Monday, 30 May 2016

[The Life of Shaun #526] Sushil & the City

In February, Sushil and I went to New York for Schnookums' XXth birthday, his first trip to the US.  It was a quick whirlwind long weekend, as I'd eaten up all my holidays, but we managed to "do" all the biggies: 1WTC, 9/11 Memorial, Times Square, a Broadway show, Central Park, Pongsri Thai and Los Charritos.

For Rachel's birthday gift, I got us tickets to The Color Purple, newly revised on Broadway.  I wanted to go see it as the film version is my favourite movie, and my top Idol, Jennifer Hudson, was playing the role of Shug Avery.  She was great, but the star of the show turned out to be Cynthia Erivo, in her Broadway debut.  She was absolutely stunning - I've honestly never seen anything like that on stage before; she got standing ovations in the middle of songs.  Crazy, crazy good.  If you go to New York while she's in the run, see the show, but you can get a taste here.

Visiting New York after so long away always makes me pensive, filled with thoughts of my years there, and the amazing friends I met and still have there.  There wasn't too much opportunity for that this time around, though - there was a lot of drinkin' in Jersey to do - but it was still nice to show Sushil around America's greatest city so he could understand a bit better what's made me me.

Glad to have been a part of it, that old New York,
Shaun


Lower Manhattan from my alma mater



Midtown from 1WTC



The new One World Trade Center


9/11 memorial



9/11 memorial, and the new WTC Transit Center


The transit center is very sexy inside.



We managed to get on the selfie cam in Times Square.


We even found Sushil some snow in Central Park during an exceptionally warm February weekend.



Don't worry, Sushil, New York is supposed to smell like that.



Sushil, Schnookums, Dom (Rachel's beau) and me at her birthday night.


Genital Autonomy - It's a personal choice Shaun H. Coley ~ Shadwell ~ Tower Hamlets ~ London E1 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk

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Monday, 4 January 2016

[The Life of Shaun #523] Good-bye, Aunt Judy

My Aunt Judy, on Dad's side, died today.  Her heart started to fail a week ago, and she declined treatment in favour of hospice care, so it wasn't a surprise, but it's sad nonetheless.

Aunt Judy was nothing but love.  She would, literally, give someone the shirt off her back if they needed it more.  Some people took advantage of her open heart and generosity, but she never let it get her down and didn't let them change her.  Right up until the end, even during these last months of discomfort and decline, she was nothing but smiles and "I love you"s.

She was one of the good ones; she will be missed.

Love you, Aunt Judy.

Shaun H. Coley ~ Shadwell ~ Tower Hamlets ~ London E1 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk

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Sunday, 3 January 2016

[The Life of Shaun #522] Weihnachten im Großraum Schwerbach-Koblenz

The first or second Christmas after Marco moved in, when he got back to London he told me that someone from his hometown had died, and the whole village had come out to be in the funeral procession.  My urban-American-sized mind imagined a hearse with a massive trail of people behind it, and so I asked, disbelievingly, "There were thousands of people in the funeral?"  Marco looked at me a bit funny, then said "There are only about 50 people who live there", and that's when I realised "village" meant something much different to him than me.

In the years since, I have heard a great deal about Schwerbach and its goings-on, and, once she found out that I don't have family living in London, received a standing invitation from Marco's mom to spend Christmas with the Kleins in the Hunsrück.  This year, I finally took her up on the offer (which had kindly been extended to Sushil as well).

However, the first stop was in the megacity of the region (Koblenz, pop. 110,643) to see where Jan grew up, just 45 minutes away.  (To me, it's "just".  To Marco growing up, it was a world away; the family only went to Koblenz once every other year or so.  There's a joke over here: Americans think 100 years is old, Europeans think 100 miles is far.)  

Koblenz is located where the Rhine and Moselle Rivers meet, forming the Deutsches Eck, so the region has a strategically important history, as the many castles and forts overlooking the rivers attest to.  This is also the region where a beautiful maiden sat atop a rock and sang enchanting songs to lure wanton sailors to their doom, as my fellow pupils of Frau Ranz will remember.  Koblenz is a very agreeable town (sorry, city), Jan was a witty and knowledgeable guide, and the visit culminated with a wonderful home-cooked, South Asian-inspired dinner at Jan's mom's riverside home.



One of the many picturesque squares of Koblenz.


Sushil, Jan and Marco at the Rhine, Fortress Ehrenbreitstein behind.


Monument made up of three sections of the Berlin Wall.


Yeah, but is it art, sweetie?


