An Honorable And Hilarious Homage | Thoughts on Jango: Uncharged

One of the reasons I love living in Canada’s capital is getting to host many different kinds of film festivals. Admittedly we don’t have much in the way of concert venues, but we do have vintage movie theatres and several galleries to provide unique and intimate film experiences.

What’s so great about film festivals, you ask? Well, in my opinion, the best thing about them is getting an opportunity to see foreign films on the big screen, in high definition. Some streaming services have limited selections of non-English movies, but often you have to turn to a torrent, and those can have problems like grainy quality or missing subtitles.

Plus, there’s a whole world of movies being made outside the small box of Hollywood, and if it weren’t for film festivals, I might never get a chance to see any of them. Which was definitely the case for the movie I saw at the 6th Ottawa Korean Film Festival.

Jango: Uncharged

It’s hard to not be curious when you see a title like this one. Out of the impressively large list of movies— both feature-length and short —available at this year’s OKFF, Jango: Uncharged was the one movie I absolutely needed to see. Not only was it showing at Ottawa’s Mayfair Theatre for a fun vintage film experience, but I’m a huge fan of Quentin Tarantino’s work, and Jango: Uncharged seemed to promise a great homage to it.

And it delivered on that promise! This movie is a lot of fun and got me laughing until my sides ached (luckily there wasn’t anyone sitting directly around me except for my friend so I wasn’t disturbing other patrons). Even if you’re not a huge Tarantino fan I would still recommend watching it, if for nothing else than just for the unique cinematography and build; however, in my opinion it is probably a lot funnier and more enjoyable if you know about how Mr. Tarantino makes movies.

Funnier still if you’ve actually seen Django: Unchained (2012), since Jango: Uncharged follows its plot almost exactly. In some scenes it’s nearly beat-for-beat!

Perhaps the best part (at least it made me laugh the most of everything) is the movie’s script and subtitles. See, Korean movies shown here in Canada typically have the spoken language as Korean and English subtitles (maybe one day I’ll be proficient enough at Korean to watch without the need for translation). In Jango: Uncharged however, everyone throughout the film speaks in heavily-exaggerated broken English, and the subtitles, also in English, have what the line is supposed to be. I can’t possibly do justice to this gimmick by describing it – I really encourage you to watch it for yourself.

The actors were all fantastic with great comedic timing, yet surprisingly I tried to Google more information about them (and see what else they’ve been in) but found almost no [English] results. In fact, my favorite among the main actors was the man playing Mr. Leonardo Bitcaprio— Son Lee-Yong —but I couldn’t find a list of other films he’s appeared in. I’m keeping my eyes open though!

All in all, even though some of the references are a bit esoteric, and even though it’s complex and extremely meta right at the end, I would still give Jango: Uncharged an 8/10. Just be mindful that this is an homage more than a parody, and it isn’t shot the way the other high-budget Korean movies are. It’s got a very indie vibe.

The Ottawa Korean Film Festival provides an opportunity to see short, feature-length, animated, and live-action movies that we’d otherwise probably never see, all for free! There aren’t many cool events so accessible to everyone these days and I’m incredibly grateful the Korean Cultural Centre of Canada gives us such opportunities.

I mentioned this in a previous blog post, but I’ll say it again now because it makes me so happy to see: there are more and more people attending KCC programs/events every time I go! It feels like the world is finally beginning to truly appreciate the rich culture and endlessly creative art coming out of Korea. And the more people who love it, the more available the events, programs, and workshops become!

Looking forward to what the next OKFF brings!

Top 5 Tips For Making Pork Bulgogi

Ready for some awesome and useful tips about Korean cuisine?

“DID YOU KNOW? In Korea, pork is traditionally used in spicy dishes, while beef is often prepared with soy-based sauces, more salty than hot.”

Honestly, I wasn’t even ready for how much good advice we got for cooking Korean dishes in general, because we were technically only learning how to make pork bulgogi.

As part of their K-Food program, the Korean Cultural Centre of Canada regularly hosts cooking workshops throughout the year; in person at the KCC here in Ottawa, they provide the ingredients and you actually get to cook alongside the instructor (usually in teams since cooking can be a lot of work alone).

These classes typically fill up within hours of the registration going live which is a big part of the reason I’ve never blogged about one before; however, the dedicated staff at the KCC have worked hard to make more events accessible for those who can’t attend in person, and now you can join many of the lessons online via Zoom.

If that sounds interesting to you then definitely check out the upcoming classes on the website or follow them on social media to stay up-to-the-minute on registration links.

Now, let’s get to the tips!

---

Top 5 Tips For Cooking Pork Bulgogi with the KCC K-Food Program

---

#1: Pay attention to the kind of flakes you’re using!

If you’re talented and/or brave enough to make your own gochujang (I always just buy mine from the store!), make sure you’re using fine hot pepper flakes, because you don’t want your paste to be grainy. On the other hand, if you’re preparing kimchi, you want to add that distinct spicy taste with coarse hot pepper flakes.

#2: Prepare the meat before marinating!

Meats like beef and chicken can easily absorb marinade without extra effort, but pork needs prep if you don’t want to end up with a bland dinner. Since pork is a very “juicy” meat, there’s a lot of moisture in there which could dilute the marinade, so our teacher recommended putting it in a colander in the sink and let it sit for a while to drain. You also want to make sure you marinate before adding the oil, because oil creates a barrier that prevents proper absorption.

#3: Balance out the flavors!

Since bulgogi has plenty of hot pepper flakes and garlic (lots of garlic!), you need to balance the spicy and salty with sweet and sour. For the sweet, straightforward sugar. The instructor emphasized sugar is a crucial ingredient for making the dish palatable – you don’t ever need to worry about bulgogi turning out “too sweet” if you follow the recipe. And for the sour, you want to use something with notes of vinegar. This class used plum paste, but you can also use cooking wine, or if you’re feeling adventurous, maple syrup!

#4: Take your time and don’t cook too much at once!

Your pan of choice should already be hot before the bulgogi goes in (otherwise the dish will stew instead of cook), so you can start preheating it while getting all the post-marinade touches ready. It’s also advised to not try to cook too much at once or you could end up with unevenly cooked pork, which, unlike beef, is not safe to eat if you can see pink in the meat. The best advice to avoid this happening is to cook only small amounts at a time (it goes faster anyway!).

#5: Adjust the recipe as you need to!

This recipe is based on the traditional preparation of the dish, but you can make adjustments for personal preferences. If you want to reduce how spicy it tastes, don’t touch the hot pepper flakes – reduce the amount of black pepper (it seems counterintuitive, I know). If you’re not a fan of certain veggies you can swap them for another, although our wonderful instructor recommends against using mushrooms in pork-based dishes (they go better with beef). And hey, if you’re a great cook, unlike myself, there are probably all kinds of other tweaks and tricks to be discovered.

---

“Extra tip: For a more flavorful experience, leave yourself two days ahead so you can marinate the meat overnight, flip it over, and marinate overnight again.”

I hope you find these tips useful next time you crave pork bulgogi! And I hope I get to have more experiences with the Korean Cultural Centre’s K-Food program because there’s nothing quite like preparing a hearty meal for people you love.

Intense Difference Of Its Own: Cultural Exchange Through Artists With Disabilities

Intense Difference Of Its Own (모두의 어떤 차이) is a multi-medium, multi-faceted art installation that opened at the Korean Cultural Centre of Canada’s Gallery on September 5th 2023. Make sure you go check it out before it closes on the 29th, because my photos do not do justice to the beauty of the work!

Before I get into the details of the exhibition opening I attended, I just want to say that it really warms my heart to see an exponentially increasing number of people in attendance at every event hosted by the KCC. Since this is my fourth year as an Honorary Reporter, and I’ve attended many Ottawa-based celebrations of Korean culture in that time, I can honestly say it’s emotionally moving to witness something I love so dearly gain wider recognition.

I’ve mentioned in many (if not all) of my blog posts that this year, 2023, represents the 60th Anniversary of Korea-Canada Diplomatic Relations, and as part of celebrating this wonderful milestone, Canada’s capital has the honor of hosting the work of Canadian and Korean artists using a variety of mediums.

Always evolving, this month the KCC gallery has transformed to showcase the pieces which make up the collection Intense Difference Of Its Own (모두의 어떤 차이). The remarkable installation will remain in Ottawa at the Korean Cultural Centre until September 29th.

Intense Difference of Its Own is a project focused on the often-overlooked artistic talent of those with disabilities. It demonstrates through visual art, sculpture, and music how potent these voices can be.

As a member of the audience, I witnessed first-hand the way things like instrumental music, sculptures, and paintings transcend the boundaries of language and borders, because at the core, we are all human beings, and humans crave to create.

It makes things like skin color, nationality, class, and religion, seem trivial and superficial when we can all speak directly to the soul through art.

My eyes in particular were drawn to the most brightly-colored paintings. I love color theory and use it to explore several interpretations of what the artist may have been feeling when they created the piece.

Besides, in a world where earth-tones are fashionable and desaturation has overtaken media like shows and movies (I call the phenomenon “Nolanization” because I attribute the shift to the success of Christopher Nolan’s gritty Batman trilogy), nothing pleases me more than seeing others who are unashamed to use high-impact colors in their lives.

As for the musical performances of the night? Each and every one of them was a breathtaking display of skill. Some of the artists wore ballgowns and modern formalwear, while others wore stunning traditional clothing to accompany their song.

Initially I planned to take some video, since obviously music is something that can’t be captured in a photo; however, once in my seat, I noticed there were several professional photographers as well as a video camera mounted on a tripod. I didn’t want to get in anyone’s way, especially the staff, and I also considered that their video would be of much higher quality than mine. With that said, I highly encourage everyone to visit the KCC’s YouTube channel and check out some if not all the beautiful songs.

My favorite performer of the evening was probably the powerful-voiced Park Mingyu, who sang a version of This Is The Moment (from Jekyll & Hyde). I was blown away by his vocal control and the true depth of his baritone which gave me goosebumps all over.

In my personal opinion, he has the skill necessary to sing Hey Little Songbird from the musical Hadestown. Or any of the songs Hades sings. The role calls for a baritone and Mingyu definitely has the right kind of show-stopping vocals to take the role on.

I also very much enjoyed Jeong Juhyeok and his ability to play the Daegeum, which is a traditional Korean instrument that resembles a flute. It has the most distinct sound though, more beautiful and soul-gripping than any other pan flute or similar woodwind. As someone who played the boring regular flute in high school, I can only imagine the dedication it would take to practice and perform with the Daegeum.

So, did Intense Difference Of Its Own (모두의 어떤 차이) speak to me? Absolutely. I’d never before had the honor and pleasure of viewing the talent and resulting work/pieces of artists with disabilities, and now that I know there’s so much more to the art world out there, I want to make an effort to seek out more.

If you’re in Ottawa, remember to visit and experience it for yourself at the Korean Cultural Centre, anytime between now and September 29th!

Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape: Artist Talk

The Korean Cultural Centre in Ottawa is home to a transforming gallery space that never quite looks the same way twice. Over the last four years as an Honorary Reporter I’ve visited a dozen or so exhibits there, and though I’ve loved all the art presented— from short films to historical clothing —I have to say that I have never experienced anything quite like Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape by Korean artist Lee Yeonsook (이연숙) and Canadian artist Chris Myhr.

View fullsize

Sometimes I find art shows intimidating, because I think to myself: what if I’m too dumb to understand, because I’m not an artist? And admittedly, when I first arrived at the gallery reception on July 17, I walked in with my shoulders up and notebook clutched to my chest.

But then I stepped into the exhibit and all of that melted away – instead I was consumed in a soothing yet evocative (and totally immersive) sensory experience.

Since Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape was specifically imagined, designed, and built for the KCC’s Call for Curators Exhibition Series (I can officially now say I witnessed an exhibit’s world debut!), I’m not sure if any of you reading this will get to see it for yourselves, and my words won’t do it justice, but I’ll do my best to describe it.

Note: I can’t believe I have to say this in 2023 and that I have to say it to adults, but if you are visiting a gallery, please make sure you DO NOT TOUCH THE ART! Even if something isn’t guarded by velvet rope or a plexiglass box, there is no excuse to assume you can put your hands on it.

The installation was actually made up of several smaller components, all of which blended together seamlessly to create the overall effect. In the time before the Artists’ Talk began, I scooted around the gallery and examined each piece, then stepped back to try to take everything in as a collective.

(I may have also poked around the table of snacks before I was supposed to… but it’s not my fault! Choco-Pie and Custard Cream Cake are tied for my favorite Korean sweet, and Pepero is a close second. The temptation was just too great!)

View fullsize

Opening the talk was Curator Hyunju Yu (유현주), who posed the question you probably also have in your head right now: what do Canada and Korea have in common anyway?

From the outside our two countries seem extremely different, but— as I’ve learned over the last four years too —we actually have a lot in common. You just need to look beyond the superficial aspects; think instead about the spirit of our nations. So what in nature is the common symbol for this unique spirit we share?

Rivers.

Powerful creators of life and servants of destruction, the rushing Han and Niagara Rivers are key to the both countries’ formation (and evolution). No living thing survives without water and nothing can withstand the eventual ravage of its strength. Rivers shape land and carry important flora and fauna from one place to another – an eternal give and take.

“Countries have borders; nature does not.”

This phrase spoken by Hyunju Yu represent the critical message behind the artwork: we, as human beings, have to work together to address climate change. The matter is urgent and it requires change and collaboration from us all, because no matter how we divide up the land and focus on our differences, protecting and sustaining the Earth is a global responsibility. Honestly, those six words rang in my head the rest of the night.

View fullsize

Chris Myhr stepped up next to speak on the vision and the execution of his artwork.

With a bright smile and an infectious energy that deepened my appreciation of the installation, Chris spoke to how he wanted to use this opportunity to celebrate harmony between Canada and Korea.

