For ever and for ever when I move

“This is my first time in Germany!” I excitedly told the driver of my carpool, a hitched ride from Amsterdam to Köln. We met in the cold air outside Hotel Ibis, the car an eclectic mix of persons all looking for cheap transport into Germany.

“And you’re going to.. Aachen?” he asked, in slow disbelief, making the soft guttural scratch of the German ‘ch’-sound. “Yup! Going to Aachen.” I smiled, without granting clarification, my own pronunciation so much more flat and lifeless. English: the neutral divide between lilting, dancing French and softly guttural German. Words pronounced by clicking the tongue definitively against the teeth, in the forefront of the mouth, largely ignoring the back of the throat, keeping our vowels chained beneath the tight restraint of our consonants.

It’s been a unique tour de Deutschland thus far, as I have planned my route via towns where my scattered collection of German friends reside. Aachen, Köln, Marburg, Darmstadt. Still to come: Mannheim, Stuttgart, Freiburg. I make a sharp cut across the western side of Germany, from the northern Netherlands border to the southern Swiss border. From Freiburg, I will take a bus into southern France and move just north of the Pyrénées, across the southern French landscape into Bordeaux.

It’s an incredible relief to be out of hostels and to stop paying exorbitant prices for B&B’s, which, due to weather and circumstance, were the only available options in Iceland and Scotland. In Amsterdam, the hostel was full of stone-cold potheads, dragging out their days in clouds of smoke in the dank basement entrance of the hostel. Three days of walking through the frozen city, watching snowflakes shimmer in the air, the sun a cold reminder of how far away summer actually is: It was enough. Make a beeline into Germany. Warm up the days with friends and couches and free cups of tea, forming a new resolution with self. Fill out job applications and purchase watercolor pencils. Begin to sketch again. Move south, until the short, dying bursts of cold and snow have disappeared into the folds of the warm bosom of a later spring. May, not March. Leave March behind in its own cold dregs and move south, for god’s sake. Leave this awful, bone-chilling cold behind–the long evenings twisting restlessly beneath too-thin sheets, the frozen toes, the heavy bulk of blankets and sweaters and socks, the unrelenting frustration at the sting, the bite, the chill–and move south.

To beaches, to sunshine, to shorts. From beer to wine, from heavy to light, from this collection of snapshots with friends to form the deliberate montage of self. Moving toward a purpose. Searching.

And all the while, with one clear direction in the back of my mind:

Move. South.

As a bit of a literature nerd, I was delighted to discover that Edinburgh has a vibrant, exciting literary community. Within minutes of doing some google-researching, I was able to formulate a list of events for every single day that week. Every day! There were different events, poetry events, every day of the week! Most of the events were free, some varying from 2-5 pounds, and all were open to anyone interested, either to participate or to watch: poetry readings, open mic nights, writing workshops, art exhibitions combined with literary performances… the list goes on.

I was able to make time for two separate poetry events, both of which I would highly recommend to any passing literary enthusiast looking for some cultural, artistic, local community events. The first was on a Monday evening, the event called ‘The Blind Poetics’, situated in a cozy little pub by the name of The Blind Poet. People sat on couches around the pub, situated around small tables, tucked into little nooks and crannies, all facing the small stage at the back of the pub. Due to the unexpected onslaught of snow earlier that day, the original performer was unable to come, and the event was opened up as an open mic night.

Open Mic Night @ The Blind Poet

These were like any of the poetry slam events I loved to go see in Madison, WI, when I was in University: people reading their poetry, encouraging others to do the same, some experienced readers, some doing it for the fun of it, others reading some truly incredible stuff. As a tourist, it is enormously refreshing to get off the street and into a cozy pub where people are participating in an excited, artistic atmosphere. Not staged, just real.

The second event I found solely based on my attending the first event: the poets encouraged everyone to come on Thursday night to Soap Box at the Cabaret Bar, a weekly open mic performance with varying themes. Soap Box is directly connected with the University, but open to the public. Did I mention it was free? Totally free, except for the beers, which are reasonably priced at 2.80 pounds per pint.

In the excitement of yet another evening of poetry, this one with the theme of “Rhythm,” I prepared a few poems of my own and tucked my notebook in my backpack to carry with me. Encouraged by the comfortable atmosphere, the genuine excitement of the participants and the incredibly welcoming attitude of Freddie, one of the organizers of the event, I signed up and performed. Having never performed my poetry in public, I took the assuaging encouragement of a pint, relaxed while listening to others’ performances, and then stood on stage to deliver one rap and three poems. After the event we hung around with several of the poets, chatted about travel, poetry and other such interesting topics before taking leave and sprinting off to catch the last train back.

