Jimmy Carter pops up in the strangest places.

The view from a South Korean Amphibious Assault Vehicle of a whole bunch of C4 explosives detonating. Marines shoot this stuff in a line trailing from a rocket to clear out minefields.

A night out at No. 10 Western Bar in Uijeongbu, about 18 miles north of Seoul.

Weej nightlife

It's a long week...here is a bar review I wrote, which will soon be published.

UIJEONGBU, South Korea -- On the second floor above a sushi restaurant, there is a bar named after a British prime minister’s residence and decorated in a Western motif, playing Korean boy band music that makes The Partridge Family look “gangsta” in comparison.
Colorful contrasts aside, No. 10 Western Bar’s strengths are its English-speaking bartenders and its stiff drinks.
#1 Bartender Nicky greeted the bar’s only 9 p.m. Friday patron with a re-enactment of the drink-slinging acrobatics in the 1988 Tom Cruise semi-hit “Cocktail.” The glasses weren’t full and the bar floor was padded, which was a good thing. Nicky’s juggling later showed a bit more skill.
Nicky also had a few card tricks up his sleeve, but they were later trumped by Smart Benny. The tricks would have been just as impressive without beer goggles.
As the night wandered on, even Korean pop hits like “South side, let’s ride!” sounded a little better. Clearly, that was influenced by beer.
But while discussing music, Smart Benny showed there was more to him than just the K-pop band of the month.
“Run DMC, I like them,” he said.
I give any 25-year-old Korean bartender credit for old school rap knowledge.
Each of the four bartenders said they were in their mid-twenties. Female bartenders Soie and Sean reminded me that in Korea, an extra year is added to your age to count the year you were born.
Coincidentally, this is when I switched from beer to liquor.
The bar is well-stocked with American whiskey mainstays and liqueurs from around the world, and the pours are fairly generous. No. 10’s beer list includes imports like Hoegaarden and Guinness among Korean mainstays like Cass and Red Rock. The bar snacks include a free bowl of imitation Funjuns, the round snacks that pretend to taste like onions, but actually taste a lot better and different.
Gradually, the bar filled with a Korean clientele, minus a courtesy patrol looking for soldiers who weren’t supposed to be there, thanks to a recent military exercise.
It’s usually a mixed crowd, as evidenced by the Polaroid pictures on the wall. A few of the Koreans drinking that night were eager to practice their English, and any attempt to speak Korean was welcomed and appreciated.

Rating: 5 out of 6 beers
Drink prices: 5000 won for domestic beer, more for imports and liquor
Cover: None
Food: Bar snacks
Entertainment: Television, music
Clientele: Mixed Korean and American
Dress: Casual
Directions: The bar is located downtown, not far from the Uijeongbu Station. Take a taxi, or on Highway 3 make a right before the Dunkin Donuts. After a few blocks, make a left.
Hours: 5 p.m. to 4 a.m.

Just hanging out, a few miles or so from the Demilitarized Zone. The tank crews were trying out some new ammo that day from close range.

Seoul from above. Lots of traffic and bustle among the millions.

The North Koreans are a curious bunch. The guy peeking through the window is KPA (that's Korean People's Army to us heathen capitalists). At one point, I think he was smudging the window with his nose. Everything on the other side of that U.N. flag in the middle is technically North Korea.

The view from my hotel of Uijeongbu, about 18 miles north of Seoul

Less sand, but still plenty of tanks

Yes, I’ve been gone a while. And I’ve switched countries a few times since.

I’m currently living in a nicely appointed hotel suite while I get permanent quarters here in South Korea.

It’s what is known as a “love hotel,” a common enough thing in Pacific Asia. They’re where folks sneak off to when they don’t want anyone to know. They’re also a lot nicer than the bare bones businessmen hotels, and westerners often prefer them.

So, here I am with a pink fluorescent light hanging over my dresser, and one of those Craftmatic adjustable beds that dominated daytime TV ads in the 1980s. I always wondered where they went. The lit-up, body-contoured Jacuzzi is a nice touch too.

It’s been six weeks since I left Okinawa, so I won’t try to recap it all here. Here are a few random observations:

• If you’re driving in the countryside – defined as anywhere outside Seoul – stopping at a red light is considered offensive.
• Seoul is comparable to Tokyo, but grittier and about half the price.
• A visit to the Demilitarized Zone further proved my theory about the military, originally formulated in Iraq: the closer you are to actual hostility being a reality, the less the servicemembers are concerned about bureaucratic nonsense. Not getting shot is what matters.
• If offered a choice between a simple rice roll and a piece of pig’s head, choose the pig’s head. The “safe” choice is the one that will give you food poisoning.
• I always had the feeling in mainland Japan that I was inadvertently breaking a social custom that made me a heathen foreigner. Somehow, walking and drinking water at the same time means seppuku to avenge one’s ancestors. I don’t get that feeling here. Next to soccer, baseball, the national sport seems to be loogie-hocking. They take their sidewalk spitting very seriously.
• Keep a phrase book handy so you can translate the words under plates of tasty looking food. That way, you won’t be surprised to find out that “booldak” means “fire chicken.”

I’ll try to update this thing a little more in the future. Let's shoot for once a week.
Here are a few stories of interest:

Camp Bonifas soldiers find fellowship at a tense border

Army considers action against slashed Seoul American senior