Mallipo Oil Spill

This past weekend an environmental massacre punished the west coast of South Korea. A quaint beach town, called Mallipo, once known for its luscious beaches and rocky cliffs, now lies helplessly under a layer of crude oil. An oil tanker collided with a barge, and consequently 10,000 tons of oil leaked into yet another of our precious and sacred (and quickly diminishing) natural habitats.

The San Francisco Bay oil spill had already got my heart pumping with a sense of urgency. This one in Korea, a mere 100 miles from where I live hurled me over the edge.

I heard the news late Sunday night, around 2am, and immediately was overcome with this need to go there, experience it with all its toxicity, take pictures and help out however possible. My only constraint was work at 4pm, but even that wasn't enough to stop me from venturing to the site.

The emotion built up as the night passed, and I was unable to sleep. I tossed around, and my mind wondered (wandered) about.

5:30am I mounted my bicycle and rode through the icy morning breeze to the downtown bus terminal, set on catching the first bus out of town. On the 6am bus, my nerves calmed and the bumpy ride rocked me to sleep.

One concern was getting back on time, given that I was on a tight schedule. 6am-4pm is ten hours to work with. A three or more hour trip each way, plus the infrequent bus schedule, and the complete lack of knowledge about where to go.

But another concern superseded that one - getting to the site of disaster and helping out anyway I can. Showing my solidarity and giving my support. Spreading the story through pictures and words about how this preventable disaster has affected an innumerable amount of people.

In Taean, I transferred to a local bus. It wound through unimpressive terrain. The road sign read Mallipo 12km. A jolt ran through me, excitement, uncertainty, and concern.

Mallipo 4km. Worries were gone, pure adrenaline took over. I thought, show me, show me what has happened here.

I got off the bus, not knowing what to expect, but expecting the worst. Police, ambulance, and military commotion were everywhere. I wasn’t sure if the area was blocked off or not, but I trudged forward.

Already, the noxious crude oil scent engulfed my lungs. A minor headache ensued, but my determination still raged. Marching past the stocked supplies intermixed with oily debris, I finally reached the beachfront. I stood awestruck.

The surrealistic scene of a vast oil-slicked beach framed by the blackened ocean was too much. Clusters of uniformed workers scattered across the terrain. This was a huge disaster.

I timidly withdrew my camera from my jacket pocket, and snapped pictures in every direction. By this point the headache evolved into dull chest pains.

I humbly crawled down the beachfront, avoiding the oil as much as I could. A sense of despair loomed as each oil-bearing wave splashed ashore.

There were two main methods of cleanup. One used large white oil absorbent squares, which the volunteers meticulously laid over each centimeter of sand, soaking up some (but not all) of the oil.

The other method used shovels, scooping the top layer of oil into buckets, which were then passed in a chain line and emptied into larger vessels. These were siphoned into tanks and hauled away.

Both methods proved a slow process. Even with the 500+ helpers, this beach alone will take an estimated 2 months to clean up (and will never be the same).

I had to help out. I went up to a booth, and said in Korean, I want to help. My message was clear enough (after a few repetitions) and he showed me where to suit up. They handed me protective wear, a mask, rubber gloves, and boots.

The system seemed unorganized-just help where you can. I saw a chain line form, so I jumped in. I passed buckets of oil up the line. There were buckets piling up at the end of the line, so I ran up there and hauled buckets up the stair and emptied them into the larger vessels.

It was the first time I was in such close contact with oil. I noticed how it slopped out of one bucket into the other like mud or thick cake batter. I had to bang the bucket a few times to get it all out.

The harder I worked, the harder I breathed, and the more my lungs ached. The oil’s toxicity made it even harder, and I thought how everyone was feeling this same discomfort. But they continued their perilous task.

My uniform was covered in oily muck by the time I had to go.

Nationality, age, sex, none of this was important here. We all shared the common goal - to clean up this tragic disaster. Make the beach how it was. Make right the accident.

This was the one light in the situation. Seeing everyone volunteer their energy, even endangering their health, all for the sake of this once heralded Korean coastline.

