October 9 - 11 2008

What is justice?

Time and time again we are surprised by the hidden codes in the behaviour and conceptions of the Koreans we meet, not visible for the untrained eyes of us, western people.
An example is the strong hierarchy between people, in which age plays a large role. When we were at the campsite in Deogyusan National Park with Che Ho, who was of our age, a couple of young guys arrived one day. They didn't come over to greet him right away, so he went to them to point out their 'duty'. A younger person has to greet the older person first, only then will the older return the greeting. Something similar applies for eating: the oldest starts, only after he or she took the first bite the rest is allowed to eat. Korean children are extremely decent and obedient, in the company of their parents anyway.
Amongst the Korean world cyclists the same hierarchy prevails. However here age is not the only factor taken into account; someone's achievements increase his or her position as well. Therefore Wooki has a strong position after his cycling trip in impassable Tibet. Achievements at school, at work as well as physically, are a matter of life and death in Korean culture to achieve success.
Although many Koreans are converted to Christianity (like Paul and Elizabeth), there are many Buddhists on the peninsula. Churches prominently appear all over the country, mostly ugly buildings with huge crosses on the roofs. We really have to search to find Buddhist temples, which are often situated at quiet, remote spots in the mountains.

In our interaction with Korean people, we perceive strong norms and values deeply rooted in their character. These are mainly based on the Confucian principles which originate in China. Confucius was a mentor, philosopher and political advisor who lived around the fifth century B.C.
The six fundamental principles of his philosophy are humanity, childish obedience, justice, decency, loyalty and reciprocity. From within these values social interaction between parents and children, husbands and wives, people in general, and government and civilians, is established.
Everyone has his or her own role and responsibilities. Civilians must act according to the laws of the country, and the government has the duty to guarantee the stability of the country and the well-being and prosperity of its citizens. The hospitality we receive from many Koreans originates directly from the principles of this philosophy. Koreans call this form of goodness "'cheong", a word which for them is impossible to translate into English.
The principle of justice and reciprocity has a strong influence on the people. Che Ho tells about the current president of the country who has taken a couple of unpopular measures, which might endanger his position. Any moment the Korean people might turn against him; meaning that people consider it justice to relieve him off his office or even kill him. This too is Korean democracy: when a leader takes a wrong decision, he has to fear for his life.
On the other hand, the strict principles of Confucianism, especially decency and loyalty, make people feel restraint; they cannot be themselves. I often feel a restless energy radiating from people: they come across like smoking volcanoes on the verge of bursting. So, the excessive amount of rapes, alcohol abuse, and children out of wedlock in this country are not very surprising. In most villages and towns we encounter so-called love-hotels, mostly built like extremely ugly fairy-tale castles, where people can act out their lust unseen and undisturbed.

Among all this goodness, love-nests and justice, we continue cycling to the south-western part of South-Korea. We have decided to skip the south-eastern part of the country, littered with industries and businesses. The last weeks before sailing to Japan we want to spend on the beautiful island of Jeju, which is situated about one hundred kilometres south of the peninsula, in the Yellow Sea.

The route is boring though. For two days we have no choice but to cycle on highway number 2. This road is relatively busy; it leads through the big city of Gwangyang and its industrial area.
Peter feels uncomfortable feelings manifest themselves deep inside of him. During our last days in Sangju we received a number of e-mails from Dutch friends worrying about the financial crisis which seems to reign worldwide. Especially banks, stock markets and saving accounts are suffering from the downfall. We don't know a lot about it, but from the things people write we get the impression the situation is really grave. And when it is serious enough, we – our stocks - might be affected as well. In a bad way.
Peter doesn't want to think about it, but, like a haemorrhoid, the feelings keep popping up in places they don’t belong.
The road we follow skips the city of Suncheon, which is unfortunate, since that's the place we were supposed to shop for ourf dinner. A small village grocery offers the solution.
It's getting cold and the wind rises. Late in the afternoon we find a grassy spot for our tent, next to a monument dedicated to General Choi Dae-seong and his two sons. They didn't capitulate to the Japanese, so they were killed. This wasn’t justice, but what is, in times of war?
Anyway, at the moment for us justice is the fact that we are allowed to spend the night on a patch of grass between a temple wall and a gazebo with banks and tables.

Waking up, we are both in a bad mood. We feel like a huge black thunder cloud looms over our heads.
In order to get clarity about our negative feelings concerning the global economical crisis we peddle to the next town: Jangheung.
Together we go into an internet cafe to check our stocks and bonds account.
And get the shock of our lives.
Completely devastated we see that the funds we’ve invested in six years ago have tumbled down to half of their original value. Our retirement plan, for which we worked so hard and long and saved intensely, has evaporated.

Wretched and in complete horror we sit in the city park. The sun is shining, but gives no warmth. We stare without seeing. The world is grey and sombre.
It's over.
We feel cheated; the last fifty years the stock markets rose steadily, with only a temporary dip sometimes.
And now?
The value has decimated for 50% within a week and the tide isn’t about to turn. This isn’t fair.
It's over.

We don’t need to talk long to come to the conclusion: we have to return to the Netherlands.
Back to our former lives: to live, work hard and save lots of money.
Money for the second leg of our journey.
This is something we don’t even have to speak about: we will go on, we have not finished, every cell in our bodies wants to explore the rest of the world by bicycle.

We get on our bikes.
A dark cloud shrouds the sun, a chilly wind takes our breath away.
That's justice.