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Hong Kong, the freest economy in the world. Sparkling lights on buildings, garish neon on restaurant signs, throngs of well-dressed people, and -- AND... more cars than scooters! We could brush our teeth with the tap water! We could eat without fear! The huge, pristine stall in the women's bathroom in the airport nearly brought tears to my eyes. The fat roll of cushy toilet paper elicited a sob from my throat.

Wendy and I stayed one night in Hong Kong, and wallowed in our return to the first world. Wendy had managed to snag a night in a five-star hotel (we love you, Priceline!) with a view of the harbor, and we seriously considered staying in, ordering Tomb Raider on Pay-Per-View, and getting room service. I still think it would have been a fine use of time.

We ended up, however, going out to Ladies Market and trolling for last-minute gifts. Haggling, the lost art in most western countries. From my little experience with it during this trip, good riddance. We did manage to acquire a couple things that night, and then went to Victoria Peak, where the fine skyline was unfortunately obscured by fog. Durr!

In the morning, after The Hairdryer Incident (heh hah!), we wolfed down some excellent dim sum, including a $2 bowl of peanuts, peas, and raisins. Well, the peanuts were pretty tasty, I guess.

After dim sum, we got on the plane back to Seoul, arriving late Sunday evening. I was most happy to see my dad at the bus station waiting for us. We went home, ate what my grandmother and great-aunt prepared, went to sleep, and got up early to go see the DMZ on Monday with Maiko.

Whew. DMZ. The scariest place on earth, according to ex-prez Clinton. He has a point.

We first went to Odusan Unification Observatory, where we could see the joining of the Imjin and Han rivers, across which North Korea was barely visible in the fog. We then got briefed by an exceptionally tall and good-looking young American soldier at Camp Bonifas, named after a U.S. soldier killed brutally in 1976 by North Korean soldiers while trying to cut down a tree that was obstructing the view from a guardpoint in the DMZ. (The Axe Murder Incident was followed by Operation Paul Bunyan, easily the most heavily armed tree-cutting operation in history.)

We then got our passports checked by a Korean soldier, and then were driven into the DMZ by a U.S. soldier. We saw the famous buildings that lie half in South Korea and half in North Korea -- conference rooms guarded by Korean soldiers who wore sunglasses and modified taekwondo stances to appear more menacing. We heard about the world's largest flag -- the 30-meter North Korean flag flying in Propaganda Village, which is completely unoccupied except for a massive broadcast system -- and the 160-meter flagpole that was constructed after the North saw that the South Koreans had acquired a 100-meter flagpole. We climbed a pagoda and looked at the third story of a building on the North Korean side -- the third story was built as an addition so that it would be slightly taller than the complementary building on the South Korean side.

While we were on the pagoda, looking at the buildings divided in half by the Military Demarcation Line, I suddenly thought of how easy it would be for a North Korean sniper to put a bullet through me. The snow that had started falling while we were in the Odusan Observatory made the ground slick and the air chill. The part of me that viewed this trip as a tour of an interesting and historical location thought, "The snow is so appropriate -- how nicely it creates a menacing atmosphere!" The part of me recalling the unprovoked and bloody attack of 1976 thought, "This is fucking scary."

When we were filing back into the main building after seeing the conference room (and stepping into the North Korean side, of course), a North Korean soldier appeared on the steps of the matching building on the northern side. People took pictures. Our American soldier guide ushered us back in firmly.

There are actually people who live in the DMZ -- non-military people. The farmers of Freedom Village have to be from families that were in the area from years back. They are given large houses, are exempt from taxes, and have to be back in their houses by 11 pm every night. According to our American soldier guide, they make a good bit of money from the rice and ginseng that they grow. When Wendy asked why people would pay more for rice from Freedom Village, he said with a laugh: "Because it's DMZ rice!" He followed up by explaining, "Actually, they say that the rice grown here is supposedly more nutritious, because the soil here is free from chemicals and stuff. That's what they tell me, anyway."