A Relic Of The Past

Trip to Buyeo
Part 1

The morning is a powerful time. The few true mornings I experience are teeming with wide-eyed energy and hunger (for food and for adventure). Its significance is multifaceted, representing new life, being reborn, and therefore a plethora of possibilities and opportunities. This crisp, autumn Korean morning I enjoyed on a bus. The lingering Halloween party was still ripe in my mind. During the early morning I cloudily drifted into sleep with a Waldo, rock star, mummy, and a whole array of other blurred costumes floating about. Combined with a full moon, portentous dreams, and slow murmurs in the next room, it took a while for any rationalization. But it came. It was time to catch the morning bus. I descended the side stairwell and could finally see the view that had been previously obscured by the dark. Rice fields as far as I could see. Right then I knew I was far from home.
I’ve always found the bumpy bus rides comforting, like the metaphorical hand rocking me to sleep, carrying me home safely in its warm palm. And sure enough, I made it home. But that’s not where this adventure ended. Like a fortuneteller I thought, “In the morning I don’t know where I’ll go, in the evening I won’t know where I’ll stay.” I put this omen in my pocket, and packed my day bag. For food, I packed a vegetarian delight-salad, pumpkin seeds, mandarins, and chocolate. I also brought the obligatory book, iPod, and journal. Again, I sat in that warm palm to the downtown bus terminal. I pulled the omen out of my pocket, and my Lonely Planet book out of my bag. I sat dazedly gazing at the schedule and my book, reading about this place and that one. Meanwhile I was matching the cities to see when the desired bus was leaving. Like a determined mathematician, my algorithm happily proved functional. The input keywords were “daytrip,” “historical,” “natural,” and “quaint.” The output was Buyeo. Buyeo is a city in the Chungnam province about 2 hours southwest of Cheonan, my town. It was Korea’s old capital, rich with history, and currently housing a mere 80,000 people. 7,700 won later I was curled up in the halfway-reclined seat, continuing the ever-elusive dream from the morning.
Waking up at a destination is always disorienting, and mumbles in an unintelligible tongue doesn’t do much to clear up the confusion. I followed everyone off the bus, stopped off in the bathroom, and slowly regained consciousness. I didn’t plan this far, but at the same time that was part of the plan. In that sense the plan was at a standstill, but still going as planned.
Lonely Planet provides a simple map of the city, and from that I oriented myself. A statue was marked on the map just a few blocks away. So were the main market area, Statue Park, the fortress, the river, and a battlefield in the opposite direction. All of these landmarks loomed in my future. I formulated a route, using my proven math skills, and headed to Statue Park.
As I ambled down the winding roads, I opened my receptors and accepted all the stimuli around me. Worn and tethered Korean women kneel on the ground, skinning radishes and peeling garlic, rendering their veggies more consumer friendly. Food vendors busily manage their selection of takpuki (spicy rice cakes), fish on a stick, and steamed silkworm larvae. Younger Koreans trot, cell phone in hand, sporting the latest fashions-colorful sportswear. The rugged Korean streets give off the familiar scent of dead fish and forgotten trash. The exterior of the buildings reflect the smell, but it all adds to the town’s character. The sparse ultramodern hotels reveal a sharp contrast.
This is a two part post. Part 2 will be posted soon.


My School

Korean Folk Village

I just finished this photoessay about my trip to the Korean Folk Village in Suwon. I'm quite please with it, so have a look and give me feedback. View it at dmoglen.googlepages.com/koreanfolkvillage.
Also Check out Clair's website at groups.dearlydesign.com. It's on there, too.
Love!

Expect more Photos and multimedia!

To all of you who check my blog, I'm happy to announce that there will be more photos and videos. I recently made a CD of my photos, and I'll put some up to help tell my stories. To kick it off here's a video of a Korean tightrope walker at the Korean Folk Village (article to come).

Get me published!

I've submitted a photo for the upcoming issue of JPG magazine. The theme is bird's eye view, and I picked one of my favorite shots overlooking Granada from the Alhambra. If I get enough votes, it'll be published, so vote for it!!
http://box.jpgmag.com/badge.php?person=dmoglen&theme=57

