My shoutout to Pavarotti

Everybody's favorite opera singer passed yesterday.
After my first year of law school in 1992, I spent three weeks in Geneva. As soon as I landed in town, Pat and I bought tickets to go see the legend in concert.
The night before the show, I got drunk off my ass at the only bar in town that stayed up after 9 pm, then proceeded to climb up three stories of the exterior of a hotel. Don't ask. Of course, I fell, which left me with two broken ankles, a sprained shoulder and numerous scratches and bruises. I was lucky to be alive.
I should have gone to the ER right away, but I waited a few days because I'd be damned if I was gonna miss the show. Next day, I took the public bus to the concert hall and hobbled to my seat. Despite the relentless and searing pain, I thoroughly managed to have a good time. He fuckin' rocked!
So here's to you, Grande Vecchio. Grazie e buon viaggio.

Mid-week ramblings about media tycoons, Italian movies and West Coast football.

Apparently, I have a lot to say this morning:

Adieu, Dow Jones.
I'm mildly disappointed by the news that Rupert Murdoch is buying the Wall Street Journal publisher even though I knew for some weeks that it was inevitable.
Unlike a lot of people, I’m less concerned that Murdoch might soon cheapen the paper by publishing tawdry items or enforce his political/commercial agenda through the paper - though that remains a distinct possibility.
As a former employee of Dow Jones, I’m sighing because the company - despite its lofty name and being publicly traded - was a family-run operation that treated its employees well. It was a self-contained unit focused solely on solid business journalism - the best in the business.
Now it gets to be a part of a large conglomerate that has a reputation of being ruthless in the eyes of competition. And I can't help but feel wistful that the deal feels like watching a bookworm brother being forcibly sent to a military boot camp.

The best I've seen in 10 years.
Speaking of feeling wistful, I recently finished watching "Best of Youth," a 6-hour Italian movie that left me feeling deeply nostalgic of my younger days and appreciative of my family and friends.
Originally released as a miniseries in that country in 2003, it's basically a long love letter to Italy told through the eyes of a typical Roman family. It's the best movie I've seen in the last ten years.
Specifically, its about two brothers in Rome - one equipped with a steady, sunny disposition while the other struggles with repressive sensibilities - marking their personal stories in 40 years of tumultuous and corrput Italy.
It took me three days to watch it, but it's well worth it.

It'll be good for me.
Speaking of European movies, I don't think I've seen a single movie by Ingmar Bergman. I tried watching "Seventh Seal" about a year ago, but it was a bit too "Scandinavian" for my taste - too dark, austere and lacking in humor.
But in a nod to his passing earlier this week, I moved "Scenes from a Marriage" to the top of my Netflix list. I hear it's one of his audience-friendly movies. Woody Allen's "Husbands and Wives" - one of my favorite movies - is said to be influenced by it.

Man, I'm so American.
Speaking of Bergman, I noticed yesterday that his obit ran on the front page of my local newspaper while that of another legend who died on the same day, football coach Bill Walsh, was pushed back to the sports section.
I guess I understand the rationale, given Bergman's international appeal and the indelible mark he left on cinema. Football ain't no art, some might say.
But personally, Bill Walsh meant more to me, growing up in the U.S. as a sports-obsessed child. I dare say his 49ers' brand of football - with its precise passing game dictated by the quietly competitive Joe Montana - was almost artistic.

Come on in!

I was at a dinner party recently, and got into a conversation with a U.S. bureaucrat who is directly involved in the visa waiver program.
This person - I promised to not divulge any information about him/her - tells me that the visa waiver will inevitably be expanded to include South Korea. Of course, this is not news for Koreans, many of whom are fascinated with the topic. Just check out the non-stop headlines aobut it in Korean newspapers. (U.S. diplomats stamp more visitor visas in Korea than in any other country.)
What was surprising was my source's candid admission that he/she believes including Korea is a bad idea. One in four Koreans who come to the U.S. on tourist visas overstay and never leave, making the country one of the worst offenders along with Poland, according to this person. South Korea also hasn't made its best efforts to curb human traffiking, this person says.

Country music does this to me.

