Uptown Girl

As I am sure you are aware, I am not normal. And, as is probably also apparent, I never have been. One example is my taste in music. (Don't worry, for the moment I won't delve into more pansori tales.) No, I'm talking about my penchant, even as a youth, to listen to folk music rather than what could otherwise be deemed as popular music. Admittedly, I had my moments in the early 80s of listening to (and in some warped sense trying to emulate) Pat Benatar, but my musical purchases tended toward the obscure or 60s era folk.

All this is to say, when I heard that Billy Joel was coming to Korea for the first time, I thought, well, it could be fun to hear an icon of my youth, but seeing that I was never a fan, and never owned a recording, I didn't rush out to buy the $100+ tickets. But then my friend Matthew French suggested that we needed a reason to avoid a church singles activity, and that the concert was a perfect excuse. I agreed. So, we decided we would see if there any tickets still available.

Now, the next thing you need to know is that Matt is indeed all that I am not... a full-fledged Billy Joel fan. He has seen him in concert on numerous occasions and in fact does a mighty fine rendition of "Piano Man" -- harmonica and all. So, Matt taught his Korean kindergarten class to sing the chorus of said song, recorded it and put it up on YouTube [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SdDIEQpE9Y]. And then, just because he could, he decided to call Billy Joel's management company and inform them of the video.

Well, remarkably, they watched it, and called Matthew on the morning of the concert, commenting that Billy Joel had enjoyed it immensely, and oh, would he like some tickets for the concert and back stage passes. Sure, why not!

And so it was that Matt and I had the pleasure of sitting in on the sound check, spending an hour or so chatting and eating dinner with Andy Cichon, the bass player who, like Matt, hails from Adelaide,



and as the next picture attests, meeting and actually talking to Billy himself -- yes, we're on a first name basis now. (Except for Matt and I, there was only one other man milling around backstage, so we really were able to talk with him for a few minutes.)




The remarkable thing is that despite the fact that I never consciously listened to the music when it was first popular, I knew all but one song he sang, and even knew the words to most of them... amazing the power of pervasive music!!

P'ansori Extraordinaire

As anyone who has ever spent more than ten minutes with me knows... I love p'ansori. Many of you may also question my mental stability because of this obsession, but let me show you why I have allowed this art to consume the greater part of the last decade of my life...

First, a brief introduction to the genre. (Feel free to skip this part and go straight to the far more entertaining videos below.)

P’ansori is a solo narrative art form in which a singer, accompanied by a single drummer, relates a long and complex tale through song, spoken passages, and corresponding dramatic gestures. The genre was developed by folk musicians before the eighteenth century; over time its performance style evolved according to singer preferences, the tastes of the audience, influence of the literati elite, as well as social and performance environments.

The typical performance setting of contemporary p’ansori is minimal; neither stage props nor special costumes are used. The singer sits or stands on a straw mat, wears traditional Korean clothing, and uses only a folding fan to represent objects (i.e. a saw, as in the first video below), ideas (for example, power) or attributes (including bashfulness or sorrow). The fan may also be opened and closed to add to the aural landscape, or to emphasize certain aspects of the sung text. In addition, the drummer and audience add to the soundscape with their ch’uimsae, or words of encouragement: Ŏlssigu! (“way to go,” or “right on”), Chot’a! (“nice”), or Kŭlŏch’i! (“so it is”). This you will clearly see in the second video.

A p’ansori singer must portray and distinguish between a vast array of characters: male and female, young and old, common and elite, benevolent and reprobate. In order to relate musical and dramatic nuances effectively, a p’ansori singer must learn to produce a large number of characteristic tone qualities, even using their voice at times to imitate sounds in nature.

Okay, enough of that...

The following three videos were recording on April 22, 2008 at the Namsan Traditional Music Theater. This is considered a "full-length" performance -- telling the entire tale over a period of about two hours! The performer is my favorite... my dear friend and former teacher, Lee Ju-eun. I fully recognize that I am biased. But observing this concert as a scholar, not just a friend, I can assure you Ju-eun is one of the most accomplished singers alive today and is, (as the title of a paper I published about her and two other singers attests) "Destined for Greatness." 팔자 그래!

