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People on this island dangle squids from clotheslines, right next to their laundry's shirts, pants and underwear, as if the small sea creatures are a hip new fashion accessory.  They drape squids across the rooftops of their homes, along cement sidewalks and on wooden doorsteps.  They lay squids everywhere -- especially in the sunshine, to dry them as quick as possible. At night, the island's insomniacs tie undried squids to indoor racks, and place them in front of electric heaters, so fans can blow hot air on the beasts and speed the drying until the sun rises again.  No sense wasting time when you have millions of squids to dry.  Down by the seashore, fishermen's trash buckets are filled with discarded squids' eyes, but the rest of the slippery animals are carefully gutted.  The squids are worth the trouble.  They have turned isolated, middle-of-nowhere Ullungdo into a thriving island of tiny boomtowns.  Boomtowns with tentacles. The local residents' obsession with squids is pervasive.  The one computerized advertisement board in the center of the main town, Todong, displays electronic squids dancing across its screen.  The cartoon squids cavort between visual blurbs about bank interest rates and other commercials.  The juxtaposition of squids and money proves how valuable the seafood has become to Ullungdo's residents.  Even the souvenir shops offer squid-shaped keychains and squid-embossed bottle-openers, glow-in-the-dark plastic pictures of three-dimensional squids to hang on your wall, and other memorabilia decorated with the squiggly animal. Travellers are amazed at all the squids and rustic charm of this volcano island.  The island offers moody, inspiring, rocky hills and a  seemingly hostile coastline.  Volcanic peaks pierce the sky with grim, jagged silhouettes.  The dark gray cliffs are so massive and severe, that the scattered villages can fit only around the bottom of the fierce, molten rocks which are riddled with seams of rust-colored ore. Nature lovers hike and camp in the emerald green, forested wilds.  Artists and photographers conjure up visions at sunrise

Richard S. Ehrlich is from San Francisco, California, and first journeyed to Asia in 1972. Reporting news from across Asia since 1978, his bases have included Hong Kong, New Delhi, and now Bangkok.  His coverage has focused on the guerrilla wars in Afghanistan, Kashmir, Punjab, Sri Lanka and Cambodia, as well as the region’s cultures and other events.  He received his Master’s degree from Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism, and won their 1978 Foreign Correspondents Award.  He has also co-compiled a book entitled, “Hello My Big Big Honey,” which contains interviews with members of Bangkok’s notorious and infamous nightclub scene. . Additional Resources Classified Ads Section - Expatriate Search Tools - Submit an Article - Travel Links - Unique Lifestyles - Maps Of The World - World's Newspapers - World Reference Desk - Richard S. Ehrlich website - Contact author Richard S. Ehrlich - Ehrlich's "Hello My Big Big Honey" - ..

The island is only a short 140 kms off Korea's east coast, at about the same latitude as Seoul.  But since there is no major seaport on the northeast coast, many visitors fly from Seoul 384 kms southeast to the port of Pohang.  From Pohang, a modern hydrofoil sails 200 kms northeast to the island.  This V-shaped route is no hurdle, because the Australian-made hydrofoil, which departs Pohang every day, zips across the Sea of Japan (also known as the Tonghae or East Sea) at 50 nautical miles an hour. It's one of the fastest hydrofoils in the world.  The gleaming ship is enormous, and can carry up to 815 passengers who enjoy television and a snack bar, or simply snooze until the mammoth vessel slides into Ullungdo's surprisingly tiny harbor at Todong village.  Other routes from Korea's eastern ports of Hupo and Tonghae rely on ferries which can take from three to seven hours, but they run only during certain months, and only if the sea isn't rough.

The village of Todong

As soon as you disembark the hydrofoil, you'll find yourself among a cluster of squid boats.  While the boats' rusty, two-prong anchors are hoisted, and thick ropes secure the vessels to the shore, the crews relax before a hard night at sea.  The squid boats work the waters surrounding the island each night, and resemble something out of a Jules Verne novel, with up to 70 big, glass globes hanging like a series of oval chandeliers along the entire length of each grubby, squat vessel.  These lights, each one larger than a person's head, are switched on at night because their intense white candescence attracts squids from beneath the water's surface.

The awe-struck creatures swim towards the illumination as if attracted by their sudden appearance and blinding beauty amid the darkness of the open sea.  Unfortunately for the beasts, the light is not one of revelation, but is instead the last thing they will see before wily fishermen scoop them up in huge nets and dump them -- flipping, squirming and spitting seawater -- onto the decks of the boats.

These big bright lights consume a lot of electricity.  As a result, there is a constant danger to the fishermen because so much electrical power is so close to the water's splashing waves.   The crew must continually inspect and repair each of the separate light sockets and also the thick braids of black electrical wire to ensure nobody gets electrocuted while out at sea.  Most of the maintenance is done while the squid boats are berthed in harbors.  Crewmen, with wirecutters in their gloved hands, scurry along the long, horizontal lines of wiring.  They peer at each of the glass globe's connections, and also make sure the ships' portable generators are kept high and dry.

