On
Thursday, Mark and I decided to take a trip up to the Korean
Independence
Hall, a sprawling museum complex dedicated to telling the story of
the
nation's neverending struggle to remain free of foreign influence. It
was
quite an amazing place.
Mark
was wrapped up administering final exams, so we didn't get out of
Daejon
until almost 3:30. I entertained myself with more soap operas in the
interim.
Those dastardly mother-in-laws were really starting to fry my crumb.
The
drive up took almost 45 minutes by expressway, and the Hyundai was
running
on fumes by the time we finally found a gas station. Mark's Korean is
nonexistent
even after 10 months of living in-country, and I had no wish to to
attempt
to communicate with emergency road assistance via my crappy phrasebook.
We
finally got there around 4:15 and paid our admission fee of KRW 2000
(about
$1.75). They gave us each an english brochure that described the hall
in
hilariously florid prose more than vaguely reminiscent of bad erotica.
Here's
a sample:
"An
immortal Korean spirit came alive with a gust of passion!"
The
place was simply incredible. To reach the main complex, we had to walk
about
a half-mile across a sprawling plaza before reaching the main building,
a
gargantuan stone pagoda wherein resided a glorious statue in the the
style
of the Social Realists. The atmosphere was charged with fervent
patriotism,
overt propaganda and not a little sabre-rattling.
The
pagoda was ringed by several exhibit halls with names like, The Hall of
the
National Heritage, The Hall of the Social and Cultural Movement, and
The
Hall of the March First Independence. Lest anyone doubt the Korean's
fervent
hatred of their former colonialist oppressors, The Hall of the Japanese
Agression,
made it abundantly clear in how much contempt they're still held. The
exhibit
contained a particularly grueling and bloody exhibit of Japanese
torture
techniques that were being enthusiastically viewed by small children,
along
with ferocious battle scenes re-enacted in miniature. However,
the
most peculiar (and disgusting) aspect of the place for me was the fact
that the entire grounds of the park reeked of pig manure!
There
was also a huge pond filled with the biggest Koi fish that I've ever
seen.
The grounds were swarming with Korean schoolkids who all kept yelling
at
us in English, "Hello!, where are you from? I am from Korea!" Although
I
tried to accomodate them at first, it got annoying pretty quickly and I
just
ignored them.
We
stayed for about an hour, then drove back. Just as we were approaching
his
apartment, Mark's car broke down. His lights began to dim and the A/C
stopped
working, then the engine stalled out. Apparently, his alternator went
bad
and drained the battery. However, we were able to push it off the road
and
into a parking spot. He blamed me, of course.
We
walked back to his pad in the pouring rain, changed out of our wet
duds,
then walked back into town to eat some dinner. We found a little sushi
place
where the chef hacked up a live, squirming flounder before our very
eyes.
Yummy! That did a number on my appetite, but I ate it anyway, and I
have
to admit that it doesn't get any fresher! I dropped one of the pieces
in
my soy sauce and splashed it all over my shirt, much to the amusement
of
the other restaurant patrons.