THE South Koreans call them Dokdo. To the Japanese, the group of eastern-most islets no bigger than a football field are Takeshima.

But they have been at the centre of a decades-old dispute between Seoul and Tokyo - the latest storm breaking when Japan tried to conduct an underwater survey in the waters near the islets last week. 

South Korea has claimed them for a long time, but the Japanese never gave up their declarations of ownership, sparking protests. 

Source: AFP

I visited the place in 2005 and wasn't very impressed.

The islets are the fragmented remains of an ancient crater, with several deep caves formed by sea erosion. The two main islets on the eastern and western ends have tall granite hills covered with bright green moss. 

The western part is uninhabited, but the eastern end has a lighthouse, radar tower, helicopter landing pad and a three-storey dormitory for the South Korean police guards stationed there. 

The surrounding waters are rich fishing grounds - plankton abounding in the area, attracting salmon, trout and cod. And, there is also enough gas beneath the seabed to meet South Korea's energy needs for the next 30 years. 

Seoul's records show about 1,000 people with Dokdo addresses and a record 129,000 people visited the Dokdo islets last year. Local officials say the number increased by 28 percent compared to the previous year, averaging about 355 visitors per day - as public attention intensified over Japan's repeated claims to Dokdo. 

The government first allowed the public to visit the islets in 2005 and raised the maximum number of visitors to 1,880 per day in 2007. In the same year the total surpassed 100,000 for the first time.

That's a lot of tourists for a couple of rocks. It appears that a deserted outpost isn't a waste of tourism space if buffeted by strong waves and winds - and territorial interest.

CURRENTLY the Korean parliament looks like a scene from a gangster movie.

While the trade committee tries to submit the Bill to ratify the Free Trade Agreement with the United States, opposition lawmakers used a sledge-hammer and electric saw to break down the door to thwart the plan which was in session.

All hell broke loose.

Security personnel sprayed the protestors with fire extinguishing foam to try to disperse them. Blood was streaking down the supposed representatives of the people involved in a melee fit for a Mike Tyson brawl.

Tables were smashed with hammers. Cups were shattered on the ground. Vicious blows were thrown at the faces.

Under pressure from President Lee Myung Bak, the ruling Grand National Party wants to ratify the FTA to put pressure on the US Congress to do likewise.

All the opposition parties opposed the move for various reasons. One reason is that the incoming US President Barack Obama wants re-negotiation to allow more exports of US cars - the industry is currently in dire straits - to South Korea. Ratifying the treaty will lead to bilateral disputes.

Another source of opposition comes from the lawmakers representing the protectionist agricultural lobby which wants to protect their turf from cheaper imports.

The ruling party is asking for dialogue but the opposition are in no mood for any compromise. Looks like more blood-letting is on the cards.

In Seoul

THE sending of anti-Pyongyang leaflets via balloons has been going on for decades. But the practice has come under the media spotlight in recent months.

The North’s regime is worried that its people may get wind of the alleged ill-health of its leader Kim Jong Il who wields absolute power. 

(By the way, a French doctor who treated Kim told a French newspaper yesterday that Kim did indeed have a stroke but is still in control.)

The activists who send the leaflets can be divided into three groups: Family members of those were abducted to North Korea, those who want to spread democracy and the ones who want to spread Christianity to their brethren across the border. 

After much pleading from the Seoul authorities, the activists agreed to temporarily suspend sending the across the border, abiding by the government’s effort to reduce friction with its communist neighbor. 

The spreading of the leaflets has become a bone of contention between the two countries, with North Korea sharply restricting passage across their shared border in retaliation. Activists have earlier snubbed repeated requests by the South Korean government to suspend the activity. 

With North Korea showing no signs of relenting in piling pressure on the South and the latest collapse of the six-party talks, it will not be too long before the balloons start to soar again - this time, probably with even more vitriol against the ailing dictator. 

THERE was a mad scramble in the meat section at South Korean supermarkets last week and I was part of the crowd. 

Reason? 