On my way to work yesterday, this corny song "Live like you're dying" came on the radio. As much as I tried, that song stayed with me all day (more because of its catchy hooks and not because of the cliche of message). But I did get around to thinking: What will I do if I had six months left to live?
So I drew up a little list that goes beyond the obvious - like spending time with my family and so on. And no, I'm not going sky diving.
-- Forgive and ask for forgiveness from some friends and family members that I've neglected over the years. I have cousins in Korea, whom I've never met. Why I can't do that now, I'm not really sure. Of the seven original sins, pride is what gets me the most.
-- Kiss my wife and son as much as I can.
-- Travel, travel and travel, with my wife and son in tow. I especially want to see Central Asian countries (all those -stan countries), Argentina, South Africa and North Korea. I've been to 51 countries so far, and they're now on top of my list. I'd want to revisit Paris, Seoul, Madrid, southern Thailand, Malaysia, Vancouver, Shanghai, Prague and Egypt.
-- Participate in one good political protest. Having emigrated to the U.S. in 1979, I missed the opportunity to throw my share of molotov cocktails at the Chun/Roh regimes. I missed the WTO Seattle by eight months when I moved to the Emerald City in early 2000. I suppose I could have gone to Tiananmen Square or Berlin in the late 80s, but I was a poor college student. I won't do this for the sake of just doing it. It will have to be a legitimate, cathartic and justifiable fuck-you of a riot to whoever that really deserves it.
-- Read "Moby Dick." As an English major, I read a lot of books in college. But I also relied heavily on Cliffs Notes for others. "Moby Dick" falls into the latter category and I've felt guilty about it ever since. It's like having gone to China and not seeing the Forbidden City.
-- Smoke as much as I want to, instead of sneaking it in once or twice a day after meals.
What about you? What's on your list?

Falling Art Star

A pretty big scandal has recently rocked the Korean art and academic community. A 35 year old rising superstar in the Korean art world, Shin Jeong-Ah, has been accused of forging her academic credentials. These included a PhD from Yale and a BA and MBA from the University of Kansas. She also said that she transferred from the prestigious Seoul National University but never studied there. Apparently, she is only a high school graduate.

The shock is that this person has risen to a position of great prominence in the Korean art community. She is (was) a Professor at Danguk University (the youngest ever) and the Chief Curator of the Sungkok Art Museum. Also, she was appointed co-curator of the 2008 Gwangju Biennale which is arguably the most high profile art showcase in Korea attracting a global audience (at least within the art community). She has since been dismissed from all of these institutions.

Another purported lie was that she lay in the rubble of the Sampoong Department store disaster in 1995 for several hours before being rescued. The real sotry was that she was there on that fateful day but had long gone home before the accident occurred. Lucky, yes, but a miracle survivor ... hardly.

She maintains her innocence and is currently in NY. All of the above institutions replied that she was never a matriculated student so it should be interesting to see how she proves herself. The fax that was sent to Dongguk University that "proved" her academic credentials from Yale was a fake. Perhaps, she is just a pathological liar in which case she is just can't help herself. Perhaps her life was just not that great that her only escape was to live this lie.

This (sadly) sort of brings to mind the Dr. Hwang Woo-Suk case (forged tests on cloning). Now, some well known English teachers in Korea are confessing that they, too, have forged their academic credentials. A recent articel in the Joongang Daily reports that police will check academic records of just under 3,000 English teachers. According to the article, fake diplomas are easily purchased for about US$50 and you can graduate summa cum laude for just an extra $10.

If all of these accusations turn out to be true, it's likely that she will go to jail for fraud. It's a bit sad in a way, she worked herself up from being a part time translator in a museum to the top of the art field. Lack of academic credentials aside, she must have had some talent or maybe it says something about the Korean art world. I sort of wish for her to be somehow vindicated as that would make for some riveting drama. Won't hold my breath though.
- Pat in Seoul

My favorite Korean movies list that's kind of an ode to Song Kang-ho

Knowing that I'm a cinephile, a friend recently asked me to name my favorite Korean movies. I named five of them and this is pretty much what I said.
"Joint Security Area": I told my friend that it resonates with many Koreans because it articulates on a personal level their collective pangs of living in a broken nation. He said, "huh?"
And I said: "It's about Koreans being fucking pissed that they can't be with their brothers and sisters. And it's a whodunit to boot."
Song Kang-ho pretty much rules the movie, though Lee Byung-hyun - he represents the pang - is very convincing.
"Memories of Murder": I liken it to being a Korean version of "Seven," with a good dash of politics thrown in. I was there at its screening at 2003 Toronto Film Festival when the appreciative crowd stood and cheered as the credits rolled. Again, Song Kang-ho rules in the movie.
"The Host": Anthony Lane of the New Yorker says he saw it three times. I don't like it that much, but Song Kang-ho pretty much...well, you get the idea.
"Oasis": I never cry. I came pretty close with this. Seol Kyung-gu, as the dolt brother newly freed from jail, is brilliant. I worship at the altar of Moon So-ri - she of the fabulous name.
"Oldboy": I recommended this even though it's not one of my favorites because, at least stylistically, it's the most sophisticated Korean movie made. But it lacks subtlety of any kind, is littered with gratuitous violence and has a tiresome plot.
I would have recommended Hong Sang-soo's "Turning Gate," but that's like serving up al-chigae to a Korean food novice.

