Bridge Over Troubled Water

The main bridge over the Yalu River between China’s Dandong and North Korea’s Sinuiju was surprisingly busy. There was at least one train a day (maybe one going each direction – I didn’t sit by the bridge all day), and there were vehicles moving fairly regularly across (a few an hour during mid day). There was also a little foot traffic. Most traffic, car or foot, was traveling to North Korea rather than to China. In addition to cargo trucks, there were the occasional van or sedan, and even a couple of brand new SUVs, one towing the other. Perhaps early birthday gifts for the Dear Leader...

There is a general disdain on the Chinese side for their North Korean counterparts, at least this was the perception from the Chinese I spent time with. A composite description of the various folks I spent time with: in import-export between China and the two Koreas, a Korean language major who did a year at Kim Il Sung University, and spent time working and living in both North and South Korea, a former official of the Railways Ministry, traveled several times into North Korea, arranged visits of Chinese officials or tourists to the DPRK.

The general view was that North Korea is mismanaged, prices are too high (apparently two tiny pieces of tofu without sauce cost a dollar), and the security apparatus is brutal with returned North Koreans caught on the Chinese side of the river. The one, who has traveled all over North Korea and stayed in several cities, found the country drab and depressing, and on one extended stay was depressed nearly to the point of suicide (an exaggeration, likely, but certainly a reflection of the “grayness” of North Korea in color and mood).

There were also several stories of clashes or near clashes between Chinese and North Korean soldiers over farmers and other civilians crossing over the river to one side or the other. Chinese farmers apparently crossed over once in a group to start cultivating North Korean land, the North Koreans have done similar things. In addition, several decades ago, North Korea expelled many of the Chinese-Koreans to China. In the ousting, they refused to pay cash for the confiscated property, and instead gave commodities in kind. Some got a few thousand pairs of shoes, others a dozen washing machines. Of course, as they crossed into China, these were confiscated by customs.

It is not a longstanding relationship of mutual trust, shared experience fighting the “American aggressors” notwithstanding.

Where the North Koreans do fit in Dandong, at least in the more obvious ways, are in the North Korean restaurants. There, to make the wait staff feel more comfortable, my Chinese friends told them I was Dutch, not American. That loosened up the mood a bit. After much cajoling, two of the waitresses came in, one with a guitar, the other with the quintessential North Korean accordion, and sang us three songs, two Korean, one Chinese. This is where they have a role. After years of foreign language study in the tourism or language universities, they become performing waitresses for Chinese businessmen.

Boating on the Yalu

We grabbed a speedboat and went for a quick trip along the Yalu River. Looking over at Dandong, it was striking how different the two shores looked - Dandong rises above the river in row after row of shining high rises, with more under construction. On the North Korean side, however, there are a few trees, some old boats, a factory... and not much else. Near the main bridge across the Yalu, the river does not freeze over, so the boats can run year-round. Our speedboat driver wanted to get the most out of his yuan, taking us as fast as he could along the North Korean shore, leaving little time to shoot pictures from the bouncing boat. But we did see the North Korean fishing fleet pulled ashore for the winter, a few freighters in the slack water, and a small North Korean riverine patrol boat - the occupants of which looked mildly amused as we sped by and snapped a few pictures.

The Broken Bridge

A visit to Dandong is incomplete without a walk along the "Broken Bridge" reaching half-way across the Yalu River. It is maintained as a tourist attraction (complete with admission fee), and a source of propaganda against the U.S. involvement in the Korean War and glorifying the role of the Chinese People's Volunteers. Sort of ironing, though, that the bridge itself is a piece of Japanese workmanship from the time of Japan's occupation of Korea and Northeast China.

The People's Volunteers frozen in an eternal march toward North Korea.

The Broken Bridge as the first iron bridge across the Yalu River was built from August 1909 to October 1911 by the Railway Bureau of the Japanese vicereg-al government in Korea. The original bridge was 944.2 meters long, 11 meters wide and had 12 arches. The joist of the No. 4 arch form Chinese side could be circu-mrotated to 90 degrees. The bridge was bombed by the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War on November 8, 1950.

Unique horizontal revolving Beam Bridge

There are a lot of bridges with lock and unlock device in the world, but most of them are with structure of pull in vertical, and this bridge is the horizontal revolving type, it is very seldom seen, therefore this bridge is most Unique.

