I Left My Heart in the Paws of Kim J: Dandong Part 3

TWELVE WONDROUS, RESTFUL HOURS LATER.

After what might be the best sleep I have ever gotten, the next morning we headed to the Tiger Mountain Great Wall. The actual wall has been restored and lacks the remote locale and ancient feel of other sections of the wall. However, this area's biggest draw is that its peak looks out onto North Korea. We climbed stair after stair along with busloads of Chinese tourists. Yet we made it up much faster than any of them. I was starting to feel so accomplished...that is until I looked down.

Tiger Mountain rises out of the mist.

I had come prepared to hike, wearing nothing less than my very stylish running shoes. The Chinese women, on the other hand, were wearing sundresses and heels. Not like cute little wedges, but pumps--4 inch heels that would cause me to lose my balance on flat ground. If foot-binding is really a thing of the past, why on earth do these women insist on torturing their feet?

4-inch pumps are OBVIOUSLY a good idea when the stairs look like a sheer cliff.

Well, largely due to what I guess would cause slight (read: EXTREME) discomfort, most of the Chinese turned around after reaching the highest point. Not us. We continued on the path down the other side of the mountain--the side that faced the Yalu River estuary. The trail quickly morphed into an obstacle course, with bad footing and tight squeezes that required all of our attention. We were so focused that we didn't even realize where we were until we were up against a barbed fence. The fence was marked with a sign, proclaiming that this was the National Border of the P.R.C. and the D.P.R.K. Past the fence was the river and the North Korean side's fence. After asking my friends whether the the river could be considered North Korean land (they said yes), I sprinted down towards it and placed my foot in it (really my shoe: I want to go to North Korea, not get some freakish disease from contaminated water. Duh). So my right foot's been to North Korea. Has yours? Didn't think so.

There was a warning sign before this bridge. When something in China is considered dangerous, it's probably LETHAL.

Notice: 1)INTENSE; 2)It's in English. Obviously it's the Americans, not the Chinese, who would want to cross the border.

Requisite artsy shot through barbed wire.

Yeah. That's North Korea. NBD.

I might have stayed there or waded out deeper into the water if I hadn't spotted a small hut a couple hundred meters inland on the North Korean side.

"I just saw two people move in that hut" 魏德 warned.

My first reaction was to ignore him...that is until I remembered a line from my Lonely Planet guidebook: "Close up, the border fence on the DPRK side looks like a less-then-effective barrier, but don't try to test it; a gun-toting soldier may suddenly appear"...Yeah, I think I'll pass on that gun-toting soldier. So I removed my foot and headed back onto the trail.

I spy with my little eye...A SPY!

The trail weaved alongside the river, eventually bringing us back to the parking lot, where we hailed cabs and headed back to Dandong. After lunch and an intense Tesco run (15 hours on a train=breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks), we walked to the buxing jie, Dandong's pedestrian street. The street was filled with people shopping and old Chinese people dancing. Halfway down the street was a zhenzhu naicha--Bubble Tea--stand with literally hundreds of flavors, including Watermelon, Blueberry, Coffee, Peanut Butter, Green Tea, etc... Being the indecisive person I am, it took me forever to decide on a flavor. And obviously I chose the original flavor...it's name is even diyi weidao, #1 flavor.

Buxing Jie: home to bubble tea, elderly Chinese people dancing, and puppies.

Sipping my tea and strolling down the road, my eyes zoomed in on a crate holding 4 balls of fluffy adorableness: PUPPIES! Eyes wide and mouth open I ran over to the dogs and began to blubber about how cute they were. My mind was moving a million miles a minutes, and pretty soon I had my plan all figured out:

I would name the dog Kim J--the obvious choice--and he would sit on my lap for the 15 hour train ride. Then I would hide him in my dorm in Harbin for four weeks. I'm pretty sure my budget for food under the Light Fellowship could cover Kim J and I, so that would be no problem. The no-pets rule at the dorm could be overlooked because I would hide him in my backpack whenever I took him outside. And when he starts to grow, I can transfer him to my massive hiking pack. He would have to be quarantined once we returned to the US, but after that we would live happily ever after in my dorm back at TD...

"BUT..."

With that fatal word, my dreams of happiness were crushed by my so-called friends. But it would be too difficult. But I would get in trouble. But the 15 hour train ride would be impossible. But, but, but, but, but....

(SIGH)

After a long, painful, parting embrace, I kissed Kim J goodbye and walked away, leaving my heart in his adorable little paws.

Kim J: I will always love you.

Though still heartbroken during dinner, I began to feel better when we returned to the waterfront to see the light and fountain show. This was Saturday night and even more people were out along the water, dancing and sending red lanterns up into the sky. Yet, however brighter and louder Dandong was, the North Korean side appeared that much more depressing (well real it didn't appear at all...there were still no lights to be seen).

