My rookie status in Korea meant that I hadn't known about, and therefore hadn't planned anything for the famed Korean Thanksgiving holiday- Chuseok. In a nation that prides itself on having fewer public holidays than just about any other in the world, sitting around scrolling through the 3 English TV channels during the longest national vacation on the calendar is simply not an option. So I began researching worthy itineraries. Japan, China, Thailand. It became evident that the 49 million native Koreans had been doing similar such research since the New Year, and the months that they had on me showed up in the prices of flights. When a 90 minute flight to Shanghai came in at $1000, I knew that the prospect of international travel was a long-shot. I lowered my gaze to Korean destinations, Jeju island perhaps? Not a single flight, ferry or fishing trawler seemed to have an open seat. It was then that my Korean teachers came to the rescue, not for the first time nor the last. They told me about an island to the East, in the sea of Japan, (although they refuse to call it this.) I accepted the proposal on the spot, between school periods, and handed over my credit card. "Do it."
Later that night we began our journey, and it required everything from us that any journey possibly could. Train, Taxi, Ferry and Bus would all come into play if we were to make it to the island. It was harrowing, draining, utterly boring. All in all it would take us 10 hours to reach the fishing isle of Ulleungdo. It had shattered all perceptions of this country being accessible and easy to navigate. I hoped for some sun, which seemed to have submitted to the forces of looming winter and had been steadily migrating south every morning. I held thumbs that the 4 vessels carrying us to our destination would all string together and actually complete the trip. And most importantly I prayed that the Japs would not be mounting their hostile take-over of Dokdo Island on this particular holiday- where would that leave an African travelling on the green mamba?
Ulleungdo is a strange place, famous for its dried-squid and pumpkin; a bizarre combination that made me suspicious of what else, if anything, the small community had in its arsenal. It's a volcanic island that boasts beautiful coastlines as well as lush rainforest, but concedes handicaps such as no fresh water and notoriously poor weather. We arrived in typical such conditions, scattered showers and dense fog that eliminated any hope of an enchanted arrival on the scene. In a flurry of Korean that my phrase-book hadn't managed to cover we were whisked off by officials onto the island, all 500 of us down the platform like a hoard of nineteenth-century Irish immigrants onto the docks of New York- and in similar shape. A handful of tour-guides arrived and as the masses descended upon them I was dragged by Judy, my travel companion/translator/work-colleague towards a weedy looking local bearing a sign with our names. Upon seeing us he turned and like a Sherpa began the ascent into the foothills of the mountain which held the town; a modest arrangement of deteriorating buildings that offered basic accommodation and a population ratio of 1 man to every 146 dried squid. We were staying in a minbak, a set-up that I had first been exposed to at Daechon Beach in my first week. It is a room with (very)basic fascilities, and a pile of bedding folded up in one corner which you lay out on the floor when ready for a nap. I still haven't wrapped my head around where exactly in far Eastern evolution the Korean's missed out on the common bedspread- but today the minbak is as much a part of life as kimchi. For illustrative purposes, our accommodation was a typical motel room, without beds. There wasn't much time for pussy-footing around though as we had unwittingly struck the jackpot and arrived on a day that the weather had permitted a trip to the nearby Dokdo Island. This, our Sherpa told us was a rarity and not to be missed. So we once again boarded the Ocean Flower and hoisted our travel time for the day from 10 hours to 14 as we headed further East towards the mystical islet
Dokdo Island is an extremely contentious point among the Koreans. They regard is as a symbol of National independence, perhaps the only foreign territory that they can lay claim to. But the Japs are closing in. Suspicion of hidden minerals and resources has drawn in the old-enemy and they appear to have a similar attitude to Korea's claim over the land as they do towards the world when it comes to the whaling issue. "Try and stop us". Their claim to Dokdo rides on the fact that it lies in the Sea of Japan, the mere declaration of which makes the Koreans furious. They have never recognized the name, and maintain that the waters are called the East Sea. So perhaps it is a constant fear of losing the Island the way that they have lost their history, palaces and pride to the Japanese which has created a massive demand to see the place- and given it a mythical status. Think Mecca to the Muslims, and you'll get an idea of the magnitude of importance. In any case, I was assured that the gods must be shining down on me to allow this. I had several Koreans hugging me in anticipation, but certain fanatics looking cynically in my direction the way an Escort pig farmer would look at a Hilton Soutie fiddling with his braai.
As we neared the island the captain sympathetically explained over the PA that the seas were too rough and that we could pass by, but that nobody could set foot on land. This didn't go down well with mob. My translator was furiously decoding the obscenities that were being thrown at officials, some of which simply could not be translated into English. Stern requests quickly transformed into threats of a riot, some passengers promising to throw themselves from the vessel and swim to shore. I imagined that this was what Loftus Versveld must be like when Clyde Rathbone scores a try and gives the crowd the finger. In the end, the masses prevailed and the captain was forced to negotiate. Thirty minutes ashore was the compromise and when those doors opened, all hell broke loose. Toddlers were thrown across the pass rail like old apple cores as troops unloaded onto the beach like soldiers on Dunkirk- but with more of a cause.
Once on solid volcanic ground there was a lull as people took in what surrounded them- the eye of the storm. And following this was a vicious explosion of Nikon-fueled lightening, blinding to the naked eye. If you have seen Korean tourists capturing something of interest on film, then you can imagine what 500 of them would look like when presented with a national treasure. We had to duck for cover after sifting through a crowd that would surely have stampeded us were they not all Korean and therefore 4 foot tall. We too were recording this moment, but with a dash more moderation and perspective. When evaluating the beauty of this place, I was a bit disappointed. The weather had not done it justice, and perhaps in glorious sunlight it would have looked like a tropical paradise. But in truth it was grey and dreary. We could not ascend the summit which meant that the view was limited to sea level, and with such time constraints we spent our 30 minutes dashing around for snapshots like an KTV kid on Reggies' Rush. It was another one of those places that would slot into the folder named, "places to say you've been" rather than "places to see." Before very long there was a Stalin-like voice booming across the island, accompanied by a siren and I hoped that it translated to, "Comrades, ze Germans are coming!" As anticipated though, it was the captain now putting his foot down with his own threats to leave behind any stragglers as he was leaving in 5 minutes. We hustled back to the ferry, dodging Korean elders kissing the ground and paying homage to whichever animal-god had delivered this gift to them. It must have been a weasel.
NB Fact - My Korean birth animal is the Tiger. That's right.
Pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/aidan.johnson2/Ulleungdo?authkey=Gv1sRgCLSLj5CvsPbBngE#
