MANIFESTO

All Roads Lead to Seoul

Liz — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 14:42:13 +0000

SEOUL SWEET SEOUL!
The definitive girl’s guide to living, discovering, and enjoying South Korea
By Hana Yoo and Elizabeth Shim
Small Planet Publishing

Call me crazy, but I keep hearing little voices that are nudging me to declare 2012 as the year to visit, discover, and frolic in the land of Korea. Perhaps even live there for a year or two, and really get to the bottom of a bottomless intrigue.

Sure, things are a little shaky up North. And everyone’s a tad bit nervous about a 29-year-old, Swiss boarding school-trained neophyte handling the last Stalinist regime standing. I mean, would you hire this guy to run a country? I wouldn’t.

Luckily for us, South Korea is everything North Korea is not. The keywords here would be leisure and entertainment. Many travelers from neighboring China and Japan are now coming in droves to do their shopping, hang out in the cafés of Gangnam, and taste some of that ferociously delicious Korean food. Kimchi, anyone?

Other, rather unexpected events have also taken place that have put Korea squarely on the map, kind of like the way you can see places like London, or New York not just geographically but also symbolically.

First — and let’s just get this out of the way — there’s the K-pop phenomenon. I’m thinking of the scores of websites dedicated to Korean entertainment news, especially this lovely one based in Singapore — designed to quench the unquenchable thirst of K-pop fans for more pictures, updates, and music videos by some of Korea’s cutest, eye-catching, what-have-you stars. This stuff is addictive, I’m telling you, so don’t get sucked in. But if you do, you may find yourself actually traveling to Korea.

And I’m here to tell you that’s not a bad idea. Especially if you are young, Korea seems to hold a few promises for the smart, adaptable person who’s curious to learn more about Asia.

So if you’re headed to Korea, check out Seoul Sweet Seoul! There’s lots of information about shopping, spas, and travel, in a detailed language you won’t find in tourist brochures, or the usual suspects published by Lonely Planet or Moon Guides. It also helps it was written by myself and Hana Yoo, and we’ve lived in Korea for a combined six years.

There’s also information here about expat living and finding a job, but with none of the usual ranting about locals that you’ll find on forums littered with trolls who suffer from some arcane inability to adjust.

The world’s getting smaller. And we’ve all got to make an effort to understand each other better.

And in 2012, as this piece on CNNGo suggests, what better place to head for than the Land of the Morning Calm, in a year when the Mayan Calendar ends?

Mark my words, dear readers. All roads lead to Seoul. So buy the book already.

Graphic Origami | Kenzo Spring 2012

Liz — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 21:51:20 +0000

I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about Takada Kenzo that I’m so drawn to, and I think what it really comes down to is the designer’s legacy of color, vibrancy, and fabric expressions of a love for life. The sway of a Kenzo skirt or a floral scarf flapping in the wind is certainly the material substance of good advertising, or a glimmer of a reason to get up in the morning, but if there are fashion editors out there who try to justify their work by conveniently suggesting fashion designers are the harbingers of things to come, or a thermostat to the reckless mood of the times, then the House of Kenzo should give them a reason to think again. For Spring 2012, Humberto Leon and Carol Lim paid tribute to Kenzo’s legacy with a no holds barred display of color, cut and proportion. Theirs is a fashion universe of orderly cheerfulness, an interesting concept to play around with in a world where we must constantly worry about what tomorrow may bring.

Fashion, like any other creation, seems to tell a story about a designer, or in the case of the Spring 2012 collection, his legacy. For decades Kenzo has been a Japanese designer shrouded in the whirlwind that is Paris couture, but for his fans he always stood out with his ever-so-subtle expressions of Japanese aesthetics. For myself, it’s something of a guilty pleasure to find a hint or two of Eastern influence in the mist, like the accessories shown here, re-envisioned for a fashion crowd with a discerning eye. The House of Kenzo is a rest stop for the weary, perhaps even the fashion-weary. And I wonder if it’s because this collection is a nod to influences in the designer’s childhood, when he read through his sisters’ magazines in Japan. It’s an outlet of happy escapism that looks backward rather than forward at one designer’s transcultural legacy.

