Tim and Kaoru’s wedding at the Carnegie Institution
For once I was a guest at a wedding and not the official wedding photographer. Of course, I couldn’t help but take some pictures. I used both my professional camera and my iPhone. Here’s to Tim and Kaoru!
DC’s little earthquake
Thankfully, only church spires, frames on walls and books on shelves appear to be casualties of today’s 5.8 magnitude earthquake. I’ve got two out of three.
A night on Lake Titicaca
When you first see the floating islands of Lake Titicaca, it’s amazing to think that these islands and the homes on them and the boats next to them are all constructed from the tall totora (reeds) growing everywhere in the water. But it’s true. And it’s been true for hundreds of years. The islands slowly sink, so the people living there constantly lay down new reeds to build up the “ground”.
It’s been almost one year since I traveled to Lake Titicaca but I must say sleeping overnight on one of the islands is a must. Just make sure your visit is sustainable. I stayed on Isla Khantati with Cristina Suaña (the link is in Spanish and about 10 years old) and her husband Victor. They’re both Lake Titicaca natives. Cristina is listed in Lonely Planet as “highly recommended by readers.” I recommend her, too. She was incredibly welcoming, smiling all the time and adjusting her dinner menu to accommodate the fact that I’m vegetarian. That was so very kind of her.
Cristina lost no opportunity to educate me and the other tourists about her culture and her life. Especially interesting was how she got started hosting foreigners in her home: Cristina had seen tour operators taking advantage of the Lake Titicaca islanders. She didn’t like it. So she talked with her husband about starting their own operation. It would cater to foreigners but be more of a cultural exchange than a typical tourist visit to the islands. Cristina attended culinary classes so she could learn how to cook for western palates. A volunteer created a brochure. Slowly, tourists started calling her. Then she got written up in Lonely Planet a few years ago and business boomed.
There were four of us tourists all together. Two men and one woman from Portugal and one man from Germany. The Portuguese people spoke Spanish but not the German man. I had to translate from Spanish to English for him. We all sat huddled in a hut around a reed table, sharing travel stories as we waited for dinner. Periodically Victor or Cristina would appear to talk with us. That night and during a fishing expedition the next morning we all learned so much about the history of the area and the struggles the islanders have faced balancing tourism with maintaining their cultural roots. I stretched my Spanish to its limits during these talks.
I just looked in my journal to find the exact facts I learned during my 24 hours on Isla Khantati. All it says is:
I’m about to go to bed on a floating island. It’s been an amazing day. I’ve learned so much. It’ll have to wait until later, though, because I’m exhausted. I could feel the island moving when I was in the bathroom.
Then I never wrote about Lake Titicaca again. Let that be a lesson to me to stay up late and just write. Well then. I did learn a lot. I remember feeling overwhelmed by all the facts given to me by Cristina and Victor. Maybe that was why I went to bed instead of wrote.
I don’t want to write wrong facts, so I’ll write about feelings instead, like the feeling of being on a floating island. When you’re standing or sitting still you can sometimes feel the island gently bobbing in the water. I remember standing in the toilet stall (like a luxury port-a-potty) and feeling the ground undulate. I carefully stepped out of the stall and into complete darkness except for the stars twinkling above. I felt the bobbing again. So lovely and wonderful.
Be prepared to be cold when you visit Lake Titicaca, especially if you stay overnight, especially in winter. I froze during the night even though my sleeping attire consisted of pants, long johns, a long-sleeve shirt, a sweater, a scarf, a wool hat, my knee-length down coat, eight wool blankets and a hot water bottle at my feet (provided by Cristina and Victor for all the guests). The blankets were so heavy that I couldn’t move. I decided it was better to be cold than to smother to death, so I kicked off a few blankets.
The next morning all us tourists set out to go fishing with Victor. He caught lots of little fish whose name I can’t remember. Cristina had a western breakfast ready by the time we returned. After breakfast came a surprise: Cristina wanted us all to sing and write down the words to a song from our home country. First went the Portuguese people. Then the German man. Everyone wanted to hear a Korean song from me, not an American song, so I sang a kids tune called 나비야 (Butterfly) and – surprisingly – everyone hummed along. Even Cristina hummed! Turns out the song’s melody is one that’s used in a lot of countries. And to think I had to travel all the way to Peru and spend a night and morning on Isla Khantati in Lake Titicaca to learn that. Life is amazing.
