Lunch to remember at Bierhof

By Richard Pennington

For the past 13 years, Park Dal-bong has owned an unpretentious buffet restaurant known as the Bierhof near Gangnam Station. But it, like so many other businesses in Korea's hospitality sector, has closed.

The food was reasonably priced at 7,000 won ($6.40), and Park ― along with his wife and daughter and son-in-law ― ran the place in a friendly and efficient way. The cause of the Bierhof's demise is, as you may suspect, the COVID-19 pandemic. Park was patient, and perhaps for too long. He is now left wondering how to repay the financial debt he incurred over the last few months.

I dined at the Bierhof hundreds of times, and that is no exaggeration. I used to go there accompanied by co-workers or friends but sometimes alone with a book. And of all those meals, one stands out. Please allow me to recount it.

Yong Yoon, head of an NGO known as Badkiller, had arranged a meeting with a man from North Korea. I shook hands with 57-year-old Lee Min-bok, a native of Hwanghaebuk Province. As we ate and drank, Yoon, Lee and I had a three-way conversation, with Yoon serving as the interpreter.

Also at the table were Lee Kwang-koo (Yoon's assistant) and two young men who serve as Lee Min-bok's bodyguards. Such protection is necessary because he has been quite active in opposing the government, if it may be so called, of his former home.

In 1995, Lee crossed the Amnok River into China. He lived there for three years before being apprehended and sent back to a terrible fate. Of course, everything is relative in North Korea. He was beaten, tortured and imprisoned for a while but somehow got released.

Maybe the authorities believed his story about having gone to China just to learn modern agricultural techniques, which he fully intended to bring back to the socialist paradise run by and for Kim Jong-il, the “Dear Leader.” As soon as another opportunity presented itself, Lee headed north again. He was successful and has been living in South Korea (Pocheon, specifically) for the past decade or so.

His departure was not without consequences, of course. His sister and mother were arrested and sent to prison, where they remain to this day. Again, the issue of relativity comes up. They live in a “restricted area” in which they are able to stay alive, and that is the name of the game for most North Koreans ― enduring and surviving one day at a time.

Although I did not mean to be impertinent, I asked Lee several questions during our meal at the Bierhof. One was whether there were any all-you-can-eat lunch buffets up in North Korea. He merely smiled and replied that if there were, they would soon go out of business due to customers filling their bellies with food.

What had it been like during the times of famine? He had seen people eating bark off trees and worse: cannibalism.

While living in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, did he really believe those improbable tales, like Kim Il-sung being able to control the weather and Kim Jong-il making five holes-in-one every time he played a round of golf? In fact, he did. The state is that adept at controlling information and force-feeding lies to the people.

However, Lee began to doubt one day when he found a leaflet that had been sent into the country by means of balloons. It said that the Republic of Korea did not start the Korean War on June 25, 1950; that there is considerable prosperity south of the border; that Americans are not devils but actually good friends; that the money spent on those 35,000 statues of Kim Il-sung could have been put to much better use; and so on.

That was when he realized he had to leave, whatever the cost. People from other countries “emigrate.” When we are referring to the DPRK, the correct term is “escape.” Lee escaped and made it to South Korea. He experienced some culture shock, which is entirely natural. I looked at him and saw a man who was in pretty good shape. He seemed neither mentally nor physically damaged by having lived for more than four decades north of the 38th parallel.

Lee is a big believer in the power of sending leaflet-laden balloons up over the border with North Korea. Obviously, the authorities disapprove and try to collect them before they fall into the hands of their targets ― average citizens.

His own eyes had been opened by just this method. He and some colleagues go to the border twice a week and try to launch balloons. I told him I support his efforts and am convinced that this is truly important work. When informed that he accepts contributions, I gave him 30,000 won and said Godspeed.

Richard Pennington (raput76@gmail.com), a native of Texas in the U.S., works as an editor at a law firm in southern Seoul. He has written 22 nonfiction books, including "Travels of an American-Korean, 2008-2013." He is the director of an NGO, the Committee to Bring Jikji Back to Korea.