Next it was off to the Hunsrück proper, a rural region of small towns, villages, farms and a nascent wind-power industry in the middle-West of Germany.  Marco's sister, Simone, hosted the family and us for Christmas Eve cake-snack-dinner-snack-dessert-snack, which we quickly learned was to be the pace for the holidays.  Unlike in most of America and the UK, Christmas Eve is the big event, not Christmas itself.  The Christ Child brings gifts to the children on Christmas Eve; Santa is just St. Nicholas, and comes earlier in the month.

The next three days we were ferried between various relatives, who all graciously hosted, overfed and overwined us.  As it was Christmas, and I am benevolent, I even agreed to a country walk across the region's newest attraction, the Geierlay rope bridge, with which Sushil used up his one-per-marriage walking-across-something-high-and-precarious coupon.


Simone's first (of many) spreads.


Sushil and I showing our German pride with Simone's son, Max, while waiting in the utility room while the Christ Child set out gifts.



The "Rocket Cow", painted on the side of the barn to protest against the American nuclear military presence in the area (now gone).


Smiles before the Geierlay rope bridge...



​
...but not so much during.


Sushil was especially fond of sampling each family's potato salad recipe.



Marco's hometown, Schwerbach ("Heavy Brook").  There are now 14 numbered buildings in the village, a right construction boom, up from 12 just two years ago.


Marco in front of the family home.


The heavy brook!



Sushil getting a gutter ball in Kegeln, German nine-pin bowling, a more varied form of the game.


What struck me about the Hunsrück was how much it looked like Germany is "supposed" to look.  When I took German in high school, every picture of Monika and her friends could have been taken in the towns of the area.  Indeed, when we passed a man with a moustache and mullet, even the people fit those of Deutsch Aktuell 1989.  My heart will always be with Berlin when it comes to Germany, but it was great to see a more classical region of Europe's hegemon.  But best of all was seeing where my friends grew up and getting to understand a little bit better what makes them the people they are.  Hopefully I can return the favour in Mojave one day.



Town square of Kirchberg, the Hunsrück's oldest town. (Vielleicht wo Monika geht jeden Tag, von Montag bis Freitag, in die Schule!)


The orange building is the "Asia Wok House", showing that even this isolated corner of Germany is opening up to the world.  Marco's uncle and aunt admirably volunteer one day each week helping out with the refugees who have been relocated to the region.


Shaun H. Coley ~ Shadwell ~ Tower Hamlets ~ London E1 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk

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Sunday, 25 October 2015

[The Life of Shaun #521] The Life of Lottie

For the final installment on North Korea, we turn to my travel companion, Lottie, for her perspective on the experience.


Guest column on TLOS  

What a great honour to feature on TLOS – but with honour comes responsibilities, of course.  It is now upon me to not alienate Shaun's reader base, which is going to be hard as a married female heterosexual.  Perhaps I should start with a warning.  WARNING!! The following features flora & fauna, food and, whilst alliterating, f-ing children. Proceed at your peril.  


Flora & fauna  

Flora – I have left the country none the wiser as Shaun answered any "What tree do you think that is?" with: "Well, that's not a palm tree. And that's all I have to say about that." 

As for fauna, there were no cattle, there were no pets, we pretty much saw no animals at all in North Korea, which seemed very unusual.  Anyone we asked what their favourite food was, said it was  meat. The books that we read mentioned meat isn't abundant in North Korea.  A large part of the country is covered in mountains (78.5% our guide repeatedly told us) and therefore not useful for agriculture. The land that remains is fully used to grow crops. By hand. We saw one tractor which was so unusual that we pointed it out to each other.


Lottie not under a palm tree.

Needless to say people were astonished upon hearing Shaun was a vegetarian, especially our driver who, after we expressed our surprise at the sheer amount he ate*, explained that all Koreans have at least three stomachs. Which brings me to the second aspect of the trip that I know Shaun is unlikely to comment on: food.   


Food  

We were pleased at us being seated in breakfast room two in our hotel, which was the Western breakfast room. In the Western breakfast room there was something stale resembling toast, something gooey resembling jam and something powdery resembling coffee. Of course, in order to reach breakfast room two, we had to go through breakfast room one. This was an almost religious "grin and bear it" British-style experience. Asian breakfast was served in breakfast room one. A typical morning meal in room one seemed to consist of soup, an array of vegetables, and what I can only describe as the smelliest fish dish I have ever come across. How anyone would happily be able to smell it on a sober stomach, let alone eat it, is a complete mystery to me.   