A Buckroe Beach morning
If I had to choose between living in the mountains or by the beach, I would choose the beach. Who can live without hearing the crashing of waves? Or seeing the never-ending view of the ocean stretching out to the sky? The scent of salt and the sound of water lapping up on shore never cease to calm and comfort me.
I Street Bike Social makes DC that much more fun
When I ride my bike around DC alone, no one claps for me. No one cheers. No one dances. Because that would be weird, right?
Well, things are a little different when you’re one of about two dozen riders in the I Street Bike Social. People on the sidewalk clap. And they cheer. And yes, they dance. Certainly, it helps that the ride leader has a stereo system hooked up to his bike. It’s surreal to be pedaling down K Street at night, all lit up by semi-empty lobbying offices, while “Stayin’ Alive” booms from in front of you and cyclists surround you.
It’s also so freakin’ cool. I think we must’ve looked like a small parade that lost its way.
Most people seemed to be new to tonight’s bike social. There were several riders like myself who came alone. There were also some random bicyclists we picked up along the way, which added an air of whimsy to the ride. See in the picture above the two guys riding away from the rest of us? They were heading somewhere else and decided to join the fun. Cheers all around, as I recall.
Jordan, our ride leader, started this bike social for his employer BicycleSPACE after seeing a similar bike ride in Boulder, Colo. Here in DC, we started out at the BicycleSPACE office at 4th and Eye St. NW at 8 p.m. – close to sunset – and then wound our way through H Street, Capitol Hill, the National Mall, Foggy Bottom and Georgetown. A light breeze blew and the temperature was just right as we coasted around. DC is beautiful at night. We had some mishaps with the contraption carrying the stereo but Jordan played some good tunes: Adele, Rhianna, Outkast. I tried boogeying on my bike but that’s actually kind of hard if you don’t want to crash. Which made me realize I had never listened to music while riding my bike.
As I mentioned before, other people seemed surprised and really pleased to see us. We weren’t doing anything special, but somehow, being part of the group made us all look special. By the time we took a break by the Potomac River, the sky was dark and I gratefully drank from my water bottle. After about 20 minutes, we headed up K Street. I broke off at 11th St. to go home. Two hours of leisurely biking was enough for me.
For all the fun I had, I think the name “bike social” is a bit of a misnomer. It’s not like all us bicyclists were talking and laughing and socializing all the time. I did chat with a cool woman who just moved here from Wisconsin three weeks ago. I also talked with a nice gal wearing a bike helmet that looked like a houndstooth ball cap. But for the most part, those conversations and the whole night gave me more of a sense of community. People seemed to simply enjoy being a part of this small band of bikers, taking over one or two street lanes at a time – even in Georgetown. Which is kind of crazy if you’ve ever been in Georgetown.
Can’t wait for next week!
Hoi An, I love you
The Tran Family Chapel was built for worshipping family ancestors. The architecture is a mix of Chinese, Japanese and Vietnamese.
Johanna and I have been biking, walking and sweating our way around Hoi An, a small city on Vietnam’s central coast. Despite being quite close to the Vietnam DMZ, Hoi An escaped unscathed from the Vietnam War. The city is beautiful! Hoi An’s Old Town was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999. With such credentials, you can imagine the number of tourists in this city. You can also imagine the number of businesses that have popped up to support the tourists. The Old Town is filled with hundreds of old buildings, many of which are occupied by tailors and shoemakers offering to make you a dress or stitch you some shoes for $10 or $15. It’s a little disconcerting.