I won't take the time to tell you the whole story of the Song of Heungbo that she is singing, but in essence it is the story of a kind-hearted man, Heungbo, who has been treated poorly by his greedy and cruel older brother, and as a result is living a destitute existence with his wife and 11 children. One day Heungbo finds a swallow with a broken leg. He tends and cares for the swallow, who in return blesses him with three magical gourd seeds. After the gourds have grown to maturity, they are opened one by one with a large saw. Out of each pours rice, fine silks, gold and other treasures, making Heungbo the richest man in the country. His brother is terribly jealous and wants all of the gifts for himself, which Heungbo gladly shares.

The first video shows one of the gourds being opened.



I've included the second video because you can see well the role of the drummer in encouraging the singer and helping to move the music along.



The final video is the very last scene of the performance, in which, after having seen the splendid results of his gift, the swallow flies off into the distance. Keep in mind that she is still performing with this much power and energy after nearly two hours of singing!



Although the videos are not of a professional quality (I had to film them rather surreptitiously) I hope you can enjoy the splendor of the music and story as much as I!

The Taste of Friendship

Herein is a tale of a few recent adventures I've had with Korean food...

For some reason, my good friend (and former p'ansori teacher) Lee Ju-eun thinks I am a vegetarian. The reason for this is a REALLY long story, but suffice it to say that she is my best friend here in Korea, she understands me better than anyone else in this fair land, and we eat together maybe two to three times a month and each and every time I tell her, "No, it is not I who is the vegetarian, it is my friend, Diana, who you met only twice ten years ago, SHE was the vegetarian, NOT me...," yet still somehow she is convinced it is I that am the herbivore. So, knowing I don't eat meat, she decides to take me to a restaurant a while back that serves only innards -- yep, no meat for me, but bring on those grilled intestines, brains, and other unspeakables!

She also (supposedly) knows that although I don't mind most fish and shrimp..., I'm not a huge slimy-seafood-lovin'-kinda-gal, but... on Lunar New Year's Eve she invites me to her master teacher's house. Mind you, this is a big deal. I've met Shin Young-hee on several occasions before, but it is really a privilege to go to her house for dinner on a day meant to honor our elders and ancestors. (I didn't bow down to her and slide her a little white envelop filled with loads of cash like I probably should have, but nonetheless, I was there to watch other disciples do so.) Anyway, I am well aware that Master Shin is known for her cooking (she has even published her own cookbook), but that she is also from a southern island where they eat mostly seafood, but I'm thinking... "Okay, it is tradition to eat "dduk-guk" (a very mild, chewy rice cake soup) for New Years, so I should be safe." But, oh no! Master Shin decides to make "special" dduk-guk, with horrid little mollusk-like creatures in it. I don't know what these things are, but I know they should not be eaten by humankind. I had about 20 of them in my bowl -- I was the honored guest after all -- and the whole time I'm just thinking "how am I going to get through this?" But somehow, and I'm not kidding, a miracle occurred. At one point I'd eaten about 5 and I'm thinking okay, I'm gonna live, only 15 more to go, when suddenly, they were gone. REALLY, I don't know what happened to them. It was the opposite of feeding the masses with a mere two loaves and five fishes. Those nasty little buggers just swam away, or something -- all I know is that they disappeared.

THEN, one day not long after that, Ju-eun and I decided to go out for super spicy stir-fried squid. Now, you'd think that that might be the end of the story, but truth be told, "Nakchi-pokkum" is one of my favorite dishes. BUT... the owner of the store just loves Ju-eun (because they are from the same hometown down on the southern coast and can talk -- and be understood -- in the unique dialect of the area), so rather than giving us what we ordered, she decides to give us her favorite treat. Yep, you guessed it... LIVE SQUID!! I so wished I had a camera. It wasn't as bad as it could be, because at least the lady cut it up for us -- I didn't have to wrap the whole beast around my chopsticks and try to swallow it before it sticks permanently in my throat. But I kid you not, even chopped up, those little legs are just a-wrigglin' and a-squirmin' around on the plate. In fact, they are a little hard to eat, not only because the thing has only been dead for 30 seconds, but because the tentacles are actually stuck to the plate -- you really gotta work to try to get them detached (not to mention then stick them in your mouth and chew!)

