By Corina Knoll
Photographs by Eric Sueyoshi
Makeup by Ra Beauty Core
Hair by Jin Hee Jang

You could say Angela Park is charmingly honest. The way 19-year-olds tend to be. You could say that, but you’d be beating around the bush, which is something the golfer just doesn’t do.

Take, for instance, our first phone conversation.

“I don’t want to spend my whole day there,” she says when she learns the details of our impending photo shoot and interview. “I still want to be able to do something fun.”

Got it. The call time is switched, and Angela will be freed two hours earlier.

The next morning we’re 35 miles outside of Los Angeles at Robinson Ranch Golf Club, and Angela is gussied up in a flirty cocktail dress. She’s the picture of angelic girlishness, but her spitfire mouth is running gleefully.

Gripping her favorite club head cover — a fuzzy version of that famous flying cartoon squirrel — she asks, “Did you watch ‘Rocky and Bullwinkle’? Are you that old?”

Later, taking notice of the photographer tripping over himself while multitasking, she points out, “At my last photo shoot, it was the photographer’s assistant who was doing all the running around.”

And when asked to hold a golf club like a baseball bat, she sighs, “I hate this pose.”

Then her giggle — let’s call it a nasal guffaw — kicks in, and a roguish grin appears.

“I’m really blunt.”

Duly noted.

***

This is how her caddie explains it, as well as her coach, her brother and even her first coach and his wife: Angela is direct. Angela knows what she wants, then pounces. Angela can be sweet and fun, but is unflinching.

The only person who doesn’t marvel over Angela’s tough-girl wit is Kyung Wook Park. Angela’s father.

He’s a rosy-cheeked man who sports a potbelly and spectacles, whose manner is pleasant, but words are brusque.

At Angela’s photo shoot, when one of the makeup artists tells him his daughter is a star, he laughs. “Is she?” he asks in Korean. “She’s not a star yet.”

See, Kyung Wook is all about tough love — maybe sometimes, too tough.

He thinks it has something to do with being born in North Korea at the height of the Korean War. The eldest of eight children, he served in the military, but then left for Brazil at age 24 in search of farming opportunities. In Sao Paolo he learned Portuguese, met his wife, opened an embroidery business, sent for his relatives and raised three boys: Alexander, Samuel and Paulo.

Then came Angela, six years after his youngest was born. “I think that’s why I’m a tomboy, because I was surrounded by these men,” she says. “My brothers treat me like a little boy. We always used to wrestle, things that guys do to guys.”

In 1994, the Parks decided it was time to head to America to give their children access to better schools. Angela was 9 years old. Her mother, Kyung Ran Lee, stayed behind to run the family business. She was supposed to join them when a new U.S. venture was established, but when that never happened, the next decade would find mother and daughter keeping in touch through long-distance phone calls and rare visits.

“I moved a lot the first couple years,” recalls Angela, who sometimes stayed at various hasukjibs, a living arrangement similar to a boarding house. “It was really hard at first, especially ‘cause I couldn’t speak the language very well. Every time I made a new friend, I would move.”

Her first memories of playing golf are bright, mostly because she liked meeting people on the course. She’d tag along with her brothers to the driving range after school until she began taking lessons.

“Physically, she was a very strong girl,” remembers her first coach, Jay Sinn, whose own daughter Pearl was already an LPGA member. “Her personality was very independent. She grew up with boys so she knew how to survive. And she handled her emotions. I never saw her cry.”

Jay’s wife, Sue, reached out to Angela, and would often whip up Korean meals for her after practice — even bought the preteen her first bra. “She always had tomboy clothes; she liked to eat everything; she loved the kimchi,” Sue recalls. “I have never seen a girl [with] such a strong mind; like, ‘If I don’t do it, there’s no one to look after me.’”

But as tough as Angela was, Sue worried Kyung Wook was tougher.

“You know how Korean fathers are: ‘If you don’t do what I tell you to do, that’s it.’ So every time we talk about Angela, that’s something that aches in my heart.”

Kyung Wook has always been a strict father. He values discipline and despises laziness. But it isn’t because he wants his children to be successful or obedient. He just wants them to live with humility and earn the respect of their peers.

So at age 11, when Angela was playing amateur tournaments and beating everyone in her age group, Kyung Wook acted as if he barely noticed.

“Aren’t you happy that I won?” Angela would ask.

“You’re not that good,” her father would respond. “Be humble. This was lucky, God gave it to you. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He wanted Angela to see the bigger picture. That a win today didn’t matter tomorrow. That discipline would move you forward, but smugness would keep you stagnant.

