Not very long ago, we in Israel experienced a strange type of reality rockets and missiles fell in the south, and a half-hour drive away, in the center of Tel Aviv, life went on as normal. On Tuesday, mere hours after I landed in South Korea, I experienced something similar. On the one hand, the winds of war on the Korean Peninsula were blowing amid threats from North Korean leader Kim Jong Un; and at the same time, the caf s in Seoul, the South's capital, were full of people. In the shadow of a potential conflagration, people in the south aren't showing signs of panic. "In general, we're already used to emergency situations," the foreign editor for the South Korean paper Joongang Daily, Jung U-nam told me. "It was much more dramatic a few years ago, after the sinking of the ROKS Cheonan in March 2010, apparently by North Korea, which never admitted to it. Forty-six sailors were killed then, and four civilians of ours were killed in November of that year during the shooting on Yeonpyeong Island. Fifty killed and that didn't lead to war. We've lived in danger since the cease-fire agreement was signed in July 1953. Technically, we are always in a state of war with them," said Jung. I received further evidence of the normalcy in South Korea during a guided tour of the capital. A large group of young South Koreans sat at the elegant and expensive caf Paul Bassett (French style). They didn't look worried. "We are immune," Park, a young woman studying architecture, tells me. "It's a little more difficult today for our parents and grandparents to read the paper, it reminds them of the terrible war we had here," she says. "We experience the threats, not the war, so for us it's a little tougher to take Kim Jong Un seriously. From our perspective he's crazy and an attack by him seems like something ridiculous." South Korea wants to send a message of business as usual. One must remember that this is important for business, as South Korea has become one of the world's leading commercial countries. In Seoul they understand that the north's rhetoric has an objective: to hurt its southern neighbor's economy and tourism industry. This is the rosier outlook in South Korea. But a visit to the border city of Goyang, home to the Korea Aerospace University, led me to understand that there was real concern. The city's million residents, located half an hour from Seoul, received pamphlets explaining what to do in case of a chemical, biological or even nuclear attack. A list of the bomb shelters and underground parking lots was also distributed. The residents of Paju, which became a city in 1997, also received instructions on what to do if they come under an unconventional weapons attack. I visited the place. The atmosphere there is undeniably different than in Seoul. Kim Jong Un had an original way of welcoming me. "We aren't interested in harming foreign citizens in South Korea if there is a war," he declared. I only just arrived in the most tense area in the world, and Pyongyang is already advising foreigners in the south to "prepare for evacuation." The situation on the peninsula escalates each day and Pyongyang refuses to abate. On Tuesday it threatened a thermonuclear war in East Asia. It's hard to believe that North Korea has a hydrogen bomb, but everyone agrees they have the means to cause damage. The big question is, how will Kim Jong Un come down from the tall tree he has climbed up? Will he conduct a fourth nuclear test? Will he launch a ballistic missile over Japan toward the Pacific Ocean? Perhaps a terrorist attack in Seoul or concentrated fire on a disputed area, similar to what the north did three years ago when it shelled the tranquil fishing port, Yeonpyeong Island, the same place where we journalists replaced the tourists yesterday- "I hope nothing happens," says Park Lee, a grocery store owner in a small village right on the border. "Routine is a good thing, even if life next to American bases isn't especially routine," he adds. And what is happening in Pyongyang? North Korea told Western diplomats on Tuesday that it intends to test launch a ballistic missile over Japan in the coming days, perhaps as early as today. In the meantime, people on Yeonpyeong Island are anxious. A two-and-a-half-hour ferry brings you to this enchanting island. On Tuesday the guided tours were cancelled for tourists. In effect, only the journalists made their way there. Usually during this season people enjoy the bass that are fished prior to the crab season. But of the island's 1,700 residents, over 400 have left since the beginning of March. It's very difficult to find alternate fishermen. The place has become dangerous. The island's always tasty and always fresh restaurant has seen a 70 percent drop in revenue. This is what North Korea wants not just to ruin a restaurant, but to destroy an entire country's income. And while in Tokyo the city has been "decorated" with Patriot missile defense batteries, people in Seoul's Gangnam District stayed out partying until late at night. In the Beverly Hills of Seoul people are still packing the gourmet restaurants after a long day at work. Normal life half an hour from a war zone indeed familiar. A satellite photograph of the Korean Peninsula shows how the territory is divided: The south is brightly lit while the north is dark. And to think that a mere 190 kilometers (118 miles) separate the two capitals, Seoul and Pyongyang.