Rachel Rankin performing @ the Cabaret
Photo Cred: Soap Box

Yours Truly, performing @ the Cabaret
Photo Cred: Soap Box

Guest Rapper @ Soap Box
Photo Cred: Soap Box

More information on weekly literary events in and around Edinburgh can be found at the Scottish Poetry Library. Otherwise: Soap Box can be found on facebook or on twitter @SoapBoxin. The Blind Poetics on fb or on twitter @BlindPoetics.

I met Hannah Sutton at a hostel on the Isle of Skye, Scotland, in early March. I was charmed by her sweet personality and her depth of traveling experiences, and managed to snag her for a quick interview the morning before she flew out of London. At twenty-one, this Australian chica has been on the road since October, 2011, starting in Indonesia, and has no prospects of stopping anytime soon: read on to hear her perspectives on hitchhiking, solo travel, and general travel anecdotes.

A: “Where have you been so far on your travels?”

H: “The rough path is this: Indonesia- India- Nepal- Thailand- Cambodia- Thailand- Myanmar- Malaysia- Japan- South Korea-Hong Kong- China- Mongolia- China- Krygyzstan- Kazakhstan- Russia- Georgia- Turkey- Bulgaria- Serbia- Hungary- Austria- Czech Republic-Germany- Netherlands- Germany- England- Wales- France- Switzerland- Italy- Austria- Czech Republic- Poland- Germany- Netherlands- England- Scotland- England- South Africa. After Hong Kong and before South Africa, everything was traveling overland.”

A: “That’s quite a list! Tell me a little about Myanmar/Burma.”

H: “It was my first taste in solo travel; I met so many people. It was a difficult country to travel at times, but really rewarding. The people are the best part. They’re so genuine and nice. I left my wallet on the table on day–the thing about Myanmar is that they don’t have any ATMS, so all the money you want you have to carry it all with you. The currency exchange rate is just insane and inflation is huge–so I had a huge stack of money in my wallet, probably enough to feed a family for a few good months. I left it on the table in the cafe and I walked out and the man ran after me and gave it back to me with all the money still in it. It was so gorgeous. The people there are so nice.

Another time I was just walking around a lake and this lady, she stopped me and was like, oh, I invite you to dinner at my place. And I was traveling with these three other travelers at the time and the next day we went over to her place and she cooked this huge feast for us and we sat down and started eating it, it was enough food to feed a family for a week.

So they’re very humble and very well educated as well. They have a very good understanding of English, as they used to be a colony, and they’re just really really wonderful people.

But, on my first day in Burma, I was riding the local train around Yangon, which is the main city, and the train suddenly stopped. I walked out to see what had happened, and a guy had jumped in front of the train and committed suicide. It was three days into me traveling solo and I was like WHAT. It was so scary. All the kids were going up and poking the body, and after awhile they just rolled the body off the tracks and kept the train going. It was really amazing to see how they see death all the time, and so it’s not a big thing for them, whereas we’re sort of sheltered from it. It’s a good way to see the difference between our cultures.”

A: “Definitely. In Korea, they have a lot of similarities in that way. The way they talk about death is… commonplace. A lot of my students would say, well, I chose not to commit suicide. There were two paths, one is to commit suicide and one is to not. Whereas in the states, you don’t say anything about it.”

H: “And even if someone has committed suicide, you don’t say that, as well. You try to cover it up as something else. It was the same in India as well, very out there, seeing dead bodies, like the burning ghats in Varanasi.”

A: “And it’s normal, a natural part of life. So, from Burma, where did you go?”

H: “Well, I was talking to my family more, and I hadn’t seen them in a few months time. My parents happened to be in Japan, and I had nothing to do and I had a lot of money saved up so they told me to come over and visit them. So I crashed their romantic get-away, and was third-wheeling and getting free accommodation and free food and stuff, which is really nice. So that was really cool to see them. After everything I’d done, going through India and Nepal and the breakup with my boyfriend, it was really nice to have family around.” Continue reading

Chillin' in front of the USO, waiting for a friend, hot grey day.

This weekend I finally made the trek I’ve been meaning to do for awhile: a trip to the DMZ, or De-Militarized Zone, the rigidly peaceful line that crosses on the 38th parallel between North and South Korea. I will admit that after the attack by North Korea on the island of YeonPyeong in late November, a cool fall day on which I returned from a trip to the Post Office only to be greeted by a group of my students screaming, “Teacher! Fire! Death! Soldiers, die, War!” and by others, “Teacher! Go hoooommmeee nowwww, Teacher, America, Go!!!”, and to then run up to the then- deserted teacher office and subsequently eat dinner, alone, with the handful of students still in school, as we used our chopsticks and picked our way through an eerie silence– after that unforgettable experience, which had eerily similar feelings to September, 11, 2001, I thought I’d let the two Koreas simmer for awhile before making my way north.