The first piece was shown on a huge screen behind the speakers. I worried about not understanding the complex, abstract, rust-colored shapes bouncing around on a white background, but Chris gave a clear explanation of how he’d animated macro images of skin samples taken from marine life exposed to pollution poisoning. Though I’m no scientist, even I could tell how horrifically damaged the displayed cells are.

His installation of four smaller screens evoked emotional response through a visual medium. Each of the screens showed long, looped shots of the Great Lakes – looking out at the horizon, only water is visible in every shot.

View fullsize

Despite standing in a room full of other people, the time spent looking at these screens was serene, but also lonely; a reminder that we are such a small part of something much greater than any of us.

After the talks, we were treated to the auditory element of this piece, which was the sound of bubbling and rushing water taken from the Han River. There were also occasional mysterious metallic noises, later revealed to be the creaks and groans of a bridge. Through sound alone, we experienced an intersection of nature and manmade materials.

Speaking of manmade materials: in keeping with the theme of raising social consciousness, Chris’ side display for the installation was a sculpture series; abstract shapes (all bigger than both my fists put together) colored black with a gold-ish hue. At first I guessed they were made from stone then decorated to represent pollution, but it turns out the truth of what they actually are is quite disturbing.

View fullsize

Titled “Ab-Solutes”, these black masses ARE pollution. Pulled from Lake Erie, they are solidified pollutants which accumulated over time. They are what nature, even with its resilience, couldn’t manage to digest.

Sadly, humans selfishly contributed to the environment’s destruction for so long, we’ve reached the point where nature can no longer heal itself fast enough to keep up.

Lee Yeonsook addressed this at the beginning of her talk. She relayed a story about how she spent much of her childhood playing in the mighty Han River, but as time passed contamination levels from human pollution got worse and worse, and by the time she’d reached her twenties the entire river had been condemned by the government..

As a kid I was lucky to go to a cottage every summer, and made many fond memories in the lake. Even though that cottage has now been sold, I would absolutely experience heartache if that body of water were to be poisoned (it’s already happening but not dire yet).

View fullsize

Yeonsook’s installation used a sensory component I had never before considered – scent. The light odor inside the gallery was sweet like candy, but definitely chemical, not natural. As it turns out, certain pollutants are the cause of various bizarre scents we experience in contaminated areas. Since smell is the sense most strongly associated with memory, the exhibit is meant to remind us to appreciate what the Earth has given us (things we enjoyed as children) and how fast we can lose it all. Future generations have already been robbed.

Just like we usually associate good things with sweet smells, we also tend to react in a positive manner to bright and beautiful colors, especially things that have forged good associations in our minds.

A set of three stunning photographs by the Korean artist had their color balances adjusted in various ways. They were the first thing I noticed and my eyes kept going back to these vibrant pictures all night. Yeonsook explained she played with the colors in such a way because, sadly, pollution often causes very beautiful-looking effects— think of a sunset, or a rainbow shimmer on the water —and we forget to consider what’s underneath this “beauty”.

View fullsize

For the same reason, a side display of rocks pulled from the Han River were painted extremely bright, eye-catching colors. Just because something is nice on the surface, we must always remember to take a look at what’s really going on inside.

The key installation of this show was a combined piece. I was saving my opinion on this main attraction of Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape for last, because it’s the thing I’m least confident about explaining in words, and it wasn’t even really able to be captured on camera.

In order to show how sustainable our world could be if we tried, Yeonsook created the work “Vanished Landscape From Void Space”, which was made up of huge strips of recycled fabric hanging from the ceiling. And this wasn’t just any recycled material – she found a way to turn plastic bottles (that she’d collected from riverbanks) into beautiful, delicate fabric. To me it looked like the kind of stuff wedding dresses are made from.

View fullsize

Yeonsook remarked that she had a hard time finding a business who could process the bottles in such a way, but she was determined to prove that it could be done, and boy did she succeed! I hope in the future, different types of recycling are made more accessible.

Projected onto the flowing white sheets was “Alluvium (Undercurrent)” by Chris Myhr. Video taken of the Niagara and Han River systems, the Great Lakes, and other water systems in the Canadian North was assembled into a visual metaphor for equilibrium; the balance between humans and nature.

View fullsize

The combined elements came together in such a way that once you stepped up to (and even into, if you wanted) the piece, you really got a sense of being on a riverbank somewhere, or maybe in a low tide, listening to the soothing sounds of the water. Even if you never get to see this particular installment, I would highly, highly recommend attending any exhibit with the artwork of Lee Yeonsook and/or Chris Myhr.

I am, as always, so grateful to the KCC and The Embassy of the Republic of Korea for giving us the chance to experience such a unique form of art. I’d also like the extend my appreciation to Curator Hyunju Yu (유현주) and Lee Yeonsook (이연숙) for coming all the way to Ottawa from Korea. Thank you to all the staff and the artists for making this possible.

Korea Week 2023 | K-Fest | June 10th

*NOTE: I am in the process of making a compilation video to commemorate K-Fest during Korea Week, but video editing is always harder than I think, so I apologize for the delay on that coming to fruition. I know this blog is quite late, but life has a way of piling up, and I beg your forgiveness.*

---

Korea Week 2023 was a whirlwind of activities and events both in-person and online, but none more exciting than Saturday June 10th – the main festival day! And what a day it was.

Listen, this is my fourth year as an Honorary Reporter for the Korean Cultural Centre and the Embassy of the Republic of Korea, so I’ve been to a lot of amazing events they hosted over the last few years. I have never seen anything quite like what I saw on the first Saturday of Korea Week (the whole weekend was titled K-Fest, but I’ll speak more on the other two days later). I almost couldn’t believe my eyes!

Hosted at Lansdowne Park in the heart of Ottawa, a beautiful sprawling festival was set up, including food trucks, booths with traditional clothing and historical relics, a huge screen set up on a massive stage, and plentiful portable bathrooms (I know it seems silly to mention, but this is almost always a problem at big events, so kudos to the organizers!). With almost no clouds and a bright yellow sun beating down on the attendees, it was as if the sky itself knew June 10th was going to be a great day.

I have to say I got a little bit emotional and misty-eyed when I first stepped foot onto the festival grounds, because there were just so many people. A culture I’ve come to respect and honor and love to my core was being celebrated and supported by the residents of my home city on a huge scale.

In fact, the lines for the food trucks and bubble tea booths were so long I never ended up getting anything because every queue was at least fifty people deep and I’m too impatient!

Since I was obsessively following all the information about Korea Week posted on the KCC’s Facebook page, I knew ahead of time that there would be a tent where attendees could try on hanbok. Several years ago I made my own hanbok, so for a modern twist (and to accommodate for the heat of that beating sun), I wore a knee-length party dress with my hanbok jacket on top. This did get me a few compliments, which were nice, but really I just wanted to dress in the spirit of the event. Plus I’ll take any excuse to wear my hanbok (except I forgot to snap a selfie!).

There was an enormous booth from Sarah & Tom Kpop World with more Kpop group albums than I’ve ever physically seen in one place! In fact they spilled out of the booth onto extra tables and the ground (don’t worry, they were all shrink-wrapped). Way better than any chain store I’ve been to, the merchandise was from a wide variety of artists, and that booth was PACKED the whole day.

As the sun began to make its descent in the west, the fancy main-event stage lit up and the introductions began! We got to hear from the kind, funny, and of course honorable Ambassador of the Republic of Korea to Canada (who I’ve been fortunate to meet on several occasions through the Honorary Reporter program) and the Mayor of the city, who officially declared Korea Week in Ottawa! I caught this heart-warming moment on video, and yes, it will be part of the compilation I’m putting together.

After the introductions we were treated to dance and acrobatics performances, breathtaking taekwondo demonstrations, and of course the main event and the thing I look forward to all year long and never miss: the Kpop Cover Dance Festival.

I was captivated and mostly taking bits of video, so sadly I have no still photos from this part of the festival. But don’t worry! I will put the YouTube link here when I’m done editing.

This was certainly an experience I will never forget, and I’m so grateful to the Korean Cultural Centre, the Embassy of the Republic of Korea, and the Republic of Korea itself for allowing us to experience and participate in some of the wonderful parts of their culture. It’s still my dream to one day visit Korea, but until then, stuff like this is the next best thing. You can check out better, professional photos of this event on the KCC Facebook page.

Children's Day 어린이날 4 ways to celebrate AND expand your Korean Vocabulary

Struggling to keep up your Korean vocabulary? I relate. If you’re anything like me, with a full-time job, volunteering, personal projects, and social obligations, you probably have difficulty making time to practice a new language too. That goes double if you have kids!

May 5th has been Children’s Day in Korea since the 1970s (it was originally set on May 1st, but that date was already Labor Day, so it was moved). Here in Canada, kids get plenty of holidays where they’re off from school, but we don’t have an equivalent celebratory day just for children.

“Fun fact: Out of all the countries with a similar holiday, Japan is the only one that also celebrates on May 5th!”

Children’s Day is important to Koreans— it’s a national holiday where everyone gets the day off! —because of the intense working culture. Jobs are demanding and taken seriously; overtime through evenings and weekends is very common. With such a limited amount of time to spend with their kids, Korean parents often put in extra effort to make Children’s Day special.

Of course there’s no one correct way to celebrate a holiday, but there are some popular choices among Korean families from which us Canadians can draw inspiration, and to accompany those ideas (below), there are plenty of opportunities to learn some new vocabulary.

So if you have your own kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, whoever, and you want them to have a special May 5th— while still doing something for you —then grab some flash cards, a marker, and read on!

---

The first popular option for having a great Children’s Day is actually simple and relatively inexpensive (and easy for most of us in Canada): a trip to the park! Whether you choose a cute playground in your neighborhood or adventure into the sprawling wilderness of a national reserve, here are some words worth learning while you’re there:

• 꽃 - flower

  • romanization: kkot

  • pronunciation: “kkot”

• 공원 - park

  • romanization: gongwon

  • pronunciation: “gong-won”

• 정원 - garden

  • romanization: jeongwon

  • pronunciation: “juhng-won”

• 소풍 - picnic

  • romanization: sopung

  • pronunciation: “so-poong”

• 가족 - family

  • romanization: gajok

  • pronunciation: “gah-jok” (when you see ㄱ as the final syllable in a word, gently cut off the end by pulling your tongue back instead of finishing the full ‘k’ sound)

• 아이들 - children

  • romanization: aideul

  • pronunciation: “ah-ee-deul” (English doesn’t have an equivalent for the Korean character 으 [eu], so making the sound is difficult for us. My trick to practice making the right sound is: put on a big toothy smile, and then, keeping your teeth pressed together, make an ‘uh’ noise in the front of your mouth.)

---

Another popular place to take children on this holiday is the zoo. Obviously not everyone in Canada or Korea lives close to a zoo, but many major cities have them, and it might be a fun excuse to take a mini vacation! It’s also a good excuse to learn how to identify foreign animals in Korean:

• 사자 - lion

  • romanization: saja

  • pronunciation: “sah-jah”

• 호랑이- tiger

  • romanization: horangi

  • pronunciation: “ho-rahng-ee”

• 원숭이 - monkey

  • romanization: wonsungi

  • pronunciation: “won-soong-ee”

• 코끼리 - elephant

  • romanization: kokkiri

  • pronunciation: “ko-kkee-ree” (the ㄹ isn’t a hard ‘r’; try saying that last syllable with your tongue against the roof of your mouth)

• 기린 - giraffe

  • romanization: girin

  • pronunciation: “gi-reen” (this is a hard ‘g’ sound)

• 뱀 - snake

  • romanization: baem

  • pronunciation: “baem”

---

The next option is something you can do on its own, or combine with another activity. What is it? Ordering food and snacks! In Canada, our unpredictable (and often bad) weather means we rely on delivery apps, while Korean citizens take their snacking very seriously – there’s a big street food culture, and there are convenience stores everywhere. Of course you can still get delivery in Korea too! There are way too many popular snacks to list, so below is a list of snacks you can typically find in Canadian-Asian grocery stores:

• 오리온 초코파이 - Orion choco pie

  • romanization: orion chokopai

  • pronunciation: “oh-ri-on cho-ko-pa-ee”

• 빼빼로 - pepero/pocky

  • romanization: pepero

  • pronunciation: “pae-pae-ro”

• 허니버터칩 - honey butter chips

  • romanization: heonibeoteochib

  • prounciation: “huh-nee-buh-tuh-chip”

• 행복 카스타드 - Happy Promise custard cakes

  • romanization: haengbok kaseutadeu

  • pronunciation: “hehng-bok ka-seu-ta-deu” (remember the tip for how to say 으 [eu])

• 떡볶이 - spicy stir-fried rice cakes

  • romanization: tteokbokki

  • pronunciation: “ttuh-bok-kee” (when the character ㅇ immediately follows a consonant, you carry the sound of that consonant over to blend the syllables more smoothly)

• 김스낵 - seaweed crisps

  • romanization: gimseunaek

  • pronunciation: “gim-seu-naek” (the first letter is a hard ‘g’, and don’t forget to gently cut off the ㄱ at the end)

---

Finally, maybe you’d like to spend Children’s Day at home for some quality family time. Nothing wrong with that! You could also take the opportunity to help the little ones do something nice for Parents’ Day, which is only three days later, on May 8th. While not a national holiday itself, it’s a chance for kids to do something to express their gratitude to both parents (unlike Canada where Mothers’ Day and Fathers’ Day are separate). The Korean tradition is writing a letter dedicated to one’s parents and gifting them a carnation.

• 어버이날 - Parent’s Day

  • romanization: eobeoinal

  • pronunciation: “uh-buh-ee-nal”

• 카네이션 - carnation

  • romanization: kaneisyeon

  • pronunciation: “ka-neh-ee-syuhn”

• 편지- letter [written to the parent]

  • romanization: pyeonji

  • pronunciation: “pyuhn-gee” (this is a hard ‘g’ sound)

• 선물 - present

  • romanization: seonmul

  • pronunciation: “suhn-mool”

• 공경 - respect

  • romanization: gonggyeong

  • pronunciation: “gong-gyuhng”

• 효자 - devoted son

  • romanization: hyoja

  • pronunciation: “hyo-jah”

• 효녀 - devoted daughter

  • romanization: hyonyeo

  • pronunciation: “hyo-nyuh”

---

I hope that everyone who celebrates this sweet family holiday has a fantastic time, no matter where you go; whether you decide to practice your vocabulary or not. 행복한 어린이날!