Okay, so I live through that one, and at some level even enjoyed the meal, only to join Ju-eun the following week at a restaurant specializing in oysters. Egad. Anything but oysters. Not only slimy, but gritty, too. Can there be a worse combination? And there they were in my bowl. Mounds of them. Seriously, I think I had twice as many as Ju-eun (who loves, them, of course.) And, to make it worse, just when I think I might actually be able to conquer the oyster soup, she decides she wants a heaping plateful of deep-fried oysters, too! I don't know how I survived, but I did! The strange thing was, they were actually pretty good -- not gritty, and not even as slimy as most oysters. I can't say it would be my first choice for a meal in the future, but not so bad, not so bad.

And so, if stories such as these have not frightened you completely... please, come join me in Korea and I'll take you out for some truly delectable goodies!

Livin' it up in White Vil

Okay, so my original intent was to add to my blog more than once or twice a year, but obviously I haven't been as diligent as I would have liked. Actually, the last few months have been the busiest of my life, not leaving much time or energy for such pleasantries as writing about my life on a blog. But enough of that...

Since my last entry was about finding an apartment, I thought it best to begin again with an introduction to my new abode... Welcome to White Vil! (Seriously, who comes up these names?) Maybe its Korea's not so subtle form of segregation. But then again, I haven't yet found Brown Vil (although there are 30-story "Brownstone" apartment buildings to be found in Seoul -- guess they don't quite understand the concept), or Yellow Vil or even Green Vil for our friends from Mars. Maybe my home is just meant to be a place of purity. Maybe its just a name. Whatever the case, it makes me laugh.

Although not so spacious, I'm actually quite pleased with my abode. My own mini-museum filled with lovely things collected around the world. Let me give you a guided tour...

Kitchen
(Actually, my kitchen is much more bright and cheery now, I put up a couple pictures and changed the order of things a bit, but I left my camera at school so I can't take a new picture for you at the moment)

Bedroom
(Ah, to "Dream a Dragon's Dream" all I need do is look above me...)

Living Room
(It took me several years of hunting to find the perfect traditional Korean chest, this one being in fine condition considering the fact it is more than 200 years old. And thanks to Lumina's grand artistry it is well complimented by the beautiful persimmon painting. Oh, and why not throw in an Australian didgeridoo just for fun. )

A Room with a View
(Lots of book, and a view to enjoy the sunlight)

The Entertainment Room

Entry and Exercise Facility

As I said, not so spacious, but it is home and I'm happy with it!

Room Sweet Room

I have been greatly blessed to be living in a house of luxury for three years: a four bedroom house -- I mean a REAL, free-standing house (rather uncommon in Seoul). Okay, technically, I only lived in the house for a little less than a year, but before that I lived in the same family's beautiful four bedroom apartment. I have relished having comfortable furniture, a bathtub, an oven, large refrigerator, American Maytag washer AND dryer (oh, how I will miss soft clothes that come our of a dryer!).

But all of this is soon to come to an end... my landlord's family will be returning from England in February and so it is that I am in need of a new abode.

For those of you who are not familiar with the Korean housing market, let me give you a brief lesson. What you need (not surprisingly) is money -- lots of it, in cash (ah, now there is the difficult part). Here's how it works. If you want to rent an apartment you need to pay the landlord a "cheonsae" or "key money;" the landlord then takes that money and invests it, allowing him/her to (hopefully) make a profit. There are advantages and disadvantage to this system. For the renter the positive side is that the larger the key money, the lesser the rent -- you may have to pay virtually nothing, or maybe a few hundred dollars at most. And, best of all, when you move the key money is returned to you (presumably so you can then go get another apartment elsewhere). The disadvantage is, as mentioned above, you need the cash up front.