A reminder that sometimes even nostalgia is enough to move us forward.

All photos courtesy of Vogue.com

Do Ho Suh | Lehmann Maupin Gallery

Liz — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 05:55:50 +0000

Many Americans think of Koreans in the United States as diligent and capable newcomers who adjust quickly to their host country. Different, yes, but in a nation of differences and diversity, Koreans are just another stripe of color in an ever trendy mosaic. Do they have reservations about the new culture they must adapt to? Are they experiencing difficulties? No one knows, because no one ever bothers to ask them. No one, except for perhaps Korean artist Do Ho Suh, who resurfaced to transform elements of the autobiographical into both the artistic and the architectural at Lehmann Maupin Gallery.

As you can see from the photograph above, Suh created replicas of two buildings that have become fused thanks to a collison of two worlds, which took place when the artist first arrived in the United States in 1991 to attend the Rhode Island School of Design. The prewar brownstone replica represents the home he adopted in Providence, Rhode Island, and the hanok on the right depicts his childhood home in Korea with painstaking accuracy. According to the art narrative, his Korean home was lifted up by a tornado, transporting Suh to a strange but soon-to-be-familiar place called America. And the results are a vision to behold.

Details of hanok in Fallen Star 1/5, 2008-2011

Floor by floor of Fallen Star 1/5, 2008-2011

The tornado-driven crash landing has devastated the interior of the brownstone across all immediately adjacent floors. The damage is severe, even irreparable, but also void of catastrophic emotion. The rooms appear to be inhabited, and yet there are no people. All we have is silence, but a silence so indifferent it’s practically an ode to the ones who know that when a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, it really does not make a sound.

Suh is a remarkable artist whose intimate knowledge of cultural displacement has in many ways inspired my desire to become a better interpreter of transnational Asian culture and experience. Suh’s collision is a serious crisis, but I know all too well the greater crisis is our defiant disregard for our feelings of discontinuity and change. It’s a story that’s defined entire swathes of people but remain suppressed and unverbalized, until someone like Suh takes a stand and says, “You. This is you.” The fact that Suh is Korean and has intimate knowledge of Korean architecture made this exhibit feel all the more personal.

As for his art, I’ll let the visual outcome speak for itself.

Details of a kitchen

The attention to detail, such as in this bedroom, was simply mind-boggling.

Rear window

Visitors standing by Fallen Star 1/5, 2008-2011. Certainly gives you a sense of scale!

The parachute attached to Suh's childhood home. Definitely has echoes of his previous works.

Chinatown’s culinary democracy

Liz — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 02:26:21 +0000

Fresh rambutans on Canal Street

UPDATE: The Itinerary I mention below is now available on UnAnchor.com! Check it our here.

Recently in New York there’s been an ongoing movement to nosh on ethnic foods, edible delights that shouldn’t just taste good but also be as authentic as possible. Almost every other week we hear of an insider’s tour of Jackson Heights, or a Flushing Food Tour that will leave all stomachs happily full and sated. The best part of eating ethnic, and particularly Chinese, is that it is very kind on the wallet, which given the economic mood of today, is probably the biggest draw of a dumpling that’s Made In Flushing or a red bean bun at a Chinatown bakery.

Financial considerations aside, I would gladly eat at some of my favorite Chinatown restaurants any day. It’s just too good to pass up, which is why I’m also working on an itinerary that will help visitors eat like a local and really enjoy the Asian quarters of New York.

The foods eaten in the Chinatowns here represent something of a culinary democracy. Every color, shape and size is completely represented, and no ingredient that’s natural or good is spared.

So I’ve been pounding the pavement looking for wonderful food and gathering information. What I’ve learned along the way about Asian food, and Chinese cuisine in particular, has been a revelation. The foods eaten in the Chinatowns here represent something of a culinary democracy. Every color, shape and size is completely represented, and no ingredient that’s natural or good is spared. And while it’s something of a truism that actual, political democracy is a faraway reality in China and will remain a bone of contention, I can’t help but turn my attention to a different kind of democracy, one that’s been around in Asian culture for thousands of years, and revolves around food, life’s most important necessity. The best part of Chinese culinary democracy is not just all-out representation of textures and colors, either. It is for me, as it is for others, food that’s economically accessible to almost anyone with a dollar to spare.

