Koreatown of Los Angeles

As soon as we turned off the I-10 Freeway and onto Western Avenue I could tell this wasn't a sleepy neighborhood. Two lanes of snarling traffic in each direction flooded the congested roadway. Most of the billboards and shop signs read in Korean. Everything appeared compact and chaotic. Although we knew we were in Koreatown, there was a side that believed we could have been in Busan.

After a long 7-hour drive, the first thing we wanted was to get a bite to eat. We walked to the Koreatown Plaza—one of many shopping malls in K-town—and found the food court on the bottom level.

A large room with tables hosted an almost exclusively Asian crowd. We walked around the perimeter with all the different vendors and found a shop selling Korean street food. It was the cheapest option there.

I ordered the dduk ggochi, a rice stick with barbeque sauce on a skewer, and two bulgogi tacos. It was enjoyable eating the food, but also to watch the people in the food court.

We took a walk around to some of the other shops around the mall. There was a stand selling red ginseng, which was of interest. Also we walked inside a bookstore where all the books were in Korean. Jordan recognized several of the books (written originally in English) by the pictures on the covers.

Dduk ggochi, a rice stick on a skewer. 

Many Asians eating in the food court. 

The first Korean immigrants to Southern California came in 1902 and 1903, settling in Riverside and Claremont, and some near downtown in an area called Bunker Hill. Many of them worked in the railroad and farm industries.

Growth was slow in the beginning with only 650 Koreans living in the Los Angeles area in the 1930's. The population boomed with the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965. This allowed many Koreans to join family members who had already immigrated.

After Lee Hi Duk immigrated in 1968, he saw a need to provide Korean goods for the existing population. He established a store on Olympic Boulevard, which he called Olympic Market. This became a successful venture and provided groceries to the now 10,000 Koreans.

Drawing from that momentum he bought five blocks and brought in other Korean-owned businesses. His vision was of a “Korean Village.” This was the genesis of the modern-day Koreatown, and just a few blocks away from where we were currently visiting.

Korean book store. 

After a few hours spent at the beach that afternoon, we returned to our hotel in Koreatown and set out to find an authentic Korean barbeque. We found one near our hotel, which ended up being the highlight of the day.

We ordered the combo for three to four people for $98. We sat at a table with three burners and immediately the waitress brought us bowls of kimchi, rice, lettuce, and other condiments I couldn't name, and piling heaps of beef and pork onto the griddles. On the middle burner she placed the ingredients of a soup, which included noodles and tofu.

Sizzling aroma wafted through the air. We felt as if we had to hurry and eat before she brought us more. Every person had their own small bowl and chopsticks, and could experiment with any combination they pleased. It could be rice, beef, sauce and tofu; or lettuce, pork belly and kimchi.

By the time we left there was still food on the table and all of us were stuffed. It was a very good experience.

Plenty of food at a Korean barbeque. 

Korean barbeque. 

The following morning Jordan and I went for a walk through the neighborhood. The morning was cool and fresh, and the smell of blossoms filled the air. As we walked through the residential area nothing appeared Korean anymore. Architecture looked as if it were from the twenties or thirties. Street names like “Oxford” and “Normandie” were not at all Asian. The silhouetted skyscrapers of downtown Los Angeles loomed in the distance.

With all this different architecture, I realized that this neighborhood was once occupied by another people. That brought up new questions: Who were these people? When did they live here? When did they leave? Why did they leave?

Old European architecture in Koreatown.  

Now and then a pocket of Korean shops would pop up. We passed the Seoul International Park where we saw elderly Asians using the park equipment to do their morning exercises.

Across the street stood the Korean Pavilion, the only true Asian architecture we encountered. The pavilion itself was small and the gate locked, but we could still see the ornate flare of its architecture.

It was interesting that we passed a house with a sign describing itself as a Zen Buddhist temple. It appeared nothing like a Buddhist temple.

An interesting fact about Koreatown is that it's very diverse with other nationalities, including those from several Latin American countries. As we walked we saw several vendors setting up street stands. One of them sold pupusas and we were tempted to buy. We also passed Pollo al la Brasa, a Peruvian restaurant.

Korean Pavilion near Seoul International Park. 

View of downtown skyscrapers from Koreatown. 

One of the buildings that stood out was The Wiltern, a greenish-blue 12-story building on the corner of Western and Wilshire (hence the name). The sight of it beckoned to an earlier time.

Technically known as The Pellissier Building, it was built in 1931and housed the Warner Brother Western Theater. It was later renamed The Wiltern Theater.

Over the years it fell into disrepair, but in the 1980's came the desire to restore it to its former glory. After four years of renovation the theater once again was able to host a wide variety of live performances.

The Wiltern.

Intersection on Wilshire Boulevard. 

There are several old churches in Koreatown. I don't know if they are currently active or have been re-purposed. One of the more impressive buildings is the Wilshire Boulevard Temple, a Jewish Synagogue. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to go inside, but did drive past.

For our final evening in Koreatown, I headed back out to the streets with Jordan and Kaitlyn. This would be our first time wandering in the dark. For most of our walk we felt safe because the streets were lit and empty. But we had one stretch where it was dark and fifty feet away from a homeless encampment. At that same time we heard someone from an apartment window yelling. We quickened our step.