Nevertheless, there’s a lot to see and do here beyond getting a new wardrobe made. We’ve visited Chinese Assembly Halls (many Chinese fled to Vietnam after the Ming Dynasty fell in the 17th century) and explored restored homes, such as the Museum of Trading Ceramics (not too edifying except for the small section on the history of restoring old Hoi An buildings). One of our most interesting visits was to Reaching Out Vietnam, a fair trade shop where all the handicrafts are made by disabled people. Johanna and I spent about an hour browsing the store and watching the tradespeople make the items sold in the store. According to the Reaching Out brochure, employees receive salaries that are 35% higher than other artisans and also receive health and social insurance. The employees we saw did look happy and interested in their work. It’s heartening to know that a Vietnamese-founded and Vietnamese-run organization has found such success in Hoi An.
And what would a visit to Vietnam be without eating some really good food? I’m not an epicurean but Johanna is – lucky me! We’ve tried all sorts of noodle, fish and vegetable dishes. I’m not the biggest fish person but braised fish with lemon grass sauce was one of my favorites. One of our favorite desserts was fried wonton with fruit and chocolate inside. We enjoyed that one at Mango Rooms, an upscale Vietnamese fusion restaurant where Mick Jagger supposedly once dined. Yes, even Mick Jagger has been to Hoi An.
All in all, I really like Hoi An. It’s easy to get around on bicycles, though the lack of stop lights and stop signs makes any journey a little bit dangerous. You’re constantly dodging motorbikes darting onto the road from hidden alleys and swerving away from bicycles moving into your path. Let’s just say traffic is very, very fluid here; lanes are optional. The people are friendly, though, and the vibe is peaceful. Whenever I visit a new place I always ask myself, “Could I live here?” And the answer for Hoi An is, “Yes. I love it.”
Street outside Tran Family Chapel
Abandoned house near the Thu Bon River
Tran Phu Street in Old Town Hoi An
Johanna inside the Assembly Hall of the Fujian Chinese Congregation
Fish inside the Assembly Hall of the Fujian Chinese Congregation
Dragon inside the Assembly Hall of the Fujian Chinese Congregation
Restaurant in Hoi An
Banana flower salad
Bar at Mango Rooms restaurant
Marvelous menu at Mango Rooms
Wedding pictures in front of the Japanese Covered Bridge
Portraits in the Chinese All-Community Assembly Hall of Chinese resistance heroes in Vietnam who died during World War II.
Get your shoes made here.
Johanna trying on clothes in a tailor shop.
Johanna at Mango Rooms
Figuring out where to go next in Hoi An.
We took a bumpy shortcut to dinner.
View of Hoi An street outside the Mango Rooms restaurant.
12 hours in Hanoi
Mostly motorbikes and bicycles on the roads.
“Heaven” in a park around Hoan Kiem Lake.
View from the hotel room.
Kumquat tree on the hotel room balcony.
Royal Korean procession through Incheon Airport
One of the many reasons I love Korea – cultural experiences in the airport!
Cherry Blossom Parade
Above: The most beautiful but least interesting floats in the parade.
Below: Crowds, crowds and more crowds! Lots of kids were equally scared and excited by the revelry. I love DC.
Reminds me of summer
This picture reminds me of summer even though I photographed it at the tail end of Peru’s winter, in Cusco. I think it’s the yellow. And the warm tones of the plantholder. And the shadows. i can’t wait for warmer weather.
Thinking Day | A cross-cultural food experience
One of my best memories of being a Girl Scout in Jeddah was celebrating Thinking Day. This was when Girl Scouts and Girl Guides from other countries living in the city got together for one big hoe-down. Okay, not exactly a hoe-down, but one big cultural exchange.
The day began with a procession of scouts from each country carrying that country’s flag. I always wanted to carry the United States flag. I thought it would be fun to march around in my green uniform and hold the flag straight up. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t drop it. I never got to find out. Instead, I sat on my school gym floor with hundreds of other scouts as groups of girls glided by with flags, including those of India, the United Kingdom, France, Pakistan, the United States and Saudi Arabia. The Saudi Girl Scouts fascinated me the most as they appeared to have run to the fabric store and wrapped themselves in bolts of gray cloth from head to toe. Well, except their faces, thank goodness.
What does any of this have to do with these photographs here, apparently taken in the present time, at my present home, without anyone wearing a Girl Scout uniform? (Though that would be kind of cool.) Well, Thinking Day also involved food. And the other night, as Dulce (from Mexico), Ting-Ya (from Taiwan) and I (half from South Korea), cooked foods from our countries, I remembered Thinking Day. How lucky am I that more than 20 years later, I keep having interesting cross-cultural experiences with my friends?