And that to me sounds like true democracy: simple, beautiful, delicious and available to all.

Bánh cuốn at Thái Son (89 Baxter Street)

Dumplings with chili oil at White Bear (135-02 Roosevelt Ave, Flushing)

Fried chicken drumsticks at LIRR Food Stall, Flushing

Almond cookie ice cream at Chinatown Ice Cream Factory (65 Bayard St)

Ten Ren Tea (135-18 Roosevelt Ave, Flushing)

Asiafied NY: Issue 4

Liz — Sat, 01 Oct 2011 01:05:25 +0000

When I first started this blog, I must have been tremendously naive, or at least under the impression that Asian-y events in New York were manageable, at least from a writer’s perspective. Of course, now I know better.

New York is positively Asiafied. It’s actually a challenge to curate great places and people, and reduce a month’s worth of events to one page. It’s also bewildering that some really terrific stuff gets totally ignored by mainstream media outlets! As usual, I’ve taken an avalanche of information for October and reduced it to reasonable a number, all in the vague hope it’s of some service to my readers.

Enjoy!

China Punk | James Bollen

Liz — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 05:11:27 +0000

Li Youran inside the People's University, 1999

James Bollen is a Shanghai-based British photographer whose work was shown this year at SH Contemporary, one of Shanghai’s most talked about art fairs. He recently discovered my blog, and I thank him for this, because if he didn’t, I may never have had the privilege of seeing his portfolio online.

Bollen, while technically not an Asian contemporary artist, represents a growing community of expatriates and foreigners whose insights into China are enriching the larger narrative of contemporary Asia. Bollen’s medium is the quiet lens of photography, and his stage is urban China. And even by the standards of the crowded, Flickr-driven photosphere of today, the results are simply sublime, because as you may see for yourself, Bollen is no ordinary photographer.

Inside the Forbidden City, 1997

Urban Abstract

Ji'an Road, Luwan (All photos: James Bollen)

I’m still not sure when photography is just photography, and when it crosses over into an art form, and no doubt the debate rages on, somewhere within the realms of secluded, ivory towers. But recently I was struck by an interesting idea about the medium, and it’s stayed with me since. I think photography is striking not because it’s necessarily an art form, but its grasp of life is so final, and so absolute, that it reminds our absent-minded selves that life is the ultimate art form. We’ve just forgotten to look around. The best photographers know this very well, and using what they know, they’re able to give us the world anew.

I love Bollen’s photographs because they’re not just beautiful to look at, but because they serve as a valuable documentation of a decade in the life of China. He’s seen dramatic changes in Beijing, where he says many of the places he’s photographed “no longer exist.” He documented the nascent punk scene in China’s capital back in 1999, and it’s good that he did. The Scream Club, a popular punk hangout, was demolished and replaced by a bus depot so that “there’s nothing physical left to remind anybody those places existed in Beijing.” Save, perhaps, for Bollen’s photographs, which gently remind the observer of China’s forgotten moments as the country now races to a “glorious new past.”

Bollen’s impressions manifest themselves in his city walks, so he keeps his equipment light and portable, which includes a 35mm rangefinder, an iPhone, and a Rolleiflex3.5f. Equal parts spontaneous chronicle and unofficial history, Bollen’s work is an archive that I’m sure we’ll revisit several times over, and each time we do, we do it to realize how much China has transformed, mutated, or as is sometimes the case, just stayed where we last left off, always ready to continue a never ending conversation.

Outside the Drum Tower underground station, 1997

Alley running past All For One bar, Sanlitun South street, 1999

Chuseok time is japchae time

Liz — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 02:27:21 +0000

This is japchae. You eat it.

