Korea - Day 2

Taken near Incheon River

We had spaghetti for lunch, YJ's mum is a really really great cook. Suddenly, YJ and I became very afraid because the both of us had been pigging out at home ever since the morning before, sleeping and eating and sleeping and eating, and doing little else. Not surprising, with the weather hitting as low as minus four degree celsius, all you wanna do is stay at home.

We finally got our arses out of the house and off we go to Incheon's departmental stores. The things there are freaking expensive, but they were having a one-day only 70% sale, which was a steal for the both of us.


YJ's dad drove us to Chinatown for dinner at this high-class restaurant. They had many car valets waiting to serve customers outside once they drive to the front of the restaurant, and hand over their car keys to the valets who would assist them in parking their cars. I had the best bowl of noodles in the world at this restaurant, called Zha Zha Mian, invented by a Korean restaurant a few doors away.



After dinner, YJ's dad drove us to the sea. Incheon (the city where YJ resides in) is a famous port area, so this is the place where goods are being transported.

I had a mini history lesson today about North and South Korea. The conflicts between the two countries first arised because of their ideological differences, largely due to their geograpical locations. N.K is situated near China and Russia, hence they have been greatly influenced by Communist ideals. S.K on the other hand is near Japan, whose values system follow the American model of democracy. N.K remains a very poor and closed nation, which has no interaction with the outside world. Their citizens are heavily brainwashed by the communist government, and they have a very narrow-minded perception of this world as they have little or no knowledge of what is going on outside N.K. They are not even allowed to travel outside the country because it is illegal! Those who attempt to escape by swimming across the sea to China are instantly shot dead if discovered.

passenger on board

I booked a cab for the trip from my apartment to Southern Cross Station. You know how cab drivers always bombard irriated passengers with a hell lot of questions, when all the passengers want are silence? Well, during this trip, the taxi driver (an Indian student) began asking me some questions while stuck in the morning traffic, but I decided to bombard him with questions before it became the other way round, until finally, the taxi driver asked...

TD: So, what course are you doing?
Me: Well, actually, I'm studying journalism.
TD: No wonder you are asking me so many questions!
Me: Hahaha! Because taxi drivers always like to bombard their passengers with a lot of questions, so I thought it would be nice to turn the tables around.
TD: Hahahahahaha...It's nice to finally have someone turn the tables around.
Both: Hahahahahaa...

Singapore, 23:45PM

I really miss living near the Equator. When I left Melbourne, the weather was slightly chilly and I had a jacket on throughout the flight. But, as we got nearer and nearer to Singapore, and when the plane passed through the Equator, it suddenly felt like sauna inside the plane and I even began perspiring.

Seoul, 6.58AM

6 hours away, and the weather is a whole different temperament.

I landed in South Korea this morning at 7.04AM. The temperature was minus 4 degree celsius. 13 hours on the plane in total, good thing I was in transit in Singapore for 7 hours, or else my ass would really hurt. The moment I stepped out of the gates , Yoo Jeong was there waiting, and she greeted me with a huge yawn. We went to Starbucks to have coffee, then proceeded to YJ's house. She suggested taking the subway, even though the bus trip was only half an hour, so we would have a nice scenic view of the river. However, we had to change subway three or four times, each a 10 to 15 minute ride, and a 5 minute walk away from the previous one. And, then, from the station to YJ's house, we had to take a taxi down because the weather was freezing and we had three luggages to carry.

Because YJ's entire family doesn't speak English, and know only a few simple words, each attempted conversation with her mum (because her dad was at work) was a comedy of sorts, and YJ would roar with laughter each time she saw us trying to have a 'conversation'. We had an afternoon nap, and I woke up earlier than YJ, so I went out of the room and her mum was in the kitchen cooking dinner. She began talking to me in Korean, and I had a 'Huh?' expression on my face, so her mum would repeat herself again. In Korean. And, then when I still couldn't understand, she would say the same thing louder again. In Korean. When I told this to YJ, she couldn't stop laughing.

Kimchi is a must-have at every Korean meal, including the rest of the other small servings of traditional Korean dishes. Koreans eat really really little, and their meal servings are really tiny portions. When I came out to have lunch, I looked around the table. YJ's bowl had a few spoonfuls of rice, her brother's was about half full, and mine was filled to the brim with rice! I was very happy. Yay, YJ still remembers that my stomach is a rice bucket! After that, I was like, 'Thanks for remembering that I eat a lot of rice," and YJ laughed. Compare this to Chinese dishes, which are like huge communal bowls, not considering how much rice and refills we go for. No wonder Korean people are so skinny. YJ once said that for someone who eats as much as I do, I am super skinny. Gee, thanks.