Surprisingly enough though, we invariably had amazing meals in North Korea. The cuisine was varied, spiced with many tasty herbs and of course, the kimchi didn't hurt. It would be great if I could include   a picture of our lunch in the revolving restaurant on the 44th floor of the (for North Korea) luxurious Koryo hotel. Apparently though the pine nut mushroom dish we ordered there is not only an authentic North Korean recipe, it's also a state secret. And so we weren't allowed to take pictures in the restaurant at all.   


Children  

On the morning of our departure, I took my children to their nursery. Unfortunately, I was silly enough to tell one of the teachers that I was going to North Korea for a week. On a non-essential holiday trip. Let's just assume I will not make it in the top three of our nursery's super mom 2015 ranking. So perhaps it's not odd that I went to North Korea being extra sensitive towards encounters with children as I felt biased about leaving my kids. I found it interesting to see how a country that we in the West percieve as a harsh, perhaps even non-emotional state, interacts socially. And so I was thrilled when our guide Kim took us to a middle school, called Kim Jong-suk (after Kim Il-sung's wife and Kim Jong-il's mother, of course). The school was in a lovely building with red ivy covering  part of the brick walls, amidst extensive sports grounds. We were first taken to a ballroom size chamber containing all the prizes this school won, followed immediately by a room twice the size containing taxidermy exotic animals. At this point we wondered: is this school the best in the country? To which the head mistress answered: "Oh no, this is just an average school".



At the entrance of the school.


We were then pushed inside a classroom. There were about 40 fourteen-year-olds in the room and they were very eager to test their English on us. Before we knew it, they fired questions at us. They asked us simple questions, wanting to know what our favourite colour was, what hobbies we had, where we were from, what our ages were. The questions weren't odd – they were the usual questions we all learn when we learn a new language. But what was unusual was the enthusiasm with which the questions were fired at us. They had been taught to stand up when they spoke and they were probably also told to speak up, they were overeager – it was the exact opposite of the typical behaviour you will see in any Western classroom. But just when I thought that this was a perfect example of a charade, of these children being told that they had to impress the foreigners, I noticed that there was a boy sitting in the second row who kept trying to ask me a question. But others beat him to it, time and time again. With body language I tried to help him, but it still took a little while until he managed to speak up. He stammered a little and I didn't quite catch what he said right away, he had to repeat his question. It was a question that had been asked before – probably what my favourite colour is, which I said is blue by the way – and then I saw him sitting down again and he looked truly disappointed at his performance. He even made a little universal hand gesture, moving his fist from his right hip up towards his left shoulder.



Our class waving good-bye.


After teaching "our" class English, we were taken to a room where the talented children of this  school – remember each school is as accomplished as this one, it really wasn't anything special – were showing off their skills. As any North Korean school, this school has their own band, complete with singers, guitars, a really cool girl on the drums and several dancers. In order to showcase this very average group there was an auditorium with over a hundred seats.


Performers at Kim Jong-suk school




This picture was taken on Kim Il-sung square. I was a bit nervous about taking it as we weren't supposed to take pictures of any army personnel, but I took it secretly from the car and my  phone wasn't searched when we left as it was when we entered the country. If I had to pick one   picture showing the schizophrenia I experienced when visiting North Korea, this would be it:

  


*I have serious concerns that the guides and (especially) the driver ate so much as they may not be used to   having abundant food, or perhaps they don't get some types of food regularly, such as meat. The driver also   took any leftovers with him. I sincerely hope this is me being paranoid.  




Shaun H. Coley ~ Shadwell ~ Tower Hamlets ~ London E1 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.
l

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Performers at Kim Jong-suk school



Saturday, 24 October 2015

[The Life of Shaun #520] Even hermits have lives

My favourite part of our trip to North Korea was the (limited) brush with normal life that we were allowed.  North Korea is called the Hermit Kingdom because it's so secretive and cut-off from the world, and consequently we know so little about life in the country, other than how it's portrayed in the media.  It's so silly, but I remember the first time I saw someone entering the stairs down to the subway in Pyongyang - it was so jarring, almost like a revelation.  You don't think about the North Koreans as people commuting to work, as having friends and families, doing the normal things in life within their own reality.  It was so odd to see someone just being.

As the days went on, our guides got to know us better and seemed to understand our respectful curiosity about their country, and they began to open up to us.  We got to know about husbands, sons, boyfriends, favourite Western books, which British pop band was best (Westlife), ambitions in life, hopes for travel; and we were increasingly peppered with questions about our lives, our pasts, our countries and their politics.  It was structured and in a controlled setting, but the sentiment was real.  Our guide acknowledged that Westerners like to visit North Korea because it is such a "unique" country, but we also got the sense that there's a desire in North Korea to be more engaged with the world, but also a desire to be respected.  Regardless of our views of the country and the personality cult around the Leaders, the affection is genuine and North Koreans, like most other nationalities, are a proud people.

