Chuseok = Korean Thanksgiving. They have written an entire wikipedia to tell you about it here. It's a festival that's about as exciting as American Thanksgiving. Or maybe a little less.
This is a time when Koreans say thanks by getting together to eat rice cakes, and foreigners in Korea travel or just enjoy time off. But not me. As they say, no rest for those who dream big.
I filmed a total of 3 really worthwhile projects in less than 48 hours this past Chuseok. Steph was there right by my side for two of them. God bless her heart.
Saturday was spent all day with these folks:
Zal Slim is the make-up artist who arranged the shoot. I had worked with him once before on a project, and we decided then that we would collaborate the first chance we had. More on this later.
Sat. evening after dinner, Steph and I ended up meeting a few friends in Seoul, and hitting a club. While there, we ran into Black Ilumin, a local artist who I originally met in 2008, and who is now beginning to make a name for himself.
Since I had my camera, I whipped it out and filmed him right there in the club. Really good footage considering I hadn't planned it.
The following day I followed one of Korea's best English speaking comedians, and good friend Albert Escobedo around a neighborhood in Seoul doing street interviews. Dude's hilarious to work with. After that we headed to Hongdae (club central) to see Black Ilumin once again, this time premiering one of his brand new tracks with Jake Pains.
Can't wait for next Chuseok.
Keep the faith.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
The freshness of Tuscany
It would be a mistake if I avoided writing about seeing my parents this summer in Italy. My father 67, and my mother seven years his junior, both made their very first trip across the pond to the old country. It goes without saying that it was a memorable experience for all of us.
Mom was noticeably nervous when we Skyped just hours before they left for the airport. Nevertheless, she and my father arrived without a hitch, and spent their first few days in Rome on their own.
We arranged to meet on a Friday in Firenze (Florence) outside their hotel at 6pm . I made sure to wear the only pair of pants I had brought with me, to appear more ‘European’ if you will. My trick worked. One of the first things my pops blurted out was how well he thought I fit right in there. That’s what I secretly always go for when I’m in Europe, tho I don’t always pull it off as well as I like to make myself believe.
The vacation ‘plan’ was to spend a week in a Tuscan Villa, in the beautiful vine-covered rolling hills of Tuscany. When we finally did arrive on Sat. to the villa, it was a bit more in the countryside than I had expected. Not in a bad way, but we were more or less disconnected from everything but the wifi the villa provided. The closest village was only a kilometer away, on foot of course since I refused to let my parents rent a car for the week. This made settling in extra easy.
When we did finally settle in a bit, that first night was probably the most surreal moment of the whole trip. Because we all admittedly indulged in a little too much wine that night, we decided to stay in. And since we had nothing but wine, we sent moms down the the garden to pick some fresh tomatoes. With a bit of olive oil and salt, a tomato dinner was served. Tomatoes only. None of us could believe what she had concocted. It was as if the land had provided everything we needed to be happy and fed. We were in amazement how delicious it tasted.
One of the last things I remember from that first night was my father holding firm on how he wasn’t drunk, quibbling how he never gets drunk, and then catching him accidentally cheating in Euchre because he was drunk. And he never gets drunk.
Keep the faith.
PS- Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of 9/11/01, & my thoughts go out to anyone in or from my country and around the world who lost a loved one that day. We'll never forget.
Mom was noticeably nervous when we Skyped just hours before they left for the airport. Nevertheless, she and my father arrived without a hitch, and spent their first few days in Rome on their own.
We arranged to meet on a Friday in Firenze (Florence) outside their hotel at 6pm . I made sure to wear the only pair of pants I had brought with me, to appear more ‘European’ if you will. My trick worked. One of the first things my pops blurted out was how well he thought I fit right in there. That’s what I secretly always go for when I’m in Europe, tho I don’t always pull it off as well as I like to make myself believe.
The vacation ‘plan’ was to spend a week in a Tuscan Villa, in the beautiful vine-covered rolling hills of Tuscany. When we finally did arrive on Sat. to the villa, it was a bit more in the countryside than I had expected. Not in a bad way, but we were more or less disconnected from everything but the wifi the villa provided. The closest village was only a kilometer away, on foot of course since I refused to let my parents rent a car for the week. This made settling in extra easy.
When we did finally settle in a bit, that first night was probably the most surreal moment of the whole trip. Because we all admittedly indulged in a little too much wine that night, we decided to stay in. And since we had nothing but wine, we sent moms down the the garden to pick some fresh tomatoes. With a bit of olive oil and salt, a tomato dinner was served. Tomatoes only. None of us could believe what she had concocted. It was as if the land had provided everything we needed to be happy and fed. We were in amazement how delicious it tasted.
