The Sinking: Part II

*Korean Protestors Clash with Riot Police

My previous post highlighted events that occurred while I was vacationing in Seoul in 2014. So how the hell did two Southerners end up in Seoul in the first place? 

That's kind of a funny story. 

Back in 2011, I was posting about my favorite horror films on social media, and it became well known that I had a particular fondness for movies coming out of South Korea, particularly that of Bong Joon-ho, director of Parasite and Kim Jee-woon, who directed A Tale of Two Sisters. A work colleague suggested I might enjoy something called "K-Drama," and he gave me a couple links to check out. It really didn't seem like my kind of thing; after all, these shows were largely romantic comedy series, which is not even horror adjacent. But I'm a team player and decided to watch the unfortunately named City Hunter starring Lee Min Ho (a famous flower boy) and was instantly hooked. To understand why City Hunter is an unfortunate choice of title, you need to understand that when an S precedes an I in Korean, the two combine to be pronounced as "shi." Now put it all together and imagine my hysterics every time they referred to eponymous hero. It doesn't paint a flattering picture, but the storyline is adventurous and adorable.

I was so into these shows, I was staying up until 2:00 a.m. on weeknights just to reach a point in the series where my anticipation for what was going to happen next was appeased enough I could finally fall asleep. Unfortunately, Netflix singlehandedly and effectively killed the K-Drama because US citizens aren't allowed to have nice things in our punitive version of capitalism, but that's a topic for another day. 

My husband and I had had a rough couple years with work and family, so he suggested we take a good long vacation. A few years prior, I had planned a trip to Florida that would include canoeing around the Everglades and stops to watch the manatees. "So. You want to drive two days down and two days back to go canoeing in swamps?" Put that way, it sounded like a whole lotta work and not much fun. "How about we go to Seoul, since you're so into Korean culture?" See, I was afraid of flying at the time, so I think he hoped the answer to that question would be resounding "No!" 

Never count on me being consistent. 

So we after a few sessions of EMDR to overcome my flying fears, we arrived in 2014 completely clueless. We basically had to learn Korea (never mind the language, I'm talking the culture, the etiquette, and the quotidian ways people meet their basic needs). I was pretty sure we were going to starve on day one because we couldn't figure out where the restaurants were. I needed lip balm or something like it, and we walked into an establishment I thought might be a pharmacy. It turned out to be a convenience store, and, oh my goodness, once you recognize them, you realize there are three to four on every block. If you're hungry and can't find a restaurant, look for GS25, CU, or 7/11, and glory at all the ramyun, snacks, "toast" (which is actually just really thick, pillowy slices of bread), mung-bean-filled pastries, sausages, and my favorite samgak, which comes in the most innovative and complicated packaging ever akin to solving a Rubik's cube. It doesn't hurt that they also carry soju, maekju, and makgoelli as well as hygiene products (except for deodorant/anti-perspirant because Koreans don't have that problem). Not only have you bought yourself some time to find the good eats, you can also pick up your first breakfast for the following day. 

After that, it was all crispy fried gravy. 

The markets. Noryangjin for the freshest caught and not so cooked fish; Namdaemun for street food, Gwangjang for Korean savory pancakes and the Seoul version of steak tartare, and Dongdaemun for the latest in Korean fashion. 

We fell in love with the Korean magpie, ate at the third oldest restaurant in Seoul, Yong Geum Oak (which specializes in mudfish stew which will always sound gross to me until I put a spoonful in my mouth) and walked the Cheonggyycheon everyday, almost traversing its entire length in one day. 

We really didn't want to come back home. So, as we sat in a bar in DFW waiting on the plane to take us back to reality, my husband looked over at this fellow who had awkwardly sat next to him when there were plenty of other empty seats and remarked that he seemed familiar. In fact, it was the very same colleague who turned me onto K-Dramas and acted as catalyst for the whole trip we were returning from. "Dude, I feel like you owe me a lot of money," my husband said when he finally poked through his exhaustion to recognize our friend. 

When we returned in 2015, we were forearmed. For a start, we knew where to get food and clothes. So we could focus on soaking up the culture. I made a connection through my Korean language teacher to her best friend, Sunny, who happened to be a graphic designer and filmmaker. We made arrangements to meet near Insadong for dinner and had a pleasant meal in a brightly lit hanok-style restaurant. We had agreed to travel to Gwanghwamun Plaza (where city, state, and national government offices are located) to visit Story of King Sejong, the museum dedicated to the leader responsible for developing the Korean alphabet. He also developed a printing press 200 years before Gutenberg and was famous for astronomical research he does not get credit for in the West. 