The Immutable Law of Change

Everything's been changing so much lately, that I have started contemplating what change means. It's a feeling felt whether you are out traveling or not. Life is dynamic, and at first glance changes can be challenging. Change means newness, it means entering a new stage and leaving an old one. And yes, it is so challenging when you dwell on the losses. But past experiences are not losses, they are gains. An experience is thrown into your backpack and you carry it on your way. Just make sure it's not too heavy or burdensome!
But once you accept that change is a universal law-that I call "The Immutable Law of Change"-once you accept its omnipresence, the challenges becomes less worrysome. Like swimming in the ocean waves-you can let the waves carry you to shore (judo style) or keep fighting its power, leaving you exhausted. Change comes in waves, and swimming against will take away your energy.
Change was on my mind as I was skimming the book titles at the book store in Seoul, and I came across one that called out to me. In the religion section I saw a book called "The book of change"! It was the "I Ching" (ancient Chinese religion/philosophy) book. I didn't buy it, but looked it up on Wikipedia, an I learned a bit about this idea. Basically there are 64 "hexagrams", which are each unique in makeup. Each has 3 stacked lines side by side, some lines are broken, some unbroken, each represents a different concept.
Coicedentally there are four displayed on no other than the Korean flag, show here (hopefully). On the flag there is Heaven, Water, Earth, and Fire (beginning top left and proceeding clockwise).
Basically, accept and even rejoice change-because there's no stopping it!

Shopping in Korea

I went to this shopping area today, and saw a zippered sweatshirt that misspelled California-"Califoria" (non "n"). That was funny, I thought. Then I saw another sweatshirt that read "Iowa, We've got amazing corn" with a picture of a corn person. That's was good too, and of course I thought of you.

9/11 remembered, one perspective

Last year 9/11 went by when I was traveling in Eastern Europe-in the Czech Republic I recall. The day passed with almost no mention of its significance. This year, in Korea, I doubt I'll hear anything of its import. But I thought it would be nice to recount my 9/11 experience since it was wrought with irony.
9/11 is the date of my county's (Nevada county) anniversary. My AP government teacher asked us all the week before to come to school early that day, and pass out cookies and cake for the other students, and enlightening them about the significance of the date for our little county. So, here we were, our entire 50 person government class passing out desserts early in the morning, but no sight of our teacher. Slowly the news trickle in about the attacks and I remember feeling confusion and uncertainty. Should we continue sharing our cookies, and exactly how big is this event that's going on?
We spent the day in front of the tv, watching and listening about the unfolding events. Ironic, I guess, that we were passing out cookies on the morning of 9/11...

the travel club

I met a Danish man in the hostel in St. Augustine, Florida. He told me that he was in a travel club. The only requirement for the travel club is that you have to have visited more countries than how many years you are old. He must have been in his fifties, and very well traveled. I, on the other hand would not yet be allow in this elite club, but I am well on my way. I'm at 17 at 22 years old (USA, Canada, Israel, Korea, Spain, Italy, Holland, Germany, Austria, Poland, Ukraine, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia). I got five more to go before I turn 23, or more likely 6 more before 24. But that's later, and I'm all for now.
I played tennis all weekend long, first on a nicely paved hardcourt. The next day (like day and night) a classic sandy clay Korean court. After we rechalked the lines, we were ready to play, but we had to watch the ball carefully since the bounce was nearly always unpredictable. But two doubles sets later and we were exhausted. Later I hiked up to the big Buddha statue with my friend Ryan, and hiked through the temple hills.
Tomorrow is back to school.

Korean conservatism at its finest

There are such places in this ultraconservative country where people bathe together naked. Let me explain. They're called jimjongbangs (loosely transliterated). And after a good tennis workout I call them magic! Up 5 floors in a ordinary building nakedness lurks. First, the men and women are separated. You enter a preliminary locker area where you take off you shoes. Then exchange that key for a bigger locker key-this is where you get naked. Leave your clothes behind, and join the Koreans in your birthday suit. Enter the water facility and watch the water flow. Once in, have a seat and shower sitting down-mirrors abound. Once rinsed off jump in the hot tub. Choose between the 39 C hot tub, 41 C hot tub, or the third...An everyday changing concoctions of green tea, peppermint, or today it was Suk (I have to find out what that is). Then hop over to the wet sauna, dry sauna, cold pool with jets. Here nakedness is commonplace, parents with children, children playing with other children, men young and old. It was a good experience. So in a very anti gay conservative country, bathing naked with the same sex, old and young, it completely acceptable. Interesting.

