What is it with Dokdo Island?

I’m going to get in trouble with this entry no matter what, so I better check all my facts. It’s worth mentioning that during my two years in Japan, I never heard mention of Dokdo Island (독도 or Takeshima, 竹島, as it is known in Japan), though I did hear about disputed territory north of Hokkaido and other topical issues.

Let me say from the start, speaking as someone more or less ignorant on the importance of the island, and having no permanent ties to Korea or Japan, I really don’t see the big deal. Two years ago, when I ended my Japanese residency and briefly returned to Dallas, Texas, I was driving through Koreatown and came across this billboard:

Dokdo Island? Didn’t look that big in the photograph. And why distribute such propaganda in the middle of Texas? A quick internet such was all I needed to get the basics. Dokdo is an island in the East Sea, sandwiched between the Ulleung Island of Korea and the Oki Islands of Japan. As you can tell from the picture, it’s not much to look at: two main islets and 35 small rocks, less than a quarter square kilometer area. Two Korean citizens permanently reside on this chunk of “paradise”, but other than their presence, there’s not a lot going on.

Let me come back to the history surrounding this territory dispute in a moment. For now, let me just say I’ve never a country more blindly determined to stake its claim to a seemingly worthless island (rich fishing waters aside). It’s mind boggling:

- If billboards like that exist in Texas, they could be all over the world. There are absurdly large Korean communities outside Korea, all apparently dedicated to telling the natives Dokdo is theirs.

- In 2005, Japan announced a Takeshima Day holiday in Shimane-ken. Koreans responded by protesting, cutting of their fingers, and setting themselves on fire.

- I’ve seen examples of this in food. There’s a Dokdo sushi restaurant in Austin and Dallas, and a Dokdo brand name water in Korea:

“Dokdo… oooh, it must be Korean territory! I ate the sushi at a Dokdo restaurant and it was so good! The Japanese don’t have a Dokdo restaurant!” [author's note: as far as I know]

And those are just a few examples.

You know what? I’m not going to get into the history of this dispute. Japan has a point. Korea has a point. I’m not going to be the one to resolve anything, or tell you anything you couldn’t find with Google and a few minutes. In fact, it’s probably more likely if I did take a strong stance, someone would track me down and tell me off in person… or worse. Instead, I’ll give you this quote from the Dokdo Island is Korean Territory Facebook group:

“We do all know that it is only a rock. But we are just trying to aware Japan trying to invade us. Daema Island was ours too but they took it. They always trying to take our land…think about it! Do you want to live in a land which shakes all the time? It’s about the history. They’ve been invading us way too many times…sooooo many times!!!! That’s why guys!!! I’m not a person who always says “Dokdo is our land” and marching… I hate doing that stuff. But I know the fact. It’s more complicated than you guys think…. it’s about the territory issue.”

That’s the one thing I do agree with; it’s not so much strategic importance or the value of the land or surrounding water, it’s just the fact Koreans don’t want the Japanese to take something they consider to be theirs. Unlike the commenter above, though… I don’t think the fact Japan is prone to earthquakes has anything to do with it. When I blogged about the aforementioned sign on Keeping Pace in Japan, it didn’t take more than an hour or so before a Korean left an unsavory comment; once he realized I wasn’t stating the island belonged to Japan, I read this:

“Sorry for my previous post…..
I thought you are talking about DokDo is belong to Japan….

Sorry about that again….”

So, let the comments fly. I’m curious to hear other perspectives on this, Korean, expat, and outsider. If you’re in country and would like to visit Dokdo, ferries depart Pohang, Hupo, and Donghae for Ulleung Island at 10:00 AM, additional ones in the afternoon. From there, you need to submit an application to walk on the disputed island. It isn’t always possible to dock with turbulent waters, but there are also boats that just pull up for photo ops. Come to think of it, Korea probably gets quite a bit of Won out of tourism to Dokdo.

