Korea Report

"With my audition over, I now have time to meet with old friends and see some sights" - and now it's been a month since I first wrote that.


The following isn't anything you blogstars haven't read before, but I too, am lazy and a procrastinator, thus leaving weeks between entries. The only difference here is that I won't apologize for it. I mean, why would I want a bunch of nerds reading stuff I'm not totally happy with? I'm doing this to impress you guys, get some phone numbers, maybe even set up a super coincidental celebrity encounter at a bar:

"You're that Ed guy with the blog? The one with the black background and run-on sentences? Buy me a drink and then take me home for some sweaty, spinning rotisserie chicken."


So, Korea. This was my third [or fourth] visit to the motherland (my memory is worse than the abandoned Iomega Zip Disk - I am having a difficult time absorbing my experience there, and I fear that words will not do justice in thoroughly communicating how my visit affected me. As a fan and promoter of clichés, I will go ahead and declare that I felt a true connection to the country. This has been the difficult aspect of my trip to put words to since my interpersonal encounters there were few and my Korean language skills are barely conversational. At the moment, I am left with the fact that this was the first time I felt like I [to some extent] looked like everyone else and just blended into the community. Growing up in the Midwest, I was the less "exotic" and more "different looking" kid who was good at math and obedient to his parents.


The classical music scene in Korea is highly competitive. I spoke to another trumpet player from France who currently holds the principal trumpet position of an orchestra in Taiwan. He told me that orchestras in Korea were supposedly the best in Asia due to the amount of money the country puts into the arts along with the number of Korean Juilliard graduates who return to the mothership. I also found out (from a different source) that the Shinsegae Orchestra (the best orchestra in Korea, formerly the KBS Orchestra) hold auditions every year for every position. EVERY YEAR! So there is no tenure or job security. There is also no such thing as a 60 or 70 year old violinist who looks comatose and is barely keeping up with the rest of the orchestra. Or an 80 year old trumpet player who held onto his job 30 years too long (53 years total) and missed one too many notes for my taste yet held onto the love and respect of trumpet players all around the world.


My audition was fine. I've realized that when I put the horn to my face, I will either play like I usually play, or I won't. This puts all or most of my performance outcome on my preparation and not on superstitions, human error, or Jesus. I think this also leaves open the fact that I can play extremely well, and it will not be "normal." So, I played like I usually play - the rest was up to the audition committee, and was out of my hands. I didn't pass into the next round.




This left me the rest of the trip to explore and eat. I ate about 5-6 meals per day and gained 11lbs. over the ten days of my stay. I found it very interesting how cheap the food was and how abundant food stands and restaurants are. I counted on the bus ride to the subway 24 food joints on one 1/8 mile block. Delicious.



I should preface that not everything in Korea is cheap. My mom was meeting with old friends from medical school and they all brought gifts and took us out to eat. They would take us to hotels or really high end restaurants serving non-Korean food. Gross. They paid $80 a head for a buffet at the Hilton by Namsan Tower. Cauliflower au gratin? Penne with tomato sauce? Needless to say, I went out again to eat [twice] after that dinner.


Korean gift giving is atrocious. Would you ever give an old friend [from high school] a $10,000 Swarovski diamond necklace? Or your high school friend's son a dress shirt or watch worth more than the clothes on his back (minus my jeans - my PBJs with age and my thigh imprints worth more than your car!)? And then would you take them out to a shitty Chinese restaurant (IN KOREA) that costs more than what I spend on food in two months? We were spoiled, no kidding, but I was still unhappy with it. Anyway, if you ever go to Korea, stick to Korean food and stay away from department stores - it's just not worth it [I say, as I rub the soreness this gold watch is placing on my supple wrist].




The coffee in Korea is much better now - Nescafe and instant "powder" coffee is out and extremely expensive coffee is in. I paid $12 for a fresh ground, personal drip coffee and it was good. Above is a roaster/cafe called Coffee Happy just outside of Seoul. The owner did his barista training in Japan and is all about the flannel drip coffee (pictured below).





So I'll end with a short list of what you should do if you ever make a visit to Korea with a snappy title.


"Things that all proper men should do when visiting Korea."

1. If you wear glasses, change up your lens or just buy another pair. With an Rx like mine, lenses in the U.S. cost me over $300 - after 2 years worth of scratches, I had them replaced in Myungdong for $40 - equal quality, if not better (i.e. thinner and less like coke bottles)

2. Buy a suit. Custom suits will cost no more than $500 (just stay away from department stores, where the prices are ridiculously expensive) and an off-rack is around $200. You shouldn't worry about looking square like most Chinese suits, these fits are so modern you could wear them in space

3. Repair your shoes - and don't pay more than $10.

4. Get some gnarley electronics in Yangson - most things can be bargained down to 30% cheaper than the best price you can find online.