Make sure to follow my Instagram @adoorinmyheart because one of my upcoming projects is a series of posts: 60 facts about Korea & Canada to celebrate 60 years of friendship! I’ll be posting one a day beginning on May 26 – accordingly, this will take us to July 26, which I chose because the following day, July 27, is the 26-year anniversary of the Korean War Memorial Wall’s erection in Brampton, Ontario.

THE WAR GOD SMILES | Part 3: Taking the killshot

INTRODUCTION

As we come to the conclusion of this three-part blog post, I just wanted to extend my thanks to anyone who has read along so far. I don’t necessarily expect anyone to get as excited about ancient warfare the way I have, but sometimes it’s nice to learn something new! I have learned so much over the last three years as an Honorary Reporter for The Embassy of the Republic of Korea (also the Korean Cultural Centre Canada) and as I continue my fourth year in the program I know I’ll learn more. I promise to share!

In part 1, I talked about Admiral Yi Sun-sin’s secret weapon in the Battle of Hansan: the uniquely armored 거북선 (geobukseon). In part 2, I looked at the 판옥선 (panokseon), the 16th century Joseon navy’s primary warship class, and its Japanese rival 安宅船 (atakebune). 

For the third— and final —part of my series on Hansan: Rising Dragon (한산: 용의 출현) and Joseon-era weaponry, I thought it would be interesting to take a closer look at the evolution of military armaments. How and when did Korea (and Japan) move from exclusively using stuff like bows and swords to using firearms in battle?

---

JOSEON VS JAPANESE WARSHIPS AND WEAPONRY

PART 3: 화약

Early-on in the movie, we get a look at the shipyard where panokseon and geobukseon are repaired and docked. We also meet Na Dae-yong, the man who designed the Turtle Ship.

“In the film, Na Dae-yong promises the new model Turtle Ships are improved after a ram got stuck in battle. But the Admiral leaves early when he hears of Wakisaka’s incipient attack, and as an added complication, spies stole designs for the old geobukseon. Despite protest, Yi Sun-sin declares they’ll remain beached this time.”

One of the first exchanges on land is a commander reporting that they’re running low on gunpowder and have been trying to source the necessary ingredients to produce more from the peasants of nearby villages. According to this soldier, 거북선 use up a LOT of it.

My first thought: “What the heck is gunpowder even made from?”

Before I go further, I just want to warn you that what you’re about to read is a simplification of the history and process of making gunpowder, because if I tried to go through everything I’d be writing until I needed dentures. If you want to learn more, there are plenty of great resources which house a lot more detail.

Due to the imperfections of historical record-keeping, it isn’t 100% clear exactly when the first iterations of this explosive were invented; not to mention, early alchemical forms of gunpowder is not the same substance we see today. It’s not even the same substance we see in Hansan: Rising Dragon. Our current research indicates (and is mostly agreed-upon among historians), that the first experiments were done in 9th century Tang Dynasty China; however, the first confirmed record of what would eventually become the basis for gunpowder is dated from Song Dynasty China, in the 11th century.

“Now that early scene in the movie makes more sense: wood charcoal is produced by superheating wood in minimal oxygen; sulfur is the fifth most abundant element by mass on Earth.”

As I’m sure you can imagine, once they developed a recipe to create a reliable explosive, China kept it, and the entire manufacturing process, a secret from outsiders. The final product was gladly sold to surrounding countries but no one else could figure out how to make it.

That is, until sometime around the year 1373, when a Korean delegation was sent to China and a military commander/inventor named 최 무선 (Choi Museon) learned (either through academic exchange or bribery) the long-kept secret of gunpowder from a Chinese trader: how to manufacture potassium nitrate. The other two ingredients necessary, sulfur and wood charcoal, were easy to find in Korea.

In the 1370s, Japanese pirates had become a huge problem along the southwestern shores of the Korean Peninsula, and in fact, it was their early days of marauding which played a large role in what inspired Choi to seek out gunpowder for primitive artillery on their ships. I mentioned this in both Part 1 and Part 2, but since the Japanese naval strategy for both military and pirates was primarily to hook the enemy ship for close-quarters combat, Koreans needed a way to cause damage from a distance, long before there would be a chance to board.

To prevent pirates from getting access to the instructions for making potassium nitrate, it was only manufactured on specific sites deep inland, strictly overseen by government officials.

Additional fun fact: Commander Choi had the government establish the Office of Firearms and he led the way in developing eighteen different types of gunpowder-fueled weapons.

There was a period of time at the beginning of the Joseon Dynasty where the development of firearms and gunpowder wasn’t highly prioritized, but once King Sejong came into power he revived the industry. 

By 1563 Korea was producing 불랑기포 (bulang-gipo)— or 仏郎機砲 (furanki), or “breech-load swivel guns” —on its own. The original design of this cannon was captured after China defeated the Portuguese at the Battle of Xicaowan (1522) and had their men reverse-engineer it. These typically ended up at the bow and stern of warships.

As we already know, throughout the Imjin War, gunpowder played an enormous role in giving the Koreans a chance against numerically superior Japanese invasions.

See, in the years surrounding the events that take place in Hansan: Rising Dragon, Japan was lagging behind Korea in terms of firearms development (atakebune only carried four small cannons, compared to the fifty much bigger cannons installed on panokseon).

But wait!

One thing that stood out to me in the movie (and maybe to you too) was how, when it came to handheld weapons, the Korean soldiers were using bow and arrows, while the Japanese soldiers had an early form of rifle. So if Japan was behind on firearms, how did they have guns when Joseon didn’t?

The simple answer is that they WERE behind, in terms of R&D, and the actual production of gunpowder or long-range explosives. However, thanks to a storm that forced a Chinese ship carrying Portuguese sailors to anchor at a Japanese island (whew, try saying that five times fast!), they managed to get their hands on guns first.

The firearm carried by Japanese gunners of this era, which we see them use in the movie, are commonly called 火縄銃 (hinawajū). Historically, the name was 種子島 (Tanegashima) after the nobleman who introduced this style of musket to the rest of Japan.

As the story goes, 種子島 時堯 (Tanegashima Tokitaka), lord of the island, purchased two European matchlock muskets from the Portuguese sailors who washed up on their shores, then hired a master swordsmith to copy the barrel and firing mechanism. Once the design was solved, Japan was eager to produce them en masse, but the creation of each barrel took the labor of one person one entire month. 

Sounds like a crazy amount of work, right? Well, crazier still, within ten years of its introduction, the country had produced over 300,000 firearms. By 1592, about a quarter of Japan’s military were gunners; this development, plus the element of surprise, allowed 豊臣 秀吉 (Toyotomi Hideyoshi)’s initial invasion force to capture the city of Seoul in just eighteen days.

“Every time I saw their guns, all I could think about was the Iron City soldiers from Myazaki’s Princess Mononoke. Although they do look similar, the rifles in Hansan are an improved model, since Mononoke is set in the Muromachi Period, which ran ~1336 to ~1573.”

Matchlock muskets, though not particularly accurate, gave the Japanese a close-quarters (100-200m) advantage because the spray of shot had a better chance to hit moving targets than a single-fire weapon like the bow and arrow.

The key strategy of gunners facing off against Admiral Yi’s fleet in Hansan: Rising Dragon was the use of multiple firing lines to not only bombard the ships with a volley of shots (which forces the enemies on deck to take cover, disabling them from counter attacking or protecting the topdeck from boarding) but also so they can continuously fire the volley without much delay. One line fires until empty, then the next line steps up while the second reloads. And sure, a single gunshot might not kill you, but in this period of history death by infection was extremely common, so it kind of works either way.

---

That’s all folks! I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank the Korean Cultural Centre of Canada for opening my eyes to this whole new area of interest, and for providing me with (free!!) opportunities to see awesome Korean movies. Thank you again, reader, for sticking with me through this, and if you want to talk historical military tactics, leave a comment!

THE WAR GOD SMILES | Part 2: Titans on Water

INTRODUCTION

Welcome back to the three-part blog series about the Korean historical war movie Hansan: Rising Dragon (한산: 용의 출현), which I saw through the Korean Cultural Centre of Canada’s KCinema program!

Before we go further, I just wanted to remind everyone that while I do think this film did a great job of capturing history, it is still a dramatization of events. Therefore, I took what I thought was interesting from the movie and studied what they were based on. So yes, there are of course still references to the movie, but I really tried my best to make the rest accurate.

Part 1 covered the construction and armament of Admiral Yi Sun-sin’s secret weapon against the Japanese during the Imjin War: 거북선 (geobukseon). The appropriately-named “Turtle Ship”, however, was not the only ship instrumental in the Koreans’ underdog win at Hansan.

---

JOSEON VS JAPANESE WARSHIPS & WEAPONRY

PART II: 판옥선 & 安宅船

Enter 판옥선 (Panokseon), the main class of battleship used by the Joseon Navy through the 16th Century.

Due to a large tidal range, shallow tidal planes, and rough waters around the coastline of the Korean peninsula, panokseon were built with a U-shaped hull (same as geobukseon) and a flat keel. This was the traditional structure because it allowed even large ships to maneuver well, no matter the water depth or sudden changes in tides, plus it made them easy to use on shallower channels throughout the country. The first iteration of this tall, 100-foot-long ship class was recorded in the year 1555.

A key defining feature of this warship was three decks stacked atop one another, with a smaller tower in the middle of the uppermost deck. This raised, roofed platform was a place where commanders could observe both their own and the enemy’s fleet, while the multiple levels gave the upper deck soldiers a better vantage point for cannon and arrow fire. 

Since the rowers were located between decks, they were better shielded from taking damage, which in turn allowed the Admirals to keep tight control of the ship’s positioning even under heavy fire. Much like its sister ship geobukseon, panokseon was able to turn on its own radius. As shown in the movie (and apparently happened for real too), this ability provides a huge tactical advantage, since Yi Sun-sin uses it in tandem with 학익진 (hakikjin), the Crane Wing Formation, to stop the Japanese naval advance.

To ensure consistent performance, a dual mast system was used; one mast equipped with square sails for downwind travel, and one with lateen sails for going against the wind.

For added speed— since U-shaped hulls don’t cut through water all that efficiently —panokseon had 8-10 oars per side, requiring around 60 rowers on board (these were some seriously big oars that needed at least two men on each).

In Hansan: Rising Dragon, three 판옥선 are sent into the channel as bait and narrowly escape being destroyed by much faster Japanese ships by sailing over a patch of rocks in shallow water, where the V-shaped hulls get stuck.

As mentioned above, water around the coast of Korea does not play nice, so the Joseon prioritized durability over swiftness. Primarily constructed from pine, panokseon used oak pegs, or carved interlocking teeth to hold the thick-cut boards together, rather than nails which would eventually rust and cause the ship to become fragile.

They needed to be so strong because of the number of cannons they carried – generally at least fifty per ship!

In Part 1 of the blog I covered the main four types of Korean cannons, or 총통 (chongtong), so I won’t go over it again. However, I will say the main cannons on panokseon were 천자총통 (cheonja-chongtong), the biggest and heaviest model weighing in around 650 pounds.

When I first started my research about 16th century naval warfare, I never thought I’d come across the term “rocket launcher”, and yet, on top of all the cannons, Joseon armed these big battleships with 화차 (hwacha). While the literal translation is “fire cart”, hwacha were basically a precursor to modern MRLS that shot two hundred arrows at a time, instead of an explosive payload.

With so much weaponry needing both operation and reloading, panokseon required a complement of around 125 combat marines. Not too difficult to see why these boats needed to be so tough and sturdy now, right?

Hansan: Rising Dragon also features 安宅船 (Atakebune), the panokseon’s equivalent large class Japanese warship.

Traditionally, Japanese ships were built with only a single mast capable of sailing in favorable wind. Even though 安宅船 had two masts, they both had the same kind of square sails restricted to relying on the wind’s ever-changing direction.

Built with light wood— like cedar and fir —to get a better topspeed, atakebune had sharp V-shaped bows to maximize efficiency for long-distance travel. And efficient they were, however, the depth of the draft made for quite the lengthy process to change directions (and a much bigger turning radius).

The increased speed also meant decreased structural strength. Better trained in hand-to-hand fighting, much of their strategy relied on the ability to ambush enemy ships, grapple them with hooks, and get on deck to engage melee-style. This tactic resulted in “sturdiness” at the bottom of the list.

In fact, 安宅船 were so fragile they couldn’t even withstand the recoil of their own cannonfire; the biggest model in this class was only capable of carrying four standard-size cannons.

There’s a few great moments in the movie that take place on board the Japanese flagship, but something particularly intriguing was how the lead atakebune had cannons suspended with ropes hanging from their command platform. It wasn’t until I was reading up on the ships’ construction that I realized this reduces the impact of the recoil.

I just have to say that although all the actors were spectacular, Byun Yo-han delivered a particularly impressive performance as main antagonist 脇坂 安治 (Wakisaka Yasuharu). His acting talents were demonstrated by the evolution of Wakisaka’s demeanor throughout the course of the film; ruthlessness and desperation to destroy his nemesis 이순신 (Yi Sun-sin) consuming him as he approaches the edge of madness.

There is one other remarkable trait about the main 安宅船 leading the charge in the final battle scene, and that is its armor. Previously, in Part 1, I said it was likely that 거북선 (geobukseon) was the first armored ship in the world, and while that is true, the Japanese were also developing their own protection from cannonfire and explosives (especially since their ships were so fragile). In Hansan: Rising Dragon, when Wakisaka summons reinforcements, one of the commanders 九鬼 嘉隆 (Kuki Yoshitaka) brings with him a huge reinforced battleship covered in iron plates.