Alas, that visit got derailed. 

We got about half way up the plaza, distracted by our conversation, when we turned around and saw hundreds of riot police in full gear lined up at least 10 people deep along a Western-looking office building. I asked Sunny if she knew what was happening; she had no idea. I suggested we head along a side street to get back to a subway entrance. Wrong move. The next thing we knew, we were in the middle of thousands of protestors with bull horns, flags, headbands, and armbands, shouting and chanting angrily. I'm sure Sunny was horrified for us, but this wasn't my first rodeo. My parents and I had become the target of a political protest in 1971 just innocently driving to downtown Indy when we were flanked by proteskers at a stop light. They started rocking my dad's maroon Buick back and forth until I started screaming and one of them shouted there was a kid in the backseat. Like those folks, these new protestors understood we were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the crowd on the street split like the Red Sea to let us through. 

Back at the subway station, we made plans to meet another night for dinner and a drive into the mountains to have a couple beers and watch the stars and the city lights. On a separate trip, we went to the Banpo Moonlight Rainbow Bridge. It was all magical. 

But, while we were enjoying our present, we had no idea what was bubbling under the surface and how The Sinking was about to affect all three of us as well as millions of others. 

*"Protesters clash with Korean Soldiers (2024-12-03~4&pic2)" by 서울의소리 VoiceOfSeoul is licensed under CC BY 3.0.

The Sinking: Part I

The Sewol after Salvage in 2017*

On April 16, 2014, my husband and I were sitting in a restaurant in the Myeongdong neighborhood of Seoul eating bibimbap for lunch. The large screen TV was tuned to the news, which we ignored because neither one of us spoke any Korean then and now only enough to be polite and get around. We had still not quite gotten the hang of Seoul; otherwise, we would not have been there: Myeongdong is not our type of place (mostly American retail outlets), and bibimbap is nothing to write home about. Suddenly, everyone in the restaurant stopped what they were doing and became very quiet. All eyes were focused on the TV, and while I couldn't understand what was being said, I could see from the video footage being played that a ship of some kind had sunk in one of the seas that surround the Korea peninsula. 

Later in the day, an aunt contacted me on Messenger to ask if I was okay. It took me a minute to connect the dots between what I had seen on the TV and her concern, but, when I did, I looked up the accident to read that everyone had survived the capsizing of the Sewol Ferry and assured her that if we decided to visit Jeju (the Riviera of South Korea), we could get there faster via the bullet train. 

Everyone survived. I read it with my own two eyes on CNN. 

Except it was a lie. 

The next day, we learned that of 476 passengers and crew members, 304 people died. About 250 of those people were students on a field trip sponsored by Danwon High School in Ansan City, a suburb between Incheon to the west and Seoul to the east. I thought I had simply misunderstood the reports. I had not, but more on that in Part II. 

Not only did most of the passengers die; their deaths were preventable. 

To assert that mistakes were made is an understatement of a magnitude I can't begin to address in the time and space I have. Like any good technical writer, I'll highlight the most important events as they unfolded with bullet points. 

• 1994. A-Line Ferry, a Japanese company, commissions Ferry Naminoue. 
• 2012. Chonghaejin Marine purchased the ferry at the behest of its board members, including Yoo Byung-eun. Despite the fact the company made illegal and dangerous modifications to the vessel, it passed inspection. 
• 2013-2014. The Sewol was registered to carry a maximum of 937 tons with 1703 tons of ballast water after the modifications had been made. 
• However, the company added 37 tons of marble to the gallery room at the bridge deck at the back of the ship. 
• Captain Shin, a regular captain on the Sewol, had repeatedly warned his superiors that the ferry was frequently overloaded with unsecured cargo and that crews were compensating for the extra weight by pumping out the ballast water. They threatened to terminate his employment if he continued to complain. 
• The Sewol made a total of 241 trips between Incheon and Jeju and back, making the 264-mile run (about 13.5 hours each way) three times a week, leaving Incheon in the evening to arrive at Jeju in the morning. Chonghaejin Marine spent a total of ₩ 2,600 on annual training. That's the equivalent of $2.60 US. In other words, the company spent a few dollars on ink, paper, and laminating to post "training certificates" throughout the ship. There was no training. 
• To make matters worse, cargo was hardly ever secured as required.