At the dining table: See the four small tiny dishes? That is what YJ's family usually has for dinner, and still have many left-overs. Unbelievable. The big dish of dong fen was a special for both me and YJ, who only landed back in Korea one day before my arrival. We also had crab meat soup, which was super super delicious! Fyi, The full bowl of rice is mine.

After lunch, we had a quick nap. We were both dead tired. A small culture shock when I first walked into YJ's room. "Where is your bed?!!" Turns out Korean households do not have any beds, and they laid out their mattresses on the floor when they go to bed, and then fold it up neatly and pack it back to the wardrobe in the morning. YJ's mum prepared layers and layers of thin mattresses and two blankets (including an electrical blanket) for us. After some time, the heat emanating from the blanket woke the both of us up, and YJ was even perspiring. Our pillows were really flat (YJ's mum believes it will bring longer life) bean bags. The floor was so hard, I had trouble sleeping initally. Even YJ had trouble adjusting, given that she spent 9 months in Melbourne sleeping on soft beds. But, when you have accumulated as much sleep debt as the both of us, you wouldn't have much trouble dozing off soon.

I got the second culture shock when I saw the clothes being laid out neatly all over the living room floor. Turns out that Korean households dry their clothes by laying them on the floor! Because beneath their floor are heaters, they make use of the heat to dry their clothes faster.

down the prison gallows

I have interviewed some interesting personalities during the course of my degree, but yet the most unexpected and impromptu interview turned out to be the most eye-opening experience. Sometime back, I did an interview with someone working in the Old Melbourne Jail, which has since closed down and turned into a tourist sight-seeing place, where tours such as ghost trails are being held.

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“Enjoy your freedom – while it lasts.” Natalie Carr clicks the metal gates open to release crowds of people into the daylight. The location is Police Watch-house at the Old Melbourne Gaol, and Carr is smartly-attired in a navy blue police outfit, mega-sized black sunglasses, her hair neatly tied in a bun complete with a no-nonsense piercing glare. But, the crowds in question are not prisoners, they are tourists. And, Carr is an actor.

“My job is to play the role of a police, I arrest tourists, give them a charge sheet, process them in the charge area, search them, and then I lock them up in the cells.”

The cells that Carr, a 38-year-old sergeant at the Watch-house is talking about are the very same precinct which, since 1850 housed Victoria’s most hardened criminals. Some of the more high–profile criminals included the notorious bushranger Ned Kelly, Chopper Read, Ronald Joseph Ryan and Jean Lee who were the last man and woman to be judicially executed in Australia. It is the very same watch house where Ryan led a daring escape on 21 April 1960.

Forward to 16 October 2008, and Carr is standing before those very cells, a bunch of keys dangling nosily in her pockets.

“Sometimes, I close cell doors, and turn around, and they have been opened again. That’s strange, because there’s no wind in here. When everyone goes home, and we are locking up, it’s an eerie place.”

She leads me through a sneak peek along the gallows and into the cells of the 19^th century Goal, each of which is a similar replica of the other: four graffiti-scrawled walls, dirty, small and reeking of a morbid stench, with hardly any natural light. The funereal atmosphere of a bad omen hangs around the cells like an albatross.

When Carr is not busy ‘arresting’ people, she works as a singing teacher in Victoria primary schools and performs at The Dog Theatre in Footscray. No doubt, that she remains passionate about her unusual job at the Old Melbourne Gaol, which keeps her on her toes.

“The show changes every time I do it, purely because I have different people in the audience who react differently every time. I have had some people who had claustrophobia or panic attacks, and had to leave. Some children get very upset and cry. We have some school groups coming in, and some of these young people get frightened about being locked up and seeing what it is really like inside.”

And what does she like best about her job?

“It’s something different, only 5 people in the whole state do what I do.”

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Afternote:

The prison gallows was a chilling experience, it reeked of the smell of death. I walked through the galleries which since 1841, has seen the hanging of both men and women. These inmates were hanged publicly, such that when the rope that hung around their neck was tightened and the trap door opened, their body was left to dangle in the middle of the other inmates' prison cells. Carr led me through quick peeks in the prison cells, which was completely bare except for a small toilet bowl at the very far end of the corner. There were no windows, and obviously no light, it is not hard to imagine that one can go crazy staying in an enclosed space like this. Although the prison has seen been turned into a touristy area, but as you stroll through the halls of the prison cells, it is as though you can still hear the silent screams of those who once lived and died there.

Brighton Beach

Brighton Beach is a childhood dream come true. Ever since Fann Wong did an 8 Days photoshoot Down Under, I've been wanting to visit those places she did her photoshoots in. Brighton Beach was one of the destinations. So, on a hot summer's day, Hannah and I headed out to Brighton Beach. Good riddance to the winter season!