During those early years, the two traveled to American Junior Golf Association events throughout the year, supported by whatever income Kyung Ran was managing to pull in at the factory. Kyung Wook had attempted to start a business in the States, but it never took off. Despite the financial strain, the parents believed that amateur experience was invaluable to Angela.

With Alexander in college, Samuel in the Marines and Paulo headed for the Navy, the family was geographically divided. Except for father and daughter. Which meant there was ample time to work on a sport she was quickly rising in.

She had fallen in love with the game that stoked the fire of her competitive spirit, but there were days when her father’s words were just too much. She hadn’t practiced hard enough, she needed to wake up earlier, she shouldn’t waste time with her friends. Her father spoke to her in the same way he had to his military sons. With unsullied frankness.

“My dad was really straightforward and very Koreanized,” she says. “It made me feel like I don’t have any emotions — it makes me feel like a guy too.”

When Angela was around 15, it occurred to Kyung Wook that there was maybe a different approach. He didn’t have a rude awakening or a moment of truth. He just started going to church more regularly and took time to rethink his parenting technique.

“Raising Angela, I did a lot of reflection,” he says about the change. “How do you communicate with your daughter so the things I say will be effective, but also comfort her? It’s an ongoing struggle for me to try to communicate with her, but I realized my job is to comfort her in times of need. I’m trying not to be so strict. I have more life experience and I’m trying to teach her that, but at the same time, I don’t want to be a demanding type of father.”

Angela recalls the conversion. “He changed a lot and started treating me with respect, which I’m really thankful for because if he didn’t change, I don’t think I would still be playing. I probably would have quit.”

Now she calls her father her only mentor and the chillest dad on the Tour. And while her father has little knowledge about the sport itself and blends into the background of her tournaments and lessons, unable to communicate in English with her peers and coaches, she credits him with her success.

“Everything my dad has told me to do, at the time I was like ‘Oh my God, I don’t want to do this, Dad, are you joking me? It’s such a bad idea.’ But now that I look back, I can’t really complain about anything he’s told me to do. Which is amazing because he has told me to do a lot of things in my life.”

The relationship is still, however, all about tough love. Kyung Wook won’t stop being brutally honest.

Angela shrugs it off.

“My dad is really the aggressive type, he doesn’t really care if it hurts your feelings, he’ll just say it to you.”

Then she adds, almost proudly, “I’m like that, too.”

*** Continue Reading »

By Chris Paek

After more than 50 years of playing the sax, jazz icon Phil Woods doesn’t owe a compliment to anyone. So when he gave Grace Kelly his hat in the middle of a performance together, it was the ultimate sign of respect for a girl who’s come a long way in a short amount of time.

“He wore this hat on all of his album covers for the past 50 years,” Grace explains. “It was a sweet gesture and really overwhelming.”

Woods isn’t the only big name in the jazz community that’s been impressed by the 15-year-old prodigy. Renowned musicians like Lee Konitz and Randy Brecker rave about her mastery of the alto sax. In her short yet productive career, Grace has already released three CDs (“Dreaming” 2005, “Times Too” 2005, and “Every Road I Walked” 2006), won several composition awards, and has performed at Carnegie Hall and Symphony Hall in Boston, among many other prestigious venues.

Fred Taylor, long-time entertainment manager at the Sculler’s Jazz Club in Boston who’s worked with legends like Miles Davis and John Coltrane, says that Grace’s ability on the alto sax is reminiscent of the great Charlie Parker.

“I swear, she’s channeling some 50 or 60-year-old great artist,” says Taylor. “It just amazes me.”

Music has always been a vital part of the Kelly household. Born Grace Chung in Wellesley, Mass., Grace moved to Brookline, a small suburb bordering Boston, after her parents divorced when she was just 2. Her mother, Irene, remarried Robert Kelly, who then legally adopted Grace and her sister a few years later.

Grace recalls that during Sunday brunch, her mother would love to play Stan Getz records while serving pancakes.

“[He] was my inspiration,” says Grace. “It’s the quintessential saxophone sound. That’s what really drew me to the instrument.”

It took a few years before she had a chance at the sax, however. Believing that classical piano was the gateway to a more concrete understanding of music, Grace’s mother Irene started her on piano lessons when she was 6.

“That didn’t last too long,” recalls her father, Robert, who now manages Grace’s budding musical career. “She wouldn’t be doing the classical work. She’d start with that, and then she’d be playing other stuff, making up her own songs.”

In the fourth grade, Grace settled on the clarinet after learning that her school offered saxophone only to fifth-graders. Halfway through the year, however, she couldn’t wait any longer. She asked her piano teacher, also an accomplished saxophonist, to split their private lessons between the ivories and the sax.