Ting-Ya showed us the massive amounts of preparation that go into creating a Taiwanese dish. I showed them how to make kimbap. Pictured above is the very first one I’ve ever made without my Mom’s assistance. And Dulce made an American salad with ingredients all the colors of Mexico’s flag. Now I’m thinking of throwing a Thinking Day-type dinner party, where everyone brings a dish from a different country. Yum!
Fog
North Carolina, 2011
FOG
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
- By Carl Sandburg
Road trip
It’s always nice to hit the road and see something new. Yesterday we drove to Philadelphia and visited the Mutter Museum, which houses a fascinating collection of medical specimens ranging from an 8-foot-long colon to a cabinet full of skulls to a catalog of hundreds of items swallowed by people and recovered by medical professionals. (Unfortunately, no photography was allowed inside.) I’m glad we ate our lunch before walking the museum’s halls.
As we drove up, I challenged myself to photograph what a road trip looks like only on the inside of the car and mostly in detail shots. If only we’d been driving for hours and hours I’d have photographs of empty water bottles and chip bags and magazines and napkins strewn everywhere like some kind of mobile trash dump. Come to think of it, that’s sort of how my car looked like when I shot for newspapers. I should recategorize the shots in this post: This is what a two-hour road trip looks like in the car of a non-journalist, shot only on the inside of the car and mostly in details.
Finding Jesus in Cusco, Peru
It’s not all that difficult to find Jesus in Cusco, Peru. He’s omnipresent, glowing white from atop a mountain on the outskirts of the city.
Home in Washington DC
After all the traveling I’ve done for work in the past three months (also, here and here), it’s nice to be home for a while, snow and all.
People I love
This is a Thanksgiving post thinly disguised as something else. And really, it’s mostly pictures of my niece. That tends to happen when there’s a cute kid around the house.
Night walk down Massachusetts Avenue
10th Street.
One night in mid-November I decided to walk from Union Station to Dupont Circle via Massachusetts Avenue. It’s about two-and-a-half miles, and I usually walk portions of this route during my daily daytime routine. As I walked I thought about how the two-and-a-half miles as a whole is a walk I never would have done when I lived in DC 13 years ago. Back then, Mass Ave. between Union Station and 11th Street was decrepit with little reason to stroll at night, unless you wanted to be mugged. Since then, all the downtown neighborhoods adjacent to Mass Ave. have blossomed (or fallen to gentrification, depending on your view.)
Walking along Mass Ave. last month, I was surprised by how many things I saw that I never notice during the day: a sticker on the ground, a shadow on the wall. I became especially enamored of the trees, which glowed in the street lights like sea-dwelling plants you’d never want to tangle with. (I’ve posted only one tree picture here so you don’t get bored by all the other ones.) I might make a habit of walking down all of DC’s main arteries at night and photographing what I see.
3rd Street
8th Street
5th Street
4th Street
14th Street
4th Street
Cocoa in Wehplay, Liberia
Last month I had the privilege of getting to know David Kpan, a cocoa farmer in Wehplay, Liberia. After the civil war ended in 2003, David rehabilitated his ravaged farm and grew just enough crops to support his family. Now, with help from a U.S. organization, he runs the farm as a business and is prospering. David has the greatest laugh and the most wonderful spirit, something that I hope people will see in the multimedia story I’m currently editing about him and his farm. More to come….
Cusco, Peru
The Plaza de Armas in Cusco, Peru, attracts both tourists and birds to its colonial architecture, such as La Compañia de Jesus (Jesuit Church) and the fountain in the middle of the square. I love this picture because there’s so much going on: church spires glowing in the setting sun, bird flying, tourist in tough vest looking at the sites, fountain spouting water, person walking past the fountain… More to come!