I took this shot of a jellyfish, because they were everywhere on the beach. Some dead, some alive. I went really really close to get this close-up shot. But, later, I learnt that jellyfish are one of the most dangerous creatures on this earth. Those who were bitten by a jellyfish have suffered the most painful and slow death, that has been described as worse as having a tiger bite half your neck off because the jellyfish's venom will go through every veins in your body slowly before it finally attacks your heart.

racism in australia

"Religion is not an opium."

Call it white bigotry, the archaic White-man mentality that they are a cut above the rest just because they are of a lighter skin color.

Look no further than the western media coverage of the Beijing Olympics or even closer to home, for me, would be my university's outright and blatant prejudice against Muslim students.

RMIT Islamic Society has been holding a campaign over the university's decision to covert the Muslim Prayer Room into a "multi-faith" facility. Apparently, a staff member had entered the facility and complained about the Muslim "branding" of the facility. Funny how the university did not even utter a word of contempt when they were collecting school fees from these Muslim students. In a bid to recover their prayer room, RMIT Islamic Society has been holding open protests in the middle of the school campus, Bowen Street, every Friday.

This is the longest student campaign in recent memory, spanning approximately 7 to 8 months, and the actions of these Muslim students and their decision to fight back and not be needlessly intimidated by a giant commercial and profits-driven tertiary institution is highly admirable and laudable. Week after week, these Muslim students congregate together in protest, and support for their cause have been encouraging, the movement has seen a tremendous growth from 75 to 650 people. In a heartening show of solidarity, they have also received support from the RMIT Christian Students Union and the RMIT Branch of the Australian Union of Jewish Students.

I attended one of their meetings last Wednesday, on the alarming increase in anti-Muslim bigotry and Anti-Muslim racism in Australia today. RMIT's decision to shut down the Muslim prayer rooms, no doubt, has a 'political agenda' attached to it. No doubt that it is a university, and its ultimate aim is to make as much profits as possible, but yet we cannot deny the fact that there is some sort of racism against Muslim students going on here.

Many Muslim students choose RMIT because they had the impression that the university was "Muslim-friendly". RMIT was happy to take their money, and yet they showed an uncaring attitude towards these Muslim students after that.

It is outrageous to expect these Muslim students to share their prayer facility room with groups of other faiths. Firstly, there is a strict dress code to be observed. And secondly, there are specific windows of prayers of time. Other customary routines that need to be observe include removing one's shoes before entering the prayer area, and that it must be free of any other representations of idolatry.

This campaign highlights the existence of Muslim discrimination, in a pervasion of a culture of fear, intimidation and terror towards Muslims.

I spoke to J, a political activist for a few years, and she termed Australia as a "disgustingly- racist" country. We had a very long chat, and much of the information she provided was very quote-worthy, but unfortunately, she refused to go on-the-record. Even though she was Aussie, she said that as a Left-Wing socialist activist, she had to be upfront about the blatant discrimination Aussies hold towards their Asian counterparts. She commented that Australia denying themselves to be racist would be like George Bush saying, "I support democracy." RMIT has successfully put up a propaganda show, a demonstration of 'racism attack' masquerading as upholding the principles of a 'secular society'.

One of the speakers for the day was a member of the RMIT Islamic Society. He said that penetration of Western media forces and influences has cast a disparaging stain towards Muslims, triggering a flood of anti-Muslim sentiment, bias and prejudice.

No doubt, the word 'terrorism' has become a synonym for 'Muslim', 'Islam', 'Afghanistan', 'Bomb'. A recent survey conducted in Australia had half of the respondents believing that Muslims have a negative impact in Australian society. This climate of racism and thwarted media representations of what constitutes as Muslim or Islamic, has led 96% of Muslims to consider suicide at one point in their lives. The speaker even confessed that he sometimes felt 'guilty' to be a Muslim.

One of the members from the floor proclaimed that it was ironic that the government was stripping funding from universities, healthcare and education to fund the 'war on terror'. This has resulted in massive cuts to government funding in universities and tertiary education, where the funds used on the terror war could have been put to better use.

I approached the two speakers after the event. One of the speakers happen to be one of the lecturers in my department in RMIT. He asked me if I recognized him, and my response came in the form of looking at him blankly. He suggested that I get my article published out there, instead of merely completing it as an assignment.

After speaking to many supporters during the event, and doing my own research, they all pointed to one person who had to bear the full brunt of the responsibility for the taking away of the Muslim prayer rooms - the Vice-Chancellor otherwise known as the CEO of the university.

And, so I rang up the VC the very next day, and of course her assistant picked up. My question posed to them was: "Do you think that such a move clearly places the economic welfare of the university as a priority above the welfare of the students?"