I’ve been Korean for as long as I can remember, and for as long as I can remember I have never been a big fan of japchae, a lightly stir-fried dish of glass noodles embellished with various vegetables and proteins. Which, to me, is ironic, because I love stir-fries and noodles, and japchae has both these bases covered.

Japchae has counterparts in other Asian cuisines, but I’ve always been secretly dismayed that it has neither the sweet and sour fragrance of Pad Thai, or the greasy but good sated feel of American Chinese chow mein. The appeal isn’t immediate, which probably explains why it’s taken me this long to finally come around. Yes, I now love japchae, and here’s why.

I love japchae because it’s a stir-fried dish that keeps grease to a minimum. It’s also one of few, perhaps the one and only stir-fried noodle recipe that uses mushrooms to incorporate an aromatic, earthy flavor to what’s already a color and taste-rich dish.

Japchae is also a taste of home. My mother always made it on special occasions, and though I’ve never understood why, we always ate it with rice, a seemingly incompatible accompaniment to the noodleliness of japchae. But now, when I eat japchae as a standalone item, my palate knows something’s not quite right, unless, of course, I take a bite of rice.

So this Chuseok, a celebration of harvest and gathering in South Korea, why not make a plate of japchae? I’m providing a variation of a recipe I used this weekend from one of my favorite Korean food blogs, a translation if you will, so you can try this at home.

A quick glance and the recipe is a bit intimidating, because there’s many small steps to master. But, take heart. If I can make this, so can you.

Stir-frying the pork. Yum.

Chuseok Japchae (adapted from here, serves 5 to 6)
9 oz. sweet potato noodles (called ‘dangmyeon’ in Korean)
1/2 bunch of spinach
7 oz. of oyster mushrooms (here I just used an assortment of mushrooms)
1 large onion
1 carrot
3 eggs, yolks separated from whites
5 oz. pork cutlet

Seasoning for pork
1/2 ts of salt
1 tb of Chinese cooking wine
Pepper to taste

Seasoning for noodles
4 tb of Jin Ganjang, thick Korean soy sauce (available in Korean grocery stores)
1 tb sugar

Seasoning for vegetables
1 tb of Jin Ganjang
2 tb of sesame oil
Crushed sesame seeds, to your liking (I crushed mine with a mortar and pestle)

(FYI: instructions to stir-fry below usually requires adding a tablespoon of canola oil or equivalent to the pan prior to pouring ingredients to cook)

1. Wash the mushrooms, and boil quickly in hot water, no more than 10 seconds. Drain and squeeze water out completely, then lightly sprinkle with salt.
2. Wash the spinach, also boil in hot water for approximately 10 seconds. Again, drain water and squeeze out excess moisture. Sprinkle lightly with salt.
3. Peel and slice the onion into semi-circles and stir-fry in a non-stick pan on medium-high heat until partially cooked.
4. Peel and slice the carrot into thin strips. Stir-fry until partially but not completely cooked.
5. Pour the egg white into an omelet pan, flip, and cook on both sides. Repeat for the yolk. Slice both omelets into thin strips. Set aside.
6. Slice the pork cutlet into thin strips, and marinate thoroughly with the seasoning for pork. In a non-stick pan, stir fry until fully cooked.
7. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, add the dangmyeon (noodles). Cook for no more than 10 minutes, drain, place quickly in a bowl of cold water to chill. Cut into bite sized pieces (best done with scissors).
8. Now for the home stretch: add 1 to 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil to a large, non-stick pan or wok, set at medium-high heat. Pour the noodles and add the seasoning for noodles. (Note: do taste frequently as you cook, and feel free to add additional doses of the noodle seasoning sauce as you see fit.)
9. You’ll notice the noodles change color as you add the sauce. Make sure the sauce is absorbed evenly.
10. Next, add the pork and vegetables, stirring all ingredients thoroughly.
11. Lastly, add the seasoning for vegetables. Stir once more and mix thoroughly.

Earthly quarrels

Liz — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 15:11:30 +0000

A Uighur girl in Xinjiang (via photochoi on Flickr)

Look on a world map, and you’ll notice China is a vast country. Positively massive.