5. Eat (and drink) a lot, for crazy cheap.



In other news, I just quit my job, like an hour ago.

whale watching is far superior to bird watching

Hawaii is nice. I'm sitting here on the patio of our ocean side condo, trying to decide if I prefer the Pacific Ocean over the Atlantic. It's taken me a few years to actually appreciate the ocean - I guess I'm more of a super serene, super quiet mountain guy (think Aspen or Banff without the rich folk and the colored people serving them). I guess Hawaii has the best of both since it is a group of submerged volcanoes, but I think it's safe to say that most people here spend more time on the beach than they do in the volcano.


So I'm out here with my girlfriend's family (minus a few key members) on Maui, making the most of the weather, and enjoying the escape from the Midwestern snow and suck. I'm supposed to do a whole post on her, something like a "Celebration of Liz," but I'm afraid it will:
1) piss off the tens of tens (opposed to white people's tens of thousands current readers) - minus one
2) deter potential subscribers to this fine online publication
3) never be good enough - in other words, incomplete and insufficient - to one particular reader's expectations


So, I'll drop a blurb about our wild and unique relationship. Unlike most couples, we never fight or argue. Also, we spend our weekends at the zoo, mimicking the apes by picking the bugs out of our mate's hair and then eating them. I'm not trying to boast or show you that my relationship is better than yours, but, in fact, it is.


We've been dating for about five years (not really sure, but she isn't either, which makes it ok), will potentially get married in another five (if I'm still alive and if she has a new attraction to diabetics), and will give our kids up for adoption and use the money to adopt children from another country. Hopefully this kid will be able to speak in his/her native tongue so I can learn new languages; perhaps a child from France or Uzbekistan, and most definitely two or three Himalayan Whistle children.


Many young couples see themselves with their mates traveling the world, growing old, and then residing in a location similar to where I am now. Not us. I see myself at age seventy-three, rushing through my tasks at the café and punching out early, racing home in my dad's car but feeling clever about having already packed the suitcase, picking Liz up from our three bedroom apartment (pre-furnished), driving down to Chicago, and meeting our serial killer son for a taping of Jerry Springer with his Polynesian girlfriend and our Afro-Asian-American grandson...and their Kenyan babysitter.



So, stop pitying yourself if you see your future being dismal or incomplete - start setting goals like we have and you'll be bound for potential or partial happiness. Stop being a Charlie Brown and put on a "Joan Rivers" face.


In other news, I'm trekking to Korea two short days after my return from Hawaii - going to eat some food, see some fam, take an audition, and then swallow and eat more food. I'd like to focus my next post on classical music, and how to get you all interested. It would help if you could leave a comment about why you feel it's difficult to find an interest, or even access classical music.

respek.

the best part of waking up....

Ahh, raise your hand if you've had bad coffee. Keep your arm raised if you're consuming bad coffee at this moment.


Now put your arm down and dump out that coffee, dummy.


Remember the time when the good cartoons were broadcast on Saturday mornings? A time when Barney hadn't yet been brought back from extinction. Looney Tunes, Tom & Jerry, even Garfield. A time when it was acceptable for cartoon characters to emote through actions and not dialogue; classical music created the mood for each scene, followed by a long break; then Bugz dropped the funny. Remember that?


During this time, ground coffee commercials were run back-to-back: Folgers, Maxwell House, and Taster's Choice, among other Nescafé products. Large tin cans holding dry (i.e. oil-less), off-brown (but with an artificial sheen) coffee; it was usually odor-free until steeped with hot water.


Remember how the white male, wearing a Hanes white undershirt, slept in while his high school sweetheart housewife snuck out of bed to make coffee? She would take the tin can from their white, all-American kitchen cupboard and scoop a little dirty, brown callus rubbed off of someone's toe into the 1/8 cup measure and then place it in a filter. Of course, this is when the brown haired, ivy-league, cut male arose and took a deep breath of _________ and go downstairs for some coffee. Actually, I'll fill in the blank for you: loose stool.


Now, there is a clear exception to this, which is somewhat of a mystery to me. Diners. Especially greasy diners. Now, I have no idea what kind of coffee they use, and I admit that it isn't always good by itself - but after a late night of drinking [caffeinated soda while studying the Old Testament], it tastes great with some greasy eggs, bangers, and hash. Please take note - this does not weaken my original argument.


So, where does this leave us? McDonalds? Starbucks?


No.


As a barista and coffee "nancy," I ask you not to take your business to Starbucks. If you like your coffee hot and fast, then please go to McDonalds or "push-button" Starbucks. If you drink coffee, espresso, and espresso drinks for the actual flavors, I ask you to try to visit a real, usually local, café.


Now, I can't guarantee that this coffee is going to be exceptional; actually, it could end up being quite bad. If you want to find great coffee, find it here. I admit, the site isn't fully updated, but hopefully with more clicks and some time, it can become an actual resource to find good coffee.