In view of the water transportation was developed flourish on the Yalujiang river then, and in 1908 decided takes the number 9 pier as the axle and construct revolving bridge beam it can lock and unlock at any time, and pledged that the railway is unimpeded, and suit the large-scale ship navigation through the bridge this belongs the advanced technology then.

The revolving bridge beam lock and unlock drive structure is formed by two sections the first section was the driving device of revolving the bridge beam, set the 9 initiative gear wheel teeth same as agree with the passive gear wheel of center, driving the revolving bridge beam revolve 90 degrees, the second section was machinery lock and unlock device, sets up four machinery and stretches out at both ends of steel beam, and draws up the locking mechanism before starting revolving the steel beam, and the steel beam can revolve. When the revolving beam back on the original position, lets down the arm stretching out and the lock closed, and the train can pass through.

The terrace of upper site is control center of revolving beam.

The terrace of below site is special roll railcvay line machine of revolving bean.

The Bus to Dandong Part II

Back on the bus.

The mountains grow rockier, the air thicker.

Sheep, fat with wool, graze in the stubble of the field; lumps of moving white above the striped ground, like big pillows strewn across a bedspread.

We cross a long bridge over a mostly dry riverbed, what water there is is frozen.

The houses sit with their own courtyards and small, walled fields.

More space per family than the factory towns.

More pines now, keeping a dusky green on the otherwise brown hills, specked with white in the shadows.

Another bridge; the mosaic pattern of rice fields below, separated by earthen walls.

On the hillside, the anti-erosion devices take on the appearance of art, a row of arches with upward-facing chevrons stacked inside.

Terraces circle some of the hills, light and dark spirals rising up.

The now gets thicker again.

Row after row of stacked arches hold back the earth, looking like fallen aqueducts or the introduction scene of the Muppet show...

We pass over another bridge, stretching 1690 meters long, curving over the valley, fields and river.

More hills, fewer villages, small communities spot the valleys, separated by the mountains around.

We have gone some 1754 km along the ShenDan highway so far. It is noon.

Corn storage buildings made of brick, ventilated by rows of vertical bricks, every other one missing, or “plus” patterns of holes in the bricks.

The thick haze lies low, obscuring the base of the distant mountains towering over the town.

We pass the Fengchen exit, the bus slows as we climb the hill.

Bare-faced mountains look down on us, ringing the valley, the pale granite stern, solid, powering through the haze to reach the blue sky.

The stalks of corn piled in the field imitate the mountains around, like children flexing their muscles.

Behind me the man shouts to be heard on his cell phone.

On the TV some comedy show where the main characters have been replaced with animated drawings, the dialogue sounding as if it was recorded live, the drawings added later.

We are now 200 km down the ShenDan highway.

A bridge is collapsed over the river following the road, one pier stands crumbled in the middle, the remnants of the end of the bridge juts out over the river, fenced, covered, turned into a scenic picnic spot.

Sheep graze in the frozen-over river bed, a man on a bench watches over.

Rather than stacked in a bin, one house hangs the corn over the porch as a garland, a necklace of golden ears draped gently along the front of the house.

20km to Dandong, though the exit is just 10km ahead.

A magpie flies along the road, the only bird around.

We pass the 215 km marker, we are nearing the city, even the villages have a row of retail shops now.

There is new construction here, large, pale, neat buildings, gray, clean windows.

Through the toll gate, heading to towards the city.

Past a parking lot with a strange assortment of life-size animal statues, including an elephant and a crane with wings outspread.

Only the middle lane is clear, the left and right covered in patchy ice.

A horse pulls a cart loaded with two 55 gallon drums up the hill in the opposite direction, the driver in a faded heavy trench coat and big fur hat, wrinkled face browned with age.

Yet even here the Volkswagen dealership shines brightly.

Chinese signs with Korean underneath begin to appear along the roadside.

I am told Dandong is known as the south of the north; warmer.

A large monument overlooking the town from a hill, a square tower with a Chinese top, four groups of red statuary soldiers around it; the volunteers for the Korean War.

Older than Shenyang, more rugged, rougher, but the gray broken by the bright cardboard Santa faces on the shop windows.

The Bus to Dandong, Part I

070117 10:16 Bus

Driving through farmland.

Rolling hills striped with snow and cut stalks.

Ice covered paths winding through small groups of low buildings.

Low hills surround the fields.

The heater is blasting away, cooking my feet in their shoes.

Frozen river cuts across the countryside.

A cell tower rises above the road.

Power lines crisscross the fields.

Most buildings are low and brick, some red, others gray.