Kayaking on the Potomac River
It was the first un-humid, un-sweltering day in weeks when P. and I decided to knock an adventure off our “Top 10 Things To Do This Summer” list: kayaking on the Potomac River. Oh, the gorgeous views we saw! Georgetown, the Lincoln Memorial and Roosevelt Island, a rainbow, ducks – I saw them all in a way I’d never seen them before. Still, I was disappointed to find trash floating all over the river. At first, it was just a bottle here and there. I actually picked up an empty Pepsi bottle, vowing to myself I would pick up any more trash we found. But then it became clear this task would be overwhelming. Ugh.
Find a penny, pick it up…..
Whenever I guest lecture about multimedia storytelling, I stress the importance of having a personal project. This is a story or an essay that you do for yourself, not for an editor or a professor or a publication. You do it because you’re passionate about the topic, the person, the issue, the situation, because not creating this story would leave you always wondering, “Why didn’t I do that? Why didn’t I make time for that?” A personal project allows you to be more creative, inventive and risky than you might be with an assignment. It can be a fun story or heavy story. Either way, you do a personal project because you must, because you love it. That’s all.
This has been my personal project for the last year-and-a-half: The Penny Project, the story of Leslie Stein, a woman who picks up all the change she finds on the street. In three years she’s collected hundreds of dollars and started a change-collecting movement among her friends and family. Last year she started donating the change to an organization striving to make positive changes in the lives of young women in DC.
I love this story. More to come.
(Mind you, this is just a first rough cut of the story introduction. I’m pretty set on opening with the sound of change, but beyond that I’m still thinking. Feel free to leave me thoughts and suggestions in the comments section.)
Happy birthday to Mom, August and Eun!
I threw my mom’s surprise birthday party at the beginning of May. Organizing this from afar was quite a task.
First, I had to lie to my Mom and tell her I couldn’t escape from DC for the weekend to celebrate a banner year birthday with her. In truth, I woke up early on a Saturday morning, drove down to Newport News and spent the morning of her party day picking up food from KFC, Domino’s and Mona Restaurant, a Korean restaurant that agreed to cater the bash even though they normally don’t serve such small parties. My sister and brother-in-law brought the cake and drinks.
Then, my Dad and I worked together to invite people to the party. Dad focused on church friends and I focused on Korean friends, many of whom don’t speak English. Ah, finally putting my hard-earned language skills to use for the first time in a while! I ended up leaving funny voicemails for almost everyone because no one picked up their phones. Luckily, enough people got the message and showed up.
Finally, I had to decide where to have the party. I haven’t lived in my hometown in a while and I’ve definitely never thrown a party there. I settled on the Virginia Living Museum, my niece’s favorite place to see her fishy friends Nemo and Dori (as well as furry and flying friend such as owls). Jennifer Turlington, the museum’s events coordinator, was wonderful in helping secure a party space and even coming up with the ruse for bringing my mom to the museum: why not have my Dad tell my Mom he was taking her to a flower show there? Not to knock my Dad too hard here, but I was suspicious my Mom would fall for this lie since flower shows aren’t exactly my Dad’s thing. Nevertheless, it worked. Jennifer posted a volunteer at the museum entrance. My Dad went up to the volunteer and said, “We’re here for the flower show,” which were the magic words for the volunteer to lead my parents through a side entrance, then down a path, then into a building, then down a hall into a classroom filled with all of us. Surprise!
The look on my Mom’s face was fantastic! She later said she wondered why she was being led to a “flower show” in a classroom in a building. She also said this was the best birthday she ever had.
August’s 8th birthday party in the beginning of June was a maelstrom of laughing, screaming, sugared-up kids exacerbated by a thunderstorm that led to much indoor horseplay and rowdiness. At the end, when everyone was gone and Eun and Marty were sweeping up and wiping down after their son’s celebration, they said, “See? No one ever tells you about THIS part of being a parent!” Haha! Those two crack me up.
Eun started out as my Asian American Journalists Association journalism mentor over 12 years ago. Over time we’ve become good friends to the point that I feel I’m a part of the Van Der Kim family: Eun, Marty, August and Reid (my godson). So I was thrilled to be at her 40th birthday party in mid July. The best part of the night? When Eun’s sisters-in-law appeared at the front door – they flew in from Arizona to surprise her!
(Above: That's me photographing while snowshoeing through a snowstorm. Picture by