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2 women wrapped up in a colorful tradition

March 30th, 2010

JoongAng Daily

‘I understand . . . I also preferred Hermes to hanbok when I was young. But [bojagi] are versatile, simple and very Korean.’
March 25, 2010
Lee Hyo-jae, below far left, turns humble Korean cloth known as bojagi into tote bags with a few simple touches and knots. [JoongAng Photo]

Until recently, bojagi, or Korean wrapping cloth, was considered beautiful but irreparably old-fashioned in an era of shopping malls, leather backpacks and plastic bags. But before Koreans could begin to afford these luxuries in the 1960s, bojagi cloths were used for nearly everything: to carry books, groceries and food, and as head scarves, wallets or even wall decorations. Bojagi were also often wrapped - particularly by older people - around gifts, like bottles of freshly pressed sesame oil or even animals for grandchildren living far afield. Holding a live chicken wrapped in a bojagi, a grandma might beam with delight, imagining the nutritious meal the fluttering fowl would provide her descendants.

In the face of rapid industrialization in the ’70s, however, bojagi were overshadowed by new, more specialized containers and bags. It’s no wonder bojagi have grown rare, now used only on special occasions like New Year’s Day, when department stores promote gift sets wrapped in them.

Could that all be about to change? Lee Hyo-jae and Patricia Lee are out to bring back the rainbow-colored wraps, reinventing them as the ideal “eco-friendly bag” in Korea and the United States.

Lee Hyo-jae’s bojagi wrap keeps original colors and patterns but adds twists like a braid. [JoongAng Photo]

Lee Hyo-jae is a designer of traditional Korean clothing, and her profession drew her initially to bojagi. “It was very natural for me to use bojagi in my everyday life because I make hanbok. Whenever I finish making a hanbok, I wrap the traditional garment and other wedding gifts with bojagi for my clients, because it’s traditional,” said Lee, 52, at her two-story office in Seongbuk-dong, northern Seoul.

Although Lee rose to fame for her hanbok first, later earning the nickname “the Korean Martha Stewart” for her eco-friendly lifestyle and cooking, gardening and other homemaking skills, it was bojagi that covered her office’s tables and walls, from the entrance to the kitchen and the tea room.

Behind Hyo-jae, who sat next to a white kitchen island table, Fissler pots, wrapped in bojagi, sat neatly arranged on a metal rack, while tissue boxes wrapped in various candy-colored bojagi lay scattered about.

“I’ve been wrapping things all my life,” Lee said, “be it a watermelon, a dustpan or a pair of sneakers. And I found myself enjoying moments when people marvel at my bojagi wrap before opening their presents.

“I think I’m kind of addicted to that moment, and it helped me get the knack of wrapping bojagi with all different shapes, knots and bows.”

Lee has been in the hanbok business for 25 years. Her decades of bojagi wrapping brought her chronic wrist problems that forced her to wear casts for months. But that hasn’t stopped her from dreaming up even bigger things.

“While wrapping gifts with bojagi one after another at the request of acquaintances, I realized people were starting to talk about environmental issues, and an ‘aha!’ moment hit me.

“I thought I could do something fun with these [bojagi] because almost every housewife has at least one bojagi in their kitchen drawers,” Lee continued.

There began yet another career: bojagi artist. Lee published a book in January 2008 based on her years of experience. It shares her witty and creative ideas on how to wrap bojagi, featuring festive knots and bows that look like dumplings, blooming flowers or topknots. Wrapping a bottle of wine, Lee braided the bojagi to make the wine bottle look like a cheery girl with long hair. Using red and green bojagi, Lee wrapped small tissue boxes and stacked them. Ta-da! A bojagi Christmas tree.

With a few touches, a piece of cloth becomes a tote bag, a backpack, a cushion cover, a pouch for sanitary pads. Lee also uses bojagi for picnics or a blanket to warm herself up.

Just like her previous homemaking books, which became instant hits, the bojagi book is selling well. According to the publisher, it has gone through eight printings so far.

“Since people hardly read these days, we call it a success if a certain book is printed more than two or three times,” said Son Kyung-hee, an official at the marketing team of JoongAng Magazine & Books.

To make it easier for Americans to embrace this somewhat foreign cloth, Patricia Lee, above right, added some funky factors such as beads and fresh-looking prints to her bojagi wrap. Provided by Miriam Ri

As Lee makes a name for herself as a bojagi artist, her office grows even more packed with people eager to learn how to become bojagi wizards. Groups of foreign tourists - most Japanese - visit the master for advice. She has at least a dozen other professional interests, but Lee’s busy most days with bojagi.

One reason for that: she’s opening an academy in Japan to teach locals bojagi wrapping in the first half of this year. She also plans to take her show on the road, wrapping a Volkswagen Beetle with a huge bojagi in Hainan, China, early next month at the Boao Forum for Asia. The enormous piece of cloth was made from more than a hundred bojagi, the artist said.