More Information

Wikipedia on the Liancourt Rocks

The Territorial Dispute Over Dokdo

Dokdo, Korean Island: Proofs & Facts

Dokdo Takeshima Island

Bank Account and Dojong

I arrived at my local branch of Suhyup… which, incidentally, has the tagline “Fresh Fish, Fresh Bank”. It’s certainly original, I’ll give them that. They even have fish and seaweed wraps available for sale in the bank. Anyway, I arrived around noon, and immediately had to run back to my apartment for my passport, the staffing saying it was a “new rule”… right. The whole point of the Alien Registration Card (ARC) is to eliminate the need to carry around that vital document.

In any case, after 5+ signatures and writing my full name in Roman characters, I can start to see the value in having a dojong (name stamp, 도장). I didn’t register one in Japan until well into my 2nd year, but even an unregistered chop can be used for common transactions, accepting packages, signing up for point cards, etc.

Regardless, I received my passbook and check card, and asked my boss about previous teachers’ experience signing up – did they use Korean characters, in addition to their “legal” English names? Turns out, unlike in Japan where your katakana name (language used for foreign terms) is written on your ARC, passbook, and most other documents, no such duality is required in Korea. Foreign residents certainly can get a chop with all Korean characters, but it’s more for show; I’d imagine you wouldn’t legally need anything like that until you naturalize.

While these forms were being processed, I asked a few more questions: if this was true for foreigners, what about Koreans? What do they generally use for a dojong?

1. Hangul dojong. Generally the cheaply made one. More widely used. About 1000 Won for a plastic one, 5000 for better plastic, 10000 for wood.

2. Hanja dojong. Chinese characters. These name chops are the officially registered ones with the government, and are generally made out of stone or high quality wood. They only come out as-needed. About 50,000 Won.

Soon enough, I was asked to enter my passcode, and promptly received a shiny bankcard and crisp passbook. Luckily for me, there was a name chop designer next to the bank (had thought they just made keys until recently), so I decided to have one quickly engraved. The owner pulled up several different options of scripts on his computer, and I chose one that resembled handwritten, yet not so loopy. I’ve been told foreigners can find those who are willing to engrave Roman and Korean characters on the same stamp, but that wasn’t the case here.

First setback – I deposited all my cash into my new account, and the stamp cost 10,000 Won. I rushed back into the bank to use the ATM for the very first time, only to have my pin number rejected… ugh. Somehow, somehow, my boss’ pin number was imprinted onto my card. Took a few minutes to straighten that paperwork, whereupon I was able to navigate the buttons on the ATM (do you know how long it took me to learn the Japanese for “withdrawal”?) and get 10,000 Won back. Rushed over to the shop, and now I have this beauty:

There’s a bit of a back story to this, as my boss was explaining his connection to the owner of the key/dojong shop. About ten years ago, when he first moved here from Seoul, he was in the habit of ordering things online rather than taking advantage of local businesses. The key guy noticed he had made a rather expensive purchase (electronic door locks) and chastised him for it. I guess that debate isn’t limited to anyone’s borders. But, with the gradual exchange of fruits and vegetables from each other’s farms, and the occasional soju outing, they’re now friends. In fact, my boss recently had him replace the locks on the school.

I’ll be writing about my students and some teaching stories sometime this week. Stay tuned.

Foreigner Registration

The same process repeats itself in country after country; there’s always going to be some kind of bureaucracy. How easy it is to work with the system (or pay it off, depending on the level of corruption).

Anyone planning to stay in the Republic of Korea longer than 90 days must apply to a local immigration office to get his or her alien registration card. I remember the process well in Japan; come in with your employer, fill out the appropriate paperwork, turn in your passport, pay a fee, and your sparkling card will be ready in a few days. It’s more or less the same here; my boss took me to the immigration authority in Pohang, which is nothing more than a dinky office the size of my apartment. Surprisingly, they’re able to mail my card back to Bugu-ri. I’m a little vary about walking outside without my passport, but I suppose it’s unavoidable during this period; I just fear anything in Korea that involves the police.