As it was, other than the strict military procedure and knowledge that the North Korean army had their eyes trained on our every move as we stood on the border, it was an incredibly interesting experience. The highway that ran north along the river was separated from the river by thick coils of barbed wire on top of a tall chain fence, guarded by small lookout buildings with armed soldiers standing watch, due to a sneak attack by DPRK (or Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, inf. North Korea) soldiers that snuck into the ROK (Republic of Korea, inf. South Korea) via the river in the early 1960s, attempting an attack at the ROK presidential Blue House.

An ROK soldier stands at the ready, in a tense taekwondo pose that suggests he is ready to fight at any moment. He faces the beige DPRK building. The blue buildings to the left and right of the soldier are Conference buildings used for tightly- militarized meetings between the two countries.

We arrived at Camp Bonifas and were given a tour brief before being led to tour the Joint Security Area, including the Freedom House, a conference room built directly over the MDL, or Military Demarcation Line, the line which neither side is allowed to cross. We were driven to a lookout building that looks directly out to the North Korean propaganda city of Kijong-dong, which boasts what used to be the world’s tallest flagpole at 160m, that North Korea constructed after a bit of a ‘flagpole war’ between the north and the south.

We passed the site of the 1976 Axe Murder site, in which DPRK soldiers attacked two soldiers that were trimming a tree and murdered them with axes, which led to increased restrictions on the permissibility of soldiers in the DMZ, and then we drove to the Bridge of No Return. The Bridge of No Return was constructed for the means of prisoner exchanges at the end of the Korean War in 1953. The POWs were given a choice to remain in their country of captivity or to cross over the bridge, to the other side and, consequently, the other country, on the condition they could never return.

This ROK soldier stands in the main Conference Room, a blue building that is built directly on top of the Military Demarcation Line. He stands in an aggressive pose and wears sunglasses so as to prevent showing any emotion to the DPRK soldiers.

We then left Camp Bonifas and drove to the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel. As the story goes, after the Armistice Agreement was signed in 1953, North Korea has made continual breaches against the agreement in attempts to attack South Korea, though they deny them all. South Korea has discovered four tunnels that stretch from North Korea, underneath the DMZ and into South Korea, on a path to reach Seoul. One tunnel was discovered accidentally by a South Korean army patrol in 1974. Another tunnel was discovered in 1975, the third in 1978 on information provided by a North Korean defector. The fourth tunnel was discovered in 1990. There are thought to be 17 tunnels in all. The tunnels are dynamited paths through granite, anywhere from 1.2 m to 2 m high and 0.9 m to 2.0 m wide, between 50 m and 160 m below ground, paved by the DPRK with dynamite provided by the Soviet Union. Totally wild. We got to climb down into the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel via a sloped intersection access slope dug by the ROK and into the tunnel, in which it is estimated that 2,000 DPRK soldiers could pass through in the span of one hour.

We then visited the Dora Observatory, a point at which you theoretically can see the farthest into North Korea, far enough to spot a 20 m high statue of Kim Il Sung that sits in PyeongGang. Unfortunately for us, the day was hazy and grey and we could barely see out past the hill we were standing on. Apparently there exist more than 13,440 statues of Kim Il Sung in North Korea. Also totally crazy.

Two ROK soldiers stand easy on guard at the Dorasan Station.

We then went to visit Dorasan Station, a completely finished train station that is waiting to connect the two capitol cities of North and South Korea, those being PyeongYang and Seoul, respectively. If and when the two countries are able to resolve this deeply cutting conflict that divides the country into fiercely militarized halves, Dorasan Station waits eagerly to be one of the first emblems of connection and peace, and stands ready to be the final connection in creating a Trans- Eurasian Railway Network that connects from the southernmost tip of Korea, up into Russia and across the continent all the way through Europe and into the southernmost tip of France (or Portugal?) Totally wild. Just imagine!

Dorasan Station facing towards Seoul. The station stands 56 km from Seoul and 205 km from Pyeongyang and, if opened, could potentially connect the Trans Eurasian Railway from the southernmost tip of Korea across Russia to the southernmost tip of France.

The school day bustles around me, phones ringing and footsteps tapping across the office floor, papers flying across the room as the breeze through the window picks up, teachers arguing over tests and students laughing and chatting in the hallway as they leave school for the day, and it seems hard to believe that the nation is so tensely on guard against their brother to the North. I sincerely wonder what will happen. It is such a fascinating relationship, a 58- year hibernation with occasional snores and burps of activity that seem increasingly close to provoking a wake up…

Alas. Here are a handful of pictures from the weekend. Enjoy.