“The first time I blew into the saxophone, I got that nice sound and it felt really satisfying,” recalls Grace. “Nothing like the squeaks I got on the clarinet.”

Since then, Grace has dedicated herself to her craft. Quickly becoming the youngest person to complete the four-year jazz certificate program at the New England Conservatory’s Preparatory School, Grace has showcased her talents far and wide, accepting invitations to jazz festivals as far as Tromso, Norway.

To make time for all the performing and traveling, she does most of her schoolwork independently, studying backstage at gigs and making up tests whenever she can.

“At times things can get overwhelming,” Grace admits. “But I think it’s a great thing to be busy because it keeps everything exciting.”

Her parents attend every gig. They still run a retail craft gallery, but they’ve redirected much of their time and energy into promoting and touring with Grace. Her father/manager Robert, who has a management degree from Boston University, says that he and his wife support his daughter’s dream of pursuing a career in music.

“We all know what the goal is and what we want to do,” says Robert. “We want her to be happy in whatever she chooses to do.”

For now, Grace says that she enjoys just being a teen, hanging out with high school friends whenever she’s not composing, performing or writing music. But she’s got big dreams for her future.

“One day, I hope to not only collaborate with jazz artists but people like Sting and Paul McCartney, some of my pop idols,” says Grace, who sports the Phil Woods hat on her latest album cover. “I want to keep spreading my music to as many people as possible.”

 By Michelle Woo            Photograph by Eric Sueyoshi

The camera rolls as Kev Nish, standing behind a kitchen table piled with raw vegetables, lifts up a plate lined with hot dogs.

“I got a special ingredient for you guys,” he announces, suggestively showcasing the thawed franks. “All my ladies, you know what these are.”

As hosts of the live online cooking show “Eating FM,” he, J-Splif and DJ Virman exchange banter on topics such as “stank-ass breath,” popping cherry tomatoes and Michael Vick, all while tossing together the evening’s culinary creation: an Asian-inspired salad.    

Wearing a purple varsity jacket and a cap tilted sideways, Kev Nish speaks to the viewers at home: “We’re just here having a good time — not washing our hands, picking our noses, touching the food. Oh yeah, we gotta make the dressing.”

Gone are the days when all music artists had to do was make music. Just ask Far*East Movement, a Los Angeles hip-hop group made up of emcees Kev Nish (Kevin Nishimura), Prohgress (James Roh), J-Splif (Jae Choung) and DJ Virman. With filming taking place at manager Carl Choi’s condo, the low-budget Internet production is one of many marketing avenues these talented 20-somethings are taking to invade a music genre that rarely sees faces like theirs.

It seems their efforts are paying off. This fall, their single “You’ve Got A Friend,” featuring artists Baby Bash and Lil Rob, cracked the listener-voted “Top 8@8” countdown on L.A. megastation Power 106 and now sits alongside hits by hip-hop kings such as Akon, Kanye West and Jay-Z. While the chefs ham it up for the camera, Carl, sitting with a laptop just a few feet from the scene, types the words “GO VOTE! GO VOTE! GO VOTE!” into the show’s live chat room, reminding fans to keep the song on the airwaves through online and text message votes. 

A D.I.Y. mentality has been a steady component for a few guys who used to practice by downloading beats off of Napster and rapping into a computer microphone.

Influenced by artists like N.W.A. and Tupac, Kevin, James and Jae, three childhood friends fresh out of high school, would meet up at each other’s houses and take turns spitting out lyrics.

“For me, it was like therapy,” says James. “I would listen to a beat, and I could just flow it off and just speak about my struggles.”

Their pastime grew into a passion as they began performing in parking lots for anyone who would listen. They called themselves eMCees Anonymous.

But for the Asian American artists (Kevin is Chinese and Japanese, James and Jae are Korean), the name never felt right.

“We had this big complex,” says Kevin. “We were, like, people can’t know we’re Asian because the second they know, they’re gonna hate us. But then we were, like, eMCees Anonymous is weak sauce. It was like, we can’t own up to who we are? So we were, like, f-ck that.”

One song they had written was called “Far-East Movement,” which was about their wish for more Asian representation in the media. The name stuck.  

Soon, Far*East Movement began building ground in L.A.’s underground music scene, performing regularly at Atlas Supper Club (now called Opus) in Koreatown. In 2003, they brought together several local hip-hop artists for a charity show called “Movementality.” Impressed by their set, Carl, a prominent event promoter, approached the trio later that night.

“They were serious,” says Carl, who had worked with Chinese American freestyle champ Jin. “That’s what made them different from other Asian artists I’ve met. They were willing to put everything on the line.”  

