the Yeonpyeong-do incident

Last week, on November 23, 2010, South Korea was attacked.

I was alone in Danggam-dong when I learned of the incident.  At one point, my attention was drawn to one of the many television sets that were on in the restaurant where I was eating.  Over and over again the same images were shown on the tv set.  A short video clip showing an island upon which fires were burning.  An animation showing the path of projectiles launched towards the island.  An image of a series of guns with their dimensions.  An image of the path of projectiles being launched from the island back towards the source of the original projectiles.  All of this, of course, was narrated in Korean.  I guessed that it was about some military event that occurred in the Koreas.  But I thought it must have been about a battle that happened years ago, during the Korean war.  It was the server at the restaurant who informed me that it had happened on that very day.

It felt surreal.  South Korea had been attacked, and I would later learn that two soldiers had died.  Two civilians had also been killed, and many homes had been destroyed.  And yet, it was business as usual in Busan.  Families were eating out in restaurants.  People were going about their business on the streets.  Buses, filled with passengers, rolled along their usual routes.  If not for the infinitely-looped images of the incident shown on a handful of Korean tv channels, you would think it was just another regular day.

The territory that was attacked is called Yeonpyeong island (연평도).  Yeonpyeong-do is located in the north-east of South Korea, approximately 100 km from the South Korean mainland, but only a few dozen kilometers from the coast of North Korea.  In comparison, Busan is located in the south-west of the country.  In essence, Busan is as far away from Yeonpyeong-do as one can get while still remaining in South Korea.

Over the week-end, things appeared to be calming down, but the incident has remained a major political issue for the Koreas, the USA, China and Japan.  The Yeonpyeong-do attack is, unfortunately, not the first such incident that has occurred since the end of the Korean war.  (By the way, there is a Canadian connection to one of these incidents.  To learn about it, zoom out of this map and find the yellow dot in the province of Saskatchewan.)  I also read somewhere (but I can't remember where) that the two Koreas are technically still at war, as they never signed a formal peace treaty after the Korean war.


I'm sure I'll have more to write about this later.

De Hanmer...

Busan, c'est ma troisième demeure.  Ma première, c'était un village nommé Hanmer.  Situé à quelques dizaines de kilomètres au nord du centre-ville de Sudbury, dans le nord de l'Ontario, Hanmer a récemment été fusionné à cette dernière ville.  Durant les années que j'y ai vécu, j'ai pu explorer une grande partie du territoire entourant le village, dans la région du bassin de Sudbury.

Mon exploration de ce territoire, je l'ai débutée dès mon enfance en compagnie de mes parents.  Plusieurs générations de mes ancêtres ont vécu à Hanmer ou dans d'autres villages situés non-loin.  Les premiers d'entre-eux sont venus du Québec pour défricher la terre et y établir des fermes.  Puis, ils ont fondé des familles et des villages.  Mes parents m'emmenaient souvent visiter les membres de ma famille qui vivaient dans divers coins de la région.  Je me souviens toujours aujourd'hui de l'emplacement des fermes qu'ont établies mes arrières grands-parents, mes grands-oncles et mes grandes-tantes.

une ferme entre Val Thérèse et Val Caron, à l'ouest de Hanmer

une ferme entre Val Thérèse et Val Caron, à l'ouest de Hanmer

De plus, durant plusieurs années, en hiver, mes parents aimaient se promener en motoneige en compagnie de leurs enfants.  Presque tous les dimanches, nous partions en famille explorer les sentiers enneigés qui serpentaient les terrains boisés des environs de Hanmer.  Puis, rendu adolescent, j'aimais parcourir ces sentiers à bicyclette en été et en ski de fond en hiver.  En parcourant de cette façon les environs de Hanmer, en hiver comme en été, les chemins, les sentiers, les champs, les forêts, les lacs, les cours d'eau et les paysages qui y étaient situés me sont devenus très familiers.  Aujourd'hui, lorsque je regarde des photos de ces endroits, je les reconnais toujours et je me souviens exactement comment m'y rendre.

un étang gelé près de Hanmer

le même étang en été

un ruisseau gelé près de Hanmer

le même ruisseau en été

une colline enneigée avec bouleaux, près de Hanmer

un sentier dans les bois, près de Hanmer

le lac Whitson, au sud de Hanmer

Je n'en étais pas complètement conscient lorsque j'étais plus jeune, mais j'avais développé un fort attachement au territoire dans lequel je vivais.  Je me souviens que je me sentais en sécurité lorsque je visitais les endroits que je connaissais bien.  Je me souviens aussi que, lorsque je sortais des régions qui m'étaient les plus familières, je me sentais anxieux.  Mais j'aimais tout de même élargir mes horizons en m'aventurant dans de nouvelles directions, ce que je faisais en prenant soin de ne pas perdre de vue le chemin qui me ramènerait chez moi.


Ce goût de l'aventure que j'ai cultivé dans ma jeunesse motive mon aventure actuelle à Busan.  Et je suis à présent en train d'explorer minutieusement mon nouveau chez-moi, comme je l'avais fait lorsque je vivais à Hanmer.

Homesickness

"It's surprising how homesickness can make you feel," they said.
"It's going to hit you like a ton of bricks, right when you least expect it," they said.