Things you need when applying for your waygook card:

1. Passport
2. Current address in Hangul
3. 10,000 Won
4. 300 x 400 mm photo

One thing that wouldn’t hurt would be a name chop. Anyone who has spent a little time in Asia knows most countries allow its residents to use a stamp on official documents in lieu of their signature. Practically, someone should have two: a stone one registered with the government to use for business purposes, and a cheap wooden one for daily matters – signing for a package, immigration documents, etc. Your choice as to whether you want your name in Hanja (traditional Chinese characters) or Hangul (Korea characters). In Japan, I used katakana for my name stamp. Even if I had chosen the appropriate kanji (雷途, “thunder road”), I have a feeling Koreans wouldn’t pronounce the characters the same way. I should just go ahead and get stamps in Korea, China, and Vietnam… don’t think they use them in Thailand or India, but I could be wrong. In Hangul, my name is 라이트 터너.

My biggest concern, other than surrendering my passport, was to determine whether the consulate in Houston had issued me a multiple-entry visa. If not, I would have to apply for a permit and pay a sizable fee. Fortunately, if you see that little ‘M’ on your papers, you’re a go. Japan is definitely looking good for Chuseok holiday. No matter where I go, though, I’m sure I’ll feel like a Mexican-American in Arizona:

- All foreigners must carry a passport, visa, or a foreigner registration card while in Korea (Those under 17 are exempt from this duty).
- All foreigners must comply with requests to display passports or foreigner registration card by immigration officers or other such public officers (including public administrators of city, province, or town), if they are performing their official duties. (registration related duties)
- Failure to comply to such requests will result in punishment as according to Immigration Act Article 27.

Today was Liberation Day. The Japanese officially surrendered to the US and WWII ended on August 15th, 1945. The Republic of Korea was established three years later to the day. Perhaps as nothing more than a political gesture, President Lee Myung-bak proposed a plan to reunite with the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. This is a really good article to consider when there’s talk of reunification. Sure, there is a common history, but as we’ve proven time and time again, that really isn’t the same as a national identity. Not much time has gone by, but I think even 50 years is enough to widen the gap where it cannot be closed again.

[Photo, "Immigration Office V" by Jens-Olaf]

Omakase: My Sushi Go 55 Experience

“We’re just watching you; this is better than Survivor.”

The two men and single woman sitting at the end of the bar to my right had a point, I thought. After all, I had eaten many strange things in my line of travel work – semi-poisonous blowfish, octopus with mayonnaise and fried batter, the smelly durian of Thailand – but had yet to encounter one of the true tests for the seafood connoisseur: the eyeballs. Morishita-san looked at me with anticipation, standing beside the somewhat ignorant trio and probably half expecting me to act like the foreigners she must have read about in Manga, who gag on tako, avoid sushi bars like the plague, and never try to expand their palette when it comes to ordering omakase from a seasoned chef.

Not wanting to disappoint my audience, I raised the chopsticks with my right hand, the small grey dish with my left, and popped in the fish eye without a second to lose. Delicious.

…

“Little Tokyo, Los Angeles”, josewolff

I didn’t really frequent sushi shops during my years in Japan. For some newbies to the land of the rising sun, this may hardly be surprising. After all, the average “foreigner out of water” tends to stick to comfortable foods, and thinks of raw fish on rice as something exotic reserved for the natives.

When I was living in New Zealand and running on fumes as far as my Japanese experience was concerned, I poured over texts on expats teaching English with the JET Program, which eventually led me to a reference to Trevor Corson, author of The Story of Sushi and quite the authority when it came to obtaining that most coveted of experiences (for sushi connoisseurs, anyway): an authentic Japanese omakase (”please decide for me”) meal from a Japanese sushi chef, with the nigiri packed loosely and the soy sauce tucked away, completely unnecessary for this direction in dining.