Carl signed on as the group’s manager and from then on, Far*East Movement was performing at small shows across the country. But in a scene where Asian emcees were an anomaly, the group faced endless challenges. Audience members would ask, “Are you guys gonna rap in Chinese or something?”

“People used to laugh,” says James, who was in his first year of law school. “Oh, we got booed off the stage many, many times.”

They got slack from Asian Americans as well.    

“If you weren’t rapping about Asian issues, critics would be, like, why aren’t you representing?” Kevin says. “I didn’t want to make music about stuff that Asians were constantly b-tching about. I just wanted to make the same type of music that Nelly makes — music about real life.” 

Eventually, the artists carved their own niche. Their songs adopted a take-it-or-leave-it attitude, with lyrics like: “A big shout-out to the haters … They don’t understand … Who the hell is you to tell me what I can’t do?” Carl plastered the tunes on the Internet, hooking listeners through MySpace and Xanga. Fans, whom they refer to as “the fam,” devoured the sounds, which have been compared to those of Gnarls Barkley, the Black Eyed Peas and Michael Jackson.

In 2005, Far*East Movement released its first mixtape, “AudioBio,” distributing more than 20,000 copies independently. That summer, the trio embarked on its first world tour, performing in cities such as Houston, San Francisco, Hong Kong, Shanghai and Singapore. In 2006, they released their debut album, “Folk Music,” which dabbles in disco and hard rock. Their music has been featured everywhere from films (“The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift”) to TV shows (“CSI”) to video games (“Tony Hawk”). They’ve collaborated with artists such as Jin and Jon B. Last year, the group added DJ Virman of Power 106, who helped them get on the famed countdown.

Jae says he’s beginning to feel a stronger sense of respect in a once closed-off industry: “People used to say, ‘Asian cats? No way.’ But now, it’s more like, ‘Oh, I never knew.’”

Today, the boys of Far*East Movement, often known in the hip-hop circuit simply as FM, keep busy with shows, appearances at local events and the launch of their sophomore album, “Animal,” which will be released next year. Their goal is to land a major record deal and eventually build their own music production company.   

Still, Kevin swears that they’re just “plain old dudes.” 

“It’s been such a slow and steady process,” he says. “This is how we make a living. We’re the most everyday people you’ll ever meet.”

Somehow, as he takes a bite of his salad creation, that isn’t so hard to believe.

“We had this big complex.

We were, like, people can’t know we’re Asian because the second they know,

they’re gonna hate us.

But then it was like, we can’t own up to who we are?

F-ck that.”

By Suevon Lee

Over the last three years, Cindy Hwang has invited nearly 200 individuals into her New York City living room studio. There, against the backdrop of a bare white wall and a hardwood floor, the photographer has snapped full-length portraits of actors, teachers, comics, athletes, executives and retirees — individuals who would appear to not have much in common with each other, save for one trait: their Korean ancestry.

It is part of a photojournalism collection she calls The KYOPO Project, an ongoing endeavor in which she captures the portraits and stories of a cross-section of individuals of Korean descent who have spent the greater part of their lives in places such as the United States, Europe or South America.

The collection, which debuts as a photographic exhibit at the Korea Society in New York next spring, revolves around the term kyopo, which refers to individuals of Korean descent who grew up or live in a country outside the Korean peninsula.

“This project is way beyond the Korean factor. It hits different parallels of different types of struggles, especially those that other immigrants have had,” she said. “You deal with a spectrum of individuals of various demographic and socioeconomic levels.”

Hwang, a 33-year-old Korean American who grew up in Rockville, Md., a middle-class suburb of Washington, D.C., avoided using any specific criteria in selecting her participants. It was the organic process through which she found her subjects that lends the collection its sense of intimacy: all of those photographed are friends or acquaintances referred to her by previous participants, resulting in a heterogeneous sample of individuals unearthed largely through word of mouth.

What has resulted so far is a collection of individuals who vary from well-known figures such as author Chang-Rae Lee, actor Daniel Dae Kim and Ahn Trio violinist Angella Ahn to everyday figures including a nail salon owner, a university professor, a pop culture magazine editor, an architect and the first Korean American female fighter pilot to fly an Apache helicopter.

“They’re not hand-chosen, they’re not researched, I just kind of left the book open,” said Hwang, of her profile subjects, who range in age from five to 90.

“[The collection] remarks on such a nourishing message, which is being open-minded and accepting of every individual. A lot of people said ‘Yeah, I’m Korean, but it doesn’t define all of me.’”

Hwang continues to add to her collection of portraits, hoping eventually to turn it into a traveling multimedia exhibit with an accompanying Web site and book. She is currently in talks with the Asian Pacific American Program at The Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., to set up an exhibit there next year.