I was directed to the Media and Communications Advisor instead. It seemed no one was willing to speak to me or to answer my queries. I wonder if I had been an Age or Herald Sun reporter, instead of a mere journalism student, would they have been more responsive?

In the end, I was forwarded an email which contained another VC's official statement which rejected any propositions that the removal of the Muslim prayer room was an official attack directed towards the Muslims.

This is what I abhor about journalism. Because we journalists are obliged to an ethical code, which means that we have to be 'objective' and 'truthful' in all our reports. This presents a major Catch 22: How can journalists be expected both to be objective and truthful at the same time? Sometimes, being truthful means not being objective. It means taking a stand, or otherwise a 'biased' perception in our story angle. But, because we are journalists, and we have to act ethically and the whole other truckload of ethical bullshit, we are ethically obliged to report whatever junk information and propaganda that the rich and powerful feed us with, just so you know, that we 'balance both sides of the story'. It doesn't matter that in the course of the interview, it becomes clear to the journalist that one party is wrong, and merely feeding propaganda message to the news media. Our job is to regurgitate whatever has been said, reducing the job of journalists to marionettes for the rich and powerful. I think that all journalists should act MORALLY, not ETHICALLY.

The second form of racism in Australia would be towards the Chinese, or rather, China and the Beijing Olympics, in particular.

I follow the news in Australia daily, and the media has been inundated with negative reports of the Beijing Olympics. Lavish praise and media adoration can only be found in reports exalting the proud achievements of Aussie athletes taking part in the Olympics, especially Australian's golden swimming girl, Stephanie Rice and her multiple gold-awards winning.

Apart from that, every single day, there is one more page of criticism, literary attack and assault against the Chinese. Being in a Western country which prides itself on a 'libertarian' press model, I thought I was glad at once to be out of Singapore's tightly-controlled media. So, I appreciated all the negative reports that I was reading in Australia's dailies that I wouldn't otherwise have if I was back home. Until, that is, I smelt something amiss, the lethal whiff of strong racism and the Western countries' fear of the Chinese imperialist powers. It is as though that the Western media assume that by launching a tirade of verbal and literary assault upon China, they would gain an upper-hand, that by putting down China, they would portray themselves as greater, that by criticizing China, it would wash clean their own sins, and that it would dwarf China's growth into a world power. While Singapore's reports are diluted, Australia on the other hand, is largely tilted towards Western pride, in favor of the West over the East.

In fact, among all the coverage of China during the Olympics, there has only been one favorable piece speaking up in favor of China's growing power and host to the Olympics this year, and no surprise that it was written by a Chinese.

Again, we see the 'Western media's assault on the East' masquerading on the moral high ground of 'press freedom'. To see the extent of Australian's bias coverage of the Olympics, one need look no further than the headlines of the Australian major dailies.

1. Don't Boycott China's Shame (Herald Sun, 26 March 2008)
2. Games spirit stifled under an iron fist (The Age, 4 August 2008)
3. Tanks for the memory of Tiananmen 1989 (The Age, 4 August 2008)
4. Crouching tiger, hidden dragon (The Age, 11 August 2008)
5. Controls on China media exposed (The Age, 14 August 2008)

The above is only a microcosm of the negative media coverage of the Beijing Olympics.

In a clear demonstration of Western countries' fear of Chinese imperialism, the story of the use of fake singers and computer-generated fireworks during the Olympics made front-page highlights in The Age. The only time a Chinese athlete, Liu Xiang made the front page of the online Age's website was because of his surprise withdrawal from the Olympics because of an injured hamstring, and the subsequent shame to the entire nation who had their hopes pinned on the golden boy for a gold medal.

Sydney Olympics 2000 was not without propaganda as well. Yet, the Australian media choose to disregard all those flaws and gave positive media coverage to the event. For example, when China and Australia were fighting over the Olympic bid, the Australia government put together a team to uncover all the dirt about China and to publicize their flaws, so as to gain an upperhand over them. Also, when the Olympic team came to Sydney to scan the surroundings, the same people made sure that everytime the car of the IOC chairman drove pass a traffic light, it would turn green instantly. Even the Sydney Opera was not 'live' in action, and pre-recorded in advance (something that the Australian media only choose to highlight in 2008).

But, perhaps, it is a good thing after all. Criticism is always good, because at the very least, it means someone is watching.

Flabby!!!!

Went to Francisca's house to see Flabby! It has since grown much fatter, even though it has only been a few months since Fran bought her bunny.











Because Fran had to go back to Brunei, so we went over to her friend's house where Flabby would be checking in temporarily.

They say rabbits fall in love quickly, and it's usually love at first sight. True enough, the reticent Flabby and Cupcake (white rabbit) began kissing less than half an hour after the both were introduced to each other. Flabby soon forgot about Fran because she was so absorbed with her new love, Cupcake.