Later that evening we returned to our wonderful beds and said goodnight.

THREE WONDROUS, RESTFUL HOURS LATER.

Yeah, not quite as nice as 12 hours. But our train was at 6:40AM, so we had to be up to check out at 5:30. We got to the train station and the time to board arrived. The miserable ride to Dandong flashed across my mind and my entire body winced. You know those scenes in horror movies where you see the characters open the door and walk into what's obviously a haunted house, and all you're thinking is, "Don't do it! How could you be so stupid?"...Well that's what my conscience was saying as a sat back down in my yingzuo hardseater.

The ride, though much more tolerable than to Dandong, was still 15 hours. I went through the phases of discomfort, stiffness, cabin fever, delirium, and finally ecstasy when we finally rolled into the Harbin station at 9:30PM.

Overall, the weekend was incredible in every way. I didn't make it into the heart of Pyongyang, but I saw North Korea (and my foot entered the country). All I know is when it comes to Dandong, I'll be back. And until then, don't mind me if I create a DIY North Korean passport stamp.

From North Korea with Love. Kim and I 4eva.

Aggressive American Imperialists and North Korean Fembots: Dandong Part 2

With my friends and new identity--Amelie from Paris--I set off for the Museum to Commemorate the War to Resist American Aggression and Aid Korea (try to say that name 5 times fast). The museum sits atop a large hill on the outskirts of town. The height of the hill is exaggerated by the large monument perched on its top.

The view of Dandong from the Museum.

The monument, a sort of obelisk surrounded by statues of soldiers in action, is a rather blunt reminder that this is, in fact, a war museum. Yet instead of the solemn or even proud faces seen in most American war monuments, these soldiers seemed to glare and scream. One soldier's mouth was wide open, as if screaming while he wound up to hurl a giant rock at some enemy. Another soldier, wearing a Russian-style hat, was hurtling his sword over his head, about to decapitate the soldier below him. His eyes were wide, mouth was open, and he was apparently moving with such momentum that even the flaps on his hat had flown up in the air.

WHY SO SERIOUS?

From the moment we entered the museum until when we left about 75 minutes later, we did not see another non-Chinese person. Most were in large tour groups, but the six of us were able to dart through the groups (obviously not without glares and stares) and managed to make it through most of the museum, largely aided by the English translations on all signs and labels.

"The US imperialists were forced to hold armistice talks, which laid a solid foundation for the victory of the Korean War"--totally objective


Homefront Barbie sits at home eagerly awaiting the return of Korean Ken, the communist Volunteer.

Panoramic war scene of the Korean victory...ummmm...

The English translations, based on my efforts to look at the Chinese signs, were pretty accurate...but that only made them more disconcerting. I'm not so naive that I think American war museums are free from bias, but this took bias to a whole new level. The word American or enemy never stood alone; there was always an accompanying epithet like, "imperialists," "arrogant," or "aggressive." The Americans were an army, while the Chinese were "volunteers" who still managed to "annihilate the arrogant enemy" and win the war.

I'm not an expert, but that's definitely not what I remember from history class.

The thing is, right and wrong aside, it would be tough to walk out of the museum and NOT despise Americans if that was the only story you knew. Hence our new personas. The visitors to the museum were being fed a steady diet of anti-American propaganda, which made me feel like instead of the usual "ooh, foreigners" look, we were really getting the "ooh, arrogant imperialists" look. And it's not a very nice look.

Walking out of the museum, we were all a little quiet and more solemn...that is until 裴佳诗 and石柏峰 eyed the playground of old war planes an bombers. Their eyes lit up and jaws dropped in unison. Both reached for their wallets and sprinted for the field. The various rusty and outdated pieces of equipment kept them occupied for about 45 minutes, at which point we headed back down the hill to the Pingrang gaoli fandian--the Pyongyang Gaoli Restaurant. The Pyongyang restaurant is owned by the North Korean government, or the Dear Leader Kim J himself. The restaurant was easy to spot because of the DPRK flag above its entrance.

A joint venture restaurant brought to you by two countries that don't really believe in capitalism...makes sense, right?

I knew from reading about the restaurant that it was a propaganda attempt, an effort to make North Korea seem more impressive to its Chinese neighbors. So my thought was, if you have one shot to impress a country, you had better go all out, right? I figured there would be light shows, opera singers, million dollar paintings, and 3-star Michelin food. WRONG.

The restaurant was really a small, bare room with a single picture on the wall. The sterile environment was only made worse by the North Korean robots waitresses. These waitresses were all strikingly beautiful, but their faces were totally lacking any sort of emotion. They spoke very little Chinese and even moved in a slightly unnatural, jerky movement. I was half expecting them to be like Dr. Evil's fembots and knock us unconscious with sleeping gas that would come out of their...well you know...