A 1997 graduate in fashion design from the Fashion Institute of Technology, Hwang was exposed to photography at an early age. Her father, Sae Hwang, was a computer programmer and amateur photographer who moved his family to the United States from Korea when Cindy was 1.

She recalls a specific photo he took that still hangs in her family’s living room: an image of her mother and older brother walking along a beach, taken using a red filter on an Asahi Pentax camera he bought from Japan. “It’s the first thing I think of when I think of my dad and photography. He always had a passion for photography,” she said.

Following work as a fashion stylist and a stint in the editorial department at the now-defunct Mademoiselle magazine, Hwang began concentrating on photography in earnest about five years ago. She maintains a living by shooting portraits and advertisements for corporate campaigns.

Despite its clean, commercial look, no stylists are incorporated into The KYOPO Project. Instead, Hwang asks each of her profile subjects to come dressed as they wish to be seen in the photograph. Some have appeared on her doorstep in a T-shirt and jeans — others, in elaborate ball gowns.

In each portrait, the individual stands straight ahead, looks directly at the camera, and wears a neutral expression. Hwang deliberately chose the uniform composition so “the viewer can compare and contrast, visually, without any sense of interruption.”

For those who know Hwang, this open-ended approach reflects the artist herself. “It’s very consistent with who she is,” said close friend Shizuka Otake. “She’s the kind of person who doesn’t want to decide, ‘This is exactly what I want to portray.’”

The idea for The KYOPO Project first materialized in November 2004, when Hwang observed a lack of photographers addressing Korean culture and identity in a current context.

“I wanted to develop a book that explored contemporary issues, in this case duality of cultures and identities among a group of people that had Korean ancestry,” she said. “You have these interesting, varying relationships with language and culture whether it’s within the culture the [kyopos] reside in or the culture that they don’t.”

Hwang retains a near-photographic memory of all of her subjects, recalling facts about each of them in precise detail as she previewed the digital photos stored on her laptop during an interview.

Before snapping their photo, Hwang asks her subjects to respond to a series of questions relating to culture, self-identity and biographical information. Her subjects’ responses will appear as blocks of text next to their photos in the book, intended to highlight the diversity of the Korean diaspora.

“It’s about giving the audience their first impression without giving them all the answers,” she said of the photos-only exhibit.

For some participants, the greatest challenge was answering open-ended questions before the shoot, such as, “What does being Korean American mean to you?”

“It was something I never had to verbalize so completely before,” said Daniel Juhn, 42, a Korean American born and raised in New Orleans and who now works for a biodiversity conservation environmental organization in Washington, D.C. “What I had found was that as I started to put it down in words, the more insight it brought me, the more revelations it brought me, and the more difficult I found it to be.”

Hwang said she hopes the project will deliver inspiration to others, especially for younger generations still carving out their life path. “It’s constantly evolving, the definition of Korean American. Different facets of it have changed. If it helps incite other people’s interests, I think I’ve done part of my job here.”

By Michelle Woo

Radio stations are playing “All I Want For Christmas Is You” on repeat. Friends are agonizing over what gifts to buy their significant others. Your boss is asking whether you’ll be bringing a “plus one” to the company party.

Oh, the sorrows of being single in December.

You’ve tried the traditional date-finding methods — standing around at clubs filled with fake-ID-toting 19-year-olds, flirting with the cutie at work (usually a bad idea), and perhaps, on particularly desperate occasions, letting Mom set you up with that nice boy/girl from church.

That’s enough, you declare. Aren’t there other ways?

During this season of couples’ greeting cards and holiday-themed romantic comedies, KoreAm takes a look at some off-the-beaten-dating-path alternatives for the unattached. Not because you need someone, but because, hey, wouldn’t it be nice to fuse a little love (or like) connection just in time for the New Year’s countdown?

High Speed Connection

Online Dating

These days, it seems like everyone knows a couple with a “We met online” story. This not-so-new date-finding method thrives for a number of reasons. It allows you to check out rows of eligible bachelors or bachelorettes without changing out of your pajamas. You can also get to know a person before deciding whether face-to-face time is the next step. And hey, you’re already glued to your computer for work and for socializing (oh, we know how often you check your MySpace and Facebook account), so why not use it to upgrade your love life, too?

If you’re interested in clicking your way to romance, you’re not alone. More than 40 million Americans use online dating services, about 40 percent of the nation’s single-people pool. And the numbers spike during the holiday season.