Incoming Tangent. My dad served in the Navy, so bear with me while I talk ballast, a concept he taught me because I'm furiously curious and needed to know why water was stored under my grandparents' speedboat. It's sort of an irony that the hulls of ships need to be pumped with water to keep from keeling over, but larger vessels (and much smaller speedboats) need ballast water to keep their center of gravity low so they aren't buoyant enough to tip over because water (unlike a solid) will always seek to maintain equilibrium. There are pumps on every large ship that can pump water in and out as the weight of the ship changes during stops to load/unload cargo and passengers. Dad also taught me that the way to remember port=left is that they both have four letters. Starboard=right. The bow is the reference point for determining port and starboard, and aren't you glad you know that now? Tangent Concluded. 

At 9:00 p.m. KST on April 15, this 20-year old renovated vessel set sail from Incheon with 2,143 tons of cargo (remember it was restricted to 937) with 476 passengers and crew (325 of whom were Danwon students) and 761 tons of ballast, which was supposed to be a minimum of 1703 tons. Included in the extra weight, was 37 tons of marble used to decorate the gallery room at the back of the ferry added after the initial inspection determining the weight and ballast restrictions. Ballast water had been pumped out so inspectors wouldn't notice the extra cargo. In other words, there was way too much weight on the ship and not nearly enough ballast to support it. 

At around 7:30 a.m. the next day, the captain went to his quarters and left two crew members in charge of navigation. At about this time they entered the Maenggol Channel. The channel, which has strong currents and is surrounded by shallow areas, is not easy to navigate even under what was reported to be the best of circumstances. Breakfast was being served in the cafeteria: recovered CCTV shows happy people socializing. 

The third mate and the helmsman gave conflicting testimony about what happened in the channel. Based on their statements, this is what I think. The third mate ordered the helmsperson to make a couple of right (starboard) turns to set the course of the ship straight through the channel. She realized that the ship was heading too far starboard and ordered the helmsperson to make a five-degree turn in "the opposite direction." That's not and officially sanctioned command, so he got confused and made yet another 5-degree starboard turn instead of a turn to port. For a ship that measured 2,398 feet in length with a much higher center of gravity than at which it was supposed to be operating, 15 degrees is a massive turn that is difficult to correct. The unsecured cargo slid to the left, as you should be able to see from the photo. That may seem counterintuitive but think of it this way: I would estimate that the curve in I-40 between my hometown and another town about 15 miles away heading west is about 15 degrees. In our Subaru, I can manage it at 75 m.p.h. without any problems. In my truck, with a much higher center of gravity, well, let's just say that the entire contents of a Starbucks trenta black iced tea (no water, no classic) and full open bag of wasabi peas ended up in the passenger floorboard one time I tried to go around that curve at the speed limit. The stuff in your vehicle, like the water in the ballast wants to maintain its equilibrium, so it will lean in the opposite direction from the curve you're taking. 

In fact, within minutes, the ferry was leaning 30 degrees to port. To put this in perspective, if you go from standing straight up to suddenly leaning 30 degrees to your left, you're headed for the ground. Human bodies get 20 degrees to self-correct; a top-heavy ship, which is exactly what the Sewol was, can capsize at 10 degrees. 

Sleeping crew members were suddenly thrown against the walls of their quarters, at which point they all ran to the bridge. The captain ordered the communications officer to instruct passengers to shelter in place, repeatedly, even as he was planning his own escape by helicopter. At no point was anyone told to put on a life jacket, start moving toward lifeboats, put on more clothing to dive into the channel to stay warm. Nothing. Just stay where you are. Survivors reported that water was flooding their cabins while this message continued. 

The first person to call South Korea's version of 911 (which is 119) at 8:52 a.m. came from Choi Duk-ha, one of the students from Danwon. He was connected to the Korean Coast Guard (KCG) at 8:54. He was able to give the location of the ferry and a description of the circumstances. 

He did not survive. 

Fishing boats and other commercial ships arrived on the scene 40 minutes before the KCG to rescue people who instinctively jumped into the water. The captain and other members of the crew evacuated via helicopter even as the message to stay put was still going out over the intercom system. For thinking only of themselves, he and one other crew member were charged with murder and are serving life without parole. And there was much public outcry regarding the KCG's lackadaisical response. A child tried to save others, and the best the government could do was arrive 40 minutes later? It made no sense. It makes no sense. 

I write this four days after SCOTUS rolled back the doctrine known as "Good Neighbor" or "Chevron." This rollback effectively reduces the power of the EPA to regulate smokestack emissions, putting decisions into the hands of mostly conservative, unelected judges (who are not environmental experts) to interpret laws that are often open ended. The ruling opens the way for rolling back other agencies' abilities to regulate other types of environmental dangers. We're talking about people here, not owls, as one of our former presidents disingenuously and compactly framed the real issue. And I say that as someone who cares about owls every bit as much as I care about human beings. People are misled my these oversimplifications: one Twitter user naively posted to an account I follow that it would not be in a company's best interest to poison their consumers.

