Showing posts with label photos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label photos. Show all posts

Sunday, November 6, 2011

a deck of carts

On the way to fellowship last Tuesday night, I ran into a guy who was also going to the same place. He showed me a side street that avoids some of the construction nearest our destination. As we rounded the corner of our detour, I saw four or five carts turned up and stored for the night. They were rusty and ragged except for a band of color down the sides. Beautiful symmetry. I stopped and gazed at them for a few seconds. My company didn't realize I had quit walking until he turned around and saw me fixated on what he probably appraised as glorified wheelbarrows.

It was too dark to get a photo, and I was without my camera, but I knew I'd be back.

I left my apartment about 30 minutes early this morning. I wanted enough time to get some photos of what tempted me on Tuesday night. The diffused morning light made me hopeful. And yes, they were there. A few people passed by and stopped to look at what I was doing, more curious about the crouching stranger with camera than about what might be captivating her. Why does something have to be glossy and sequined for people to pay attention to it?

I think dingy splintered wheelbarrows are much more intriguing.


Sunday, October 16, 2011

the DMZ: a trip unlike any other

Korea* is the only divided country in the world. The polarizing 148-mile line crosses the 38th Parallel and is considered the most heavily fortified border on the planet. There is an unnerving silence that hovers over the 2.5 miles of cease-fire territory known as the DMZ (demilitarized zone), while armed guards of opposing governments stand within feet of one another, neither crossing the cement demarcation line. The Korean War is still, technically, a war. An armistice established in 1953 ushered in the last 50+ years of more silent aggression, most currently utilizing technological warfare.

Venturing closer to the DMZ, there are echoes from the past that still claim rightful ownership of modern fears: anti-tank obstacles line roads that are considered arteries to and from the borders and are designed to explode into debris to block incoming tanks; barbed wire and posts sheltering conscripts with binoculars dot the banks of the Han River; motion-detecting flood lights rise tall above the water's edge, poised to illuminate anything that trips the sensors; four secret tunnels discovered between 1974-1990 by the South are believed to have been dug by the North as infiltration measures capable of moving up to 30,000 soldiers each...in under an hour. One of the tunnels is now available as a tour elective, though I'm pretty sure you don't get a chance to purchase a photo at the end of the ride.

There are two military checkpoints required for all tours. One is just past the Han River; the other is located within the first gate of Camp Bonifas, the UN military base. At Camp Bonifas, tours must deboard from commercial buses and reboard on a military bus driven by an armed soldier. From that point forward, the military makes all decisions, including when and where cameras may be used. Photos are allowed only at certain junctures, and visitors are strongly warned against gesturing, pointing or making any sort of movement which might provoke the DPRK soldiers that are watching from all angles on the other side of the border. No one is allowed off the bus at unsanctioned stops. The area is peppered by landmines and any deviation from the route is a death wish. The only benefit to such restrictive surroundings is the freedom now available to wildlife. Within the overgrown ruins and hidden detonators of the DMZ, endangered plant and animal species have thrived, making a slight mockery of the intentions of both sides.

The apex of the tour is stepping into Panmunjeon, one of three neutral buildings where negotiations are made between North and South. Its small size is compensated by bright blue paint. One half is occupied by the North and one half by the South. There is an understanding that whenever one country has tourists inside the building, military from the other side patrol the outer half with freedom to through the windows. That didn't mean much to me until one moment in which I was taking a picture of a stoic UN soldier inside the building. As I brought the camera away from my face, I glanced up to see a pair of North Korean eyes fastened on me from outside the window five feet away. Neither of us gave way to expression. It seemed as though we were both ghosts for a moment. His gaze left me and settled on someone else, but I stood there for a few seconds taking in the sharp angles of his face and how they matched the equally sharp angles of his muted green suit, polished medals and hat. Those from the North who are stationed at the DMZ are surely some of the most brawny and well-fed in a country suffering from mass starvation; likewise, the South also selects physically superior soldiers who meet or exceed the required 5'8" stature (American counterparts must stand a little taller - six feet, minimum.). A black belt in martial arts is also requisite. Adding to the intimidation tactic is the staple pair of black opaque aviators given to each South Korean lookout. Those along the border stand at attention with clenched fists. I have no idea how long the rotation lasts, but it must be exhausting to maintain such a posture for hours at a time. Those guys might celebrate more than anyone if and when the war finally comes to an end.

*Image source: http://www.cnn.com/WORLD/9803/13/nkorea.mobilize/map.html

From our tour bus, we began to see the increased military presence as we traveled closer to the border.

lookouts along the Han River

a memorial erected in the peace park located on the South Korean side; used by families to remember loved ones whose graves are across the border

messages for peace and unification

Caught in an ambush during the Korean War, this locomotive was riddled with over 1000 shells. Only the conductor survived.

These four statues represent the generations of South Koreans looking toward the North, waiting for unification.

Panmunjeon. The leftmost blue building is where negotiations are held. The large building on the opposite side is Panmungak, belonging to North Korea.

The red arrow in this photo points to the military demarcation line that divides the two countries.