Here I'm standing on the border of North Korea, looking out at the DPRK propaganda village, or Kijong-dong. We were warned not to step beyond the rope, for any reason. If you strain your eyes or zoom in, you can see the grey outline of the former tallest flagpole in the world.

Letting pictures speak louder than words: my weekend in review.

Hyang Temple at Sunrise on Turtle Island, Jeollanam-do, South Korea

Breakfast after the 6am hike: seafood fermented bean curd soup. My favorite. Amazing. Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Boats at Yeosu Harbor, Jeollnam-do, South Korea.

Geomundo Island, a two hour boat ride from Yeosu: mid-morning hike to the lighthouse. Jeollnam-do, South Korea.

Fresh fish breakfast after our morning hike on Geomundo Island, Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Nangan Folk Village- Traditional houses where we slept one night. Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Boseong Tea Fields, Jeollanam-do, South Korea.

Boseong Tea Fields, Jeollanam-do, South Korea..

Green tea infused with particles of gold. Jeollnam-do, South Korea.

I spent the weekend with my Korean friend, Sojung, and she let me stay the weekend in her apartment. We started the evening on Friday by feasting freely at her mother’s ddukbokki stand, after which we biked around a quiet park. We parked the bikes and sat on a park bench to drink one beer while listening to the frogs’ voices echo loudly through a drainage pipe. After some great conversation with each other, we biked happily back to her apartment.

The next night, after a rather frantic night in which I missed my bus home, we took advantage of another evening together and ate green tea and choco ice cream, watched an old Marilyn Monroe movie, “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes”, and happily accepted a plate of cold spicy noodles around 2 am when her mom came home and joined us.

After my weekend with Sojung, I went on Sunday to Insadong, the neighborhood of Seoul most famous for art and traditional teahouses. Tuesday, May 10th is Buddha’s Birthday, and Insadong is where the biggest celebrations take place.

What I found was an incredibly happy day, light, full of sunshine, beautifully diverse with people from all over Asia, including, off the top of my head, Thailand, Cambodia, China, Vietnam, Tibet, Nepal, Laos, and on and on. Everyone had a smile on their face, there were lotus lanterns all around, bubbles, incense, music and traditional costumes.

It was really something lovely to see, so many colors and smells.

Concrete Jungles of Korea, Dongbae, South Korea

Folding paper into lotus lanterns, Insadong, South Korea.

Korean Buddhist Monks in traditional clothes, Insadong, South Korea.

Bubbles and traditional Korean drummers, Insadong, South Korea.

Small Korean butterfly child, Insadong, South Korea.

Painting station, Insadong, South Korea.

Line of lanterns, Insadong, South Korea.

I spent last weekend on a tour trip down to Tongyoung, proceeded by a seven-hour hike around the island of Saryang-do. The hike was lovely, intense, intimidating, the full day of bus rides back to Seoul on Sunday was awful.

A handful of pictures from the weekend.

Waiting for the sun to rise at Yi Soon Shin Admiral Park, Tongyeong, South Korea.

Sun rise at Yi Soon Shin Admiral Park, Tongyeong, South Korea.

One of the peaks on Saryang-do, a small island off the coast of Tongyeong, South Korea.

Halfway through while we're thinking that we're almost done, hiking the island of Saryang-do, South Korea...

Picnic at the top, delicious. Hiking Saryang-do, South Korea

Scattered purple blossoms suggest that Spring is on its way.... Saryang-do, South Korea

The colors of all the seasons together, at one of the peaks on Saryang-do, South Korea.

Quick trip on Saturday evening to visit Pyeongtaek, a city where my friend Emily lives. Her city is way more city than Yeoju… which, in Korea, means way more honeycomb high rise apartments that break out of the ground in white, towering clusters.

Snapped a few pictures so you can get the idea.

Cold crisp morning walk through a Pyeong-taek neighborhood.

Looking up from the sidewalk that weaves between the buildings.

Honeycomb buildings from a bridge to the street.

The last month, in pictures.

Bridge across the River Han, Center of Seoul, South Korea.

Crowded Hongik University subway stop, completely normal to be this packed. Seoul, South Korea.

Reflective Globe at Samseong Station outside COEX Mall, Seoul, South Korea.

Kimchi Museum, Seoul, South Korea.

A couple plays with legos during a coffee break overlooking Myeongdong shopping area, Seoul, South Korea.

Class Journal Entry: How do you feel about English? Yeoju, South Korea.

Current constant meditation: elephants and watercolors. Unfinished watercolor from trip to Thailand.

Quick sketch on a warm afternoon a little distance from school, Yeoju, South Korea.