There are a dizzying number of online dating services out there, starting with megasites such as Match.com and eHarmony. Ben Sun, co-founder and CEO of Community Connect Inc., which operates the newly re-launched online community AsianAve.com (formerly AsianAvenue.com), says that while Internet dating was once seen as an oddity, it’s become rather commonplace. The re-vamped site, which boasts nearly 70,000 members, features a dating portal that allows you to create a free profile and browse singles in your area.

“When I would first hear stories of couples meeting on the Internet, it was considered really odd,” Sun says. “Now it’s not only acceptable, but even expected. You always hear questions like, ‘Are you dating anyone? Have you tried using the Internet?’”

If you’re specifically seeking a Korean mate, you might want to peruse KoreanFriendFinder.com, KoreanCupid.com or KoreanRomance.com, though the majority of the male members on such sites seem to be non-Asian. Kdate.com, which has yet to launch formally, has a simple tagline: “Make your Umma happy.”

Tired of the whole club and bar scene, D., a 27-year-old occupational therapist was looking for something new. (Along with some other folks we interviewed, she wishes to remain anonymous as she doesn’t want her current flame to become privy to her dating escapades.) “I kept hearing stories about how acquaintances met their girlfriends or boyfriends, and many times, I’d find out they met online,” she says.

She decided to create profiles on Match.com and Asian dating site Click2Asia and soon her inbox was bombarded with cyber winks and messages. If she liked something she saw, she’d take things a little further, perhaps through more e-mails or phone calls or even an actual date. Some dates led to weeks- or months-long flings, but nothing serious ever evolved. Still, she was happy to have had the experiences.

“I’d totally recommend online dating to anyone who’s bored and somewhat serious about starting a relationship,” says D., who is now dating a guy she met through a friend. “I don’t have any horror stories — or any regrets.”

Sometimes, even more can come out of online dating. Just ask 38-year-old Y., who works in real estate. Several years ago, he put up a profile on KoreanFriendFinder.com. “It was the typical story of being out of college and not being able to find someone unless you went trolling in the bars,” Y. says. “Once you get to an advanced age, what do you have to lose?”

Instead of simply filling out the basic information, Y. decided to add some personality to his profile by writing a little story about his family. One woman was intrigued by his candidness and decided to contact him.

Their first date was at BJ’s in Orange County, Calif. He tried to impress her by introducing her to the restaurant’s famous Pizookie, a cookie baked in a deep-dish pizza pan. He didn’t know she had already had one before. They liked each other instantly and decided to meet again. After many more dates and dinners, Y. proposed.

Now happily married, Y. says he sees online dating as just another way of promoting yourself, similar to how you would on a resume. Who knows who might take a second look?

Another happily-ever-after story comes from JooBee Cho, 33, of Los Angeles, who met her husband Alan through Yahoo! Personals. What first attracted her to her future mate was his photo, which many dating experts say is the most important part of an online ad. “I don’t think it was what he wrote on his profile that caught my attention,” Cho says with a laugh. “He was really cute.”

A self-proclaimed “open book,” Cho says using the Internet to meet someone seemed natural. Her mom would sometimes sit with her at the computer and tell her which guys she thought she should go out with.

Whether you’re looking for a long-term relationship or just a holiday fling, Cho offers this advice for those considering the online route: “Don’t take it too seriously. If you don’t have expectations, you won’t be disappointed.”

TRY IT

eHarmony ($49.95/month) — Features a patented matching process

Lavalife.com ($39.99/month) — Sign up for different dating communities depending on what you’re looking for

Match.com ($29.95/month) — Boasts more than 20 million members across the globe

Koreanfriendfinder.com (free) — Specific chat rooms for those based in Korea, as well as English only

Asianave.com (free) — Meet and connect with Asian Americans across the country

Against The Clock

Speed Dating

Many single folks explain how they want to get out and meet that special someone, but with their unyielding schedules, there’s just not enough time. Enter speed dating, a rapid-fire courtship phenomenon that allows you to meet several potential love interests in less than an hour. The best part? This all happens so quickly that if you land upon a dud, you won’t have time to secretly text message your friend to rescue you.

At traditional speed dating events, men and women meet each other over a series of short “dates,” usually lasting for less than 10 minutes. A bell signals when each date is over. At evening’s end, each person fills out a report stating who they would like to see again.

The Seattle Korean American Professionals Society held its first speed dating event at a nightclub on Valentine’s Day. About 30 people showed up for some turbo-charged mixing and mingling.

“Speed dating has been the new thing in bigger metropolitan cities and we wanted to bring it to Seattle,” says Seattle KAPS social co-chair Joe Cha. “It’s designed for those in the workforce who don’t have a lot of time to go out. We were like, ‘Hey, bring out your girlfriends and guy friends and try something new.’”