While its full origin isn’t covered in the movie, I learned that in real life, Kuki Yoshitaka had been a commander under Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who was the creator of the armored atakebune. There is recorded evidence from European missionaries to confirm this, as one journal contained the passage, “Their structure above the surface [of the water] is fully covered by iron, and there is a tower on the deck. Bridges are covered by iron, and no wood is exposed.”

In conclusion, both the 판옥선 and the 安宅船 were deadly warships; they simply relied on different tactics and construction to achieve varying goals.

---

Obviously, in Hansan: Rising Dragon, the panokseon are victorious thanks to Yi Sun-sin’s famous Crane Wing Formation and their superior firepower at a distance. However, the atakebune still posed a powerful threat, and outnumbered the Korean ships by a wide margin. While I also personally think the panokseon are cooler, the atakebune is absolutely still worth further studying.

In the third (and final) part of this blog series, I’ll be going over historical hand-held weaponry present in the movie, how gunpowder came to Korea, and a few closing facts about the Imjin War. You can read part 1 here!

THE WAR GOD SMILES | Part 1: Terror of the sea

INTRODUCTION

Over the years, Hollywood has produced many a historical movie “based on a true story” that takes the whole concept of artistic liberties too far, usually in the form of cramming an unconvincing and unwanted romance plot straight through the center of an otherwise perfectly good action film (looking right at you, Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor).

Fortunately for the historically inquisitive, some cinematic gems come out of Asia, and the Korean Cultural Centre has afforded me the opportunity to see one of them.

Hansan: Rising Dragon isn’t just any gem though. It’s a crown jewel.

Just for context, I was born and raised in Canada, and therefore my education in history was always very Eurocentric. As a result, when I think of the late 1500s, my mind conjures images of Queen Elizabeth I, Shakespeare, and 16th Century London’s last major plague outbreak – which, funnily enough, peaked in 1592; the very same year of the main battle depicted in Hansan: Rising Dragon (한산: 용의 출현).

There are so many aspects of this film to appreciate, I had trouble choosing what to highlight here, because if I tried to write about everything I noted while watching, this would be the length of a novel (and it’s already really long. As it is, the topics I decided to concentrate on are so rich with fascinating information, this blog will be broken into three posts.

---

JOSEON VS JAPANESE WARSHIPS & WEAPONRY

PART I: 거북선

The movie begins with bloodied Japanese soldiers explaining to their new commander, Wakisaka Yasuharu (脇坂 安治), that in their last clash with the Koreans, Admiral Yi Sun-sin unleashed a warship so powerful and horrifying they call it “bokkaisen” (a sea monster from ancient Japanese mythology).

“Sailors worldwide, no matter the time period, are superstitious and fear creatures rising from the sea. In the west, our monster is the Kraken from Norse mythology.”

The ship is 거북선 (Geobukseon), a large, fully-enclosed battleship so deadly effective it was used by the Korean navy for five centuries, and a crucial piece in Admiral Yi Sun-sin’s halting of the Japanese invasion.

At this point in history, Japan’s primary naval strategy was to quickly ambush the enemy and grapple the ship with hooks and ladders, which allowed them to board and engage the Koreans in melee combat (a skill at which they were, by all accounts, superior). The Joseon navy created the geobukseon specifically to get up close and personal with the Japanese ships without being boarded.

Built from thick boards of pine and sitting around 120 feet from bow to stern, its enclosed top was covered in iron spikes, which not only discouraged enemy soldiers from attempting to jump aboard but also made the ship difficult to snag with a hook. It had the added benefit of protecting a complement of 50 soldiers and 70 oarsmen from explosives and arrows.

“Boats with U-shaped hulls have greater stability, but sail more slowly due to water resistance. To compensate, 거북선 and 판옥선 were designed with ~22 oars on each side, plus masts. The combination of raised sails and rowers allowed these ships to move more quickly than expected.”

Geobukseon were sturdy and difficult to sink just like their sister ship 판옥선 (Panokseon), which I’ll be discussing in Part II of this blog post. Both were made from the same two-mast structure, both were capable of turning on their own axis, and both were designed to withstand intense recoil from cannons; however, only the geobukseon was constructed with the intent to ram enemy ships with the heavy crest mounted on the bow.

So why were those soldiers from the start of the movie convinced it was a monster?

Its key defining trait (after the shell-like roof) is a huge, intimidating dragon’s head mounted atop the bow, which can fit a cannon— smallest of the Joseon-era 총통 (chongtong) cannons called 황자 (hwangja) —inside. That alone seems like enough to strike fear into the hearts of enemies, but there was still more. 

On top of cannon shot, they outfitted the dragons to “breathe” dense toxic smoke created by sailors burning poisonous materials inside the head. The ensuing sulfuric cloud, pumped out by a projector, would obfuscate the geobukseon at close range while suffocating its opponents.

The nickname “目蔵船” (mekurabune), meaning “blind ship”, suddenly makes a lot more sense.

With their enemies sufficiently terrified and thrown off position, the geobukseon was then able to unleash hell with its heavy armament of 22 cannons (11 per side). I already mentioned one of Joseon’s chongtong cannons, but there were three other variations, each increasing in size and power from the last.

• Yellow 황자총통 (hwangja-chongtong), as specified above, was smallest, and looked similar to the European hand-cannon, with a shot range of ~730m.

• Black 현자총통 (hyeonja-chongtong) was around 50% larger than Yellow, capable of firing a projectile that was twice the weight up to 2km.

• Earth 지자총통 (jija-chongtong), the second-largest, carried a shot weighing 16.5kg – that’s more than 36lbs! However, this heavier payload meant a shorter firing distance of about 1km.

• Sky 천자총통 (cheonja-chongton) could be loaded with different types of ammunition, however, the most impactful was probably a 30kg— sixty-six pounds! —arrow, with an iron head and fins. Despite that impressive heft, the range was still around 1.4km.

Hansan: Rising Dragon - at a critical moment, the geobukseon lures Japanese ships close and fires all cannons at once

Personally, the thing I find the coolest about 거북선 is that they were very likely the first armored ship to ever exist. While there isn’t hard evidence to prove it was first in the world (the preservation and interpretation of information from ancient eras is imperfect), it was for sure one of the only pre-industrial warships to use protective iron plating.

---

I enjoyed everything about Hansan: Rising Dragon so much that I went down a bit of a rabbit hole reading about Korea’s naval military history to ensure I understood everything about the movie, and I’ve only just scratched the surface. I can’t wait to continue.

In the next part of this blog series, I’ll be outlining the differences between 판옥선 (Panokseon) and its Japanese equivalent 安宅船 (Atakebune), and how Admiral Yi Sun-sin used these differences to defeat the numerically superior fleet at the Battle of Hansan.

I hope in reading these posts you learn something new and gain an appreciation for how much amazing stuff has happened throughout human history.

---

Hansan: Rising Dragon 거북선 screenshot gallery

Springtime in Korea | The 3 best villages to visit in March

For Canadians, especially those of us living in the nation’s Capital, the month of March is typically represented by grey skies and slushy roads, the weather constantly alternating between rain storms and blizzarding snow. 

The staff at the Embassy of the Republic of Korea and the Korean Cultural Centre of Canada know this well, since they’re both located in downtown Ottawa!

When we think about escaping the dreary days of winter (yes, March is very much still winter here), most people think of the same places: Miami, Los Angeles, Cancun, Dominican Republic. Sure sandy beaches are nice, but they’re not much to look at, and they get boring fast. Why limit ourselves to such narrow vacationing options?

Enter three incredible, breathtaking destinations in Korea, where the best time to visit is March.

---

Gwangyang Maehwa Village (광양 매화마을)

©VisitKorea

Is that snow covering all the treetops? We’re supposed to be getting away from the snow!

Don’t worry, it’s not snow at all. The sprawling white you’ll see here in the springtime is actually the delicate blossoms of plum trees!

In the southern region, follow the Seomjingang (섬진강), a river, to Jirisan (지리산), the tallest mountain on mainland Korea at 1915m. There, at the edge of the mountain, you’ll find Seomjin Village (섬진마을).

©VisitKorea

It’s more commonly known as “Maehwa Village” (매화마을), even though that’s not its real name. The reason it’s referred to this way is because, instead of growing crops and grains like most other agrarian towns in Korea, the residents here cultivate plum trees on their farmland.

Though you’ll have to wait until June if you want to pluck nice ripe plums from these trees, to see the whimsical floral “snow”, you need to visit in March!

“When translated back from Korean, 강 (gang) means “river”, and
산 (san) means “mountain”. So, to say it properly, it’s either “Seomjin River” or Seomjingang; “Jiri Mountain” or Jirisan.”

---

Jeonju Hanok Village (전북 전주 한옥마을)

©Planet of Hotels

Interested in Korean historical traditions? Want a taste of Korean culture? Then this is the place for you.

In the mostly-industrialized city of Jeonju (전주), there is a pocket of land frozen in time - a place where 735 traditional hanok houses still stand. The village has a special charm due to the contrast between historical and modern buildings standing side-by-side.

Hanok (한옥) are houses from the 14th Century, first designed during the Joseon Dynasty. I would share the cool history but this is already too long, so click here to read more.

©TripZilla

Jeonju’s Hanok Village is distinct because of its historical buildings’ unique roofs with upturned edges. They also feature heated floors for winter (I think Canadians can relate).

Wait, how did they have that when the invention of electricity was more than five centuries away? 

A traditional architecture technique, ondol (온돌), uses direct heat transfer from wood smoke to heat the underside of masonry floors.

If you intend to visit, the village was officially designated a “Slow City” (a place where nature and culture grow together in harmony) by the Italian organization Cittaslow in 2010, so take note!

---

Gurye Sansuyu Village (구례 산수유마을)

©VisitKorea

If you’ve never heard of sansuyu, you’re going to want to try it after this.

©TRIPPOSE

Sansuyu (산수유), also known as the “cornus fruit” or “dogwood fruit”, is described as having a “tropical pudding-like flavor” and are known to be both sweet and tart once ripened. Sounds delicious right?

Not only are they tasty, but like many other fruit trees, they spend the month of March blooming beautiful blossoms.

You’ll want to visit Sandong-myeon 산동면 (in the Gurye-gun 구례군 region) and take a trip to “The Sansuyu Village” to get the best view; with a stunning naturally-occurring landscape ahead and a picturesque mountain range behind, you may feel like you’re in another world. Plus there are hot springs nearby…

©VisitKorea

There isn’t much (or any) exotic fruit to be found here in Canada, so it looks like a flavor adventure to Korea is next on the menu!

---

Now doesn’t that all sound like more fun than sitting on the beach? ;)

The Fourth Year of Honor | A reflection on my 4 years as an Honorary Reporter

This year, 2023, is the Year of the Rabbit; a year for thoughtful, meaningful, calm actions and cultivating inner peace. And it’s a Water Year, typically signifying an improved ability to approach challenges creatively and address our emotions.

This year is also my fourth year participating in the Honorary Reporter program for The Embassy of the Republic of Korea.

These two thoughts may seem disjointed, but trust me, you’ll understand soon.

I’ve never considered myself a particularly lucky person, but the one time I truly felt I had a real stroke of luck was when I first came across the Honorary Reporter application reminder from the Korean Cultural Centre’s Facebook page, all the way back in 2020. I’m embarrassed to say that I clicked the link and then left the tab open for a while, unsure if I would be good enough to earn consideration.

At the time, I’d just taken my initial deep-dive into Korean culture; yes, this interest blossomed from my discovering Kpop, but the more content I consumed, the more I wanted to understand the references, the jokes, the history, the fashion, and of course, the language.

Believe me, nothing motivates you to try learning a new language like trying to rabidly consume an entire video library only to discover there are no English subtitles.

The point is, I was eager to take any opportunity to soak in all things Korean.

Another embarrassing confession is… I almost missed that opportunity. Like I said, the tab containing the application was open for quite some time, and honestly my poor self-esteem at the time (long story) had all but convinced me I would never be chosen for the program. Then, at the eleventh hour— literally, since the deadline was midnight that day —I changed my mind and filled out the application anyway.

Here’s where the luck comes in: I had, just a few weeks earlier, finished making a hanbok from scratch to wear at my Seollal party, and uploaded it to my personal blog right here. 

If that’s not enough proof, the blog itself was set up a few months earlier as a place for me to express my feelings about how delving into this completely new field of interest played a huge role in my recovery from a particularly bad year of depression.

The stars aligned.

And thanks to that little sprinkling of luck (plus a tiny bit of skill) I was selected. You should have seen the dance I did after getting that email.

Now, surely you know that 2020 ended up being not such a great time for everyone, and I only had the chance to go to one event in-person before everything was shut down. And, being that we hadn’t yet figured out how to make the whole world accessible by video, there were relatively few online events (compared to the following years). But the ones that did happen, like dance classes, cooking classes, crafting classes and more, I did my best to attend.

In order to supplement the content that would have existed were it not for pandemic protocols, I wrote blog posts about other related things, such as tips for studying Korean, reasons why people feel so close to BTS, and my adventures in trying to make rice cakes.

When 2021 came around, so did another serious bout of my depression, and shamefully this meant I didn’t produce very much content. It wasn’t due to lack of choices at all— by that point the KCC had organized their virtual programming very well —and in many cases I would sign up for an event and then find myself unable to go when the day arrived. 

But I’m learning not to dwell on the past.

2022 was about making big changes, and changes I certainly did make. I managed to produce a fair number of blog posts about events (like movies and art exhibits) I attended, and even a couple short videos about Korean national days, or slang, or things like that (I’d actually like to do it again, more often if possible)! Oh, and tangentially, I bought my first house last fall, which was a really big change!

So enter year four. The Year of the Rabbit. A year to savor the slow burn of success.

It’s also the 60th anniversary of diplomatic relations between Canada, the place I’ve called home my whole life, and The Republic of Korea, the place I’ve never been but feel homesick for, in my heart.

If you couldn’t tell by everything I’ve already said, my interest in Korea varies among so many topics, and I intend to spend more time exploring them all, in creative ways that really reflect my genuine emotions. I want to become a part of my appreciation of Korea again, and not just an observer. Following in the hopping footsteps of our rabbit friends, this year will be for not just finding my inner peace, but for keeping it. 

