About those two darn journalists

For the first time since I've been to Korea, our class had a seminar-like discussion. It was probably not intended to be so open, but Kelly and I inadvertently chose to present on the same news topic, so the question and answer session extended into a wild exploration of thoughts and presumptions that I found quite enjoyable. It was a refreshing change from the one-way information the teachers had robotically fed us throughout the past year.

We discussed the significance of a recent incident in which two American reporters who were detained by North Korean troops on the Chinese border. They were on mission to report on the trafficking of female defectors and their living conditions in China. Their detainment has made the headlines, at least in the Korean media, for the past several days.

To give a short summary of what happened, 3 reporters from California-based new media station Current News and 1 Korean-Chinese guide were taking footage of North Korean defectors' escape route near the Tuman River. Around 3 am in the morning, 2 of the female journalists, a Korean-American named Euna Lee and a Chinese American named Laura Ling, were detained by North Korean guards at the border. 

There are varying accounts of why the journalists were arrested. Some media sources say the journalists were detained after they crossed over to the other side of the Tuman River to get extra footage of North Korea. If that were the case, Lee and Ling could rightfully be prosecuted under North Korean domestic law. However, other sources say North Korean guards crossed into Chinese borders to arrest the journalists after unsuccessfully warning them not to take more footage of North Korea. If this were true, the North Koreans would have no right to keep Lee and Ling in custody, and unless they want to be labeled as abuctors again. 

Aside from the uncertainty of what actually happened, there has been much debate about how this incident will effect US-North Korea relations. Now is a very sensitive period for US-North Korea relations, especially with North Korea threatening to test launch a satellite or intercontinental ballistic missile capable of reaching US territory from Musandanri.

While some experts warn that North Korea may hold the two American journalists as a bargaining chip with the US on important foreign policy matters, I tend to disagree. The US has already declared they are approaching this incident as a humanitarian matter, instead of a security one. That means if North Korea tries to pull any strings in the nuclear negotiation process by dangling the detained journalists on the line, the US will probably not listen. 

North Korea already seems to have known their limits. If North Korea were truly trying to hold the journalists captive for some kind of nuclear ransom with the US, it would have been the first one to inform the US government of the incident. However, reports show that Korean intelligence sources were the first ones to spill the beans, and that was several hours after the incident occurred.

As of now, North Korea still suspects the journalists of being spies. Their goal, no doubt, is to get these two Americans to admit they were participating in espionage so that it can be used as domestic propaganda against the "imperialistic Americans" trying to destroy the socialist country. However, unlike the concerns of some groups, North Korea will not go as far as torturing the detainess to make them confess to being spies. Rather, the North Korean government is doing its best to treat its semi-unwanted guests with hospitality and comfort. All this to get a good name out for itself when the journalists go back to the US for a press conference. 

While thinking about this incident, I questioned the ethics behind journalism and the extent to which journalists should go to report the truth. I am a firm believer in the responsibility of the media and especially those of journalists to investigate injustice and reveal the truth--even if it may result in significant losses. However, when that loss extends beyond the journalist or media organization itself and affects the innocent or the country the journalist represents in harmful ways, every step must be taken to minimize risk and maximize safety.

I was told that Pastor Chun Kiwon, who provided the journalists with a guide in the border area, warned them not to cross the river. However, when the journalists' guide suggested it was safe to capture footage across the river, the sensationalism of it all couldn't stop the reporters from taking the risk. It was unplanned and unanticipated, and it resulted in a huge fiasco for a lot of people. What will happen, for instance, to all the defectors captured on footage? Will the North Korean government persecute any of their family members or try to uncover their hiding place?

Of course, if I were ever in that situation myself, of having the once in a lifetime opportunity to walk across 1 meter of frozen water to the most self-isolated country in the world, I may have not been able to resist. But taking a step back, I can't help but look at the journalists' actions with a critical eye. They are bringing attention to a region that remained a secret yet relatively open passage back and forth from North Korea to the outside world. What will result is more crackdowns and less mercy. And for what? Their own greed, their own ambition, to reveal something that is already known to those who have been involved in aiding defectors for years, and to make a name for themselves as the American journalists who risked their lives fearlessly to unconver one of the world's most unsolvable enigmas.

But then again, who can blame them. 

Just another blah day

My hair is tangled and I look like I have an afro. It was in a ponytail all day and when I let it loose, the rubber band snapped and the tight ball of black strands suddenly expanded into a large poof. I don't want to look in the mirror, although I already see my reflection on the window out of the corner of my eye. Gross.

I feel ...blah. No other word better describes my current state than that overused sound. Blah, blah blah blah blah.. Blah! When you're too lazy to say anything else, or too scared to confront reality, blah comes in as an appropriate subsitute. They say pictures are worth a thousand words, but a thousand blahs are worth a million emotions that can't be described with any picture. It's a sound that replaces the chaotic jumble in your mind with a reasonably harmless-sounding concoction of vowels and consonants.