The island's restaurants overflow with squid dishes, but there is other delicious seafood as well.  For some foreign tourists, the meals are sometimes a bit too fresh.

"They gave us a fish dinner with the fish still breathing," said one British teacher who was visiting Ullungdo for the first time and laughing at the memory of a recent meal.  "You could see the fish's gills opening and closing.  And the fish was still looking at us with its one good eye.

"We ate it anyway," he said in an interview.  "But I heard you can get out of eating it by saying, 'It is bad luck in England to eat moving food.' "

Except for the small cafes, nightlife on Ullungdo can be quite sedate because most of the hardworking residents need to rise early.  But tourists mill around Todong's pocket-sized port looking for something to do, and some of them find it in the karaoke lounges which have recently opened to accommodate the growing swell of visitors.  The karaoke scene includes some unusual surprises.  Unlike some 

lounges back on the Korean mainland which are decked out in the latest, expensive decor, the haunts on Ullungdo are a bit simpler.  In one downstairs bar in Todong, for example, the mood became extremely folksy when elderly wives and grandmothers began doing most of the singing and dancing.  Their aged male partners appeared stunned at the revelry which the island holiday inspired. Ullungdo's history, however, was no song and dance.  Pirates often came to the storm-lashed island, which lay far from the control of regional authorities.  The thieves hid their ill-gotten booty, repaired their pirate ships, and used the rocky outcroppings as staging points to attack others who sailed between Korea and Japan. During the Shilla Dynasty, Korea's King Yeji seized the island from the pirates in an effort to increase security for his kingdom along the mainland's east coast.  He and his predecessors used Ullungdo mostly as a strategic military outpost.

Pirates' Cave

But in 1884, the government realized it would be wise to have more settlers on the island, to ensure that it remained in Korean hands, and to build up an infrastructure.  Even today, however, the island is relatively unpopulated, and the farms that people have managed to coax from the volcanic earth remain small.  Which brings us to the role played by the ubiquitous squid.  After largescale squid fishing enabled Ullungdo's residents to export the food to the mainland in huge quantities, prosperity spread.  Recent modernization has included more roads, fleets of taxis, telecommunications, hotels and other symbols of wealth and status.

Visitors however seem more interested in the island's romantic settings.  Newlyweds, and elderly couples rekindling their happiness, often join passengers who climb onboard tour boats for a trip around the entire island, starting and ending in Todong harbor.
 

The circular journey takes about two-and-a-half hours to complete a 55 km circumference.  As the tour boat hugs the battered coastline, an occasional tiny village will suddenly appear and then disappear, hidden amid the green jungle and dark gray volcanic cliffs -- in much the way pirate lairs once nestled unseen unless approached directly. Back on land, people who like exercise often try to tackle Songinbong, a 986-meter high, hopefully dormant volcano.  Songinbong is cut by several paths leading up to its summit.  There are occasional signs, but no one worries about getting lost because the island isn't that big and its height allows hypnotic views which also reveal where you need to climb. All those squids will meanwhile tempt even shy palates to try and munch the flattened, dried, chewy treat.  Koreans buy the stuff by the crate because it can be much cheaper here than on the mainland.  Merely watching the fishermen and shopkeepers work among the squids will give you an idea how laborious life for the residents on the island can be.  Before breakfast, you'll see women lifting boxes of dried squids, rummaging through piles of cellophane-wrapped dried squids, stacking shelves with fresh piles of dried squids, and shoving the stuff here and there in an endless quest to sell it before a new pile arrives.

Songinbong Summit

By mid-morning, freshly gutted squids will be hanging all over town, including special horizontal racks which are set up in virtually any available yard.  Strangely, the constant appearance of squids actually lures most visitors to start eating them every day while they are visiting the island.  If you do become addicted while you are there, bargain hard because -- for the market savvy people of Ullungdo -- the financial bottom line is written in the squids' black ink.

Also by Richard S. Ehrlich (compiler) and Dave Walker (compiler):
 
 

"Hello My Big Big Honey!" Love Letters to Bangkok Bar Girls and Their Revealing Interviews Researched in Bangkok -- and now published in San Francisco -- this documentary book contains verbatim love letters written by American, European, Australian and other foreign men to bar girls in Bangkok. The foreign men's letters explain their emotions, demands, dreams and fears as they try to convince Thai women of their feelings. The book also includes extensive "Q and A" interviews with Thai bar girls about their relationships with foreign customers. The Thai women also express their personal views on the problems of AIDS, poverty, abuse, tradition and the search for true love in red-lit streets and rented rooms. Interviews with three blunt bar owners -- American, British and Thai -- and others probe the harsh depths of Bangkok's commercial sex industry. This book has been acquired by the British Library's Oriental and India Office Collections as a manuscript of unusual romantic relationships between East and West.

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