“I understand young people won’t be interested in these things. I also preferred Hermes to hanbok when I was young,” Lee said. “But it’s versatile, simple and very Korean. It also saves you from using unnecessary wrapping materials. Most of all, it doesn’t take a lot of money, but it still looks pretty and cool.”

Meanwhile, across the Pacific, another woman has been enticed by these simple cloth wrappings: Patricia Lee, 39, also known as “the bojagi lady.”

Before last Christmas, the peak season for Americans splurging on wrapping paper, elaborate boxes, ribbons and cards, Patricia Lee was invited onto six different TV shows, including Good Morning America, where she demonstrated how to wrap gifts with bojagi after Amazon.com sold out of her bojagi book “The Wrapping Scarf Revolution” in just two weeks after its release.

The younger Lee calls it a “worthy challenge” to convince Americans to accept this new and foreign thing as earth-friendly.

One way she marketed bojagi to Americans was by adding bling: beads, spangles and bold colors and patterns. She also started calling them “bobo” instead of bojagi for easier pronunciation. And her tactics worked. In the U.S. alone, 60 stores sell Patricia’s diverse Bobo products, and her bojagi creations are available at shops in Canada and Japan.

After emigrating to the U.S. at age 5 and being raised in a big family that saw four generations living under the same roof, Lee said she grew up watching her grandmother and great grandmother wrap things in bojagi. But she had no interest in them back then.

“I thought it was unattractive and old-fashioned,” said Lee, now a mother of two sons living in Connecticut.

But Lee’s visit to Seoul when she was a college student in the 1990s changed the way she thought of bojagi.

Watching her aunt wrap a gift, Lee said, “I was amazed at how simple and beautifully efficient the wrapping was. In America, we hunt for wrapping paper, tape, ribbon and scissors, and then spend a lot of time cutting, folding, taping and then putting everything away again.

“I thought this was a wonderful way to wrap gifts and wondered why more people didn’t do this.”

The timing was perfect. Just as Americans began to discover reusable bags and bottles, Lee launched her Bobo Wrapping Scarf in 2008, and started to make attractive bojagi to appeal to Americans.

Her philosophy is simple: “I design things that I want to buy and use,” she said.

Looking at Patricia’s creations, it is hard to believe that they are still bojagi. Where Lee Hyo-jae’s bojagi still use traditional colors and patterns, Patricia Lee mixes and matches modern styles in innovative ways. One bojagi has black zebra patterns on one side and is solid dark pink on the other. Other patterns include polka dots, cheetah fur, flowers, cherries and bandana prints. Some of her bojagi are even crinkled.

As a fervent advocate of bojagi, Patricia carries at least one wherever she goes: at a potluck party to carry a bottle of wine or on a trip, to wrap up her clothes and lingerie.

To these two women, bojagi are no longer just for fashion-ignorant grannies but for everyone - especially those who care about the environment. But the modernization is a tough sell in some quarters.

“Bojagi were widely used back in the Joseon Dynasty, but nobody wrapped bojagi as some people do these days using elastic bands and wires,” said Kim Hyun-hee, a master craftswoman who has made traditional bojagi for the past 40 years.

Lee Hyo-jae and Patricia Lee both use elastic and bungee cords sometimes to hold bows or knots.

Answering her critics, Patricia Lee said, “I think Korean culture is the best kept secret in the world! The problem is that many wonderful aspects of Korean culture lack a certain degree of relevance.

“The ancient art of bojagi making and designing is wonderful, but how does it relate to you and me? My challenge is to make Korean culture interesting, fresh and relevant,” she said.

“This is my challenge: to make bojagi attractive and familiar to Americans and also to make bojagi feel fresh and new to Koreans.”

By Sung So-young [so@joongang.co.kr]

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A national dish from a Chinese chef’s kitchen

March 30th, 2010

JoongAng Daily

[FOOD & KOREA] Jjajangmyeon, Incheon Chinatown
March 25, 2010
Since it was first cooked in Incheon, jjajang-myeon has been a favorite of children and adults alike. Provided by the Korea Tourism Organization

Today jjajangmyeon, a black bean paste noodle dish, is so common and inexpensive that it’s one of the first dishes that come to most Koreans’ minds when looking for a quick, not necessarily healthy meal. Above all, it’s cheap.

But until the 1970s, jjajangmyeon was a luxurious dish that could only be eaten on special occasions. Going to a restaurant for a bowl of those glistening noodles was, to children back in those days, as exciting as a trip to a favorite family restaurant might be today.

One thing both generations probably believe is that jjajangmyeon is Chinese. In fact, this isn’t quite true. The dish was born in Chinatown in Incheon, right here in Korea. When Jemulpo Port opened in 1883, early Chinese immigrants to Korea began to settle nearby. Restaurants to serve the residents began to spring up, and before long Korea had a modern Chinatown.