Korea and its many fascinating dimensions have uplifted my spirit more times than I can count, made me new friends, spurred my creativity, and taken me all over North America. Crucially, my continuing position as an Honorary Reporter for The Embassy of the Republic of Korea is the thing that has brought me the most pride and joy.

I’ll never forget the very first appointment ceremony back in 2020, when His Excellency the Ambassador told us how we’d been selected for the program based on our variety of talents, and referred to us as his “Avengers”.

This year I hope to actually earn that nickname and make him proud.

Check out some of my best blog posts in the meantime:

• Celebrating Seollal (the Lunar New Year)

• Minhwa traditional coloring

• An interview with a veteran of the Korean War

• A review of Queer My Friends, a documentary about being gay in Korea

• Interview with a Korean movie director

Balance: Combining Cultures on November 11th (Remembrance Day & Pepero Day)

I’ve lived in Canada my entire life, so I associate November 11th with Remembrance Day; a day where we stop the hustle and bustle of our usual lives to remember and honor the men and women who served in our military and protected our country. 

Last year I was fortunate enough to interview a fine gentleman who served in the Korean war, and I know that this Remembrance Day, I’ll be thinking of him and the others who were all but forgotten by the Canadian government after the war, despite all the sacrifices they made to help those in need. You can read the interview here.

While November 11th is considered a solemn day here, and I treat it with respect, I believe it is also important to enjoy the world our soldiers fought for us to have. Taking an opportunity to be happy in our gratitude doesn’t mean we aren’t treating the day with appropriate gravity. Honor and reverence can take different forms.

Koreans have their own version of Remembrance Day— it takes place on June 6th and is called Hyunchungil (현충일), or Memorial Day —so on November 11th in Korea, a different (and much less serious) national “holiday” takes place. I thought it would be nice to introduce this fun tradition to more Canadians, because like I said above, I believe we owe it to those who once defended us, to enjoy the freedoms their service allowed us.

---

So let’s talk about Pepero Day (빼빼로 데이)!

First, just to make sure everyone knows what Pepero is (though I’m sure you can guess from the photos): it’s a delicious biscuit-stick snack covered most commonly in chocolate. When Pepero was first released by Lotte Confectionery, it was only available with the signature chocolate coating, but these days there are quite literally dozens of flavors to choose from (some popular flavors in Korea include almond, green tea, cookies and cream, yogurt, strawberry and peanut butter).

This lighthearted celebration is a little bit like Valentine’s Day (which Koreans also celebrate), in that it’s mostly observed by couples and tasty treats are exchanged. The key difference is that on Pepero Day, only one type of treat is shared, and that is, you guessed it, Pepero!

How the “holiday” came to be is somewhat up for debate, though there are a few theories and stories to explain it. The narrative explanation is once, many years ago, two middle school girls in Korea exchanged Pepero sticks and made a wish to grow up tall and thin, just like the shape of the snack. Another theory is that November 11th became Pepero Day because the date 11/11 looks like a line of Pepero.

Regardless of the exact truth, Lotte used the schoolgirl story to advertise for the very first Pepero Day back in 1997, and it definitely succeeded because this is still a favorite, country-wide celebration among Koreans!

Despite the comparison to Valentine’s Day, Pepero Day is not just for couples, but also gives people an opportunity to express affection and appreciation to others they love, such as friends, family, or even their coworkers. Since boxes are quite inexpensive (though the price can increase depending on the flavor and size), I know that I’ll be buying a whole armful to show everyone in my life how much they mean to me.

This is what I meant about enjoyment and appreciation in the beginning of this post. A lot of people forget to be grateful for how nice it is to live in Canada, where we’re quite safe, and I can sleep soundly. In this fast-paced impatient world, take a moment this November 11th and show someone you love them. Plus everyone loves cookies.

Now, if you’ve ever been to an anime convention, you might look at Pepero and think, “Wait, that looks exactly like Pocky”, and you wouldn’t be wrong! They are effectively identical snacks.

That being said, I used to be obsessed with Japan and inhaled more than my fair share of Pocky, but after trying the Lotte Pepero from my local Asian grocery, I can’t go back. This isn’t a dig— everyone has their own tastes —and I know you think I might be biased, but I genuinely like Pepero more.

It’s my hope you walk away from this with a new perspective to consider, even if you ultimately don’t agree with it. On Friday I’ll be paying my respects to the fallen, and bringing joy to those most important to me. There’s room for both in my heart and I believe there’s always balance to be found in the world.

The Price of Success | A review of Love, Lies (해어화)

Is anyone else just so happy to go see non-mainstream movies in old-timey theatres? The way the marquee stands out on the street as you walk up, the pleasing sight of vintage ticket booths, the smell of popcorn mixed with an indescribable scent that brings you back to your childhood. It’s these kinds of things that make me so grateful for events like film festivals, because otherwise the only moviegoing experience we’d ever have is Hollywood blockbusters and kids movies in chain theatres.

We’re currently right in the heart of the 5th Ottawa Korean Film Festival, which is what brought me to the Bytowne Theatre in Ottawa on October 2nd. This year’s overarching festival theme is “Music & Dance”, showcasing a carefully curated selection of films both in-person and online.

The film I saw yesterday was director Park Heung-Sik’s 2016 period drama Love, Lies (해어화). It will probably come as no surprise that a story set primarily during the Japanese occupation of Korea in WWII is an emotional ride, so make sure to bring some tissues, and try not to cry on your snacks.

Ahead of discussing the plot, I just have to commend the incredible performances delivered in an enormous range by every single actor in the main cast (as a very character-focused film, there are very few side characters and extras); however, Han Hyo-Joo deserves a special shoutout for her portrayal of the protagonist, and for her singing voice. I’ve never heard a voice that sounds so much like an instrument. Like a bow being pulled across strings gently, and intensely, depending on the scene.

As a costume-maker myself, I couldn’t take my eyes off the gorgeous collection of historical fashion shown throughout the movie, both the Korean and the more Western looks too. I wanted to add every hanbok worn by the women (particularly the patterned fabric ones) to my closet and the vintage American dresses were to die for. 

Not only is this film an opportunity to appreciate the clothing customs of different societies, but a unique chance to see the dichotomy of the old versus the new, and how fashion trends can be adopted very quickly. It’s strange to think about, but in the 1940s, the poorer, larger portion of Koreans were still primarily using horse and buggies, or rickshaws, to get around on dirt roads. Hanbok were worn daily by both men and women, and only the extremely wealthy who could afford to travel and order clothes from abroad were able to adopt the more modern styles. Now big cities modernize faster because that’s where the rich people go, while the rural populations are kind of left behind. In the case of Love, Lies, we see the characters’ transition in a compact time frame but it does typically take a while.

Now, before I go any further, I need to say something.

Every country has ugly blemishes from the past. Trauma from the actions, or inaction, of our ancestors can be both intentionally and subconsciously passed from generation to generation, and although we work hard to ensure the terrible things that happened never happen again, it is still important to remember and recognize the past so it doesn’t repeat itself.

I bring this up because Love, Lies is historical, and includes a number of gut-wrenching scenes portraying the kinds of horrors people (especially women) faced during a wartime occupation.

This blog post will include no spoilers for the story because honestly the movie is an artistic masterpiece in every sense of the word and it should be experienced fully; however, I will be referring to some situations, in general, that may cause discomfort for some readers. In the interest of preventing anyone becoming upset, please heed the following content warning.

---

CW: there may be references to difficult topics such as child slavery, death, prostitution, and rape in the following text. Reader discretion is advised.

---

Set mainly in the year 1944 (although there are a couple time jumps later on), the audience follows main character So-Yool, a beautiful girl who lives and trains at a gwonbeon. 

Gwonbeon (권번) were government-supported institutions to which outcasts and the poor could sell their young daughters. There, the girls were trained from childhood to become Gisaeng (기생), performers of traditional song and dance for the upper class and military leaders to earn money for their family. While this sounds safe and innocent enough, the Gisaeng were often coerced, if not blackmailed or directly forced, to perform sexual acts on their clients as part of the “performance”.

So-Yool and her best friend Yeon-Hee make a promise that they will forever only sing jeongak (정악), the traditional singing method they’d been raised to perform, despite the rapidly rising prevalence of upbeat, catchy pop music. While the girls hold onto their hanbok and cultural heritage, others are happy to accept modernization, such as So-Yool’s boyfriend Yeon-Woo (Yoo Yeon-Seok), who wears suits and drives a car.

At some point in the narration, near the beginning, So-Yool says, “Nothing is more foolish than trusting a man”, and I believe that perfectly captures the movie’s entire vibe in just one sentence.

Of course, as we all know, when we get older, promises aren’t always easy to keep. Sacrifices are made and secrets are kept from loved ones, just for a taste of success. Betrayal and heartbreak are hard to heal from. And sometimes, you have to crush someone else under your boot to win at any cost.

The movie really captures the feeling of being at an intersection of history, running the overall societal struggle of enemy occupation and adapting to change parallel to So-Yool’s character development. Pulled in many different directions and questioning the loyalty of everyone around her, our protagonist’s attempts to be a successful singer (in an era where tastes are changing) grow more desperate at every turn.

I’ll warn you now there is a very violent sexual assault scene late in the movie, and though it is not graphic, it is quite upsetting. It’s worth watching though, to have even the slightest idea of what those women did to survive.

This is not really the place to get any deeper into such a heavy conversation, but in my opinion, if you love a peoples’ culture you should also learn their history, to see how they fought and endured to have the things you love today. That’s why I suggest educating yourself a little more about the various occupations of what is now the Republic of Korea, and especially on the topic of Korean comfort women.

By the end of So-Yool’s tale (after a somewhat unexpected but very satisfying denouement) my head was swirling with all the questions the movie raised, without ever explicitly saying any of them.

Is it worth sacrificing something, or everything, to be famous? Is it better to be famous, or to be yourself? Will being successful make you happy? How do you let go of the past? Can love truly heal once trust has been broken? Is one’s entire identity defined by what they’re good at?

You’ll have to decide for yourself.

K-pop Cover Dance Festival in Canada 2022

Wow it feels great to be able to fully celebrate K-pop in person again!

Even before I was lucky enough to become an Honorary Reporter for the Korean Cultural Centre Canada and the Embassy of the Republic of Korea, I was attending as many K-pop Cover Dance events as I could, because I’ve always been a dancer myself, and what could be better than combining two things I love?

Obviously the pandemic put a big damper on things— events were canceled in 2020, and in 2021 there were still restrictions —but all that was immediately forgotten as soon as we were all together again for 2022’s K-pop Cover Dance Festival on September 18th.

In spite of rainy weather there were people lined up all the way around the venue building and down the street, everyone hoping for a good seat and buzzing with a type of energy that only K-pop fans can produce. There’s no possible way cold air and a biting wind could overwhelm the warmth and excitement of this community. It’s really nice to know that even when I attend these events alone, there are always people to chat and cheer with.

Oh, I should probably mention… the reason for the crazy long line? At this particular Festival, there were special guests invited, who came all the way from Korea: K-pop group P1Harmony.

---

Funnily enough, as I ended up going to the Festival alone, I went up to the balcony and was seated at the end of a row that was directly behind a reserved row. Typically these reserved rows are for the competing dancers, so they have somewhere to sit to watch the special guests after they’re done with their performances, so I expected to have a clear look at the stage for most of the night. However, as I was attempting to record the opening statement from the Consulate General, a group of people, being seated in the reserved row, walked directly in front of my camera. I was a little annoyed but hey, they probably just wanted to watch their friends perform before they went on. I lowered my camera and glanced at them; they were all really attractive, but like all the dancers at these festivals are good-looking, so I didn’t think much of it right away. Then I saw they were all being handed clipboards. Then I saw an older man telling people on the opposite side of the aisle not to take photos. That’s when I put it together: I was sitting directly behind the P1Harmony boys. Out of respect I didn’t sneak any photos of them, but they seemed so sweet (and adorable! My noona senses were going crazy, I just wanted to pat their heads and give them candy).

---

I did my best to take a nice steady video of each team’s performance, but there may be a few shaky moments throughout, or the odd head in the shot (if it makes you feel any better, it was the heads of the P1Harmony boys)! Please enjoy.

TEAM 1 - DOMIN’O

TEAM 2 - K-RAVE

TEAM 3 - RPM DANCE

TEAM 4 - DREAMSCAPE

TEAM 5 - WAK CREW

TEAM 6 - 0’CLOCK

TEAM 7 - B-WARE

TEAM 8 - SYNAPTIK

TEAM 9 - 11:11

TEAM 10 - SYNK

TEAM 11 - SALJA

TEAM 12 - DZ*ONE

I realize that it might be disappointing that I’m not also including any videos of P1Harmony, but the truth is that I was more focused on enjoying myself and paying attention to them, rather than watch everything through a camera (and my arms were pretty sore by that point). I guarantee some other attendees took videos though, so just check YouTube in a day or two. Heck, the group may post an official video on their own page!

As always, I’m so grateful to the KCC for putting on so many great events to celebrate Korean culture, and giving us all an opportunity to be together for these unique experiences.

Oh! You probably want to know who placed in the competition, and who won the grand prize which includes a trip to Korea. Well, I wanted to feature all the teams equally, without putting any specific emphasis on the judging, because to me they’re all inspiring winners. Feel free to check the KCC’s social media for an announcement though!

A Budget-Friendly Guide to Korean Fashion Pt. 1: Street Style

If you’re anything like me, when you see what Kpop idols wear to the airport, or while just going to the store, you think, “dang, I wish I could look like that”, but you know the outfit is head-to-toe designer labels, and you don’t have a small fortune to spend on a completely new wardrobe. Fortunately, I’m here to tell you the staples of different types of Korean fashion, and that there is absolutely a way to achieve those iconic looks without breaking the bank.