One of the last things I remember from that first night was my father holding firm on how he wasn’t drunk, quibbling how he never gets drunk, and then catching him accidentally cheating in Euchre because he was drunk. And he never gets drunk.
Keep the faith.
PS- Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of 9/11/01, & my thoughts go out to anyone in or from my country and around the world who lost a loved one that day. We'll never forget.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Paris
We were on our layover between Amsterdam and Spain when we spent a single afternoon in Paris. For anyone who’s been to this city before, you know that beautiful, well constructed 19th century buildings line the streets, and are still in impeccable condition for their age. The coffee is over-priced, and the tourists stand out like sore thumbs. Locals walking about and minding their business generally look very good, and that their lifestyle is potentially (probably) healthy. Fresh produce markets can be found conveniently except in tourist destinations. And most cafes have cute little chalkboards placed perfectly outside their entrances, with daily specials written immaculately.
No detail is overlooked in Paris. Those who have previously visited know this.
I’ve been there at least one day in each of the last three summers, which of course at this point makes me a foregone expert. And truth be told, if I only had one day next summer to go out and spend in one of the most well known cities in the world, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Paris.
It’s not the Paris of old like in the movies. In my personal experience, the idea that Paris is the epicenter of romance and French kissing is far more exotic than what one can reasonably expect to see when visiting. Residents there, as most people throughout the world, are simply trying to ‘live their lives’, or just ‘get ahead’ with hard work. You know, make a decent living.
There is really nothing that special about Paris, other than the feeling I got that living there seems way cooler than visiting. The French fries are recognizable, seeing the iconic images in person provides only a momentary rush, and photo-ops are in full supply. Other than that, prepare to shell out a mint for dinner for two.
But what do I know, maybe I’ve overlooked something. If you’re an American who has never been to Europe, you’ll probably love the place. Or hate it.
Keep the faith.
No detail is overlooked in Paris. Those who have previously visited know this.
I’ve been there at least one day in each of the last three summers, which of course at this point makes me a foregone expert. And truth be told, if I only had one day next summer to go out and spend in one of the most well known cities in the world, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Paris.
It’s not the Paris of old like in the movies. In my personal experience, the idea that Paris is the epicenter of romance and French kissing is far more exotic than what one can reasonably expect to see when visiting. Residents there, as most people throughout the world, are simply trying to ‘live their lives’, or just ‘get ahead’ with hard work. You know, make a decent living.
There is really nothing that special about Paris, other than the feeling I got that living there seems way cooler than visiting. The French fries are recognizable, seeing the iconic images in person provides only a momentary rush, and photo-ops are in full supply. Other than that, prepare to shell out a mint for dinner for two.
But what do I know, maybe I’ve overlooked something. If you’re an American who has never been to Europe, you’ll probably love the place. Or hate it.
Keep the faith.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Rome is Burning
I don’t think I’ve ever been to Rome when it wasn’t sunny and blazing hot out. Our most recent experience was no exception.
We woke up this morning to our last day in Italy. Our flight to Copenhagen was scheduled to leave in the evening, and therefore the morning and afternoon were mine to carouse Rome any way I chose. I needed to claim as much b-footage for Marco’s piece as I could possibly film by 4pm. My solution: rent a scooter. There’s really nothing ground-breaking about this decision, except that I hadn’t given it any thought at all until shortly before walking toward the rental place.
By late morning Steph was on the back of a 100cc automatic rented scooter, and feeling every bump of the cobblestone streets just like I was.
Every time I’ve ever visited Thailand, I’ve rented scooters. I’ve done it so many times at this point that I’ve ended up in some sort of (dare I say minor) accident each trip. I hate telling the public that sort of thing, that I had a motorized bike accident. Makes me feel embarrassed, like I’ve really done something wrong. But since not many of you are reading, I'm going out on a limb for once.
I keep these facts clear as a summer day in Rome day every time now when I step onto a motorized 2 wheel vehicle and hit the streets. However, I’ve never experienced anything like today. A quick synapsis of our afternoon on the scooter looked like this:
Ride the scooter to an area near the Colosseum. Finding parking. Park, and heave the kick stand into position. Sweat balls. Grab the camera and tripod. Find a location to film. Set up the equipment. Film a few shots. Watch Steph snap still photos with the DSLR. Watch tourists with (mostly) little cameras attempt to snap perfect photos of their vacation. Break everything down quickly and head back to the scooter. Apply more sun screen. Finally get back on, start it (was having trouble starting it b/c it was so hot) and then head to a new location, like the Pantheon.
I’ve been to Rome 4 times now. From a scooter, it’s never looked prettier.