The jjajangmyeon that we eat today was first developed at one of those Chinese restaurants in Incheon - but the recipe wasn’t developed from scratch. It has its origins in another noodle dish, the genuinely Chinese zha jiang mian. The dish uses similar ingredients, including a black bean paste called chunjang, minced meat and onions, but to a Korean palate it’s a little too salty.

To attract Korean customers, an Incheon restaurateur came up with the Korean version in the mid-1950s. It quickly took on its own identity, developing a unique taste, especially in the sauce.

Unlike the Chinese version, this dish had abundant slices of onions, adding a sweet flavor and generous chunks of minced meat. Since Chinese chunjang is thick and salty, the cook added more water and starch to cut the taste.

As soon as jjajangmyeon was born, it captured the country’s taste buds and in a flash had spread throughout Korea. Today jjajangmyeon comes in many variations, ranging from gan jjajangmyeon, which is jjajangmyeon served with a thicker paste and the sauce and noodles separate in different bowls, to samseon jjajangmyeon, which includes seafood such as squid and shrimp.

More than 7 million bowls of jjajangmyeon are sold each day across the country, and the recipe has been gaining popularity overseas as well - even back in China.

By Yim Seung-hye Contributing writer [estyle@joongang.co.kr]

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Exhibit Captures Merchants’ Life on Road

March 30th, 2010

KOREA TIMES
03-24-2010 18:35


An old postcard that captures the image of “bubosang” or peddler merchants bargaining at the traditional market in Nonsan, South Chungcheong Province

By Chung Ah-young
Staff Reporter

Rough-hewn straw hats, loaded back racks and rods in hand ― these are the images of the road-weathered “bubosang,” Korean peddlers. They traveled from village to village to reach outdoor markets that usually opened every five days in the past.

“Bubosang” first appeared during medieval times and were vital to pre-modern economies for their roles in providing a connection between consumers, producers and middlemen.

“Bubosang” refers to both “busang,’’ who moved and sold large items such as wood and metal products, and “bosang,’’ who handled smaller items carried around in sacks.

In celebrating the Year of Traditional Culture of South Chungcheong Province, the National Folk Museum of Korea is presenting a special exhibition of displaying 250 pieces related to the history of the “bubosang.” Because of its central location and the development of its roads, the South Chungcheong region was traditionally a center for trade and commerce.

Today, it is now where the traces left by the “bubosang,” once the key retailers who had the economy flowing, are most evident.

After the Seoul exhibition through April 26, the exhibition will move to the Onyang Folk Museum and the South Chungcheong History Museum in the province.
Why was South Chungcheong Province important for these vendors aside from its geographic advantage?

“South Chungcheong Province is connected to Gyeonggi Province, Jeolla Province and the West coastal areas. Also, the region still has the organizations carrying on the ‘bubosang’ traditions,” Kim Chang-ho, a curator of the museum, said. “They were crucial in the region’s distribution and development of the market.”

Due to these geographic and cultural elements, South Chungcheong was always a bustling area where products of all sorts were gathered before being distributed to every corner of the peninsula.

“Busang” or “sack peddlers,” usually moved large or heavy items, such as fish, salt, pottery, wooden vessels, metalware and bamboo crafts and used a variety of tools, such as “jige,” or back racks, to carry their heavy loads. “Bosang,” or “bundle peddlers,” carried their goods in wrapped cloth or shoulder straps, and handled items of relatively high value such as cloth, cotton, silk and ginseng, as well as gold, silver and bronze. Other products carried by “bosang” included stationery items, ornaments and cosmetics.

The curator said since they spent most of their time on the road, many of the “bubosang” didn’t have a place to call home or settle to have families. For these lonelier merchants, having no one to help them in emergencies or no children to honor them in ancestral rites after their deaths were among the sad realities of their lives.”

This was clearly one of the main reasons they were eager to form guild-like organizations such as “Sangmusa.” These were operated under strict rules, with the merchants looking to help each other out when needed and impose rules to establish order in commerce and the transactions between “busang” and “bosang.”

Although it’s hard to pinpoint when the first “bubosang” organizations emerged, scholars estimate their birth sometime during the late 17th century, when the flourishing markets around the nation resulted in increased activity for the peddlers. This allowed “bubosang” to gather more easily and frequently, while the increased profit from their business provided the wealth to enable the organizations.

The traditional village markets, which were a main source of the livelihood of “bubosang,” opened about six times per month. Villages of a certain region would alternate the opening of their markets, which were held every five days, to avoid overlap. This allowed the merchants to move to different markets each day to sell their products.

But the village markets were not only retail centers, but a cultural venue for the community. Once every five days, villagers gathered at the market to buy products, meet people, get the latest news from the outsiders, and enjoy food and drinks. The music and dance from traveling street performers such as the Namsadang troupe added to the festive mood.

chungay@koreatimes.co.kr

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