Let me give you an example. A friend of mine has a two bedroom apartment with a living room kitchen and bath. The living room and one bedroom are roughly 10x10 (12x12 at the most) with the master bedroom slightly bigger and the kitchen half that size. The apartment is relatively new and thus clean and pleasant with a nice view out a large picture window. Now then, for that space he deposited the 60,0000,000 won -- approximately $64,000 -- and pays a monthly rent of about $400.

Now you see my dilemma!!

Although I would like to say that I have $60,000 sitting around that I could give to a landlord, such is not the case.

After a fair amount of searching, I found a decent ROOM that I can afford. Yes, that's right, a one room studio apartment. It is a little ironic, really. When I graduated from college in 1991 and moved to Idaho to teach at an elementary school I made less than $20,000/year. But I had a lovely house small farm house. Others may have mocked my "miniature mansion" but I loved that house. With my closest neighbor about 1 mile away, it was spacious, had a fireplace, lots of windows, bookshelves and closet space and even a 25 year old horse and occasional cows in the front yard. I wish I could have taken that home with me wherever I have lived in the world.
Even in New York living on student budget I had a relatively pleasant apartment with a large living room. But now, here I am, grateful that I found a new, very clean, one room apartment with a "veranda" (i.e. storage space with a washing machine). The best part is the veranda because it allows for a very large window facing south and no other apartments blocking the view. That is actually why I decided to take the place rather than keep looking around -- it is very rare to find this type of housing with a large window. It makes me feel as though the space is much larger than it really is!

And so, despite being rather humbled by the prospect of having to live in a 5th floor walk up studio, I truly am grateful to have found a bright, sunny apartment. Rather than "downsizing" or even worse, being "downwardly mobile" I like to think of this move as a way to simplify my life. (Now all I have to do is figure out what to do with all the paintings I have accumulated while living in a large house with lots of wall space. Oh well, that is a question for another day.)

Christmas Around the World

It's not every year one (at least one who was born and raised in the American west) gets to celebrate Christmas in China, eating Indian and Thai food (where the dominant religions are Hinduism and Buddhism, respectively) with a Korean/American family while playing with Legos from Denmark. But such was my experience in 2007.

I went to Shanghai December 20 to attend the First Annual International Council for Traditional Music -- Study Group for Musics of East Asia Conference (yeah, that's a mouthful, I know, but we ethnomusicologists think the longer, more complicated a title, the more erudite we are... must be our German background.) A good time was had by all, and although the "paper" I delivered was not perhaps my most profound work, it was fun. (Actually, I chose to call my presentation an "oral musing among colleagues," rather than a formal paper.) I compared the training processes and vocal production of five generations of p'ansori singers, based primarily on sound recordings. I'm sure you are sorry you missed it.

Most of all, you should be sorry you missed out on eating some of the best dim sum ever to be had.


After the conference was finished I was lucky enough to be able to spend the Christmas holiday with the Bang family: [Left to Right] Melanie, Ethan, Whitney, Tylor, Paul, and Nicole (sadly, Kera, the adorable miniature schnauzer, was unable to join us on the excursion to the museum).



It is always delightful to spend Christmas with children -- so much excitement and many more gifts, even if they are not all my own (although, Santa was gratefully able to find me, even in amidst a billion Chinese citizens)! And the food, oh the food! Melanie and Paul are both marvelous cooks and bakers and I indulged myself to the fullest -- perhaps enjoying the sugar cookies the most, as usual.

I also learned that the key to shopping in China is having a stubborn, but gracious, native on hand to do the bargaining for you -- makes things so much easier (and cheaper)!

And so it is that another Christmas has passed. I wish I could have been with my own family, but am grateful I have good friends all over the world willing to take me in and share their warmth and love with me.

And speaking of time passing..., I made it back to Korea in time for New Years, but that story will have to wait for another day...