Inside Panmunjeon, we were guarded by South Korean and U.S. military, representing the U.N.

a DPRK guard

DPRK guards marching

a UN soldier guarding the door that opens to the North

THE AXE MURDER INCIDENT: This plaque stands in place of a former poplar tree that was cut down in 1976. The tree became an obstruction to a checkpoint on the Southern side, so guards were ordered to prune it. In the process, they were confronted by opposing soldiers and a battle ensued. Two Americans were killed in the skirmish, including Captain Arthur Bonifas (after whom the base is named). The tree was felled three days later and replaced by a memorial. Since that time, the military demarcation line has been strictly enforced, with only the blue buildings within the Joint Security Area (JSA) being allowed any exception.

The Bridge of No Return was used primarily to exchange POWs at the "end" of the Korean War in 1953. Each prisoner was given a choice between the two countries, but once the choice was made, there was no going back. In the end, 13,444 chose to return to the North and 89,493 chose to return to the South.














Saturday, October 15, 2011

Hello...Kitty

Hello Kitty is Japanese. Because of course it is. But that doesn't mean that Kitty Whimsy can't be found on a backstreet of one of Seoul's eclectic artsy collegiate neighborhoods. Don't even bother to ask if we indulged in Kitty waffles and Kitty coffee.




More amusing than the cafe itself is the le clientele.






glimpses of Seoul

I'm back in China, but life never promised to slow down for a week's vacation, so as soon as I landed, I had to pick up the work that accumulated while I was gone.

While I'm still digging out from the rubble of email, here are some scenes from our two visits to Seoul.





Pay attention to the restaurant "seats." This is taking multi-tasking in a dangerous direction:





Stole my heart...

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Time Out

What do I do when my week is filled with obligations and grading? I invite seven students over for waffles, pancakes and a few rounds of Mexican Train (a game involving dominoes) -- none of which they have ever tried.







Wednesday, June 22, 2011

SHOILETS

Beginning September 2011, our team of three will become a team of five as we add a married couple to our group. Instead of living in the dorm with us, they will live up the street in campus apartments. The Canuck and I went to investigate the place yesterday to make sure that it meets contract standards. Since I took photos to share with the new tenants, I thought the slideshow might interest anyone who has no idea what a shoilet is (shower + toilet with no defined space in between), how small Chinese kitchens are, or why foreigners are amazed at having only one electrical outlet for an entire room.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Harbin lightning

Two friends and I were finishing up a pretty pathetic game of badminton last night when we noticed the wind shifting and distant flashes in the sky. Being from Georgia, I was quick to label it heat lightning. As you can see by the photo, I was wrong.

(I don't know who took the photo, but I found it today through a friend's blog.)

Monday, June 13, 2011

signs of summer

The main gate of our campus serves as a rendezvous point for many lunch and dinner meetings. As I was waiting for my student to arrive last night, I glanced at the front lawn of our iconic main building and realized that I was staring at something I've never seen in China: a gas-powered lawnmower.

And then I noticed that I wasn't the only one staring. There was a slight crowd of 12-15 people stopping to watch the monotonous activity of two hooded female workers carving parallel lines through the grass. I don't know if they were more transfixed by the lawnmowers or by the little oasis of greenery among a sea of steel and concrete. Forty or fifty years ago, grass and flora, in general, were almost unheard of. Trees, shrubs and anything bourgeois were ripped up, cut down, burned or shredded. Gardens bloomed only in memories. So...the sight of lush green turf growing at a State-run institution today is, well, perhaps worth stopping to watch and silently celebrate.


Sunday, June 12, 2011

backseat's back, alright!


a typical Chinese classroom full of typical Chinese students with a slightly atypical teacher

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Just another typical Harbin day.

CLICK ON IMAGE FOR HIGHER RESOLUTION.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

That's not a sepia filter...

Just another sandstorm from Inner Mongolia sweeping through the city.


Photos courtesy of Xinhuanet and China Daily.







Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Before the world wakes up

On the days that I have 8 a.m. classes, my alarm goes off at 4:30. Getting out of bed is no Disney fairy tale; ain't no melodious array of enchanted forest creatures warbling along with the growing rays of dawn.

It's me, yawning through the first well-rehearsed steps of preparing coffee, shuffling my slippers across a tiled kitchen floor that wears stains of the past week's cooking battles.

It's me, darkening the door frame that separates living room from kitchen.

It's me, being invited to the window by the unexpected realization that the sky was looking back at me for the first time in months.

4:30 isn't easy, but it has a silent majesty that only a few eyes get to see. I was glad to be one of them today.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

changing lenses

Putting things away until my return in three weeks, I noticed a massive encrustant of ice around the outer pane of my bedroom window. Maybe I should've cursed the shoddy insulation; maybe I should've used it as an excuse to be even more anxious to fly toward warmer temperatures. But for the few moments that I was standing in my bedroom, poised behind a camera and tripod, all I saw was frozen poetry.

P.S. - And in case you're wondering if I threw the big piece out the window (last photo), NO, I didn't. I put it in the blender and made an Orange Julius.