Lottie commented towards the end of the trip that it's not very often you travel somewhere that makes you put up a mirror to your own country and reality.  There were many times in North Korea that I was reminded of America with its strident patriotism, chants of "USA!  USA!  USA!" and the unquestioning belief that America is the greatest country in the world.  Now I'm not saying America is North Korea, where you are never far away from the watchful eye of a soldier or policeman, as I got to grow up and hear competing viewpoints, travel around the world to see things for myself, and I never had to worry about being thrown into a gulag for speaking my mind.  But I think of how many Americans don't question what they see around them or try to learn about the world outside their borders, even though they can, and it's a bit easier to understand the North Korean condition.

I've been back almost two weeks now, and though my mind is not spinning the way it was at the end of the trip, I couldn't honestly say that I've got a grip on North Korea.  I can say it was one of the best trips I've ever taken, life-changing, or at least life-questioning, on some levels.  I've often said that everyone should have to be a waiter for three months, because if they did, they would be a lot more respectful to anyone in a service position.  Similarly, I would love for everyone to visit North Korea.  There's something about going to a country that is so monolithically portrayed and seeing an unexpected reality that makes you go "Huh.  I wonder what else I've got wrong."  And I think the world would be a lot better of a place if people asked themselves that more often.



The morning rush hour on the highway near our hotel.


Flats in Pyongyang <3


More flats - these were built for the professors at a nearby university.


After getting back, I looked at Google maps and noticed that in our travels around Pyongyang we never encountered any neighbourhoods like this, which look suspiciously like the slums of Mumbai in satellite view.


Signs celebrating the 70th anniversary were all around the city.


Lottie and I with hotpots - we cooked!


Pyongyang's version of Ampelmännchen, the "human traffic lights"


Pyongyang's got a leg up on TfL when it comes to tube stations.


But possibly not when it comes to breadth: our guide, Kim, shows us where we're going on the helpful interactive map.


I thought this was a great idea, giving people the newspaper to read while they wait.  Lottie pointed out that if the government want you to read the newspaper, it's a great way to get it out there.


Lottie and her fair hair were quite the head-turners in North Korea.  These two girls took a pause from sweeping the street (we saw lots of people sweeping streets) to look at her as she passed.


Two ladies in a park.


On Kim Il-sung Square.  I asked our guide what it was, and she told me it was a sign letting people know about the portraits available in the establishment it fronted.  I believe this is what we in the West would call an "advertisement".


Lottie taking in the view along the Taedong River.


Shaun H. Coley ~ Shadwell ~ Tower Hamlets ~ London E1 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk
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[The Life of Shaun #519] The Juche tour

The anticipated climax of the trip, the 70th Anniversary of the Founding of the Workers' Party of Korea Extravaganza, turned out to be a bit of a dud.  Though we never expected to be right on the square, we thought we'd see the action further along.  We had only been in there a day and a half by the anniversary celebrations, but we had already begun to understand what it meant when the answers to our questions elicited vague, noncommittal responses.  At first we got a few firm "Yes!" responses about the parade, but they quickly degraded into "I am not so sure".  (To be fair, I think our guides often didn't know either; they always had to call into the central tourist organising agency, KITC, to be told what we could or couldn't do.  Lottie and I made quite a few changes to our itinerary, and each one necessitated a call to KITC.) 

Eventually we accepted that we weren't going to get to see the Supreme Leader give us a thumbs up for waving our DPKR flags and settled into the supreme bureaucracy of the day.  We, as well as all the other tourist groups, were shuffled about from place to place, and given shifting answers to the same questions, until we were all eventually safely corralled into the same parking lot outside the Kimilsungia-Kimjongilia Exhibition Hall, a rather large space dedicated to emphatic displays of the flowers bred in honour of, and named after, the Great Leader and Eternal General.  It was kitty-corner across the Taedong from Kim Il-sung Square, so we could hear the celebrations, if not see them, except for the aerial bits.

