I’ve always loved Korean autumns. Yes, I love New England autumns a little bit more, they seem to do the trees turning shades of red, yellow, and orange bit better. But the Korean autumn skies turn impossibly clear and blue, and it seems as if the ceiling of the world has somehow been raised (“high skies” is an oft-used Korean expression that has nothing to do with hallucinogens and everything to do with the know-it-when-you-see-it state of the autumn sky). The air is wonderfully cool and clear, and it’s perfect weather to do outdoor activities and just be outside.
I always thought that those cool, dry autumn days would be the perfect time to jog along the Han River. Running wasn’t something that I particularly wanted to do. But I’ve seen enough zombie films to know that endurance running is essential to surviving any zombie apocalypse except the World War Z movie kind (running zombies can only be avoided if you are terminally ill or a UN employee?). So I picked it up this past summer while I was in the military (which is great for other zombie surviving skills). I was stuck to running in the concrete and pavement mess that is USAG-Yongsan, which wasn’t ideal. But I was getting out in October, and that would give me all the freedom I would ever want to run wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. So as my time in the military wound down, I looked forward to the running through Seoul, under that wonderful blue sky.
I had it all planned: after I got out of the military in October, I would run outdoors as much as I could until February, following a program that could allow me to run at a respectable pace. Then around March I would transition to running on treadmills for a month or so before resuming running outdoors in the spring. Now, why would I run on treadmills? Health reasons, of course. I’m not talking about some quasi-scientific claims of the health benefits of running indoors, but the health benefits of avoiding really bad, potentially carcinogenic air quality outdoors.
You see, around the time winter turns into spring on the Asian mainland (traditionally March), the frozen earth thaws just enough to dislodge large amounts of dust particles that ride the jet stream eastward before settling down in coastal China, Korea, and Japan, a phenomenon called hwangsa (yellow dust). Although the dust from the Mongolian desert is relatively harmless aside from the whole ravaging the respiratory systems and causing people to cough blood and whatever, the greater threat comes from the other things that come along for the trip. No, not corpse reanimating pathogens. Although that is a possibility I should start considering.
There’s something called rapid industrialization happening in China, and that involves the construction of lots of factories and fossil fuel power plants that spew waste that contain sulfur, carbon monoxide, heavy metals, and all sorts of things that are normally associated with higher cancer rates, birth defects, and all-around bad times. Running outside in that sort of air is just an invitation for a future lung cancer diagnosis leading to my manufacturing illicit drugs to provide for my family which will get me involved with all sorts of unsavory people including cartels in a thrilling roller coaster ride that will end with me fighting Nazis with a robot machine gun. I would like to avoid such a future, which is why running in March, the month in which the hwangsa phenomenon was historically most prevalent, was a no-no for me.
But that was far off in March. I had plenty of time to run outside and enjoy the clear air until then, right? Well, more than four months later, I can count the times I went out for a run on one hand. Well, maybe two hands, but it didn’t become quite the habit I’d hope it would be. Did my desire to outrun zombies crumble in the face of the infinite freedom of zombie-free civilian life? Not really. I was looking forward to running in a quintessential Korean autumn, with clean air and nice weather, but that autumn I was waiting for? It never came. A few weeks into my civilian life, I found myself practically trapped indoors while the skies over Seoul took on a nearly permanent jaundiced hue, which could not have been any good.
Now, Seoul has had its fair share of smog problems in the past. When I moved to Korea in 1999, the air smelled distinctly off, as if it had been processed in an unsanitary factory with lots of moving gears and poor ventilation. But even then, in the falls the smog magically disappeared and left a beautiful and clear blue sky in its place. And since then, the Korean government has done a lot trying to reduce the air pollution. Korea has become a major player in the relatively emissions-free nuclear power sector, Seoul’s public transportation system is vast and comprehensive and makes cars largely unnecessary, and trees, trees everywhere. Sure, they still have a long way to go (it’s still one of the largest cities in the world and that screams pollution no matter what), but until recently, I could honestly say that the perpetual brown tinge on the Seoul skyline had thinned considerably. Then suddenly it was like Mordor with twenty-first century industrial smog. On some days, people were advised not to leave their homes unless absolutely necessary because the air quality was “hazardous.” What the fuck was going on?
Climate change, that’s what was going on. Well, that and the industrialization that’s causing it, I guess. Yes, Koreans are firmly of the belief that climate change is manmade, and to argue otherwise is, well, just try it in Korea. You’ll be laughed out of the country. Although climate change is largely a team effort, most of the blame for Korea’s yellow skies are directed towards China. Remember how I said China’s insane no-holds-barred industrialization free from health and safety regulations has created a gigantic industrial complex that spews out epic amounts of pollution? Well, from what I’m getting from the news, wind patterns have been shifting due to the higher overall temperature of the Earth, and as a result, the wind that used to sweep pollution out of the Chinese mainland and into the Pacific Ocean isn’t doing its job as well as it used to. It’s not that the Chinese have all of a sudden started producing more pollutants, it’s the changing climate has made the pollutants that much more obvious to people on the ground.
So I guess the Chinese are at fault for the current weather woes in Korea and Japan. After all, they’ve been encouraging the construction of gigantic manufacturing centers with little regulation and building cheap coal power plants that belch so much pollution into the atmosphere. Although they’re bearing the brunt of the problem with their hazardous air quality cities and limited visibility, that’s little comfort to the neighboring countries who find that they suddenly have to deal with clouds of toxic smog which they cannot really deal with since it’s blowing in from another country. In economic terms, negative externalities. It’s not like Korea and Japan can build walls of airborne trees to soak up the smog that otherwise turns into acid snow in the winter. Acid snow! One day, I saw a yellow sky turn a greenish hue because it started snowing! A snowy day is normally bluish like the real world in the Matrix movie series, not green like in the actual Matrix! What madness is this?
But really, is the blame all on China? After all, we all want products from China. Well, Koreans kind of have an aversion to Made in China products (probably because it reminds us of our Made in Korea sweatshop days and because of aforementioned lax industrial standards), but that doesn’t mean we would say no to bright and shiny new Samsung or Apple products, which are most likely manufactured by Foxconn in China. And the rest of the world certainly doesn’t seem to mind cheap and plentiful products, which can only be made cheap by low wages and factories powered by lots and lots of cheap, dirty fossil fuel plants. China is the pollution spewing factory of the world not just because it’s convenient for China, but because that’s what we want it to be.
It should be yellow dust season right now in mid-March. But strangely enough, after months of waking up with a clogged nose and eyes crusted shut because of the dust, I find that the skies are clearer than they have been in months. Even so, it’s still not clear enough to go on runs on the riverfront. I tried going for a jog a few days ago and found that my throat started hurting fairly quickly, at which point I quickly gave it up. Then again, I’m not sure it’s ever clear enough to run there. Lots of open space with little to no vegetation to absorb the dust and pollution. Good zombie-fighting terrain, but not the best for healthy urban running. Maybe when the weather gets better, I’ll go hiking in the mountains. Lots of trees and nature there. But then I’d need hiking boots. And hiking pants. And so much more…
Next week, The Most Korean would like to talk about the ridiculous lengths Koreans go to prepare for even a stroll with a slight incline. He would also like to reflect on his impending obsolescence as he struggles to figure out how to live in a new-fangled Korean smart house. But how could he on the eve of the anniversary of the sinking of the ROKS Cheonan? That’s like the 9/11 for the Korean military, but somehow, even worse! So next week, NEVER FORGET.
The Most Korean 