Well today, homesickness feels like this.

Chasing Autumn... in Seoul

Last week, I was becoming impatient waiting for autumn to come to Busan.  In the southern part of Northern Ontario, where I grew up, the leaves turn red, yellow and brown in late September to early October.  And by the beginning of November, they have already mostly fallen from the trees.  As the last week-end of October approached, and most of the trees in Busan were still completely green, I began to miss the autumn colours.  And so, informed by my colleagues that autumn arrives a little bit earlier in the northern part of their country, I decided to go find autumn in Seoul.

Seoul has a surprising number of trees.  Some are located within the city's urban landscape, but the majority are on mountains located within the city.  Interestingly, the perimeter wall of the old city of Seoul, first constructed in the 1300's, runs on three of these mountains, namely Namsan (남산), Bukaksan (북악산) and Inwangsan (인왕산).  And so I decided, in my quest to see the autumn colours of Seoul, to visit at the same time the perimeter wall of the old city.

Most of the perimeter wall of old Seoul has been destroyed.  However, a few parts of it have survived through the centuries, and many others have been reconstructed in more recent times.  The most accessible parts of the old perimeter wall are the gates, as many of them are located beside roads.  Dongdaemun (둥대문) is the most spectacular.  It is located on a traffic island on the east side of what used to be the old city of Seoul.  And in my eyes, it is somehow comparable to the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.  I unfortunately could only catch a glimpse of Dongdaemun from a taxi one evening.  I did, however, see the smaller Gwanghuimun (광희문), located slightly to the south of Dongdaemun.

Gwanghuimun, near Dongdaemun culture and history park, Seoul.

As for the wall per se, a portion of it can be seen on Namsan, at the southern end of old Seoul.  I think that this may be a portion of the original perimeter wall that has been preserved, but I'm not sure.  Of note is a signalling station, located near the highest point of Namsan, the architecture of which reminds me of some aspects of the Cambodian temples at Angkor Wat.  I visited this section of the old perimeter wall on a sunny day, around sunset.  A good number of the trees in its vicinity were displaying their fall colours, and in the light of the setting sun, they were stunning.

Namsan, Seoul, in the fall.

Namsan, Seoul, in the fall.

A view of Seoul from Namsan. 
Visible are Bukhansan, Bukaksan, and the Myeondong district of Seoul.

The fall colours on Namsan, with Seoul in the background.

The perimeter wall of old Seoul, on Namsan.

Seoul tower, on Namsan.

A lone leaf, with Seoul tower in the background.

Trees on Namsan, illuminated by the setting sun.

Bukhansan, Bukaksan and Seoul at sunset.

Moss, twigs and leaves on the perimeter wall of old Seoul, at sunset.

Trees illuminated by the setting sun, beyond the perimeter wall of old Seoul.

 
The majority of the remaining portions of the perimeter wall are located on Bukaksan and on Inwangsan, two mountains located north of, and north-west of the ancient royal palaces of Gyeongbokgung (경복궁) and Changdeokgung (창덕궁).  To follow this portion of the wall on foot is physically demanding, as the faces of Bukaksan and Inwangsan are quite steep and difficult to climb.  One highlight of the trek along this portion of the wall is the spectacular view of Bukhansan (북한산) that can be obtained from both Bukaksan and Inwangsan.  Bukhansan is a mountain located to the north of Seoul, more precisely to the north of Bukaksan, that has been declared a national park.  It is a beautiful piece of geology!

The perimeter wall of old Seoul, near the north-eastern face of Bukaksan.

The perimeter wall of old Seoul winding up Bukaksan.

Trees on Bukaksan, in autumn.

Trees on Bukaksan, in autumn.

Trees on Bukaksan, in autumn.

A view of Bukhansan from the western side of Bukaksan.

Bukhansan, as seen from the western side of Bukaksan.

Bukhansan, as seen from the western side of Bukaksan.



An evergreen and a leafy tree between Bukaksan and Inwangsan.
Can you tell if the leafy tree is a maple?


Another highlight of the trek along this portion of the wall is Inwangsan itself.  I love this mountain!  According to my Lonely Planet guidebook of South Korea (a very thoughtful gift from my sister), Inwangsan is considered sacred by the practitioners of ancient shamanistic religions, and I understand why.  The mountain is covered with boulders, some of which are enormous, and it boggles the imagination to think about how they could have ended up so high up the mountain.  I am by no means a geologist, but I think that I have found evidence of glacial activity on Inwangsan.  It therefore seems plausible to me that these boulders have been deposited on the mountain by glaciers.  However, it also seems that the rock of which the mountain is made can be easily eroded, and I wonder if some of these boulders are not simply parts of the original mountain that have been detached from its larger structure by erosion processes.  If you're visiting Seoul, I highly recommend that you visit Inwangsan.


Glacier scratches on Inwangsan?

Bukaksan illuminated by the setting sun, and the shadow of Inwangsan.

Bukhansan, in the distance, and Inwangsan illuminated by the setting sun.

The perimeter wall of old Seoul on Inwangsan.

The perimeter wall ends at a boulder on Inwangsan.

Yes, that is a boulder.
It is not attached to the mountain.