Keep the faith.
We woke up this morning to our last day in Italy. Our flight to Copenhagen was scheduled to leave in the evening, and therefore the morning and afternoon were mine to carouse Rome any way I chose. I needed to claim as much b-footage for Marco’s piece as I could possibly film by 4pm. My solution: rent a scooter. There’s really nothing ground-breaking about this decision, except that I hadn’t given it any thought at all until shortly before walking toward the rental place.
By late morning Steph was on the back of a 100cc automatic rented scooter, and feeling every bump of the cobblestone streets just like I was.
Every time I’ve ever visited Thailand, I’ve rented scooters. I’ve done it so many times at this point that I’ve ended up in some sort of (dare I say minor) accident each trip. I hate telling the public that sort of thing, that I had a motorized bike accident. Makes me feel embarrassed, like I’ve really done something wrong. But since not many of you are reading, I'm going out on a limb for once.
I keep these facts clear as a summer day in Rome day every time now when I step onto a motorized 2 wheel vehicle and hit the streets. However, I’ve never experienced anything like today. A quick synapsis of our afternoon on the scooter looked like this:
Ride the scooter to an area near the Colosseum. Finding parking. Park, and heave the kick stand into position. Sweat balls. Grab the camera and tripod. Find a location to film. Set up the equipment. Film a few shots. Watch Steph snap still photos with the DSLR. Watch tourists with (mostly) little cameras attempt to snap perfect photos of their vacation. Break everything down quickly and head back to the scooter. Apply more sun screen. Finally get back on, start it (was having trouble starting it b/c it was so hot) and then head to a new location, like the Pantheon.
I’ve been to Rome 4 times now. From a scooter, it’s never looked prettier.
Keep the faith.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Filming Marco
For anyone reading this who is not familiar with Marco Ienna, he is a Italian living in Korea who has dedicated himself to training in Taekwondo. And to be fair in my explanation of him, he’s made himself into the most recognizable foreigner studying the sport in Korea. He’s been on Korean national TV regularly by now, and he speaks perfectly in Korean language. And he’s handsome with recognizable authentic Italian swagger.
I finally met Marco at GSN, the film studio on campus where I work and he studies when he came to fill out an application for the reality show I used to work on a little over a year ago. The reality show gig never panned out for Marco, and I decided to take his piece, which has now turned into a very large one, into my own hands. I’ve been working on it for almost a full year now and it's still not finished. As documentary films go, I suppose this is not unusual.
The latest chapter of Marco’s piece took place in Rome where he’s from. I was invited by his parents into their home to film and interview them, and to interview friends of his family as well. Seems simple enough right? It would have been if I spoke Italian fluently. Thank goodness I do speak Spanish and have at least limited ability with that language to communicate with Italians.
Being invited into anyone’s home is a special event, and this invitation was no exception. Particular consideration went into our one night stay with them, because I was coming all the way from Korea, and did not speak Italian. Questions for them, for instance, needed to be written in advance, and translated.
Boy did that Spanish come in handy. We were able to communicate efficiently over the course of two meals, and I think I learned more Italian language in a single 24 hour period than any language I’ve ever learned in the same amount of time. I can exclusively thank Mario his father for that, as he is one of the friendliest in the business.
Did I mention his mother makes a super-delicious carbonara. I felt as if I couldn’t have been treated better if they tried.
Keep the faith.
I finally met Marco at GSN, the film studio on campus where I work and he studies when he came to fill out an application for the reality show I used to work on a little over a year ago. The reality show gig never panned out for Marco, and I decided to take his piece, which has now turned into a very large one, into my own hands. I’ve been working on it for almost a full year now and it's still not finished. As documentary films go, I suppose this is not unusual.
The latest chapter of Marco’s piece took place in Rome where he’s from. I was invited by his parents into their home to film and interview them, and to interview friends of his family as well. Seems simple enough right? It would have been if I spoke Italian fluently. Thank goodness I do speak Spanish and have at least limited ability with that language to communicate with Italians.
Being invited into anyone’s home is a special event, and this invitation was no exception. Particular consideration went into our one night stay with them, because I was coming all the way from Korea, and did not speak Italian. Questions for them, for instance, needed to be written in advance, and translated.
Boy did that Spanish come in handy. We were able to communicate efficiently over the course of two meals, and I think I learned more Italian language in a single 24 hour period than any language I’ve ever learned in the same amount of time. I can exclusively thank Mario his father for that, as he is one of the friendliest in the business.
Did I mention his mother makes a super-delicious carbonara. I felt as if I couldn’t have been treated better if they tried.