Along the way, I’ll throw in some Korean vocabulary pertaining to clothing; also, I’ll include a few fun and important facts about the differences between Canadian and Korean fashion culture

Obviously, style is whatever you make it, and there is no one right way to create a look, so please don’t feel pressured by what you read here today. This first part of my series will just be breaking down the types of outfits generally worn in this style; feel free to go out and make it your own!

All that being said, let me tell you about how I’ve been slowly turning my closet into a veritable tribute to different types of K-Fashion, without— if you’ll pardon the pun —losing my shirt!

---

Korean Street Fashion | 홍대

Often referred to as Hongdae Street Style in Korea, but certainly not limited to those in the Hongdae area (considered to be the most fashionable part of Seoul), the simplified term “street fashion” may sound strange to the Western ear unless you’re tapped into the world of fashion already.

This highlights the first major difference between Korean and Canadian clothing culture: while we’ll go out wearing almost anything up to and including pajamas unless we have a good reason not to, Koreans consider their appearance highly important, therefore, even casual clothes are picked out and put together with a style in mind.

“티셔츠 (tee·shuh·teu) - T-shirt
스웨터 (seu·weh·tuh) - Sweater
탱크톱 (taeng·keu·tob) - Tank top
재킷 (jae·kit) - Jacket”

— SPEAK YOUR STYLE

Street Fashion is a broad term, as there’s no one type of article or accessory to easily establish the style; however, I’ll let you in on what are generally considered to be staples of the style.

Generally speaking, Korean-style Street Fashion is gender-neutral, with looks featuring baggy clothes that obfuscate body shape. It’s trendy to wear matching t-shirts, hoodies, and jackets with your romantic partners!

So where do you get this kind of stuff for a decent price? Well, I personally love KORE, a street fashion company owned and operated by Koreans (but based out of LA, so shipping to Canada isn’t nearly as expensive!), not just because their clothes are high-quality and size-accessible, but also because they work their Korean heritage and culture into the designs. I was actually lucky enough to visit a KORE pop-up store while I was in Las Vegas for BTS’ Permission To Dance shows and managed to buy a wicked transparent concert bag!

“레깅스 (le·ging·seu) - Leggings
스커트 (seu·kuh·teu) - Skirt (modern)
치마 (chi·ma) - Skirt (traditional)
팬티 (paen·ti) - Ladies’ underpants”

— SPEAK YOUR STYLE

Women who dress in Hongdae Style tend to pair loose-fitting tops with tight pants or leggings, and in the warmer months, it’s common to see them wear the same baggy shirts with shorts so short they’re hidden above the hemline. Sometimes a belt is worn at the waist to emphasize body shape, or to give the impression of wearing a skirt. Another stylish way to dress is combining tight tops (crop tops are super in-fashion right now) and baggy bottoms with lots of straps and/or chains.

Showing off bare legs is key for girls, not only because it complements the style, but also because it allows for showing off cool shoes and boots (generally speaking, there are no high heels in Korean Street Fashion; rather, anything with a big platform and high-top sneakers are the go-to for footwear).

Here’s another difference between our clothing cultures: while Korea would be considered more modest since it’s rare for women to show cleavage and bare shoulders, when it comes to the lower half of the body, you can put your legs on display as much as you like!

Now, I will admit that finding cool, K-Fashion-able footwear in a size and style you like can be challenging to do with limited funds; however, good things come to those who wait, and if you shop smart you can totally afford it. My trick? Shop for boots in the summer, and for shoes and sandals during Boxing Week. I should also advise you to be careful about which websites you trust. Sadly there are a lot of fast-fashion websites out there that will steal pictures from other vendors and then ship out poor-quality copies, if you ever actually get your order at all (I was taken in a few times before I learned my lesson), so find reviews before buying anything if the price seems too good to be true.

“신발 (shin·bal) - Shoes
부츠 (boo·cheu) - Boots
운동화 (oon·dong·hwa) - Sneakers
양말 (yang·mal) - Socks”

— SPEAK YOUR STYLE

There are two websites I get almost all my fashionable footwear from: Canadian company ShoeFreaks.ca, and UK-based company Dolls Kill. While it seems at a glance that their stock is primarily goth, rave-wear, and various kinds of alternative punk, you may notice that a lot of these styles have similar elements to those seen in Hongdae fashion. Wait for their sales and free shipping events, and you’ll get more bang for your buck.

“바지 (ba·ji) - Pants
청바지 (chung·ba·ji) - Jeans
반바지 (ban·ba·ji) - Shorts
오버롤 (oh·buh·rol) - Overalls”

— SPEAK YOUR STYLE

Men are likely to pair baggy shirts with baggy bottoms for an oversized Hongdae look, but lately skinny jeans are in vogue, creating a contrast in their style in the same way girls do. You may also notice that when it comes to guys’ clothing, most of it is black on black on black. There are of course deviations (plus plenty of grey), and different sub-genres of street fashion that incorporate more color. Typically though, bright colors are reserved for girls.

When it comes to accessorizing your street style, the general rule is: the bigger, the better. Thick and chunky chains— worn as necklaces and bracelets; or clipped to the sides of pants —are definitely main staples of street fashion, and they don’t need to be expensive, or even made of metal! Colorful plastic chains are in-style. Complement your jewelry with oversized sunglasses, dangling earrings, and chunky statement rings.

The other most common accessory for this style is hats. Bucket hats are extremely trendy for both men and women; however, girls tend to lean towards cute, colorful, embroidered or printed bucket hats, while guys favor those with wide brims that go down far enough to more or less cover their eyes. Other hats you often see in Hongdae Style are snapbacks, dad caps, and knit beanies worn high on the head.

“모자 (mo·ja) - Hat/Cap
팔찌 (pal·jji) - Bracelet
목걸이 (mok·guhl·i) - Necklace
반지 (ban·ji) - Ring
썬글라스 (ssuhn·geul·la·seu) - Sunglasses”

— SPEAK YOUR STYLE

For budget-conscious accessories, the easiest thing to turn to are fast-fashion websites like Shein and Wish (especially Wish if you want knock-offs of luxury brands), but since the merchandise is often created under morally questionable conditions, I have an alternative. You might be surprised to hear that stores for teen girls, like Claire’s and Ardene, have an awesome accessory selection (with plenty of gender-neutral items) and frequent (if not permanent) BOGO sales, but that is in fact where I get stuff like sunglasses, jewelry, headbands, and hats. Sometimes you can even find cool shoes there.

An interesting similarity between Canadian and Korean fashion culture is our tendency to prefer dressing in layers. Not only do we all know you can come up with much more unique and flattering ensembles when you build it up in layers, but because both countries sit at nearly the same longitude (on opposite sides of the globe) and that means we experience similar weather. If you’re reading this, you may know what it’s like to try dressing for a spring day that’s 10C when you leave for work, 18C on your lunch break, 25C when you head to dinner, and 14C by the time you head home.

Now, if you’ve read through this whole post and thought, “But what if I WANT to wear the cool name-brand stuff?” Like I said earlier, patience is a virtue, and if you exercise yours, you can totally rock some expensive brands for cheap. How? The store Winners is my first go-to; they carry overstock and out-of-season clothes from brand names, and sometimes you can find them marked to less than half the original price. The catch with Winners is that the stock and sizes are completely unpredictable, so it’s advisable to swing by every three or four months to have a better chance of finding something you like in your size. I’ve also come to love the Canadian store One of a Kind (there’s one in downtown Ottawa I’ve visited several times), because every month they pick a limited selection of luxury brand items to put on sale, meaning you can get clothes and shoes from big-name streetwear companies, like Yeezy, Anti Social Social Club, Bape, Off White, Kaws and more, for 20-60% off.

And that’s a maybe-not-so-brief look at Hongdae Style, aka Korean Street Fashion! I hope that some of the suggestions I made above will help save your wallet when you want to dress like a fashion genius strutting the streets of Seoul. I also hope you found today’s post informative and entertaining enough to join me again for the next installment of this series on K-Fashion.

Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum | A review and reflection on Korean horror

At thirty-three years old, I am a recent fan of horror movies. I spent most of my young adulthood feeling like I wouldn’t enjoy being scared, and although some friends did get me in front of the TV for a couple scary movies, I was good at avoiding them for the most part. Then, during the peak of pandemic boredom, I decided it was time to overcome my fear, and thanks to the YouTube channel Dead Meat, I was able to do so. This led to my rabid consumption of every horror movie (the ones that sounded interesting, at least) on the streaming platforms I subscribe to, which in turn led to my fairly quick desensitization to Western-made horror movies.

Enter horror movies from Asian countries. Granted, I knew that Japan had good enough horror to get American remakes (The Ring and The Grudge made a massive impact on the genre when I was young), but I had never actually watched any original Japanese movie before 2022. In the same vein, when I was in my late twenties I became aware of a certain Korean director making waves with a movie called Train to Busan, but I was never really a fan of zombies as a horror device, and of course, I hadn’t yet decided to face my fears back then. Nowadays however, I’m hungry for a movie that will actually frighten me, and when I went hunting for some “best of horror” lists, I discovered a general consensus among fans that some of the best horror movies out there come from Japan and Korea.

Boy is that the truth. The original Ju-on: The Grudge and the film adaptation of Junji Ito’s horror manga Uzumaki were scary in a slow, creeping way that gets under your skin and creates the sensation of true fear— as if you were there with the character —rather than just shoving as much blood and gore in your face as possible; a trend fairly common in Western horror to add lame shock scares to mediocre stories. Now, there were already a couple Korean movies on my list, but as pandemic restrictions lifted and I started being able to get outside again, movie-binging fell by the wayside as I occupied my time with hobbies.

So what brought me back to my list? The answer is simple: being an Honorary Reporter for the Korean Cultural Centre Canada/The Embassy of The Republic of Korea. In my position I’ve been afforded the opportunity to attend (virtually or in person) several Korean movies featured in film festivals across the country, and the more I watched, the more curious I became about the Korean film industry and their cinematic staples. It’s difficult to explain it in words, but Korean movies have a very distinct feeling to them, that’s close to but still completely separate from Japanese films, and when you’ve only seen Western-made movies for your whole life, it’s like opening a door into a whole new world.

Combining my thirst for a good scare and my newfound love of Asian-style horror is what brought me to the movie I’m going to talk about now; a movie that is far and away the scariest thing I have ever watched.

---

Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum

The first thing I thought— after watching about ten minutes of the movie —was how it reminded me of The Blair Witch Project, which of course was a horror movie from 1999 that kicked off over a decade of found-footage-style films ranging from monster action like Cloverfield to long-running franchises like Paranormal Activity. In Gonjiam’s case, the similarities to Blair Witch begin and end with the premise that a group of friends head out to explore a supposedly haunted area and hope to get something supernatural on camera, in order to gain some kind of notoriety. After watching the whole thing, I realized that comparing The Blair Witch Project and Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum is like comparing a bumblebee to a scorpion.

Hajoon, ostensibly the movie’s “main character”, runs a live show called Horror Times on a YouTube-like platform, in which he and his friends explore famous haunted places around the world, and his goal is to break the one million viewer mark with their latest episode. While many other horror attractions they’ve visited capitalize on tourist interest, Gonjiam Asylum is locked and boarded up, the grounds regularly patrolled by police.

The members of the cast are meant to be playing themselves, which lends more credibility to the idea of found footage horror; this “technique” was part of what made The Blair Witch Project’s viral marketing campaign so good, audiences at the time believed those people really died. Gonjiam’s casting directors did a fantastic job, hiring talented but relatively, if not completely unknown actors, who don’t act like actors at all. They are incredibly believable as real people. Although this cast does reflect many of the tropes of a horror movie ensemble, each actor brings their own unique flavor to the role, and somehow make old clichés feel fresh.

Take Charlotte, who at first glance seems to be playing the typical hot girl of the group (because seriously who wears a push-up bra and a plunging neckline to go ghost hunting?); however, as the story unfolds and more disturbing things happen, her many dimensions begin to appear, revealing that she’s in fact intelligent, assertive, knowledgeable about the occult, and nurturing towards her friends, looking out for their comfort above the production of the show. Similarly, Seonghoon appears early-on as the fearless jock type, but as the group loses control of the situation, he loses control of his mental stability, personality changing considerably by the end.

A lot of people shy away from found-footage movies because of the motion sickness effect caused by everything being shown through a handheld camcorder instead of a fancy Hollywood camera on a rig. Fortunately, Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum manages to avoid this pitfall by having their characters wear body-mounted GoPro cameras— one aimed at their face to catch their reactions, and one facing outward to record what they see —so even though there is still movement (especially when they run), most of it is way smoother than older movies working within the same style.

To give you a sense of the impact this movie had on just Korean audiences alone, Gonjiam is now the third most-watched horror film ever in South Korea (following A Tale of Two Sisters and Phone) despite only premiering in March 2018. Thankfully, the lawsuit filed by the previous owner of Gonjiam Asylum, which aimed to prevent the movie’s theatrical release with claims it would have a negative impact on attempts to sell the building, was struck down by a Seoul court. We are all better off when we value art above commercial prospects.

I don’t want to say very much more about the story than I already have, because I believe this movie strikes with full impact when you don’t quite know what you’re getting into. Frankly I’m still not sure I made the right decision to watch this movie alone with all the lights off… Needless to say, I’ve been burning white sage and using nightlights for the past few nights.

For the adventurers out there: sadly, Gonjiam Psychological Hospital was demolished on May 28, 2018, exactly two months after the movie’s release.

If I wanted to define the perfect horror movie, it would have to be this one; you would find it at the very top of my list of favorites now despite the fact that I’ve never been more scared in my whole life. Korean horror is on another level — one that rarely needs excessive gore in order to make your heart stop. Even if you’re not a fan of scary movies, if you’re going to allow yourself one good fright in your life that is definitely worth every nail-biting moment, please watch Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum.

The Art is Alive: an Interview with Yaloo

Multi-disciplinary Korean artist Yaloo visited the Korean Cultural Centre in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada to speak about her work, inspirations, and how evolving technology has changed her life. In the video below she is interviewed by the Ottawa International Animation Festival's Artistic Director Chris Robinson. My apologies for the dim lighting, but it’s worth it to be able to see the artwork clearly!