Apparently, the North Koreans conduct tours of the DMZ as well, though not as often as the South. It's so, so odd to have this sightseeing mentality about the most heavily mined four-kilometer stretch of land in the world. Maiko was the only one of us three who brought a camera, and she felt a bit odd about taking pictures of the soldiers. In the end, though, we all three bought DMZ mugs and North Korean liquor (how that's available for sale in the South, I don't know). Hey, we're no commies. We support capitalism.
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Reflections

Wendy's flight back to DC was at 3 pm today, and we sat in Incheon International airport for an hour, talking about the trip. I'll leave her to share her impressions of the trip and what she learned, when she guest-writes an entry here (at some point). As for me, well, I didn't come to any revelations about what I should do about law school, which I'd sort of hoped for. Perhaps, as I told Wendy, the revelations come after you return to the familiar, and see how you've changed.

I did realize, with a bit of a start, that I am a Nature Girl. The best part of this trip was the two days in Halong Bay, Vietnam, where we kayaked between the limestone karsts, walked on struts between the nets of a floating fish farm, and were far, far away from scooter-clogged streets, merchants and hotel owners who price rooms and merchandise according to how rich you look, haggling, and well, the dirty unwashed masses, I suppose. Might there be a bit of first world snobbery about my preference for cool, peaceful bays? It's possible. But I know that I really do feel most relaxed and happy when doing something sort of active in nature --whether it's paddling a kayak in the clear, still waters of Halong Bay or clambering over centuries-old ruins at Beng Melea in Cambodia or flying through rice paddies on a scooter in Hoi An. Considering that I've always lived in cities, that's a bit strange.

I also realized that financial security is very important to me. Throughout the trip, we often got caught up in the dilemma of haggling over a fair price (relatively, as an "fair price" for a westerner is going to be at least twice the price for a local) versus remembering that it was a dollar or two, an amount we'd think nothing of spending in our home countries. I enjoyed bargaining once or twice, most memorably with a young girl selling hats in Hanoi who started out quoting me a price of 45,000 dong (about $3 USD) for a sunhat -- I got her down to 25,000 after 10 minutes of "C'mon, 20 is a good price for me and you make good money" and "No! 30 is good price! Very cheap! 20 too low!" (Stay with me, I do have a point here.) Most of the time, though, I hated it: the sizing up, the research into the proper price, the hammy exclamations of astonishment that we'd offer a price that low, the tugging on the elbow and repeated "How much you pay? I give you good price", the fake-out walk-away -- all to end up, more times than not, in a smile from both sides, each having gotten what they wanted. I'd rather get the price down a dollar and be overcharged, because I usually get so stressed out about the bargaining. (And the point...) So the point is, I want to be in a position where I'm not worried about paying full price if I have to. Of course, I hardly ever do (sale racks are my friend), even at home, but I don't want to worry about having enough.

Hm. That last paragraph is a little... yeah. Logic not holding together for me either. Forget you read that. But that point about financial security may come up again in the next few days. In fact, count on it. Because for the next week, my friends, this blog is going to be about Deciding Something. The impetus, just as it was last year at this time, is the deadline for letting Harvard know whether I'm going to be attending law school this coming fall. After three years of deferring, I don't think they'll let me go another year. More importantly, I'm sick of waffling, and I'm ready to put this era of indecision behind me.

So prepare yourself, 'cause I'm going to be putting everything that's in my head on the computer screen -- the reasons to go, the reasons not to go, the options I'm considering, the value systems I'm choosing between, the obligations and expectations that come from growing up Asian American, the positions of my friends and family members and random strangers I met in the past three weeks, the person I wish I could be, the person I actually am. By putting this all up here, I hope to make clearer to myself what I'm actually struggling with. And I hope that by putting it all up here, I can see the truths that have eluded my sometimes feeble search for the past three years.

My letter to Harvard must reach them by Feb. 2. My deadline for myself is Jan. 22.

You are welcome to skip the entries for this next week.
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Acknowledgements

This blog previously stated that the author bought seven pairs of pants and a pantsuit for $122 from a tailor in Hoi An. This unprecedented act of consumerism should have been attributed to the encouragement and persuasion of Wendy S., who by dint of repeating, "You can't buy one suit for this price in the States," hypno-toaded the author into buying aforementioned articles of clothing. Author would like to acknowledge and thank Wendy S. for making her buy said clothes, all of which author adores. Author would also like to apologize for the many Nelson laughs over the course of the past three weeks, and freely admits in this public forum that she (author) is evil. (No one will believe it, of course. Heh hah!)