"Kim Chang-seop tells us that we can take photos on the left side of the bridge (river, forest) but not the right (military base), adding casually, 'The soldiers are probably watching us right now.' Growing up inside the sparsely-populated CCZ, there were only five children in his elementary school. He has fond memories of hanging out with the soldiers, who would share their hardtack provisions with him. They assured him that he wouldn’t have to join the military because the two countries would be unified by the time he was old enough to be conscripted. 'It’s been 15 years since I finished my service,' Kim Chang-seop laughs.
He’s since left the village and has a family of his own, but returns regularly to help his parents out. He’s also not particularly bothered by recent growing tensions between the North and South. 'We’re so close to the border, the missiles will just fly over us,' he says. It’s unclear if he’s joking or not, but he, like many Koreans I know, comfortably wears this shrug of indifference, an easy, pocket-sized nihilism.
Back at the restaurant, the dining room is now full with locals in layered work clothes, a middle-aged couple, and soldiers with the skull and crossbones stitched onto their uniforms. (A tour bus sometimes stops at Jeonseon Hyugaeso, offloading groups of security tourists, but none are visible.) Rumor has it that each side chooses the handsomest soldiers to serve on the front lines, as propaganda that places each nation’s best face(s) forward. The soldiers here are good-looking, and they are also so young. Everyone, locals and soldiers alike, is huddled over the steaming pots of maeuntang."Read the whole thing, and don't miss the excellent pictures.
As cynical a bastard as I am, and as dangerous as times as these are, it's always worth remembering that people are trying to live their lives and will continue to do so despite the ravings of madmen with bad haircuts and nuclear arsenals.
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