Even if she wasn’t such an extraordinarily talented visual artist, Yaloo probably still would have captured my heart because she’s so charming and funny (I’m sure you can hear me laughing a bit in the video) and down-to-earth. I didn’t manage to capture the Q&A portion of this presentation (I’m sorry, my arm was tired!) but I can say that she’s also easy to talk to, all bright smiles and patience, which worked out well for me because my question was a little complex (it had to do with haptic VR technology… I won’t bore you here) and she was very sweet when answering.

“Yaloo is known for her theme park-like immersive media installation work, inspired by her daily experiences. She incorporates various media tools such as projection mapping sculptures, screen, VR, sound, media walls, digital animation, digital montage, and digital textiles. Her works explore the ways to maximize a specific part of our ordinary life and transform it into a sensory experience using natural objects like seaweed, mushrooms, flowers, and more.”

— Korean Cultural Centre

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - I am so grateful to the Korean Cultural Centre of Canada for allowing me opportunities to not only broaden my horizons, but meet incredible people with whom I may otherwise have never crossed paths.

To learn more about Yaloo and her digitally living art, visit www.yaloopop.com

Under the Rainbow, Through the Lens; The Lessons to Take from 'Queer My Friends'

Disclaimer: the following blog post contains material that may be considered sensitive or triggering to some readers, including sex, LGBTQ+ discrimination, religious commentary, military enlistment, depression, self-harm, and mention of death.

The analysis/synopsis below also contains spoilers for several of the film’s key beats.

As an Honorary Reporter for the Korean Cultural Centre Canada, I get to find out when cool Korea-related stuff is happening all over the country, and so at the announcement of Queer My Friends showing at the Hot Docs Festival, I nearly leapt out of my chair with excitement.

Not only am I a big proponent of social justice and anti-discrimination laws, but I am also bisexual, which gives me existing insight into the fight for fully equal human rights, for queer people everywhere. I’ve also dedicated a lot of time to learn about Korean history and social culture, therefore, I went into this documentary with a decent amount of knowledge regarding the challenges gay people face in Korea.
Even though Queer My Friends focuses specifically on being a cisgender gay Korean man, there is also a bigger picture painted by the director about the value of human life and the existential dread associated with being a sexual minority, which I outline below. Personally, I consider looking at perspectives outside your own an extremely important part of being a mature person, and therefore I highly recommend watching this doc if you’re straight because you might not even realize some of the things you take for granted every day.

---

In Korea, homosexuality has never been explicitly illegal at any point in history, and consensual sex between two members of the same sex is currently legal; however, gay marriage and civil unions are not recognized as legal partnerships. Fortunately, as of April 2022, in a landmark ruling, it is no longer against the military code to be gay or engage in same-sex fraternization— previously punishable by prison time —as long as sexual congress does not take place on the base. To me, it’s truly wonderful to see a country taking steps towards being more accepting of all lifestyles, no matter how small that step may be.

---

Kang-Won, the longtime best friend of director Seo Ah-Hyun, is the subject and ostensible main character of Queer My Friends. The audience meets him as a friendly young man with the kind of smile that would light up a room, and though Kang-Won experiences a roller coaster of emotions throughout the course of the documentary (which spans over years), there is a certain brave quality that he never loses. Both Ah-Hyun and Kang-Won kept my attention and made good subjects of study because I found them very relatable, both embodying the kinds of daily and existential struggles young adults face.

We do meet the charming best friends in Korea at the start of the documentary, but those were old clips; at the point the director started the project, Kang-Won had already moved overseas.

After moving to the United States, Kang-Won used social media to publicly come out as gay, emboldened by the support of his parents. When Ah-Hyun asks him how he accepts being gay and Christian, he explains God must love all people the way they are made, because he made them that way. Also, he doesn’t believe God busies himself with the kind of petty micromanaging of humanity required to disapprove of homosexual relationships. Between this realization and the continuing love of his parents, it seemed like nothing could make him regret the decision to come out.

It’s incredible, the kind of confidence accessed when one is accepted and loved by those closest to them, allowing them to feel like they can face anything the world throws at them. For Kang-Won, this support seemed to be all he needed to flourish in the USA: he voluntarily gave up his Korean citizenship (becoming an American citizen instead) to join the United States Armed Services, where he was valued, praised, and promoted all the way to Sergeant. It should have been a proud time for the young man, but things in life are rarely so simple.

Many queer people around the world feel trapped somewhere between their personal identity and the expectations of their family, country, or religion. Kang-Won is no exception to this struggle.

---

As of November 2020, reports from Hankook Research show approximately 28% of the Korean population is Christian (Protestants account for 20%, while just 8% are Catholic). It’s likely that if you’ve heard North American Christians speak on the topic of homosexuality, you’d be able to guess how Korean Christians feel about it, with the added complication that traditional Korean culture tends to lean towards the more modest side of things.

---

For many families who observe this religion, the general expectation is that sons and daughters will grow up to marry someone of the opposite sex, have children, and continue the family lineage the way their parents did before them. Sadly, as in many cultures worldwide, the overbearing pressure to wed and procreate can have significant negative effects on the mental health of today’s young adults. Ah-Hyun addresses this in the film when she attends her younger brother’s Christian wedding and, in her own words, is made to feel like a loser for being over thirty without a spouse.

The bitter irony is that even though straight men and women may be uncomfortable with the harsh pressure to get married, they take for granted the fact that they can even get married at all. In an emotional video call between Kang-Won and Ah-Hyun, the young man curls in on himself as he describes being crushed by the fear that God, the most reliable and benevolent force in his life, will at some point abandon him for being gay.

Spurred on by her best friend’s existentially-motivated fear, Ah-Hyun uses the time Kang-Won was abroad to attend the regular gay rights protests in Seoul; her focus, however, is mainly on the Christian counter-protesters, who shout Bible verses and words of condemnation at those seeking equal treatment and protection from discrimination. Raised in a strict Christian household, and actively hiding the creation of Queer My Friends from very traditional Christian parents, Ah-Hyun asks a powerful question as she observes the two conflicting protests: what side of this would I be on, if I didn’t have a gay friend?

Where might you stand, in her place?

After being reassigned to Germany, Kang-Won’s mood seemed to shift for the better, at least temporarily. In another video call, he explained he felt there was more to him than just being gay, and that he didn’t want his sexual identity to become his entire identity. 

This is something many queer people end up enduring or falling back on, especially in less-than-accepting societies; feeling reduced to a single trait because that is the trait with which their non-LGBTQ+ community judges them.

While Kang-Won finishes his assignment in Germany, Ah-Hyun documents how she’s going through what is one of the most relatable situations for young adults these days: stuck living at home, with a pile of student debt, and no job due to employment scarcity. The scenes are hard to watch, particularly for anyone who has gone through a stretch of helplessness and hopelessness in their life.

Despite appearing better when he was first reassigned, after a year or so, Kang-Won sends his best friend a hand-written letter, explaining how he’s constantly haunted by the thought that he’ll never find true happiness, or love, calling them “impossible”, because of his sexual orientation. Breaking my heart, at the end of the letter he says he wants to die— a very common passive desire among non-cis, non-straight people —instead of living this life where he is denied the basic happiness that’s just a given for straight people.

Honestly, it’s somewhat strikingly bizarre that none of us really think about the things we take for granted until we’re made aware that someone else doesn’t have the same privileges we do.

I realize this post has been pretty heavy, so if you’re on the cusp of crying or even just feeling blue, it might be best to step away and come back later to finish, because there are more heavy topics to come.

Now, I’m no stranger to being judged for having a mental illness— including once being fired from a full-time job because of it —so when Kang-Won admits that he’s been diagnosed with depression and that he was discharged early from the army as a result, I was moved to tears, filled with empathy for the lost soul he’d now become without the career he’d spent his entire adult life building.

Ah-Hyun is forced to chase her friend to New York, the place he runs to after leaving the military, and when she finally visits in person, it is extremely clear that Kang-Won is a shell of the person he used to be. Even though he chose to immerse himself in dance and performance art while living in the city that never sleeps, he admits that his depression has worsened, and more importantly, that nothing external was causing this lengthy stretch of sadness; it was his own internal self-loathing and fear consuming him, making him continually question his very existence.

---

Important note: while it’s normal for all of us to feel sad, sometimes longer than we’d like, when someone is diagnosed with depression it affects every single aspect of their life, from being unable to get out of bed to idealizing self-harm. If you or someone you know is struggling with serious depression, call 1-866-296-1697 or, if someone is in danger, 1-833-456-4566.

---

For Kang-Won, healing from the ongoing darkness began with going home to Korea. A familiar place and language, familiar faces and food, seemed to be exactly what he needed, and sure enough, after some time, we get to see that sweet heart-stopping smile again.

So, back in Korea and starting to feel comfortable in his own skin again, Kang-Won developed a fascination with drag performers. Since the skills required to be a drag queen are fairly complementary to the dancing (in heels!) he practiced and performed in the States, the audience gets the absolutely delightful pleasure of witnessing a man get into drag for the very first time, doing his own makeup and everything.

Experimenting with drag takes bravery at the best of times in much more liberal countries; doing it in a place where such things are largely seen as unacceptable is basically unfathomable to me.

Our protagonist is initially excited and eager to step into Seoul’s surprisingly prominent drag scene, and exclaims for the camera that part of his motivation to try drag is to challenge the stereotypes of what masculinity is, and how it’s represented.

This sentiment is something I wish would resonate worldwide, since every country and culture has different ideas of what “masculine” and “feminine” look like; moreover, as someone who identifies as nonbinary, I believe the way our society has gendered things like clothing, shoes, makeup, and accessories is harmful and totally needless. In my opinion, anyone should be able to wear anything they want without being mocked, questioned, or attacked.

Going back to Kang-Won, his bravery increases tenfold when he talks openly, candidly, about taking antidepressants and other medications for his mental health. Ah-Hyun seems to be in favour of getting away from pills, which I interpreted as a kneejerk reaction from someone raised in a world where, until recently, people who took pills for something happening in their head were considered crazy or unstable.

---

Korea has historically allotted fairly little public money towards mental healthcare; while the Mental Health Act was passed in 1995, by 2005 there was actually no money in the federal budget for treating mental illness. Thankfully, with greater understanding and more progressive politicians, as of 2020 the budget has increased to 301B W (South Korean Won). Countries all over the world need to increase their focus on ensuring the mental stability of their people, and I feel proud that Korea is among those who are moving in a direction to do so.

---

By this point, I’d been hoping the story of Kang-Won’s journey would start going in a more positive direction, for both his sake and Ah-Hyun's too, but sometimes life just really piles the bad stuff on.

Some context: since Korea is at war (a ceasefire is currently in place, but the war is active nonetheless), all male citizens must enlist, do basic training, and complete their assigned term in the military— typically a little less than two years —after age eighteen, and before age thirty.

Because he’d moved to the United States during university, then gave up his Korean citizenship and began working in the US military right away, Kang-Won never ended up serving his time in the Korean military. Without his citizenship or military service complete, Kang-Won was denied a work visa, and therefore the ability to work legally in Korea.

Falling back into depression is as easy as breathing for someone mentally ill, and can come around faster than a blink of an eye. In a vain attempt to distract himself from the ceaseless self-hatred, Kang-Won auditioned, and actually succeeded in securing a spot on the stage, for the Seoul Queer Festival… but on the big day, the young man was nowhere to be found, and never showed up in the community again.

In what was potentially the most emotional and heart-wrenching clip in the entire documentary, we witness Kang-Won finally snap, exploding with frustration and guilt over Ah-Hyun's constant attention; her neverending presence and pestering in his life every day, even when he’d rather be alone. Watching the conversation between them is really the only way to understand the full impact: when you hear Kang-Won’s voice break, when you see the agony in Ah-Hyun's eyes. Even when she tries to explain that working on this project saved her life which was otherwise empty, her best friend is forced, between sobs, to admit the agony she’s inadvertently causing him by caring about him so much.

Kang-Won feels torn between two terrible circumstances: if he accepts her kindness and allows her to help him, he feels weak and stupid, unable to manage his own life. If he rejects her and keeps withdrawing from their friendship, not only will he hurt Ah-Hyun more than he already has, but he’ll still end up feeling helpless and lost. When Korean society expects a man to be independent, intelligent, mature, and goal-oriented— never to be seen asking anyone for their kindness or assistance —Kang-Won feels forced to confront the gender-based expectations being thrust upon him. The feeling of alienation he had before is now amplified tenfold while he wrestles with the question, does any of this make him less of a man?

Ah-Hyun went into making this film with the most honorable of intentions: she wanted to make something that she could share with the world, to help them understand what life is really like for a gay Korean man. Moreover, she put most of her focus on trying to frame Kang-Won as a hero of the story; so much focus, in fact, that she missed how much pain he was in… how scared he felt over his unstable existence every day.

Honestly, I wish I could tell you that everything miraculously turned around for the precious and fragile young man we have, through this movie, been following for years. However, it’s probably obvious by now that Kang-Won’s life is still difficult.

As our director helps him pack up his modest home, Kang-Won speaks in a soft but strained voice, explaining that he has no choice but to leave Korea; a place where he can never truly be himself. To add insult to injury, he no longer even feels he can call himself Korean because his lack of military service makes him “reprehensible” in society’s eyes. With nothing left for him in his homeland, Kang-Won moves back to the United States, where he at least has citizenship.

An epilogue-like narration by Ah-Hyun, recorded over beautiful sprawling shots of Korean neighborhoods, reveals that the documentary had more or less been set aside after the confrontation, potentially to remain unfinished forever.

Luckily for her, me, and everyone else who watches this incredible film, the young woman discovers a book once gifted to her by Kang-Won: the autobiography of a filmmaker. Driven forward by the notion that she wasn’t alone, that someone had walked the steps before her, Ah-Hyun finished her project, and we all got to watch Kang-Won’s story, through Queer My Friends.