So what would you do if you learned of an author whose book you liked? Naturally, you’d Google him, discover his Twitter account, and send him a message letting him know your appreciation of his fine research, and how it has affected your life for the better. This I did. And also, I started eating sushi. Lots of sushi. From Blue Fish in Dallas to Tanuki’s Cave in Auckland, I learned to see the different styles of sushi chefs, notice the quality of the fish they brought in, and determine who could provide the best dining experience for me as a quasi-Japanese eater. Corson was spot on about the most important thing: you can spot a good sushi chef by how clean he keeps his station (no other bits of food getting mixed in with the fish or rice).

But despite everywhere I ate, no place could live up to the promise of what Corson said was available to the average American willing to shell out a few bucks: good Japanese sushi as the chef decides. Enter Little Tokyo, a district in Los Angeles that is probably the closest one can get to Japan without flying into Narita: sushi bars, grocery stores… I understand they even have a few decent hostess bars, though it’s perfectly understandable them not wanting to advertise to the general public (what layman would believe beautiful Japanese girls are only available for conversation?) Combine that with a business trip out west, and I had my solution to the penultimate sushi problem; I would contact Corson for recommendations on the best, most authentic, sushi restaurant run by Japanese in Little Tokyo, have my omakase night, and leave with my stomach swimming with sake (酒) and sake (鮭).

Sushi Go 55 is owned and operated by the Morishita family, who have been running sushi establishments in LA since the 1950’s. Amazing; only ten years after Japanese-Americans were being held in work camps following World War II, some Morishita in Japan was planning to move to the states to start a business. The chef I spoke with at Sushi Go 55 has been in the US for thirty years.

But I digress: THE OMAKASE. I navigated my way through downtown LA to arrive… in what appeared to be a regular shopping mall at the outskirts of Little Tokyo. No mistake; Sushi Go 55 was just two short escalator rides and one noren curtain away. Having never been there or met anyone in person, I responded with my best Japanese to the hostess:

“Morishita-san ga imas ka?”
“Ohhh, she may have gone home for the night. Please wait a moment.”

Ohhh, I sure hope she didn’t. I had had to contact Corson to put me in touch with Eji Morishita, son of the owners, and arrange a time to meet this Tuesday night. If she didn’t show, I would have to explain to the chef exactly what kind of omakase I wanted, and I certainly didn’t trust my fading Japanese skills to that level. Not to mention apologizing to Eji for failing to meet his mother and enjoy the sushi she was offering to arrange. No siree.

No worries, though, as she appeared from the kitchen after only a minute or so. Going through the formal introductions (giving her one of my few remaining genuine meishi), we made small talk about why I wanted such good sushi, and how I was willing to try whatever she would throw my way. Here it is, my experience, dish by dish:

“Salmon Belly Sashimi!”, Noeluap

Sake
Your standard-issue salmon sashimi, although, even in my excited state, I swear this fish was more delicious than any other salmon I had eaten. Merely an appetizer.

Cooked Uni and Mussels
I’ve had uni (sea urchin). I really don’t care for it. It’s still not my favorite, but cooking or searing it makes it far more desirable in my book.

Sashimi Platter: Toro, Maguro, Tai
Ahhh…. toro. The fatty bluefin tuna. The most expensive and delicious fish of them all. Toro is usually listed in sushi restaurants next to the letters “MP”, meaning “market price”. If you have to ask, you won’t want to spend it. Even an order of two toro nigiri can be over $20.

Chawanmushi
An egg dish filled with vegetables. I seldom ate chawanmushi in Japan (or eggs, for that matter), but found this little dish to be surprisingly tasty.

Tamago
Eggs are usually a good test of a sushi chef’s cooking ability; sure, many can cut fish properly, but prepare tamago to the epitome of sweetness and filling? That takes skill.

Hamachi Nigiri
My first stage of nigiri after nigiri began with yellowtail with a dash of salt and seasoned with lemon juice; both accentuated the flavor perfectly.

I wasn’t exactly sure of the proper etiquette between dishes in an omakase order: should I ask for the next dish, or would that make me appear rushed and greedy? Any sushi bar worth its weight will present you with a geta, the wooden platform on which to place ginger and wasabi to use with the piece of sushi. Thereupon the chef will lower dish after dish until you declare “ippai!”

