When I first came to Korea, I was in heaven. I couldn't believe my good fortune. This is truly awesome, I thought. I loved it so much that I'd have regular nightmares about going home.
I started this year's festival by stopping by the spanky new Busan Cinema Center, the curvy silver behemoth that looks like it was designed by a guy peaking on acid.
When coming to Korea, you are struck by the contradictions that slap you in face on a daily basis: strangers politely bow to each other, yet spit, jostle, and throw hard elbows on the street or subway; in many respects the culture appears to be rigid
I came to Korea to savor Asia and see more of the world, and I must say that I've succeeded marvelously, though what began as a benign passion has now raged into a full-blown addiction.
It's that time of year again, when the temperature drops and Siberian winds slice down onto the Peninsula. Everywhere you go you hear a chorus of young women repeating the phrase Ah chew-eo! Chew-eo!, in that plaintive whine that only can be produced by the mouth of a shivering, 40 kilogram Korean girl.