If you find yourself in Wisconsin, I would check out Alterra or Café Soleil. A Madison (WI) standout is Bradburys, using beans from Viroqua, WI - all local and delicious. New York is proudly home to great cafés like Ninth Street Espresso and Café Grumpy while Brooklyn represents Gorilla Coffee and Gimme Coffe, to name a few. Intelligentsia is a shop with locations in L.A. and Chicago and offers an explosion of flavor - their Blackcat espresso is butters.


So, take a little time and effort to find the best cup for you. If you're afraid of a straight ristretto doppio (a double espresso - notice how I spell "espresso" - that is the way it should also be pronounced, not like an idiot-coward "exprexxo"), you shouldn't be. But if you're not convinced, try a macchiato - probably the best drink on this planet, when made correctly.


To all the café owners reading this: Please train your baristas. Also:
1) Start pulling standard ristrettos
2) Toss the Rancilio and purchase a Syneso or La Marzocco
3) Consider a triple-basket portafilter (without spouts)
4) Keep your artificial flavor list at Cocoa - customers who drink Vanilla-Carmel-Strawberry Lattes don't tip
5) No Half-caf - and once your shop is making some serious money - no decaf


Oh, if you want to act a fool and skip doing the dishes, check out this tomfoolery.


So give that 5-year old, unopened tin can of Folgers to the food pantry and visit your local café - if it's not good, then do some research and next time you're in a major city or a coffee city (Seattle or Portland), give it another shot. Also, even if your drink is bad, you should remember to tip your barista. And if your drink is good, you should get another one and tip more.


In conclusion,

TIP YOUR BARISTA.

i'm a musician. no, i'm not in a band...

6am flight to Baltimore. Ok. So my chauffeur-girlfriend can drop me off at the airport and hopefully pick me up when I return. Flight: $384. Thanks, Orbitz.


Do I know anybody in Baltimore? Of course not. Well, I do have a 12 year old cousin who's going to boarding school out there who I haven't spoken to in about, 11 years. I wonder if an all-girls boarding school would be cool with a 23 y/o male sleeping on the floor in the student dorm. From what I remember, my cousin could be a boy - I'm the worst when it comes to gender recognition for children under the age of 13. That's why most people I meet with kids probably think that I am totally uninterested in their child because I don't say anything beyond "oh, a baby." Notice, I don't ask "how old is she?" or "what's her name?" - I couldn't stand the awkwardness awaiting "oh, HE'S actually a BOY and HIS name is Elroy, which is a BOY'S name."


Ok, so roughly $90/night at A Downtown Hotel which is four blocks from Symphony Hall. At least I'm saving money on transportation. So, my two nights of restless sleep thanks to the procreating neighbors: $200.


Food? Well, so far I'm spending close to $600 so I probably shouldn't eat. But seriously - three days and two nights? Maybe $4 for an overpriced box of cereal and $3 for an overpriced bottle of water which will see tap water refills and then an airport interrogation room recycling basket after I unknowingly leave it in my trumpet case at airport security and miss my flight.


Now I have to consider the audition list. Fifteen excerpts given, five of which will be heard in the first round. Beethoven's Leonore No. 2 is first, then Mussorgsky's opening "Promenade" from Pictures at an Exhibition. Not bad. In fact, I know and have practiced all of the excerpts on the list - I could probably play most from memory. But that's not what should be in consideration - it's whether or not I can play them perfectly, at one shot, at any time of day, in the worst conditions possible, and under all the pressures of an audition. And I have one month to prepare.


Now comes the preparation logistics by numbers. So, practicing 8 hours/day for at least 6 days of the week leaves me one or two 6-7 hour shifts at the cafe and my regular studio teaching schedule. I could probably end up ahead $700 for the month. $200 after I pay rent - if I don't eat and ride my bike out to rehearsals at UW-Whitewater.


So, should I take the audition?


Probably not. Here's why:



Girlfriend drops me off at the Airport. I arrive around 9am and my luggage is lost. No worries, I wore my suit so I didn't have to fold it and carried my trumpets onboard. I go to the hotel to check in and warm up. I arrive at Symphony Hall an hour before my audition time, take "Trumpet #39" card and find 45 other trumpet players warming up, playing through the excerpts as loud and fast as possible - some are even having unofficial range contests. No sweat, only suckers let this get to their nerves.


I walk into the audition. The hall is completely dim except for the stage. Multiple carpets lead to the music stand at the front of the stage with music set up, out of order. The lights are hot. The audition proctor shouts, "Auditionee Number Thirty-Nine!" and whispers to me, "whenever you're ready" and then goes back to reading her book. I flip through the music and find Beethoven's Leonore #2. The lights are so hot.