Low walls outline small farming communities or factory grounds.

Mounded stalks like gumdrops on the snowy field.

The sun climbs through the haze, sending a yellow glare.

The road is not very busy, a few cars and cargo trucks.

There is a calm simplicity to the landscape, the pastoral scene common to farms in temperate climates, winter on the farm.

The peace is broken by sprawling industrial compounds crammed against the road, overlooked on the opposite side by apartments.

The hills move in closer to the villages.

Blue-gray smoke rises lazily from a few chimneys, a vaporous presence hanging above the house.

We pass a factory with four large rockets clustered together: a decoration, a sign or a smokestack?

The hills press closer in on the road now.

Poured concrete and block holds back the hills from spilling over onto the highway.

Snow clings in the shade to the cold ground, white icing on the rural scene, contrasting fields of white with the cracking brick structures.

More rivers, stilled with ice.

More hay, mounded in the fields.

The repetition of the countryside.

Each community similar but different.

Blue door frames against rusty brick, a red shirt hangs on the line, a bright focal point in the monotony.

The heater burns hotter still, I will be cooked before we get there.

Ice skating on the river as we near Benxi City.

Row after row of apartments rise up, new construction casting a shadow on the old.

Lower buildings crowd the hill.

Tree covered terraces push even higher up.

An old man pushes a wheelbarrow along a narrow path on the side of a hill.

We head for the Dayu tunnel.

Through the other side, more apartments reach up from the valley floor to look over the highway.

Mountains crowd closer together, we head toward Wujialing tunnel, passing a petrol truck first.

The road winds along the edge of the hills, the villages fill the spaces below.

Stacks of corn stalks like cones in the white fields, creating their own pattern against the rows of stumps and dark walls of terraces.

The road winds up and down, the terraces slide back and forth, cut only by the twisting path heading for the top of the mountain.

We pass through tunnel after tunnel, over bridge after bridge.

What this trip must have been like before them is almost unimaginable.

A train runs on the tracks below us, hauling cars of coal.

It is 11:16.

The snow is thinning out as we head south.

Rows of low brick houses with concrete roofs line up around the factories, squatting under the smokestacks.

A several-story pagoda atop the hill overlooks the scene with a sense of aloofness.

The courtyards of the farmhouses have binds of dried corn.

A few chickens wander around under lines of drying laundry.

11:30.

A brief rest stop.

Cool off.

Stretch legs.

The Road to Shenyang

We will skip chronological order here for a moment, and go back a few hours before the previous post about touring Shenyang. When I travel, I often write what I see as I see it. here, in a stream of consciousness play by play is the taxi ride from the airport to the phoenix hotel in Shenyang, word for word from the journal, as it was written at the time. The only thing fixed here is my horrible spelling...

070115 12:34 TAXI

Arrived in Shenyang. Cloudy, Cold. Snow still in the fields. Some new construction near airport, cant see far due to heavy overcast. Accent sounds thicker. Low brick houses, corn stalks stacked in shed-like shapes. Newer apartment townhouses on the left. Rows of aligned trees by roadside. More stacks of corn stalks. Heavy overcast, minimal vision, but not too thick of fog. Half a mile or so, maybe less. There is a camera mounted on the windshield, facing the passenger seat. Steady beep as the meter ticks off the toll. Passing large LG facility, then a double-building with a large “hole” between the towers. Mercedes dealership. All stacked around the tollbooth. Toyota. BMW. Taller buildings under construction show dark through the haze. A train loaded with coal passes under the road. Through the thick blue-gray haze construction cranes rise and reach everywhere. On the bridge over the river, the fog thickens. The river appears partly frozen. Past the bus terminal, people wait in padded coats outside. A bus with huge advertisements for “RANS Sanitary Ware – The Trend of Global Sanitary Ware.” The street sign says no horns, no motorcycles, no tractors or horse-drawn carts, and no trucks during certain hours. A cargo truck, bright blue, Chinese movie stars taped in the windows, in their sleeveless tops, bright and sunny against the cold gray outside. Smokestacks and cell towers rise among the apartments, taller construction projects squeezed between existing structures. Past the school, kids out playing basketball on the courts. Into the town. Quilted jackets and knee-length coats. Construction. The low apartment complexes (6-7 stories) with shops on the round floor, crowding along the streets. A few Christmas trees in shop doorways or windows. Christmas decorations, Santa heads, paper wreaths, stuck to restaurant windows. “California beef Noodle King USA.” KFC on the opposite corner. Always KFC in China. A strange concrete tower. A stilled ferris wheel. Moving through the shopping district. Motor scooters with their hand warmers stuck to the handlebars. Buses packed with people. Shopping centers sporting Chinese and foreign brands. Sidewalks crammed with bicycle parking. Large statue of Mao in the middle of a traffic circle, pointing out the way to go. Our driver cant go two minutes without blowing the horn. More construction. Bank buildings everywhere. Cardboard and plywood shanties built at the edge of construction, where houses are being torn down. Garbage overflowing on side streets. The main roads are very wide, side roads much less so. Korean store here. Here, too, gray is the universal color, though several of the new apartments are pink. Hey! A cherry red Cherry taxi! Many more old low concrete apartment blocks, like Mongolia or DPRK. Communist construction. And we arrive at the Phoenix Hotel.