He should tell that to the families of the 304 people aboard the Sewol who were simply collateral damage to Chonghaejin Marine. 

This isn't just familial trauma. It's generational, cultural, and even international. There was a time when I felt detached from tragedies like this because people far away are abstractions in our minds, but I'm taking them personally now. It's not just about the people I love being in harm's way. It's about the love I have for the stranger who does not want their loved ones subjected to the aberrant will of corporations and corrupt governments supplanting our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

Stay tuned for Part II, where I discuss sects, lies, and censorship...or not. This is heavy stuff. 

And now for the "Like, Subscribe, and Follow" portion of the "content." I'm not interested in making money, but it's really hard to keep writing when I feel like no one is reading. If you appreciate my stories, please leave a comment, if it's nothing more than a thank you or "I didn't know about this." It helps. And the beauty of a blog is that it can, one day, grow into a collection of publishable essays. 

Be kind. Love y'all!

*"2017 MV Sewol in Mokpo New Port" by Trainholic is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.

AlieNation: A Horror Story and a Review

On November 14, 2014, a Nevada man by the name of Kenny Veach went on a hike in the Desert National Wildlife Refuge about 64 miles north of Las Vegas. 

He was never heard from again. 

Yet, if you search his name on YouTube, you'll find hundreds, that may run into the thousands, of videos about his disappearance. The reasons are simple: the refuge is close to Nellis Air Force Base, the Nevada Test Site built by the U.S. government to test materials against nuclear explosions and fallout, and...Area 51. Most YouTubers are simply looking for his remains, but it is inevitable that they also mention the possibility that Kenny was abducted by government officials because he stumbled upon an entrance to a top-secret area or by aliens because, I don't know, the desert Southwest reminds them of home? (I feel pretty certain they would prefer my temperate neck of the woods with plenty of water, shelter, shade, and food, but what do I know.)

The truth is much more horrific and sadder than the fiction. 

Kenny went by the YouTube handle of @snakebitmgee. Almost as if by Boy Scout oath, he left only traces there: five videos and comments on other channels' videos that are hard to mine. 

The most important video he uploaded, in my opinion, was his first and had nothing to do with hiking, the mysterious M Cave, or anything related to the wilderness areas outside of Las Vegas. Instead, it is a tour of his lovingly decorated home which he was selling...along with himself as a lagniappe to sweeten the deal. According to Internet sources, Kenny quit his job of 17 years to pursue his passion of decorating home interiors. His Las Vegas home became his showroom. As he meanders about the house, it is obvious he has a good eye, a firm understanding of design principles, and a fancy for items that were probably not legal for him to possess. Side note: what I've learned in my travels out west is that even items produced as late as the 1970s should not be removed, even if those of us from the eastern half of the U.S. think of them as trash (rusted tin cans, for example). Nevertheless, he offers to cook, clean, arrange maintenance and travel, and, most importantly, provide his procurement services to complete the unfinished décor. He will be the decorator, chef, housekeeper, physical plant, and concierge for a home that is not a hotel. It's an uncomfortable video to watch because it is real desperation captured on film. Three of the other videos demonstrate an invention he hoped to present on Shark Tank. Only the one video is devoted to his voyage into the Mohave Desert to find the cave that started the depth of interest in his story. 

It started with a comment on another YouTube video titled "Son of an Area 51 Technician," a video that, like Kenny, has vanished. Thus, I haven't been able to find Kenny's actual comment on the video, just screenshots posted by other users. They confirm that the original video and Kenny's comments have since been deleted. So I don't know what the son of an area 51 technician had to say. I'm assuming it was a video about strange goings-on around Area 51, but the distance from the base of Joe May Canyon where Kenny's truck was found to the infamous base is about 82 miles as the crow flies, never mind the actual distance by car, which might be twice that. Screen shots of Kenny's comment state: 

This ain't nothing. I am a long distance hiker. One time during one of my long distance hikes out near Nellis Air Force Base, I found a hidden cave. The entrance to the cave was shaped like a perfect capital M. I always enter every cave I find, but as I began to enter this particular cave, my whole body began to vibrate. The closer I got to the cave entrance, the worse the vibrating became. Suddenly I became very scared and hightailed it out of there. That was one of the strangest things that ever happened to me. 

