DMZ, Wungye Bridge in Paju, Omma Poom

Day 5 of the Mosaic Tour

Tuesday, 6.26

The DMZ, or demilitarized zone, is the small section of land separating North and South Korea. Its existence symbolizes the difference between the two nations as well as a continual reminder of the war that continues to separate them. The tension between the two countries is palpable here. The ever-present threat of invasion and nuclear strikes from the north is very weirdly balanced with equally-intense commercialism. I was beyond surprised to find tons of souvenir shops loaded with "I visited the DMZ!" t-shirts, hats, and even DMZ ramen. A lot of our visit to the DMZ was camera-restricted, so unfortunately I can't share pics of the super-weird "orientation" video we were treated to (and subsequently, found hilarious - "Bombs! Starvation! You could die at any moment! But here's a peaceful butterfly! Look at this beautiful deer!") the Third Tunnel we traversed, or the previously-mentioned souvenir shops. While North Korea famously continues oppressing its people, South Koreans enjoy many freedoms.

A South Korean soldier checked each of our passports before we entered the DMZ. As Americans, we tended to be a little loud most of the time, which earned us plenty of stares and even a firm tongue-lashing from an ahjumma on the subway. When this soldier boarded our bus, though, we instantly fell silent.

One of the DMZ border checkpoints. Days prior, my host mom pointed out the barbed wire fence that follows the bank of the Han River, the main waterway the snakes through Seoul. This wire, she explained, was erected because of North Korean spies who attempted to infiltrate Seoul. The barbed wire acts as a deterrent, but now they just try to enter the country via China.

Notice the rain on the bus window. On this, one of our largely-outdoor days, we thought we'd never be dry again. Note: bring as much rain gear as possible if traveling to Korea during the rainy season.

The city of Paju is located in the DMZ. Though the Korean War has been over for almost 70 years, hopes of reconciliation still abound, as the war technically never ended.

If it hadn't been raining, this would've been a much prettier picture. The two halves represent the hopes of reunifying the north and south. Many families were separated during the war, and during important holidays like Seoullal, when ancestor veneration is celebrated, the DMZ is filled with gifts from Southern relatives to their Northern counterparts.

A gun used during the war.

Since the war, fighting has diminished, but tension has yet to be extinguished.

For a couple of won that I wasn't going to spend, you could look at North Korea through binoculars. Beyond the mist lies, perhaps, my oppressed relatives.

I have not the foggiest what this says, but it just struck me as oddly fascinating. Is this an ad for weapons? For recruitment? (Military service is conscripted here, but maybe they still want female soldiers, too?)

South Korea built a fully-functional train station that lies lifeless (save for the tourists) with tracks leading to North Korea. Hopes for reunification run so high that the South Korean government spent millions (or billions?) of won to build a train station to nowhere. This is a sign in the station.

Art in the train station with a unifying theme of reconciliation between North and South.

Germany sent a piece of the Berlin wall to South Korea to inspire and keep the hope of reunification alive.

"If we can do it, you can do it, too, Korea."

A German (but made in the USA) train car that was either THE last or one of the last to go from South to North Korea.

In Paju, we crossed the Wungye Hanging Bridge, the longest suspension bridge in Korea. Located in a beautiful national park flanked by the greenest misty mountains, most of us braved the ever-present wetness to cross it. Just another example of when I felt invincible.

Some of our crew after crossing the bridge. I never thought I'd be dry again. Thanks for letting me borrow your umbrella, Tour Dad. ;) 

Orientation at the Do Mi Sol kimchi factory in Paju. Left: one of Minyoung's sweet teenage nephews, James, translates for the factory representative. We were treated to snacks and a formal welcome. Korean culture places such high value on hospitality.

I'm pretty sure I'm the hairnet-clad person on the far left? Part of the Korean experience is making kimchi, so that's what we did. It was an impressively monotonous process. The most exciting part was probably getting suited. Here we are looking like coroners.

Photo credit: Joe Wojowski

After kimchi-making. When we saw this picture, we had a fun time playing, "Who's That Asian?" as most of us were largely unrecognizable with all the factory gear.

Photo credit: Joe Wojowski

At Omma Poom, the nearly-complete memorial dedicated to birth mothers and adoptees. Loosely translated, "Omma" is Korean for "mother" and "Poom" is the bond between mother and child. This statue of a mother with empty folded arms gazes at the reflection of her image in which she holds her baby.

At present, there is no dedicated space for birth mothers and the 250,000 children that Korea internationally adopted - us. This space, which formally opens in September 2018, represents a formal loss of our culture, our language, our first families, and our mothers' loss of us, their children. To think that Korea has been sending us so far away (and largely for profit if you are a late 70s - 80s adoptee) since the 1950s and this is the first formal recognition is unimaginable.

To support Omma Poom, or find out more information, click here.

The birth mother gazes at herself, holding her baby.

The center of Omma Poom holds a seashell-type of structure. The idea behind the shape is that when you hold a shell to your ear, you hear an endless sound, a breathy moan, the sound of a birth mother's loss. The daisies painted on the back hold significance to Korean culture. 

It seemed fitting that this mother was covered in rain.