I promised some more introspection, so here we go…
Now that we’re over the hump, so to speak, and counting the days until we go home, I’ve finally adjusted to local time. Go figure. I still can’t quite figure out how to tell what time it is at home without checking, though – it’s 7:20 am on Monday the 12th here in Seoul, which makes it 4:20 pm Sunday in Austin. The good news is that I should have one of the coveted top spots on the 12 of 12 list since the 12th will be over here before most people in the US even get started 
One of the nagging feelings I’ve had here (alert: change of subject) is that Seoul is, despite the fact that we flew for-flipping-ever to get here, really not that foreign in its feel — at least not to me. Most of the city is new, and we’re staying in one of the newer districts. The buildings are new, and the streets are wide enough to accommodate vehicular traffic and laid out in a grid pattern. Granted, they’re not wide enough to accommodate the vast amounts of vehicular traffic that clogs them daily, but they’re further along than, say, one of the European capitals.
I suppose this has to do with the tragic history of the peninsula: it was occupied by the Japanese from 1910-1945, then Seoul itself was conquered (and nearly destroyed) by the northern armies in the early days of the Korean war, and had to be retaken by the southern and allied commands. Hence, most of the city looks like it’s been built since the 1950s – in other words, it’s the architectural counterpart of Amman or Riyadh. A little less utilitarian than the former, a little less glitzy than the latter. With trees.
We went up to the DMZ on Friday – this being my second visit to a country artificially divided in two – and, despite the fact that our tour guide’s English was barely competent (and I’m being really nice there), it was still a bit of a powerful experience to walk out into the large common area where North and South meet. Soldiers from the opposing forces come face to face daily, and it’s an acrimonious relationship – one of the American soldiers was telling us that the North Koreans like to walk right down to the line and give the Americans the finger.
Here and Cuba are the last places in the world where the Cold War is alive and well, and you can take a tour to get front row seats to the action. The tension is palpable, and visitors are given a list of restrictions: don’t point, don’t wave, don’t take photos unless you’re told it’s OK, and do not stop walking here for any reason. Needless to say, several people pointed and were shouted at by the soldiers. “If you point, the North Koreans will take a photo of you!” And if it’s really silly, it goes in the newspaper: “here’s a degenerate American ruining the social fabric of the morally corrupt south.” In Cyprus there was a feeling that the tension has relaxed a bit. Here, that’s very much not the case.
There is a learning curve on Korean food – it’s not something you can really be prepared for right out of the box (or, at least, I wasn’t). We’re learning slowly, and even my father has come far enough to try to figure out chopsticks. (Note that I said “try”). That said, we’ve had a couple of rather lovely meals, and it may be worth seeking out one of the Korean restaurants in Austin to find them.
I’m still processing all of this, but figured since I was sitting here wide awake (we went to bed kind of early last night), that I’d take the chance to write some of it down.
. Hee.
I thought I knew what the [finger quotes] plot [/finger quotes] was, but it turned out I didn’t … or rather, the action didn’t follow what I thought was any sort of logical direction given the set-up, and there are holes in the story big enough to drive most of the characters through. I’m kind of on board with what the New York Times 