Cha says the event created a buzz in the city and even led to couples dating beyond the bell, some for longer periods of time.

TRY IT

Click2Asia ($10-$25) — Frequently hosts speed dating events in New York and Los Angeles. For a schedule, visit www.click2asia.com/events.

8minutedating.com (Cost varies) — Holds events in 55 cities in the U.S. and Canada

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

The New Matching System

In a cozy office in Los Angeles’ Koreatown, Bora Han meets one-on-one with men and women, chatting with them about their families, careers, religion and hobbies.

Her goal: to find each one a spouse.

Han is a “couple manager” for Duo, a Korea-based marriage agency with 40,000 members worldwide. Through an extended process of background checks, consultations, questionnaires and using her “gut instinct,” she attempts to narrow the playing field to make it easier for her clients to find The One.

“I don’t like the word ‘matchmaker,’” says Han, who works mainly with the Korean American market. “It sounds kind of old-fashioned and cheesy.”

Instead, she gives the ancient profession a modern twist. During personalized sessions, clients might fill out information forms with yes-or-no questions about their lifestyle (I can shop for more than three hours) or their philosophies (I believe in love at first sight). Oftentimes, she listens as singles describe their ideal match.

“Women want stability,” Han says. “We’re not a dating service. We’re geared toward marriage. That means a college degree is a must.”

For clients who haven’t had much dating experience, perhaps those who recently immigrated from Korea, couple managers might offer coaching sessions. Jennifer Lee, general manager of the Los Angeles branch, has suggested that ladies who don’t usually wear makeup try a little bit of lip gloss and that men call the women after their dates to see if they got home safely. After clients meet, the couple manager will follow up with them to find out how everything went.

Han says a thrilling part of her job is when she senses sparks. “I had these two clients, Jennifer and Ted,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought they’d be perfect together, but I just knew.” Worldwide, the company boasts a 44-percent marriage rate.

The process, which can take up to several years, doesn’t come cheap. For a one-year membership, Duo charges $1,200 to $5,000, depending on the client. For instance, if someone only wanted to date a doctor who came from an entire family of doctors, that person’s membership rate would probably be on the high-end. On rare occasions, couple managers have had to turn away clients because they didn’t think they’d be able to find them a match.

J., 37, of Long Beach, signed up with Duo at the urging of his mother. He says he used to meet women through friends, but as he got older, his social circle started dwindling. When his mom learned about the service in the newspaper, he hesitantly agreed to try it out.

“I wasn’t really sure what I was getting myself into,” says J., a marketing manager.

But he describes his first consultation as “relaxing”: “It was a general conversation, where she asked me things like ‘What are you looking for?’”

So far, he’s met seven different women through the service, but no one special yet.

“I’m looking for someone who I have a connection with,” J. says. “It’s just a feeling that I’ll get.”

Duo ($1,200-$5,000) — The Los Angeles branch accepts clients from across the U.S. Call (213) 383-0077 or e-mail jenny@duonet.com.

Executivekoreandating.com ($1,500/year) — Claims to be “successfully matchmaking singles since 1987.” Call (800) 655-0361.

Guests Are Welcome

Date My Friend

The scene has been replayed time and time again.

“I’m just not that into you, but you’d be perfect for my friend!”

Taking that age-old concept of pals meeting pals, a group of socialites in the L.A. Asian scene decided to throw a party. The catch? In order to attend, one had to A) be single, B) bring a friend of the opposite sex, and C) be a friend or a friend of a friend of the organizers, who, as women in their 30s, were discovering that many of their single friends didn’t know each other.

“A lot of my guy friends were commenting about my girlfriends and vice versa,” says Jennifer Lee, one of the hostesses. “We just wanted to bring everyone together to see if there could be any sparks. People always say the best way to meet someone is through a friend.”

The much-talked-about soiree grew into Date My Friend, a two-year-old event-planning organization headed by Lee, Ruby Seong and Betty Kong. Lee says she wants to create an environment for singles that’s safe and fun. Guests usually play an icebreaker or two and then go off and mingle on their own. There’s never that awkward curiosity about whether a person is taken and there’s peace of mind in knowing that everyone at the event has been referred. “There’s a trust factor there,” says Lee, who met her current boyfriend at a DMF party. “When you’re friends with someone, your morals and values are in sync.”

If Lee finds out that a guest has made someone uncomfortable, he or she simply won’t be re-invited to the next event.

The hostesses ultimately hope that guests will find love at a DMF event and then politely ask to be taken off the invite list.

Datemyfriend.net (Cost varies per event, but signing up is free) — The original which started in San Francisco but has expanded across the country.

