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Getting lost and wandering through the backstreets isn’t all that dangerous. Crime rates are low and it seems that any cold exterior people may portray is for protective purposes only, and possibly as a result of the perpetual threat of all out war that looms heavy. For every abrupt citizen you encounter, another is overtly friendly.
The War between North and South Korea never officially ended. Add to that the Nuclear capacity and Communist poverty only a few miles over the border and you have the tangible artifacts of history and a potentially disastrous future before your very eyes. To get to the border, you must go on an organised tour.
On emerging from your hotel or the underground, one is bombarded and overwhelmed by a series of sensual attacks. The musk of garlic, soy marinated beef and odorous pollution hangs heavy in the air as a dense cloud of brown vaporous smog. You are never more than a few metres away from some foul-smelling restaurant.
A 6 A.M. return to consciousness and a prompt taxi ride from our Ryokan in central Fukuoka takes us to Hakata Port. Setting off across the sea of Japan, dodging whales and rough seas, our destination is Busan, South Korea’s second city. Taking us there is the hydrofoil oddly known as the “JR Beetle”. The skies are grey, and the waves high.