Keep the faith.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
'You See These ROKs' Response
The following was filmed yesterday, Sat. Sept 3rd, 2011:
Four days ago I posted a video in my blog of an American behaving poorly a public bus in Korea.
This video rocked many of us who work and live in Korea. While many of us agree that residing in Korea is not without its challenges, an incidence like this hinders any attempt by the Expat community to demonstrate we belong here. While I understand there are those Koreans who see us as individuals, there are still many Koreans out there who believe that, for example, all black people behave this way. Such a belief is ludicrous indeed.
The backlash of this incident is simmering down, but still has not disappeared by any stretch. So with the assistance of my good friends Albert Escobedo, a local American comedian, and Elliott Ashby, an American radio DJ in Seoul, we decided to create a response to set the record straight. I believe these two do an excellent job of pointing out the particulars of living here as foreigners, and as Americans. I highly recommend you check out the video if you're at all interested in what it's like to live in Korea as an American, or as a person from a western country.
Keep the faith.
Four days ago I posted a video in my blog of an American behaving poorly a public bus in Korea.
This video rocked many of us who work and live in Korea. While many of us agree that residing in Korea is not without its challenges, an incidence like this hinders any attempt by the Expat community to demonstrate we belong here. While I understand there are those Koreans who see us as individuals, there are still many Koreans out there who believe that, for example, all black people behave this way. Such a belief is ludicrous indeed.
The backlash of this incident is simmering down, but still has not disappeared by any stretch. So with the assistance of my good friends Albert Escobedo, a local American comedian, and Elliott Ashby, an American radio DJ in Seoul, we decided to create a response to set the record straight. I believe these two do an excellent job of pointing out the particulars of living here as foreigners, and as Americans. I highly recommend you check out the video if you're at all interested in what it's like to live in Korea as an American, or as a person from a western country.
Keep the faith.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Small Town Europe
While visiting Trury in northern Italy, I just couldn’t help but notice the human kindness I endured. It may be nothing different than what a visitor from Europe may very well experience in small town America, but none the less it charmed my pants off.
We had driven to the center of Castiglione Olona with Trury and Masi (her husband) to film and capture the essence of Trury. The town was so small I didn’t even know we were in the center of it when we parked. I hadn’t much battery left in my camera due to my own shortcomings, so we filmed a little and decided to hit up the only local pub/restaurant in the vicinity to have a cold drink and charge the camera. After all, we weren’t finished shooting, the battery was practically dead, and it was hot as the devil that day.
Though the camera was purchased in the U.S., I have all the necessary equipment to charge it anywhere in the world..... except (apparently) in Italy. Anyone familiar with how Italy’s plugs are mildly different from the rest of Europe’s can feel my frustration. In certain hotels, however, they may have both Italian and European plugs for travelers. In Italy, the outlet holes are the same space apart, but are ever so slightly smaller. This throws everything off.
We ordered beers, and I tried to plug my camera into the only socket available according to the bar owner. When I told my friends it wouldn’t fit, they instantly knew why. They mentioned this to the owner, and he disappeared into the back room. Minutes later he reappeared with a brand new power strip for all European plugs straight out of the package. All this while he was serving the rest of the restaurant.
When I approached to pay the bill afterwards, he undercharged me. I know so because the till was much more than the amount he accepted. In other words, he saved the day and saved me money. Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Keep the faith.
We had driven to the center of Castiglione Olona with Trury and Masi (her husband) to film and capture the essence of Trury. The town was so small I didn’t even know we were in the center of it when we parked. I hadn’t much battery left in my camera due to my own shortcomings, so we filmed a little and decided to hit up the only local pub/restaurant in the vicinity to have a cold drink and charge the camera. After all, we weren’t finished shooting, the battery was practically dead, and it was hot as the devil that day.
Though the camera was purchased in the U.S., I have all the necessary equipment to charge it anywhere in the world..... except (apparently) in Italy. Anyone familiar with how Italy’s plugs are mildly different from the rest of Europe’s can feel my frustration. In certain hotels, however, they may have both Italian and European plugs for travelers. In Italy, the outlet holes are the same space apart, but are ever so slightly smaller. This throws everything off.
We ordered beers, and I tried to plug my camera into the only socket available according to the bar owner. When I told my friends it wouldn’t fit, they instantly knew why. They mentioned this to the owner, and he disappeared into the back room. Minutes later he reappeared with a brand new power strip for all European plugs straight out of the package. All this while he was serving the rest of the restaurant.
When I approached to pay the bill afterwards, he undercharged me. I know so because the till was much more than the amount he accepted. In other words, he saved the day and saved me money. Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Keep the faith.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