Winter in Shenyang

Keeping with my winter activities in China, upon arriving in Shenyang (and having a wonderful lunch), it was off to the Shenyang (Shenjing) Imperial Palace (Here is a description from China.org). Notable in the fading evening sun was the difference in the use of colors - more blue and green than in the Forbidden City in Beijing. Also interesting was that more of the buildings were two-storey and brick, not all the plastered-over red stucco. Walking around, it seemed half the palace complex was for the various concubines, with various examples of concubine bedrooms and sitting rooms preserved in the frigid buildings.

After a tour of the palace, it was off for dinner, and then off to a Shenyang/Liaoning style variety show - a series of variations on the same theme of a comedian guy and a dancing/singing girl with various comedy, martial arts, dancing and singing routines (including one where they played a sort of flute or clarinet connected to long rubber tubes - which in turn were connected to their nostrils...) Even with minimal understanding of the exact words, the concepts came across very clearly. After about six variations by different two-person teams, though, it was time to call it an evening.
The next day, while wandering Shenyang (another city showing signs of rapid growth and construction, or rather than growth, perhaps rebirth of the former core of the current rust belt of North China) I watched the kids (and adults!) playing on the iced-over river. Skating on chairs and spinning tops (keeping them going with a whip) were the games of choice. In other parts of North China during my tour there were lots of places where the snow was cleared off the frozen rivers and they became entertainment complexes. One even had a figure-8 track set up for the ice skaters.While in Shenyang, the local provincial government and party meetings were taking place. Outside the main hall where they were meeting, dozens of police vans were parked - with the officers snug in the heated vans. Only a few officers stood on the sidewalk out front. Small knots of seniors gathered around, the only ones interested or brave enough to bring their concerns and complaints to the government meeting. One elderly gentleman was displaying a banner with his concerns written out, while the officers gently tried to convince him to put it away. While they are not always so restrained, in this case there seemed more a frustration with his disturbing the sense of order than any real anger at his complaints or his decision to bring them out in the open.

In general in Shenyang, and even in Beijing this time, there was a lot of police activity. But normal police activity - stopping cars going the wrong way down one-way roads, pulling over speeders, fining people for not wearing seat belts, dealing with disputes between taxi drivers and their fares... in general a sense that public security workers were more interested in rule of law than rule of intimidation. Whether this is something new, something about winter, or just something that I have finally noticed I do not know, but it was interesting to see the active role of the police all over the major cities - and all in basic "police" enforcement functions.

Beijing in Winter

I had a brief stopover in Beijing on my way to Liaoning province. While much of the horizon was the typical grey/brown air of Beijing, above was a clear, cold blue sky. What better way to spend a winter January day than a trip to the Summer Palace?!
There is no shortage of stairs to climb, so the cool air was certainly not a negative. In typcial local fashion, however, it was a whirlwind tour of the Summer palace grounds - 58 minutes start to finish. Obviously not a thurough look, but a quick overview, nonetheless. Actually, it was just around freezing, but with the sun out, it was a beautiful day, and there were numerous couples and families strolling the Palace grounds.
After looking over the frozen lake, it was off to the Olympic Stadium, where, no matter how many ways we asked, there was no way they were allowing us to get any closer...

Evil Axis Reunited?

Con Coughlin stirred up a storm the other day with his multiple pieces on the collusion between North Korea and Iran in nuclear weapons and test developments. The reports, based on a single suggestion from an unnamed European intelligence official, were nothing new – such speculation has been around for quite a while. One question perhaps Coughlin should have asked is what good information of North Korea’s plutonium device will do for Iran’s uranium development...