After some time, we were led to a road where the military parade would progress after the main event.  We waited for hours, growing ever colder, until finally the parade started to trickle in.  At first it was truckloads of soldiers, but eventually this gave way to  tanks, planes and ever bigger missiles, all wrapped up and ready to go back to the DMZ.  We tired of this fairly quickly, and asked our hosts to take us to dinner where, as we were getting out of the van, we saw a Kim Jong-il pass on a rise next to the restaurant.  We went up with one of our guides and found ourselves in a completely different parade.  Rather than being surrounded by tourists watching the soldiers commute home, we were amongst Koreans, absolutely ecstatic Koreans, cheering on their soldiers.  There was a live group singing over loudspeakers, everyone was waving flowers and flags,  having a bit of a party.  Lottie commented that it looked a bit like the clips we see of Europeans cheering the liberating troops in WWI
​I.​
 
​I​
t felt for the first time that we were seeing North Koreans as themselves.



A display of Kimilsungias (purple) and Kimjongilias (red) at the Kimilsungia-Kimjongilia Exhibition Hall.



Lottie and I enjoying the sounds of celebration.



About as exciting as the main event got for us
​: fighter ​
planes forming a 70 approaching Kim Il-sung Square.



Some of the hardware on display.



Eventually we found where the real party was.



The parade stretched on and on - and they kept on cheering.



There were fireworks to end the night; our hosts were very excited about fireworks (as they were about the one passenger plane we saw in our week there - "Look!  A plane!").  I took
​a
 pic
​t​
utre a bit out of politeness, but more so because I was intrigued by the lack of light in the nearby blocks of flats compared with the distant sparks.



We had two trips outside the capital.  The first was the obligatory daytrip to the Demilitarised Zone (DMZ), the armistice line between North and South Korea.  It's definitely a site that, without the history, loses its impact.  Tourists snap a few photos, buy some "Down with the USA" postcards, and then have lunch.  There is legitimate tension at the border - the soldiers are for real - but the DMZ is, by definition, in stasis.  The iconic flags of North and South flutter at one another across the border, and every tourist is dutifully shown the line that crosses through the buildings showing where the peninsula is divided, but not much happens.

For our safety, of course, we were shown around by three soldiers, one of whom told us the history of the Korean War from the perspective of the North.  You could tell he had told the same stories many times before; the
​y​
were probably the same stories about American imperialist aggression he'd heard since childhood, but you could feel the earnest with which he relayed them.  There is a genuine feeling of threat from the outside world in North Korea.  Of course, I grew up hearing the flipside of the same stories, believing my truths as deeply as he did his.  But as he was telling his version of the truth, I couldn't help but think back to 2003 and the gusto with which America went unprovoked into war
​with​
 Iraq, and it made me think the real truth must lie somewhere between his and mine.



A sign outside the DMZ, which says North and South should leave a reunited country to their children.



The DMZ
​.  T​
he line running through the middle of the buildings in the
​raised ​
line between North and South Korea; the building in the back is the 
​tourist complex in South Korea.​



This flag was left on the table where the UN - sorry, the US - signed the armistice agreement.  The story behind it is that the Americans were so upset about having lost the war that they forgot to take the flag with them, and though the colours of the flag may have faded, the aggression of the imperialist invaders is as strong as ever.



The other excursion was an overnight trip
​ to​
Myohyang-san ("Mysterious Fragrant Mountain" - it wasn't a mystery for long, the fragrance was stale cigarette smoke) to a temple (we nixed that in favour of a lie-in) and the International Friendship Exhibition.  This is a massive - and probably massively expensive - museum where the all the diplomatic gifts that have been given to the Kims are on display.  North Koreans are very proud of the admiration shown by world leaders and dignitaries, and that the Leaders display the gifts for the people to see, rather than keep them as private gifts.  Lottie and I weren't so enthused about this on our itinerary, especially when we first started and it seemed as if our local guide was going to read every one of the 220,000 plaques labelling
​each item in the musem​
.

As we went along, she asked some questions, which we answered honestly, but sensitively, and she become more and more animated and engaged.  Proper from the start, she matured into what could only be described as a Juche fundamentalist.  It was intense and genuine - and Lottie and I loved her for it.  We weren't there to judge, and I think she sensed that
​.  Y​
ou could literally feel the pride and love she had for her country and the Leaders, and the genuine joy she felt in sharing them with a receptive audience.  Other than a photo of the Supreme Leader with Dennis Rodman, I couldn't tell you anything we saw in the museum, but we were enraptured.  It was, quite surprisingly, one of the highlights of the trip.



The flame of the Juche idea burned brightly in our local guide.



Lottie and I with what could only be described as an amazing mural at our hotel in the mountain.


Shaun H. Coley ~ Shadwell ~ Tower Hamlets ~ London E1 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk


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