乐然 must feign a smile...OR ELSE!

Frightened by the robots, uncomfortable in the waiting room-esque environment, and overwhelmed by the pricy food, we ordered 2 dishes and agreed to get 包子 elsewhere afterwards. The two dishes were sliced beef and dog meat.

Hold on. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

I'm just as carnivorous as the next person (see my Tiger Attack post), but I draw the line well before dog. When the food came, the general consensus (of which I was not a part) was that the dog was okay...a little chewy, but nothing too special. BLECH.

Dog meat. EWWWW.

We quickly evacuated the room and took a deep breath, out of reach of the North Korean fembots' deadly clutches. We found a small stand for a real dinner of delicious 包子, after which we headed back to the Yalu River. At this point it was dark out...well, except for the park alongside the river. Groups of people danced, red lanterns floated through the sky, the bridge flashed red, green, blue, and orange neon lights, music blasted from speakers, and a light and waterworks show spurted out from the river about 5 yards from the walkway.

The Yalu River Bridge lit up at night.

And Hu Jintao said, "Let there be light!"

What's the occasion? Oh well, you know, it's just another night in China.

I was so distracted by the lights and sounds that it took me a few minutes to realize that there was absolutely NOTHING on the North Korean side. No lights. No sounds. If I hadn't known that there was already land there, I would have guessed that it we were looking out on open ocean.

It really brought a whole new meaning to the Dark Side.

The comparison between the two sides--already pretty striking during the day--is incredible at night, thanks mainly to the spectacle that China throws alongside the river. It's as if China throws it for the North Koreans, but doesn't invite them. More like a tempting and taunting, "Look what we have that you don't." So much for good Chinese-North Korean relations.

Exhausted, we headed back to our incredibly comfortable hotel rooms. It was time to rest and save up strength before we headed to Tiger Mountain for our last full day in Dandong...

B.O., Bieber, and oh yeah, NORTH KOREA: Dandong Part 1

Way back in June, my heart was crushed by the Chinese consulate in New York City. Why? They gave me a SINGLE entry visa, which meant that a trip to North Korea was out of the question. Although I was devastated, my parents seemed quite pleased, since for some unknown reason, a trip to North Korea seems like a bad idea to them. Anyway, I'm pretty sure my parents have some 关系, guanxi, and pulled strings in the Consulate to ensure that I could NOT go to North Korea. Mom and Dad, I don't know how you did it, but touché.

Fast forward 6 weeks: guess who beat the system? :) What now Chinese Consulate?

Through the right mix of luck, Chinese skills, and planning, five other kids in my program and I headed to Dandong for the weekend. Dandong is a pretty large city that sits on the Yalu River--yalu jiang--right across from NORTH KOREA. Chinese people can go into the DPRK with much more ease than Americans, so there is trade between the two sides over the river, though it's pretty one-sided.

So on Thursday night at 9PM the six of us boarded a train armed with snacks and yingzuo--hard seat--tickets for a 12 hour train-ride. Yingzuo tickets were cheap ($9 for a 12 hour train-ride? Chris Christie, if you're reading this, take note), and we figured, how bad could they be? Maybe I should have taken the hint when my teacher laughed at me after telling her that we had hard seaters. But nevermind that.

We boarded the train, and BOOM! We hit a wall of B.O., half-naked men, and more people than should be crammed in an sort of enclosed space. EVER. Each of us shoved through waves of sweaty skin and found our seats, which had 6 random Chinese people sitting in them! Apparently there are yingzuo tickets, and then there standing tickets. Some people take the standing literally--hence the pushing through waves of people--but there are also people who will do ANYTHING possible to sit down. Which means that people sit on top of the seats or bring their own stools to sit on the floor.

How many people can you fit in a train car? Answer the question and then add about 100. Voila!

Can you move a little closer? I feel so distant from everyone.

Awkward family photo?

Garbage disposal system on the train? The ground. Yummy and sanitary.

Somehow we could all tolerate the people whose butts were essentially in our faces, but one woman would not leave. She parked her stool between our benches and sat. First she just sat between our legs, giving us the quintessential "ooohhh, foreigners" glare. Then she asked to touch my hair and 魏德's hair. The woman refused to believe that 魏德's short black curls and my thick, unmanageable waves were real, so she turned to 乐然, who was sitting across from us, to gossip about our hair and how it was actually fake. OH HELL NO. You can't just sit on my feet and insult my hair. My instinct was to go Jerry Springer on her, but I ground my teeth and ignored--that is until she decided that the spot above my head was an ideal seat. Really? REALLY? Sputtering in Chinese I began to scream, but it was no use. 魏德 joined in giving her a fierce glare and shouting in a voice about 3 octaves below his normal one. 下去吧! Maybe it was his voice, maybe his potentially fake, black curls, or maybe his fierce, Zoolander-esque Blue Steel glare, but 魏德 scared her and she sat back down. Moral of the story: don't mess with a 耶鲁大学生. With hair and debating skills infinitely better than your own, they will come out on top. End of story.