Dmfster.com (Cost varies per event) — To join this Asian American version, e-mail dmfster@gmail.com.

Stay Safe! Guard your identity: Don’t share your real name/phone number or any other identifying information until you’re comfortable.

Note: KoreAm does not endorse any of the dating organizations listed here. Be smart and be careful when dealing with anything that requires payment and your personal information.

****

First Click

An Internet dating newbie’s foray into love at first site.
by Jan Kim

As I get ready to embrace the Big 3-0, I wonder what went wrong. I’d always thought I’d be married by now and have a few kids running around. I consider myself cute, sweet (most of the time) and successful. But lately it’s been hard to meet people.

When KoreAm asked me to investigate the world of online dating, I was hesitant. Do I really have to resort to this? But then I thought, hey, this might be fun. Anyway, wouldn’t it be fulfilling a civic duty to the Korean American community?

Day One

I sign up for eHarmony, known as “America’s No. 1 trusted relationship service.” (I’m glad the company claims to be No. 1, because when it comes to relationship service, who wants to be No. 2?) The Web site claims to use a scientific approach to match highly compatible singles. It does this based on your profile, and there’s no self-surfing involved.

On the 436-question relationship questionnaire, I’m stuck on the first one. Do I reveal my real name? What if someone I know, for example, an ex-boyfriend, finds out I’m on it? I’d die of embarrassment.

There are, like, three degrees of separation in the KA community (one degree if you’re from Los Angeles), so what if I run into people I know? (Or, what if I sign up and get matched with my ex-boyfriend??)

OK, I know I have to get over my fears. I compromise and use my Korean name. No one calls me by that except my grandmother. (It is, after all, eHalmeoni.)

More questions follow. I’m asked about my appearance, my temperament, my social style. I decide that if I am going to really commit myself to finding The One, I need to be really honest about who I am.

Then the questionnaire asks me to write down what I am most passionate about. My mind goes blank. I’ll finish this later.

Day Two

Putting my eHarmony questionnaire to the side, I explore some Korean dating sites. At Koreancupid.com I find pictures of only non-Korean men and very attractive Korean girls. OK, I’m getting a feeling this site caters toward white men with Asian fetishes. Also, they don’t even ask for your name — just a username. Most of the questions are about physical appearance. And my choices are Hot, Very Good Looking, Good Looking, On The Average, Below Average and Hard To Say. What the heck? Shouldn’t this site be called KoreanPimp.com?

Day Three

I decide to finish my eHarmony profile. I think it was good that I took some time to reflect and figure out why I’m doing this. I write “giving back to the community” as the thing I am most passionate about.

The site then claims that based on my profile, there are thousands of matches out there for me.

Day Four

I logged onto my account to find NO matches. Is there something wrong with me? Where’s the harmony?

Day Five

SEVEN matches today! Now this is more like it! Two of them are named Brian and two are named John. I get the sense that these guys may not be using their real names, but their profiles seem normal enough.

Some of them want to “start communication.” This is where you send a set of questions to each other. From there you go back and forth to see if the answers meet your standards.

I decide to just browse through the profiles and not act upon any of the communication requests nor “close” (delete) any matches.

Day Six

Today I discovered 35 more matches. OMG! I felt a bit overwhelmed until I realized some have already sent “closed” messages due to my picture not being posted; taking too long to answer the sent questions; or based on the statements made in my profile.

I can’t help but feel rejected. And one of the guys is cute, someone I would have definitely noticed if he were walking down the street. But I’m comfortable with what I put in my profile, so I can’t do anything about that. It does make me think that I need to put in more time on this, meaning start answering the questions sent me, post a photo and “close” the guys I don’t want to ever meet.

With the help of one of my guy friends, I find a picture I think I look cute in, or as he puts it, “I’d sleep with you if I saw that picture.” Of course I had to crop out my ex-boyfriend’s face and arm around my shoulder, which was a bit challenging.

Day Seven

I log on to find another five matches and spaz out because I actually know two of the guys. It makes me doubt eHarmony because I would have never thought they would be compatible with me.

I decide to practice height-ism and close all matches under 5’9.” That brings my number down to 20. Much more manageable.

Day Eight

Paul of Cerritos has caught my interest. His photo is nice, he has a job and seems relatively normal. It may sound bland, but it’s the safest starting point. I decide to focus my energy on him for now. From here on out it will be a few more guided communications and if both parties are interested, we can start talking without the assistance of eHarmony.

I’m not envisioning myself giving a testimonial on one of those eHarmony commercials just yet, but I am open to something good happening.

We shall see.

No evidence North Korean leader is dead http://t.co/Wl42cfFN via @CNN

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