The foreign crowd in Cheonan

Week one went by like a breeze-a windy but gentle breeze. Along the way came some new friends, Korean and foreigners alike. Just tonight I played with the nice and drunken foreign crowd. It started out in the classic mistakefull Newbie in Korea fashion when Heather, my co-worker, and I took shared a cab to yongsundong, when in reality we wanted to go to yaensandong. Two different neighborhoods, one very similar sound, especially when uttered in that accent! Nothing another 5000 won couldn't handle. Finally at the WA-bar we were intermixed with a dozen other foreign teachers, and later another dozen more. The whole foreign community within arms reach. And the vibe? Pretty good I'd say. I met a handful of people I would definitely want to see again, and the everyone else was friendly for sure. And of course, Mr. Lee, the bar owner, treated us like kings-constantly looking after us, bringing us more chairs, snacks, and service. Thanks Mr. Lee!

a perfect metaphor

I've completed my first week in Korea, and my first 2 days of class! I'm really proud of myself. In this past week there have been so many ups and downs that I feel exhausted.
My dream last night posited a perfect metaphor for how I feel. First I am all by myself walking along an ocean. I notice the waves getting bigger and bigger and soon they are overtaking me. I have no choice but to succomb to the strength of this system greater than me. In the first few waves I am tossed every which way and I have no control. Feelings of anxiety, restlessness, and nervousness overcome me with each monster wave. But, then, one wave comes and I duck at just the right time, giving me enough air to breathe and a second to rest and prepare for the next wave. Along come some other people who are up ahead. I observe their path, follow it a little, go my way a little. Suddenly I make a quick decision and I'm on a huge rock with even immense wave nearing me. Instead of squashing me, it carries me almost all the way to shore. I'm still in the water, ducking at the exact right time, allowing myself to breathe, rest, and prepare for the next wave before it comes. I can sense the shore is near, but I have yet to learn how to get there.
Pretty right on, I'd say!

A trip to Asian Mexico

Now that I've navigated my way through the Korean tape, I'm ready for my post. Moving to another country, Korea for example, is like deciding to jump in the ocean and setting up shop. Communication is tough to impossible right now (that's expected to change), finding food is a daily struggle, and I'm wet once I leave my flat. Admittedly, this is all part of the fun.
Take my trip to Seoul today. Saying you're visiting Seoul is like saying you're going to check out an Asian Mexico. I mean, it is huge! With over 20 million people in the metropolitan area, it is the second largest city in the world. And I felt it. The energy there was overwhelming at times. Throughout my trip I had to constantly stay focused, whether I was transferring subway lines or walking down the street taking note of where I came from. My first stop was Itaewon, which is the supposed foreign area. Yeah, almost half of the people were foreigners speaking english. And unfortunately there is an Army base in Itaewon, so most of them looked like big Army dudes. There was tons of shopping and foreign foods, including a Mexican restaurant, but it was all dirty, and expensive. Wandering there for 45 minutes was enough. On the subway I met a nice Canadian girl who was happy to help me out. I was surprised to see so many foreigners since in Cheonan there are almost none!
Next I went to this huge electronics mall-literally 9 floors of electronics. I found my Korean wall converter there, but that's all I bought. That place was so crowded that I felt drained afterwards.
Then going home was a huge disaster. I thought the subway went all the way to Cheonan, so I boarded. But, no, it's last stop was well before Cheonan, so I had to board a $10 train. This is one of the new KTX trains that hauls (it goes up to 200km/hour), and it's smooth, too. Finally I was in Cheonan Asan. It was raining, and I had no idea where I was, so I had to take a cab. The cab cost another $8, and I wasn't sure if the taxi driver was screwing me or not. I kinda think all cab drivers are going to screw me. It cost about $20 to get home, but by that time I was so exhausted and hungry (I didn't eat all day except for a couple snacks I brought), I had to get home.
For a summary of Seoul-be prepared to spend money, even if you don't buy anything. Next time I go, I think I want to go with a purpose, or with someone who knows their way around. It's just too huge to try to wander the streets and explore.
Tomorrow is my first day teaching! I'm a little nervous but really excited. I think the kids will respect me and cooperate with me. I'll post about how that goes.

Korea it is

So, I was offered a job teaching english in Korea, and I accepted it. The process is moving along and is right on schedule. I'm slated to leave at the end of August. Let's hope it goes smoothly.

My attempt at Photoshop

Here's my attempt with creation in photoshop. I enjoyed the process quite a bit, but also ran into many problems that other would consider simple. I asked Clarissa how to resize and rotate the images. Plus I pretty much got the idea from her, and just tweaked it myself.

Blogging it is.