Already sweating, I look out at the dim audience only to see a screened off portion with the audition committee behind it. One of them cracks open a can of soda while another seems to be flipping through pages and lets out a loud sigh, probably thinking "Ugh, great, number 39 and 40, then lunch. I'm so thirsty. Jim was smart to bring a can of soda."


I take a long, deep breath and start playing. Great, things are going well. My sound is projecting and my body is responding accordingly. Halfway through the Leonore, I start to worry about finding the music for the next excerpt, Pictures at an Exhibition.


"Thank You."

What? Did someone say something while I was playing? Should I just keep playing?

"Ok. Thanks"


Wait, I'm not done playing Leonore. What? Thanks? You're welcome. Don't you want to hear me play some more?

"Thank you. Proctor, please bring in Auditionee Number 40."



That's fucking bullshit. I put my trumpets into my case, sweat dripping from my face and leave the hall. "That was quick," #40 says as he enters the hall. I regret not stealing the copy of Leonore off the music stand.


So, now I have two nights in Baltimore, a box of cereal, a bottle of water, and the clothes on my back. Maybe I can return the cereal and get a six-pack. Along with the desire to finish the six-pack as fast as possible is getting an earlier flight home and getting the hell out of Baltimore, but that costs an extra $100. I hate Baltimore.



Finally, upon my return from the audition, there's the big question to answer, "How was the audition?"


Well, I didn't win. I didn't make it into the finals, or even the next round. I didn't even make it to the second excerpt, in fact, I didn't even finish the first excerpt.


Then I'll be given the pitiful, "Well, was it at least a learning experience?"


Not only is it awkward while I try and think of how to answer this, but what do I say? Did I learn that more preparation would lead to the complete elimination of human error or defy the phenomenon of chance? Would a different approach to the technique of practicing make me better than the other 60 trumpet players? Should I have chosen my lightweight cotton suit instead of black wool? Maybe a headband?



"No."

a better way to keep in touch

I am proud to introduce to you (drum roll "berhrhrhrh") the Coco Chanel Phone! Er..excuse me, its given name is the "Chanel Choco Phone" and comes with a hidden keypad and screen. It hasn't been stamped with a price tag or a carrier yet, but who cares! Nobody threw any bones about the Apple iphone and At&t collaboration - and everyone jumped to their local Dolce & Gabbana to pick up the 18k gold Motorola Razr with a beautiful D&G stamp! My theory is that Chanel's brand loyal consumers have been asking for a phone that can squeeze (via the hinge connecting the screen and keypad/body) the fat out of high society's not-so-gourmet foods (e.g. hot dogs, White Castle).

So, if you're "sitting pretty in the Hampty Hamps," throw on some tights, Uggs, plush dog hair fur, and the biggest sunglasses you can find (preferably CC), rev up the Range Rover that your husband bought for you, and take that 10min. drive to the Burger King on County Road 39 outside Southampton. No shame.

Here are some more images. You're probably dying to get one.

alpha. genesis. 1개. whatever you like.

I've been wanting to do this for a while. (everybody. else. is.)


After attending a recent lecture given by pop culture journalist Chuck Klosterman, I was moved by his statement on the current status of our celebrities. He mentioned how the bar to be considered a celebrity has been greatly lowered in the past fifteen years and also spoke of our guilty pleasures in watching reality television (but not me. no. i never watch that stuff).


Chuckles explained why many viewers of reality shows enjoy the programs. First, the viewer relates to particular reality "actors" (there has to be a better word - my apologies) and sees these people as being famous due to their presence on television, and finally, they can consider themselves as being famous. Klosterman then spoke of how blogs, myspace, and facebook create similar situations where others can read about one's life or personality(ies) and in return, feel famous.


There you go. I want to be famous. If I had my way, I would be a rock star. ugh...


After doing some research on the blogs of close friends, blogs of businesses of close friends, and blogs with large readership, of whom I'd like to consider friends, I found many not starting their online sagas with proper introductions or prefaces. So, here is who i is. I'll try and keep it brief.


I am the product of two first generation physicians, my father making a ten year layover in Sao Paulo, Brazil where he didn't speak Portugese or...go to high school. That's right, Korean elementary to Brazilian medical school. But don't be impressed, he had to spend one year learning the language, and then a few working at a grocery store so he could save money, not for school, but to help feed the family. So, from that, you can probably guess what my childhood was like.


The mom and pops set my life up for med school, kids, hard earned but big dollars with a big house (with my parents living upstairs), a couple cars, and maybe golfing on the weekends. Typical Korean dreaming.


As of this morning, I am a street scholar with a bachelor of music degree and a twice-per-week cafe job. Salary? Health insurance? Sorry, we haven't gone over those words yet in ESL class. So far I know "tips" and for some reason I'm out five hundred bucks every "first of the month."


So here's a start to something great. Fame? Personal venting? Creative writing?



sure.