I realize that now, but most of the time I don’t give China’s portly silhouette much thought. I just assume those have been her borders for some time, occasionally contested by an uprising in Tibet or tumult in Xinjiang.

But all’s not well on the western front. News of unrest has become increasingly frequent, as has China’s response to fresh violence, especially in Xinjiang where there’s an ongoing crackdown to buffer against potential riots by the local population.

The natives of Xinjiang are Turkic Muslims whose customs and culture are worlds apart from that of the Han Chinese. Historically, they are a fusion of Turkish, Mongolian and other East Asian migration. They’re completely unique, neither East nor West. I personally find them fascinating, but right now, and depending on whom you speak to, they’re either causing trouble or in trouble themselves.

Uighur children in Xinjiang (via photochoi on Flickr)

Most travelers to China, myself included, first encounter China’s Uighurs in cities like Beijing or Shanghai. Their food is popular, and in restaurants Uighur women often sing and dance in a display of culture that’s perceivably exotic. As a visitor, I thought they were merely a part of the local color, but in China they are becoming increasingly linked to Islamic militancy, a trend of suspicion with a twin in the mirror, and if a twin, a hard-earned lesson as well.

This month marks the 10th anniversary of 9/11, which undoubtedly will be occasioned with fanfare, and for obvious reasons. The day was a tragedy, but what followed was hardly reparation. Islamic militancy became such a blanket term for everyone who didn’t fit in or belong. In retrospect, it was a psychically damaging error that can’t be undone, at least not right away.

I feel similarly about the Chinese approach to Xinjiang, as they deal with a Muslim population that’s sitting on a resource-rich hinterland inside unilaterally defined borders. That’s because whenever Uighurs are treated with disdain, or perceived as a threat to security, it becomes clearer China’s reeling from historical amnesia. In its restrictive authoritarian approach to government, China’s cosmopolitan past seems further away from reach than during the Mao-jacketed era of a few decades ago. An angry China also raises the specter of a scary China, and a scary China is probably an irremediable scenario that can’t be undone, not even by all the Confucius Institutes in the world.

For those of us who want a happy ending to the breaking story of the 21st century, we can only hope a smarter and more sophisticated China will emerge, one that’s worthy of all the Dior swag in Shanghai. Perhaps something even better. What we want is a true leader that will wisely grant Tibet and Xinjiang their independence, restore faith in her neighbors, and treat its own citizens with the democratic respect they deserve.

Wishful thinking, you say? Maybe, but here’s to hoping it’s not.

Asiafied NY: Issue 3

Liz — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 15:49:46 +0000

Well New York, this September marks the 10th anniversary of 9/11. A month of rememberance as we officially settle into fall, a season that’s also our fair city’s best, hurricanes, earthquakes, and financial fallouts not withstanding.

But rain or shine, there will always be things to do, foods to try, and art to remember. Always.

Prabal Gurung FW 2011

Liz — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 20:22:27 +0000

It’s interesting to think what scientists have proven to be true — that viewing a beautiful work of art can affect the brain as much as being in love.

Apparently art triggers a surge of dopamine, a feel-good neurotransmitter, that results in feelings of pleasure. Perhaps even happiness.

If that’s the case, I really should be paying more attention to fashion designer Prabal Gurung, a Nepalese New Yorker who began his own breathtaking collection as recently as 2009. And he’s been gathering accolades like berries off low-hanging trees ever since.

And who could blame those who worship at his feet? Gurung clearly knows what he’s doing.

For Fall Winter 2011, Gurung sought and found an unlikely muse in classical literature. The dresses in this collection were inspired, he says, by the heartbroken Miss Havisham of Great Expectations. To Gurung, heartbreak is something that’s also transcendently beautiful.

I love the dresses and the accompanying details, and the bold use of red, a color in Himalayan and Tibetan prayer flags that denotes fire. Here it seems to highlight Gurung’s passion for what he does. There’s also black leather belts anchoring many of the pieces in place, a latter-day nod to the Japanese obi that also have all the elements of timeless chic.

(All photos via Vogue.com)