When he was challenged about the truth of his experience, he replied: 

I solo hike across mountain tops that most people wouldn't dare go.  I have been in more caves than I can count. I play with rattlesnakes for fun. But this one particular cave was beyond anything I had ever encountered. Someday I will go back and I will bring a weapon with me. All I had at that time was a knife and a wrist-rocket. 

The goal of Kenny's final video is to disprove his detractors and find what is now referred to as "The M Cave." He has parked his truck at the base of Joe May Canyon in the Sheep Range of the DNWR. As he films his traverse, he discusses the agave cooking pits he passes, how to eat pine nuts from piñon trees, wildlife in the area, and, eventually the presence of a small mine that looks like it dates from the 1960s to the 1970s. He doesn't find the cave. But he does show the firearm he has brought with him to demonstrate his fear of what lies "out there." 

I don't want to watch the video again, but from memory, I would guess he was carrying something similar to a .357 magnum revolver. He was also wearing a white t-shirt, lightweight pants, snake gaiters, and decent hiking boots. According to other Internet sources, he bragged that he did not believe in GPS units or personal beacons. His last trip to find the M Cave is undocumented. We only know that his truck was parked close to the same place as before and that he followed the same trail up to another mine, depending on the source, a bit northeast of the one we last saw him in his posted video. That is where he left his cell phone for search and rescue to find six days after his disappearance. 

So what happened? 

First, way too many YouTubers have established that one doesn't really need GPS to navigate the area. There are simply too many established landmarks to get lost in a treeless desert landscape, including mine shafts, agave cooking pits, rock formations, trails established by area bird watchers, historic trash heaps, the path of the sun, and the lights of Vegas. 

Serious YouTubers covering the story of Kenny Veach have also managed to camp two to three nights after covering 15+ miles in a day. Granted, they aren't making these treks when the summer temperatures reach 115 degrees F. They're doing it in November, the month Kenny disappeared, when day temps reach around 70 degrees F and spring water is not only more reliable but also often marked by various conservation agencies to denote the water is to be reserved for the big horn sheep the refuge is meant to protect except in case of human emergencies. 

Because of geology, the only caves in that particular area are pocket caves. That is, they're basically glorified overhangs with a bit more shelter. The longest cave in Nevada is 2.5 miles long and far away from Las Vegas. Even the mineshaft Kenny features is only about 30 feet deep. I don't know about you, but I'm not expecting anything untoward in those conditions except bat guano. Added to that, pocket caves with an M-shape opening are a common feature of the area. In other words, Kenny's trepidation was not caused by a deep, dark, and mysterious cave. They don't exist where he was hiking. 

Despite his apparently reckless ways and unwarranted braggadocio, it's unlikely Kenny got lost. He just didn't want to be found. 

The horror is not that Kenny was abducted by aliens or the CIA but that he went out into the desert and took his own life in a place he knew his remains would not be found for a long time, if ever. The "vibration" he felt was probably coming from inside, a manifestation of the terror that comes with perceived failure, not belonging, not being able to move forward, feeling other than human, other than oneself. I think people reach a tether when they don't know who they are anymore, and I think Kenny was barely hanging on.

Which is a good segue into the film No One Will Save You available for streaming on Hulu. I'll keep this part short because I dread accidentally revealing spoilers. Brynne—played by Kaitlyn Dever—lives in her childhood home in New England (because these aliens are smarter) on the outskirts of town where she nurses her emotions over the death of her mother Sarah and best friend Maude. The latter seems to have died under mysterious circumstances. 

About 10 minutes into the film, marked by its lack of dialog, the first alien invades Brynne's home. It's one of the most frightening horror film moments I've experienced in a while—I was, for real, twisting in my seat and ultimately screaming at Brynne for her lack of good choices, a luxury only the viewer has. 

Brynne goes into town to seek help, but it quickly becomes apparent she is an outcast for reasons we will understand later. Like Kenny, she returns to her home to seek refuge and relish the memories she has created there. 

Her solace is short-lived as ever new manifestations of the aliens invade what was once her peace. I think there is a metaphor in that they seem to take different shapes and sizes, but I'll leave that thought as a possible spoiler. Given that there is little dialog, Dever has to communicate an emotion beyond fear and confusion I have no word for: "Why me? Why is this happening to me? What do they want? Why was I chosen?" Dever manages to convey those questions subtly but effectively. As in "damn, girl, how'd you do that?"

As the plot deftly progresses, it becomes obvious that Brynne feels outside herself, her home, her community. If the aliens are real, should she just succumb to the idyll they seem to provide or fight them off? Or, like Kenny, should she take a walk out into the desert never to be seen again? 

4/5