Detente continued until the woman exited the train, though the rest of the train is just an uncomfortable blur in my memory. I know it was long. My feet cramped. My ankles were swollen. And I was delirious. But at 9AM on Friday, we FINALLY reached the promised land: 丹东--Dandong.

Mao Zedong himself greeted us at the train station. FYI, we're kind of a big deal.

A giant Mao Zedong statue welcomed us with open arms at the train station. If I could have, I would have kissed him (and would likely have been promptly arrested). We hailed cabs and within minutes were at our hotel which was on the waterfront, ie across from North Korea.

Let me repeat that: ACROSS FROM NORTH KOREA.

Dandong, a reasonably sized Chinese city, has tall buildings, wide streets, and a beautiful park along the river. Horns honk, people talk. It's a happy little city. Now let's look across the river: a few dark, creepy buildings and smokestacks. No sounds or lights. It looks like a deserted town with a ferris wheel. The ferris wheel, clearly an attempt to make North Korea appear like a happy place, just adds to the eeriness. It doesn't move at any time of the day and it sits across the river from a bigger Chinese ferris wheel that turns all day. Basically it's like a scene from a horror movie or a deserted fairground.

NORTH KOREA

Half blown up bridge + ferris wheel that doesn't work = Final Destination: North Korea

The bridge on the right cares traffic to North Korea. The one on the right was blown up and never rebuilt. Obviously a promising gesture towards good diplomatic relations.

We check out the river and plotted our afternoon, so that after a much-needed nap we headed to the wharf on the Yalu River. We negotiated with a boat driver and then the six of us pulled on life jackets and hopped into a small motor boat.

Ignoring one jittery passenger (I'm looking at you, 白若诗), our driver simultaneously sped up and turned up some dance mix music. Circling around the Short Bridge, which was blown up by the Americans during the Korean War, we slid up a few yards from the shore. The shore was most notable for its rusty boats, men in military uniforms, and old, broken-down buildings. Excited by our proximity to North Korea and intrigued by the surreal scene next to us, I ignored our driver's warning against taking pictures. After I snapped a few shots, he saw me and and began to reprimand me.

I gave my most innocent smile: 对不起，我以前不知道--Sorry. I didn't know. Obviously he couldn't stay mad very long. As the Chinese say, 重男轻女, or value men over women. I figure, if the belief exists, I might as well use it for my own purposes :)

North Korean kids swimming in the water. NOTE: About a hundred yards away, North Korean workers are dumping coal into the river.

As we continued to float along the shore we did our best to be goodwill ambassadors and waved to as many North Koreans as possible. Most waved, some glared, and one flashed a large gun. UMMM....Hey there Kim J! It's good to know that you're such a welcoming host.

Ready for action?

More rusty machinery.

The DPRK flag. Don't tell Kim J I took this pic. I may be captured by North Koreans. If it happened to Avery Jessup, it can happen to anyone.

After about 25 minutes, our time in the boat was up, so we flipped around and slowly sped up. As we began to speed up, my heart began to patter and a smile spread across my face. Why? What better way to leave the North Korean people behind than by blasting one of the defining songs of our generation: Justin Bieber's "Baby."

"You know you love me,
Kim J you care,
Just shout 你好,
And I'll be there.
You want my labor,
It breaks my heart,
because my country says we'll always be apart.

And I was like, Kim J, Kim J, Kim J, ooooh..."

Okay, so maybe not those lyrics. But we sang with Biebs and rapped with Luda, dancing and waving wildly to the North Koreans who stared. FOR REALS. I think I saw a few North Koreans dance with us, but 白若诗 swears they were just reaching for their guns. I prefer to think that Bieber diplomacy can work wonders, so I'm sticking to my story.

Our boat driver, a passionate Belieber.

We pulled back into the dock with Bieber-infused adrenaline pounding through our veins and hopped out. With only 2 days in Dandong, we had to head straight to our next destination, the Museum to Commemorate the War to Resist American Aggression and Aid Korea.

Haven't heard of the War to Resist American Aggression? What about the Korean War? One in the same. Just as the museum's name suggests, there's no bias to be found anywhere at the museum (note: sarcasm). So we agreed upon non-American identities (my name is Amelie and I'm from Paris, France) and headed to the museum...