If you’re unable to get your hands on a copy of this film (and please don’t pirate stuff like this, you should support independent artists with money they rightly deserve), I hope my not-so-brief synopsis and analysis have taught you something new today, and might encourage you to take action in the future.

Thank you so much for reading.

Mortality and Morality: A Review of SEOBOK Project Clone

If you’re not already familiar with the K-Cinema program offered by the Korean Cultural Centre Canada, then you should definitely get on board, because it’s through this program that I’ve managed to see a few awesome Korean movies I may never have stumbled upon otherwise - and it’s free! At the top of the list has got to be the most recent film offered: SEOBOK Project Clone. With a phenomenal dystopian-esque premise blended perfectly with sci-fi and fantasy elements, this was more than a movie; it was an entire cinematic experience.

The review below is spoiler-free!

“All men die anyway. Why should you get to live?”

What truly defines a human life? Are we created with a purpose, or are we predestined to fulfill a specific role in the world? Will we conquer our fear of death? Can we ever escape the past, or will it forever haunt us? And what exactly does “forever” mean anyway? These are pretty big questions; to tackle just one could fill an entire movie. SEOBOK Project Clone approaches all these philosophical queries at once, delivering not just an engaging, entertaining, emotional story, but also an unexpectedly deep and introspective look at what makes us human.

Min Gi-heon (Gong Yoo; Squid Game, Train to Busan) is down on his luck, jobless and clearly addicted to an unspecified drug, haunted by strange hallucinations of rising water and drowning. Forced to take on a mysterious mission from the powerful men who have leverage over him, Gi-heon finds himself responsible for protecting a valuable specimen— the result of extensive research and state-of-the-art bioengineering —from falling into the wrong hands. This “specimen” is actually Seo Bok (Park Bo-gum; Love in the Moonlight, Hello Monster), a genetically perfected being who cannot die of natural causes and displays advanced telekinetic abilities. Because he was created using stem cells and did not have a natural birth, his makers disqualify him from being recognized as a human, instead referring to him as the key to immortality. After an attack sends everyone in the laboratory on the run, Gi-heon grapples with Seo Bok’s ethically questionable existence, even though it might mean his own demise. Unwilling partners and mutually irritated at first, the two fugitives learn to appreciate each other and work together, evading both Korean and American mercenaries sent after them with only one order: to kill on sight. In a world where the line between life and death is drawn so thin… in a world where humans may stare down their fear of death and look beyond into a hypothetical forever… in a world where certain values are attributed to different forms of life… Gi-heon tries desperately to make up for the sins of his past by protecting the precious experiment who will represent humanity’s salvation - or total destruction.

“Emperor Qin sent off his servant to search for the elixir of immortality 2500 years ago. That servant represents humanity’s desire to overcome death. Seobok was named after him. Seobok is an undying being.”

SEOBOK Project Clone achieves so much in its modest 114 minute runtime. The unsettling effect of being thrust into this grim, dark, potentially-near-future setting grips you immediately; creepy music rolls in and out of the earliest scenes but never overplays its hand, layered over panning shots of uncomfortably sterile medical labs and the cold, grey concrete of a harbor. These opening shots also happen to cleverly foreshadow Gi-heon’s recurring nightmares of drowning by consistently including the body of water after each cut back to the outdoors. 

Much of the movie lives in the space of contrast. Seobok seems unquestionably powerful and lives in a highly controlled clean space, while Gi-heon comes across as weak (at first), his dirty clothes and disheveled appearance an impression of his fractured, chaotic life. Shadows, harsh fluorescent lights, reflections in windows, dim bulbs, highbeams, sunrises, and the blackness of night are played off the story’s important beats to construct expertly-filmed scenes with a perfect mix of dramatic close-ups and wide establishing shots. Using an interesting combination of blue light and subtle focus adjustments to create a dreamlike quality, director Lee Yong-ju places the audience right into a mirror of his protagonist’s dilemma: yes, it all looks like a beautiful future from where we’re standing, so why can’t we shake the feeling that something is wrong?

“Humans are the only species that are aware of their own inevitable mortality, and are afraid of it. That very fear of knowing that life someday will end is what makes them pursue a meaning in life. However, if life does not end, people will lose that human element. And what will be left will be nothing but greed and desire. Immortality will produce unsatisfiable desires and continuous conflicts. Paradoxically, death is the fundamental element holding life together. In other words… If people become immortal, mankind will lead itself to extinction.”

Bo-gum totally knocks it out of the Park (get it?) as the titular Seo Bok, demonstrating his acting versatility once again in a role that begins as cold, unfeeling, and irreverent, but slowly evolves to show a full spectrum of emotion as the character runs up against a variety of situations he’s never faced before. From his intense facial expressions to his “living doll” body language, the famous-for-scene-stealing actor delivers a performance so convincing it would be easy to forget Park Bo-gum is under that awkward haircut. And although a handsome face does not necessarily a good actor make, if someone can manage to look attractive even when they’re vomiting blood, they’re probably worth keeping an eye on in the future.

While the title character does indeed make a lasting impression, this should not at all undercut the talent, passion, and acting skill of the more seasoned Gong Yoo, who brings Min Gi-heon to life in a way that is both heart-wrenching and relatable. As his character is tormented by morally vacant decisions past and present, Gong Yoo portrays the very epitome of a man slowly coming undone, but who also desperately wants to set things right. Gi-heun— somewhat an audience surrogate —expresses for us the confusion and agony of grappling with philosophical questions that feel impossible to answer. An absolute gem of the silver screen, it would be well deserved if this compelling actor saw even more job offers pouring in after this role.

“It scares me to think of dying. However… living forever is scary too.”

If you’re looking for a movie that will leave you thinking long after the credits are done, then you need to add SEOBOK Project Clone to your watchlist. With a story and characters who keep you guessing from beginning to end, plus a nearly flawless merger of the sci-fi, drama, fantasy, and action genres, this Korean hit has certainly earned its acclaim and high approval ratings. Even those who may typically edge away from subtitled movies should give SEOBOK Project Clone a chance. You won’t regret it.

SEOBOK Project Clone is produced and distributed by CJ Entertainment.
Available to watch ($) on Viki, YouTube, Google Play, and Apple TV.

Aloners: Q&A with director Hong Sung-eun

Look! I promised to deliver a follow-up to my last post and I’m delivering! (If you knew how much trouble I have focusing on things you would probably appreciate my excitement more. Anyway!)

On Friday, March 18, I logged into Zoom, eager to finally be in focus on video calls thanks to my (much-needed) new webcam. Normally I reserve my Friday nights for a weekly trip to my friend’s place where we binge Survivor and Ru Paul’s Drag Race, but this Friday night I was more interested in sitting at my computer for an online Q&A panel with Hong Sung-eun, writer and director of Aloners, or 혼자 사는 사람들. After putting so much thought into the decisions she made throughout the film, I was really hoping to have some of my theories confirmed.

Isn’t she so cute? I want to put her in my pocket.

The pictures of Hong Sung-eun on Google do not do this lovely young woman justice. With bright eyes, a sweet smile, and the kind of soft voice that would make for a great audiobook narrator, Sung-eun was both charming and genuine as she answered our questions. She wore a bright knit sweater against an empty wall, speaking in an animated way about her debut feature-length film. Although I don’t speak Korean I could sense her intelligence in every word, and obviously as a fellow creative I could feel the rise in energy every time she started explaining something that had clearly made her proud. Needless to say I was captivated, and armed with a new notebook and a cyan fine-tip pen, I had a great time.

Before getting to the audience Q&A portion of the talk, the moderator asked our talented guest to speak a little about what inspired the film.

Hong Sung-eun explained that when someone lives alone, they typically face conflicting feelings about it. Yes, it can be liberating and relaxing; unfortunately it can also be lonely and isolating. It’s this sense of inner turmoil that Sung-eun wanted to express throughout the film, not only to examine the dichotomy of human desires but because she felt that audiences would relate to Jina as she tries to navigate her own version of these feelings.

Since Korea is, traditionally, a very community-oriented country where families (and sometimes mixed families) live together, the growing trend of young adults in their twenties and thirties who are striking out to live alone is a fascinating social evolution that’s been further and more quickly developing in recent years. Older generations may still find this whole lifestyle uncomfortable and empty; however, with each passing year more and more people are accepting the benefits of a home completely your own.

In keeping with the premise of being isolated from the rest of the world, a key aspect to Aloners is the fact that the audience only hears, sees, and feels the things that Jina does for the course of the entire movie. At the beginning, the camera focuses mostly on our main character’s poker face, her phone screen— reflecting the way Jina keeps her eyes affixed to the device —or her work computer. The brilliant sound engineering works to amplify this effect, turning up the volume on what’s coming through her headphones and lowering the volume of the street noise and people around her. Voices are muffled and distant until the audience sees her remove the earbuds. Hong Sung-eun explained she used this technique to explore how, even though the world around Jina isn’t actually changing, when she begins to acknowledge changes within herself around the film’s halfway mark, the world seems frightening and unfamiliar to her. Due to her previous inability (or perhaps refusal) to recognize there is in fact a living, breathing, noisy, and colorful city in which she exists, when she actually starts to come out of her waking coma, everything is overwhelming.

Thank you so much for translating!

After this gripping recounting of her thought processes and creative decisions during the making of the film, Sung-eun graciously accepted to spend the next hour answering questions that we, the audience, typed into the chat box so our wonderful translator from the Korean Cultural Centre Canada could relay them to the young woman speaking to us from half a world away.

The first question regarded the significance of the noodle shop where Jina eats the same dish for lunch every day. I actually regretted that I hadn’t noticed the deliberate use of the setting.

If you’ve seen Aloners, it would be very obvious once pointed out that the noodle shop is set up in a way to make it comfortable for people to eat alone. There are no tables, only single stools along what’s effectively a bar, so it wouldn’t be very welcoming for groups, or even just two people, as we see in the scene there with Sujin. Hong Sung-eun, in her lovely soft voice, explained that these types of restaurants do exist for real in Korea, and are actually so much geared towards people who want to eat alone, if you came with some friends and started talking too much, they would ask you to leave. Now, not only does the solitary nature of the noodle shop reflect Jina’s desire to be alone all the time, but the dish she eats there every day has a significance too: in a country full of colorful, flavorful food with infinite combinations, the main character chooses to eat the same bland dish every single day because she isn’t paying enough attention to notice, or care, what she was eating or that it was the same thing over and over. Trapped within the moment in time when her mom died, Jina goes through her life on autopilot, eating only because it’s part of her routine; the endless cycle of reliving the same day without the ability to move on.

On that note, Sung-eun clarified for us what ultimately kept Jina caged within her own mind was that she never properly learned how to say goodbye, and therefore couldn’t let go of anything.

Those of you who read my last blog post probably correctly guessed that I was brimming with questions for the writer/director who shares my birth year, but time flies when you’re having fun and I wanted everyone else to have a fair chance at satisfying their curiosities too. An hour might sound like a long Q&A but honestly it seemed short once we got to the end! The point is, I only ended up asking two questions.

I don’t think I mentioned this in my interpretive analysis (because it was already insanely long) but there was one particular scene that stood out to me, that stayed burned in my mind like the lingering image on an old computer screen. Near what is arguably the film’s climax, Jina has an altercation with her father over the phone right outside his house, and after they hang up, she breaks down crying in the street right next to where the trash has been put out. The shot of Jina curling up into a ball right next to the bags of garbage is powerful; even more so when she stays there for hours, if not all night. I couldn’t get that shot out of my mind. I needed to know what it represented, and so I asked exactly that.

Sung-eun is so charming when she explains things, I could listen to her talk all day.

First, Hong Sung-eun pointed out this moment as the first time that Jina actually acknowledges her mom’s death, having spent the entire movie unable and/or unwilling to change the number in her phone from “엄마” (mom) to “아버지” (father). Her extended breakdown is simply a result of the fragile walls she’d built around herself shattering to reveal reality. Second, the fresh-faced director revealed that the heart-wrenching climactic moment was in fact foreshadowed early in the film: the first time Jina goes to see her father to sign the legal paperwork, she walks past the same sidewalk where the trash is out. If you pay close attention, you can see there is an old framed photo of a mother and daughter along with some other tattered furniture among the trash bags, and if you pay really close attention, you’ll notice the location of the photo is almost exactly the same place where Jina later falls down sobbing. Now THAT is some awesome symbolism.

My other question was really just asking for a confirmation of my interpretation on how she used color theory to express emotions in the movie. And the answer was mostly yes! Okay, so in some places I read a little too much into things because I love to find meaning in everything, but overall Sung-eun did confirm that at the beginning she intentionally used cold, dead colors with low saturation to show the hopeless and repetitive rut Jina faced every day. By the end of the movie she chose to put Jina in bright colors to establish without question that the character had indeed accepted her life and changed. Also, apparently blue tones can be used to create a surreal feeling on film, and Sung-eun used this technique for all the scenes in the outer hall.

Someone else asked what kind of projects this budding director would look to accomplish in the future, but— ever modest and humble —she replied that since she was so fresh out of film school, she couldn’t speak to her goals just yet. On the plus side she did tell us we may see a science-fiction film in the near future!

Thank you everyone involved!

To wrap up this (once again) much too long blog post, I just have to say that it was absolutely adorable when one of the questions brought up the many festivals, awards, and critical acclaim the film has received, making Hong Sung-eun giggle and fluster. She of course tried to brush off the compliments, and expressed her sincere gratitude for all the opportunities she’s received recently, but I’ll certainly remember that cute smile, and hope to see it again when she wins more awards.

Once again, a huge thank you to the International Film Festival of Ottawa (IFFO) and the Korean Cultural Centre Canada for making this special event possible, and an extra gigantic thank you to the young woman who translated the panel for us (this is especially embarrassing because I know I know her name, but I have a horrible memory for everything except song lyrics, so I hope she’ll forgive me this time). Maybe one day Hong Sung-eun will even visit Ottawa for a film festival! Until then I’ll keep attending the events put on by the KCC and the Embassy of the Republic of Korea.