Cheap American beef is finally back on the shelves of major supermarkets after a hiatus of five years, and I was one of the thousands that greeted its return with glee.

At one E-mart store - the Korean equivalent of Singapore’s NTUC supermarket - US beef was selling for less than half the price of Korean domestic beef. 

A hundred grams of rump sold for 5,500 won (S$5.70) while an equivalent cut from US cattle was priced at 2,580 won (S$2.70). 

On the first day of sale last Thursday, US beef sold a whooping 50 tons. 

That is more than twice the combined sale of beef that comes from the other three main sources: South Korea, Australia and New Zealand. So much for the mad cow scare that brought tens of thousands to the streets just a few months back. 

They were protesting the government’s decision to re-import US beef on the back of unfounded rumours such as Koreans having a gene that makes them more susceptible to mad-cow disease. 

Yes, there are vested groups that protested last Thursday but they were duly ignored by the mass consumers. Who listens to these people when every won counts in this economic downturn?

Definitely not me!

IN SOUTH Korea, the delivery man on his motorbike is an ever-present danger to pedestrians and other road-users.

They cut suddenly into lanes, they drive against the flow of traffic, they zoom along pedestrian walks. Yet traffic police tolerate them. 

These delivery men are a menace yet a necessary evil.

With a booming online shopping industry and food catering business, they are the crucial link between businesses and consumers. These people made no apologies about flagrantly flouting the rules. They are poorly paid (one delivery earns them about S$3) and time is money. 

After a day of backbreaking work, most of them earn less than 100,000 won (S$100) a day, from which they have to deduct their gas fees and commission to the agent. On top of that, they have to pay for their own gas and insurance expenses.

But some of the haste had resulted in tragedy. I had seen a delivery man collide head-on with a bus and was flung five metres into the air. He died instantly.

The sad thing is that the companies which hire them do not give any compensation for work-related injuries as they are deemed free-lancers and not staff.

In view of their working conditions, nowadays I cast an understanding look at the delivery man who may scare the hell out of me when he appeared to charge out from nowhere.

WHAT do funerals and weddings have in common especially for well known figures such as politicians and celebrities in South Korea?

The turnout is an indicator of clout and popularity. When the father of former President Kim Young Sam died a few months ago, 3,000 people attended the wake.

The media was quick to report it.

Message?

The ex-president is still a political force to be reckoned with.

Just today, I received a letter from a politician who is well-known for courting the foreign media.

He thanked me for attending the wake of his mother last week.

The strange thing is that I did not even know that his mother died.

The turnout at funerals and weddings is so important that some "face-conscious" Koreans even hired impersonators to attend weddings in order to boost the numbers.

The preoccupation with numbers can make these occasions of joy or grief a farce.

Still attending these events is necessary for a reporter.

While these things are also important elsewhere, it is much more important here.

People remember.

The payoffs come when I need a quote or two and they do oblige. 

Koreans are turning to booze in the economic downturn. 

The Korea Alcohol and Liquor Industry Association said that consumption of soju (traditional Korean liquor) increased by 5.1 per cent year-on-year between January and September. The figures for beer and whisky went up by 5.3 percent and 4.4 percent respectively. 

In South Korea , the alcohol industry will always do well. When times are good, people celebrate by drinking. When times are bad - like now - they drown their sorrows in booze. 

With the plummeting stocks value, the falling Korean won, the fears of retrenchment and the rising cost of living, Koreans find solace in commiserating over the clinking of glasses at a pub. Soju which costs a mere 1,000 won (S$1.30) a glass" is a cheap pain-killer, a stress reliever. 

A common phrase that is heard in offices across the nation come dinner time is "han chan hashida" - which literally means "let's go for a glass". 

So if you want to comfort a Korean who is suffering the effects of an economic downturn, try that phrase.

Bottoms up!

SOUTH Korean President Lee Myung Bak’s finest hour to date came when he won the presidential election in December last year by a landslide.

It has since been downhill.

