now known in English as "Witch Mountain", and this mountain had negative qi [refer to picture of Robert Frouser describing the particular qi in the arrangement of the mountains surrounding Hanyang, or present-day Seoul]. Thus, Seocheon (literally "western district") was contructed in the shadow of the latent malevolent forces of Inwhang Mountain, and so more highly positioned officials chose to live in Bukcheon ("eastern district") where benevolence, success and happiness were embued in the topography. As can be guessed also, the Seocheon hanok were smaller and more modestly constructed on postage stamps squares of hilly mountainside land than those built in the more spacious flat area of Bukcheon.

Interesting Points about Seocheon
The year following the construction of Kyungbokkung, Sajik-dan (the neo-Confucian shrine for soil and grain ceremonies and for funeral rites) was built nestled at the northwestern corner of the palace and in the foothills of Inwhang Mountain directly north of what quickly became the housing area for lower court officials, their families and (unlike in the more reserved, higher statused Bukcheon) small groceries and shops for conveniences. The dwellers in the Seocheon district were not above mercantilism as were the Bukcheon-ites who wanted an atmosphere to reflect their scholarship and distance from the work of the lower statused.

Seocheon, though extremely narrow, had one particular advantage, that is, the area was the headwater of Cheongyechoen, the stream that flows through the heart of Seoul and was covered over in 1976 with a 16-lane highway and finally uncovered and restored to "green" glory in 2005. As was the Cheongyecheon, the headwater and other streams in Seocheon were also slowly covered over beginning in the 1930s to allow housing space for the growing influx of people migrating in the capital.

Even before the covering of the streams, the housing constructions changed in Seoul. With postage stamp squares for homes, the more flamboyant wings of roof tiles and the central open madang (garden) were reduced to accommodate reduced housing units, and thus was born a new style of hanok, what Robert Frouser refers to as the "city hanok", a more utilitarian style of house for cramped city living. What is unique then as still is true is the alleys that meander through the postage stamp plots. These alleys retain the same lines as they have for the past few centuries. Until just last year, the Korean government was making a huge push to modernize Seocheon as it is systematically doing of all of Korea ... tear down the old and build up new and bigger and "better". According to Peter Bartholomew on a similar lecture on Korean architecture [see Dec 12, 2009], only 3% of the hanok that stood after the Korean War still stand today, mainly due to the "carpet bombing and rebuilding" (Frouser's very appropriate description) of ridding the culture of the old to make way for the new-and-improved.

Anyway, as of 2010 the Korean government started to see Seocheon as an area that can be utilized to tout Korean history, although it's my and many others' opinion that when something gets recognized as "originally Korean and exportable to the public", the ugly or unpleasantness of it gets white-washed and the history gets presented as something gloriously "sterile". An example, the commoners (that is, the majority of people) of Joseon dynasty wore white and were not allowed to wear colored hanbok with each color represented position, season, gender and many other factors and so colored hanbok were only for statused individuals. However, when people in museums are portrayed in the Joseon dynasty, they are very frequently presented in a colored hanbok, a gross misrepresentation of an era, and one that confers status and "cultural respect" on the glossy history. Anyway, it is yet to be revealed how the Korean government will "rebuild" Seocheon, but it can be guessed that the present brick walls will take on the sterile chunking of gray concrete with light plaster fill like those already surrounding the renovated five palaces and in the re-created Bukcheon area. However, the unique focus of Seocheon is 3-fold: the streams, the alleys and the hanok.

Seocheon, due to its proxemics to the palace, emissaries and its spider-alleyed pathways disappearing into a multitude of tiny doors, not to mention the negative forces of qi filling the area has at times caused the government keep its eye on the comings and goings of the densely populated narrow district. Especially after the 1968 Blue House attack when North Korean commandoes came within 80 meters of the Blue House, Seocheon was awarded with the special privilege of a strictly enforced curfew of 10pm while the rest of Korea was allowed an additional two hours to get off the streets for the night. The curfew has long since been lifted but the new threat of development (galleries, shops for tourists, etc) endanger yet another area of Seoul where housing was once cheap for the very young and the elderly but where, with the development and price hikes, those present occupants are threatened with losing their homes. (One old man still lives in his simple house although homes all around have been torn down. He has no electricity, water or heating, but HE STILL HAS A HOME.)