Saba Nigiri
Ahhh, the mackerel. I didn’t know what this was at first, and my stomach was already bulging from the 15+ pieces of delectable fish.

Tai Nigiri
Red snapper with hot mustard.

…

I think that brings us back to the eyeballs. Appropriately after such a large serving, I declared I was too full to continue, requested the okanjou, and devoured the palette-cleansing pickled plum. The end of meals in American-based Japanese-run sushi restaurants has always been confusing for me: should I tip? These are Japanese people, therefore tipping is annoying and insulting. But…. these are Japanese people working on American wages, which require tips, so therefore tipping must be welcome. Well, the latter is correct, but I didn’t discover that until Morishita-san “reminded” me with a friendly verbal nudge.

And overall? A great Japanese experience in the heart of Los Angeles. Sushi Go 55 is the way to go. Check out Sai’s review too.

Total Price Tag: $70 + tip

The Pressure to Hear English

I take being surrounded by English speakers for granted. I imagine I’d feel completely liberated in one way if I were to return to Japan and begin my life with the Japanese people, but, in a far more accurate way, I’m slowly forgetting what it’s like to be in the language minority (never mind my white face; that’s a talk for another time).

“Shibuya in Action”, digika

Of course I had outings with Americans, Kiwis, English, Aussies, Canadians, even the occasional Jamaican… but 90% of the time, the Japanese language was my sole source of communication with others. I can just imagine my typical evening after AEON hours:

1. Finish my office paperwork and bid coworkers farewell with the customary “otsu kare sama deshita“. Emerge from the building on a cold winter’s night, just opposite a gas station.

2. I might pass a student, a kid, or a random passerby. Perhaps a friendly “konbanwa“.

3. Lawson convenience store for my usual turkey and pasta bento, with a heated bottle of green tea. Do I want it heated? Hai, shite kudasai. Any chopsticks with that? Hai, ippun o kudasai. Arigatou gozaimasu.

4. Finish the walk to my apartment building. I’ll probably catch another tenant in the elevator:

“Ahhh… Kimura-san. Ogenki desu ka?”
(I’m fine, Turner-san. How are you?)
“Genki des yo. Oyasumi nasai.”

Only when I’m back in my cramped 6-tatami mat quarters do I truly relax. After all, the internet is language neutral, though I’m sure most would agree English dominates. And this is a light, carefree evening. Imagine a full day of all Japanese. Now imagine a week. A month. A year. Five years…

There’s more to living abroad than embracing a different culture and being comfortable with your changing environment; the pressure of communicating in a foreign language builds up inside your brain without any realization. After all, you’re in Japan! An amazing, exciting experience! Who wouldn’t trade places with you?

I love Japan and I love traveling, but I get tired. There are long stretches when I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else on the planet, but there are also plenty of times when I would give my heart and soul to be surrounded by countrymen who understand my words, my upbringing, my way of thinking. How did I combat this in Japan, once I had learned to live well?

GetHiroshima Classifieds and Events

Hiroshima doesn’t exactly have the largest population of foreign residents in Japan, but there is a sizable number… enough to warrant the publication of a online resource for expats: GetHiroshima. Culture salons, 10Ks, Japanese wanting friends… I even got replies for a Texas Hold ‘Em group; we were soon meeting once a month for a nice cash game.

Nightclubs and Bars

I admit it, I went downtown many Saturday nights in effort not to hook up with random Japanese girls, but just to sit at the bar of an Irish pub and listen to background conversations… in English. Call me a language whore.

Blog Searches

By using Google Blogsearch, I was able to find many expats in my general area, and learn a great deal about them and their travel experience. You never know who’s reading.

I followed these same techniques in Kagoshima, and found the prefecture’s JET participants had a decent Facebook page; without that, I never would have ended up volunteering at an orphanage in Aira or cycling all the way around Sakurajima for the first time.

Everyone has their own ways of coping with this pressure of feeling like you’re the only one on the planet. Lost in Translation was such a success for showing this through film. Sometimes you do have to travel halfway around the planet… to come full circle.