He promised to attract investment and grow the economy by seven per cent.

He failed on both counts.

Source: AP

Foreign investment was US$4.4 billion (S$6.5 billion) in the first half of 2000 but dropped to US$1.1 billion over the same period last year, said the Bank of Korea.

When asked about their investment plan for the second half of this year, a recent survey of 845 foreign firms by the Korea Chamber of Commerce found that seven in 10 investors are seeking to exit the country in favour of alternative destinations such as Singapore.

Investors were then spooked by the earlier spate of anti-American beef rallies.

Now they are frightened by the global economic crisis that has caused the Korean stock market to undergo a roller-coaster ride.

When it comes to the economy, his pledge of seven per cent has long been dropped.

His finance ministry is now saying that Seoul is unlikely to attain the growth target of 4.7 per cent.

The Korea Economic Research Institute has projected 4.2 per cent for this year and 3.8 per cent for 2009.

Due to his business background and campaign pledges, public perception of President Lee is intertwined with the state of the economy.

With the economy under siege, his popularity is stagnating in the 20 per cent range according to the latest survey by the Korea Society Opinion Institute.

In contrast his detractors stand at 59 per cent.

With the gloomy forecast for the Korean economy, President Lee may have little room for cheer going forward.

It will be a bumpy ride ahead.

HE IS short, balding and has his curves in all the wrong places. 

Yet he hogs the media spotlight with an ease and longevity that celebrities can only dream of. 

He is none other than the "ailing" North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il.

Always in the news.
Source: AP

The amazing thing is that he gets attention by doing nothing. 

To be exact, for not turning up at his country's 60th birthday last month. 

The rumour mills went into overdrive. 

He was felled by a stroke and attended to by Chinese neurosurgeons. He was on his deathbed but managed to recover enough to brush his teeth. The stories circulated were quite bizarre.

Korean lawmakers demanded an answer and the national spy agency had to appear in parliament to assure jittery legislators that Kim is still in control. 

Analysts had a field day speculating on a post-Kim North Korea. 

Will it be another dynastic succession? Will be it a military takeover? Will it be a collective form of leadership?

Before the ink barely dried, Kim suddenly reappeared in one of his routine inspections of a military unit. 

The South Korean media, fresh from a rollercoaster ride over the stock market, went into another bout of frenzy. (Makes me wonder who needs the doctor more?) 

Broadcasters got neurosurgeons to compare and contrast old and the 'latest' pictures of Kim. 

The medical experts opined: "A little thinner, a bit gaunt but generally still in good health." 

Then the conspiracy theorists smelled a rat. "The photo is dated," they exclaimed.

"The grass in the background is too green for autumn". 

"The hair on Kim's head does not look it had been shaved for neurosurgery". 

There are enough opinions to fill an encyclopaedia. 

Truth be told, the average Korean is more interested with the dwindling value of his stocks and rising price of basic necessities to care about Kim Jong Il. 

Still, that will not stop the media from chasing the elusive 'truth' about a man whose life has been less than transparent.   

IN SOUTH Korea, the word "up" nauseates me. It means bad news.

Suicides are up, prices are up, and my apartment rental fee have gone up. Add the "doom and gloom" media reports and Koreans are walking around with imaginary weights around their ankles.

Amid the pessimism, however, an eatery in my neighbourhood of Yeoido, the financial district of Seoul, has lifted my spirit. As the Korean won drops in value, the price of imports like flour jump by up to 70 per cent.

While most restaurants raised their prices to cover costs, the one opposite my apartment serving simple fare like champong or Korean laksa continues to maintain its low prices. A bowl of piping hot champong goes for 3,500 won - quite a steal. It is like finding char kway teow for S$1.50 at Raffles Place.

Out of curiosity, I spoke with the owner. He said that he would rather make a smaller profit and feed more hungry workers on a tight budget than raise his price. His restaurant is a real blessing when I have deadlines to meet, limited cash flow and a wife who is too busy with her final graduate school exams to cook.

His champong cheers me UP!