God and hostages

Live and let live, I say. So far be it from me to criticize the Korean missionaries who believed they were on an important assignment from God to go into Afghanistan and travel along the country's most dangerous road before they were kidnapped by Taliban fighters.
I'm not a praying man, but I sure do hope they get home safely. But as a Korean, I must ask: What is it about Koreans that makes so many of us so fervent and fundamentalist about religion and cults?
I've always been suspicious about organized religion and I don't buy that personal dialogue with God is necessary to live well. I do think it's important to be thankful, to somehow believe there is meaning to our lives and and to not piss on people because they believe in their own God. Beyond that, shit, I don't know.
And that's exactly what I will be telling my Papito when he's old enough to ask me about God.

Korean Pork BBQ

One good thing about being on a low carb diet is that you get to get loads of greasy meat. In Korea, this low carb thing is very difficult to do but I'm slogging through it and having a lot of famous Korean BBQ. I'm sure my cholesterol is off the charts but I'll work on that later.

Recently, I'm all about this cuisine called "dduk kimchi samgyeopsal" and it's a taste I'm been craving like a madman lately. For those of you who don't know, “samgyeopsal” refers to thick cuts of pork, like bacon, with three layers of fat ("sam" is the number "three” in Korean). At first, you may be put off by the amount of fat. In fact, when I first came to Korea I used to cut off at least one layer, the fattiest, before I ate it much to the amusement of my Korean friends. The meat also sometimes contains small round bits of cartilage that I still don't enjoy eating but is supposed to be consumed.

Normally, one would grill this up and then eat together with “daengjang” (fermented bean paste) or “ssamjang” (fermented red bean paste) wrapped in sesame leaf and various types of lettuce after dipping the roasted pork in a small dish filled with sesame oil and salt. Of course, you could also include some thinly sliced garlic pieces that have nicely browned on the grill in a mixture of, you guess it, sesame oil. The stuff you wrap with is collectively referred to as "ssam" or to wrap. You may be familiar with this term as Momofuku's Korean American chef recently opened a "Ssam Bar" (basically wrap restaurant). It's not a new thing, it's a very traditional way to eat and people in any hard core Korean restaurant eat this way.

The thing about this place is that you also roast up kimchi on the grill along with the roasted garlic. While this is not novel, there are many places you can roast your kimchi with the meat, the topper is that you eat this not with sesame leaf and lettuce but rather wrapped in “dduk” which is Korean rice cake. In this case, the rice cake is very thin round piece that are sliced in half into half moons and lightly brushed with sesame oil. The combination of the dduck (rice cake), the roasted fatty pork, the kimchi, the roasted garlic, the salt and bean paste is truly delectable.

This is great, of course, with Korean soju or just beer.

-Pat in Seoul

Mi casa grande

Perhaps it's a phase I'm going through. But I'm really beginning to think this whole American dream of homeownership might be overrated. I have a 2,400-square-foot house - modest by American suburban standards - but it's more space than I really need. At least for now, with just one bambino.
I'm just not that into mowing the lawn and getting my ass bitten all over by mosquitoes and god knows what else. I admire my backyard but, like a lot of Americans, hardly use it. I don't go down to the basement except to laze around on a couch zoning out to bad TV. I don't have access to a community pool when it's 102 degrees outside.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those stereotypical suburbanites who live way the fuck out and in quiet desperation. I'm 14 miles from the White House and three blocks from one of the busiest intersections in the DC area. Our social calendar is pretty full with friends going in and out. It's just that I miss living in a modest 1,000-square-foot apartment where I don't have to call out "where are you?" to locate my wife. I miss not having a mortgage, not having to pay property tax or homeowners insurance or having to fix shit on my own. I miss the simpler life.
But then, I remind myself of the things I do have - a beautiful, loving wife, a great kid, a big-ass house where I can hide from them occasionally, a job where I'm not banging my head aginst a wall, parents nearby, and 5-minute commute to work. And life is all good once again.
What do you think? Is this a normal reaction for new homeowners?

Ode to Ichiballs

I can't lie. I have a man-crush on Ichiro. I haven't felt this way about an athlete since Fernando Valenzuela in the late 80s. Holy shit! Have you ever seen a hitter score standing up on an inside-park homerun? Me neither.
I've had man-crushes on maybe four or five dudes in my entire life - Ted Koppel, Roberto Clemente, Chang-rae Lee and Ichiro. Kinda uncomfortable talking about it. But there it is.