I'm wearing pink pajamas that have white hearts and the word "love" written all over them. I bought them because I thought they would make me happier, but they only remind me of what I'm missing. Not that I don't have someone I love. He's just not here next to me.

I have a large brown dot on my left index finger. That is sometimes the only way I remember which is my right or left hand. 

I am tired but don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to have a strange dream again that wakes me up in the middle of the night. In my behavioral psychology class in college, I once read about a women who only needed 2 hours of sleep to function like a normal person. I wish I had her genes. Instead, I sleep like a rock and feel like one when I wake up with only 10 minutes to get ready in the morning.

At 5 am

I'm awake at 5 am again. But today, for better or worse, it's not because I procrastinated. And it's not because I want to be, either.

I woke up with an unbearable stomachache after dreaming of meeting up with my atheist ex from high school. He had given me headaches before, but this was the first time he prevented me from sleeping. Which is saying a lot, because few things can prevent me from sleeping other than 1) feeling gassy, and 2) having too much on my mind.


But I admit, it wasn't really because of my ex. I hadn't even thought of him in ages, and the subconscious revival of his face almost made me puke in my dream. I hope he never reads this so he doesn't appear again in my mind, subconscious or not.


Today, the real culprit is my former boss from Hawaii I had dinner with last night. We decided on normal Korean food, but I forgot his standards are a little higher than mine. The meal ended up costing 50,000 won per person for what would normally be 10,000 at other restaurants. Rice, soup, and a couple of side dishes. Add a little steamed pork, spicy octopus legs, tofu with barbeque--and tag on an extra 40,000 won. I felt guilty, so I ate it all. To the very last bite.


I must have eaten a lot faster than I could digest, because I am still tasting the aftermath of the barqueque and octopus legs. That, and my twisting stomach, which by 4:30 in the morning was screaming out in pain, were the only things that could got a rock like me to come out of bed.


So here I am. And I'm noticing things I never had time to notice before.


You have a heightened sense of awareness at 5 o'clock in the morning. All of a sudden, you notice the way shadows fall across your room in haunting ways or how normal things in your rooms morphed into characters out of a horror movie. All crazy things that seem perfectly normal when you're delirious.



Or how it's already 5 am, yet the color of the sky outside is still the same dull shade of reddish brown that it was at 11:00 last night. Before I fell asleep, I remember looking through the window and blaming the yellow dust.


It must have heard me. As I took a sip of water from a cup that had been sitting on my desk since yesterday, almost instantly, I tasted the knawing bitterness of the dust that had somehow seeped into our apartment. Bah! I wanted to spit it out but had nowhere to do it.


I realized that sometimes you don't have a specific reason to write. Writing is a window to your soul, and you leave it open because you need some fresh air once in a while.


It's 5:15 now and my day starts in exactly 2 hours and 45 minutes. From then it's war--here, in the tiny yet bustling, busy, and way too complicated city of Seoul. But being up this early makes you a lot calmer than waking up 20 minutes before your next appointment. Maybe it's something I should try on a regular basis. To keep me saner than I would be in my delirious state, that is.

The reason I sleep

Waiting on the other end of the line at 5:23 in the morning for someone to pick up is one of the most painful feelings in the world. It's when you realize that your attempts are utterly useless and your opinions, no matter how important that person considers you to be, don't matter at the moment.

Even when they pick up, they answer with a simple, "I'm sorry, I'm on the phone about an important meeting..." and there is nothing you can do about it.

You can't get angry, you can't ask to have more time, you can't take back the hours you spent anticipating, waiting.

In times like these, you just have to suck it up and enter that deep slumber of nothingness we call sleep. It takes the feeling away and makes it easier to bear.

Eating alone

I always thought that eating with other people makes your food taste better.

But it doesn't. It tastes exactly the same.

I always disliked eating by myself. I thought it was a sign of weakness. Your inability to mingle with the rest of the group or to ask someone to eat with you.

But I tried it out today, all by myself in a large empty room lit by a bright fluorescent light. I didn't feel weak.

It was rather refreshing, and I was having all kind of thoughts.

Like the bizarre cold front that's seeping up the warmth of spring all over America's east coast, the slumping economy hanging on for dear life, my future, my boyfriend's boyish smile, the curiously strong taste of Altoids.

I must have eaten too fast. Next time, I will keep a book open next to me to space out my time.

I feel myself retracting inwards a lot more often these days. Is this part of growing up? To feel more than you express, to think more than you act, to say less and ponder more.

I'm starting to feel restless again. I feel like I need to pack up and leave by myself. Go travel somewhere, meet strangers, ride trains, order unknown dishes.

Maybe my trial in eating alone today was preparing me for the road ahead. To feel comfort in this big vast and somewhat empty world, and to be able to fill that emptiness with my impossible goals and a pinch of hope.