Our destination was Jinsol Gukbap on 8th Street. The restaurant sat on a dark corner, but was well lit and friendly on the inside. The menu was very simple and consisted of dishes ranging from $17 a plate to $39.⸻I ordered the Bibimbap in Hot Stone Pot.

Before our orders came out the waiter brought seven small trays of condiments, three sauces, and a cup of rice. The trays consisted of kimchi, sliced peppers and onions with a spicy paste, pickled cabbage, sliced chives, a sweet and crispy vegetable in a sour sauce, cooked crab claws and a pickled pepper in red sauce. Of course, those represent my descriptions and not the reality of what they really were.

Then came the main course. It came in a piping hot dolsot and still sizzling. Arranged neatly in separate piles were carrots, shitake mushrooms, spinach and other vegetables I didn't recognize. In the middle sat a scoop of rice with an egg yolk on top. After waiting several minutes to let it finish cooking at our table, the waiter came over and squeezed gochujang sauce onto it, then mixed it all together.

Bibimbap.

A variety of condiments for our meal. 

It was a bit spicy. I ate it with a spoon, then used my chopsticks to grab a piece of kimchi or pickled pepper or whatever sounded good to chase it down.

It was past eleven by the time we finished and they were now putting up tables. I attempted to eat all I could of the condiments, but unfortunately couldn't fit them all in my tummy. When we left out the side door most of the employees were in the parking lot taking a smoke break. They were very friendly and waved goodbye.

Jordan and Kaitlyn giggling about something. 

As we walked back to the hotel on those dimly-lit streets I told Jordan that it reminded me of the streets of Phnom Penh. If the streets were just a bit narrower, I told him, the buildings looked similar and it had a similar smell.

We walked back to our hotel, past the homeless encampment and beneath street lamps. In an odd kind of way, it would be a moment that would create nostalgia. ♠

California Poppies

 

California's City of the Dead

Several years ago I was considering a trip to Egypt when I discovered that Cairo had a mammoth cemetery that stretched four miles long! As someone who loves cemeteries, I couldn't help but to look into this ancient necropolis. It is nearly 1,500 years old and is so vast that squatters live among the tombs. Common people were buried here as well as historical figures and elites. The huge burial ground has been called “City of the Dead.”

I still hope to visit Cairo someday, but for now our trip to Egypt didn't pan out. But imagine my delight when I learned that California had its own “City of the Dead.” And it happened to be near San Francisco, which is where we were headed for our next vacation!

The story begins in 1848 with the California Gold Rush. The discovery of gold at Sutter's Mill brought thousands of people to the area around San Francisco. The city grew, albeit in a chaotic manner.

As people moved in, many inevitably died, creating the need for cemeteries. In the 1850's four large cemeteries were built near Lone Mountain: Laurel Hill, Odd Fellows, Calvary and Masonic. By the 1880's there were 26 cemeteries within city limits.

Lone Mountain in modern-day San Francisco. In the 1800's there were four cemeteries around this hill.

In the latter part of the 1800's some people in the United States began to be wary of having residential areas so close to cemeteries. They feared that disease would be transmitted by wind, or that it could seep into the ground and contaminate the water supply. As a result, many places began building graveyards beyond the city limits.

This suited San Francisco well, as they also had the issue of cemeteries reaching capacity. In 1887 the archbishop of the Catholic church purchased 300 acres a few miles south of San Francisco in what is now Colma. This would become the Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery, which is now the largest in Colma.

Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery in Colma, California.

This area was thought to be unsuitable for a residential area and no one foresaw that someday the city might expand out that far. Some of the area was used for farming, but much of land around San Francisco, and especially near the ocean, was filled with sand dunes.

But the area worked well for a cemetery. The rail line to San Jose went by there, which made it a convenient trip. One could hold a service in the city and then travel on a train or street car to the cemetery for burial.

The cemetery issue in San Francisco grew worse and in 1900 the city created a new law that banned all new burials. Without public funding many of the cemeteries fell into disrepair. Tombstones and statues were toppled and in some cases people saw skeletons protruding from the ground. New cemeteries began to pop up near the Catholic cemetery in Colma.

Statue in Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery.

In 1912 things got interesting when San Francisco decided to eliminate all cemeteries in the city. Yes, this meant moving them! This was a long process. When exhuming bodies, if the casket was still in good shape then both the body and casket were moved. If not, the bodies were thrown into boxes and moved that way. The family could purchase the headstone for $10. Headstones left behind were used for public projects or dumped in the bay. Colma became the new home to rebury San Francisco's dead.

By the 1940's an estimated 150,000 graves had been moved. As you might imagine, hundreds of graves were unintentionally (or intentionally) left behind. To this day graves still show up during construction projects and other works. It truly is a Poltergeist-like scenario where neighborhoods have been built atop abandoned graveyards.

Entrance to Russian and Chinese cemeteries. 

Russian Sectarian Cemetery.

Hoy Sung Ning Yung Chinese Cemetery.

Offerings at headstone in Hoy Sung Ning Yung Cemetery.

Today there are only two cemeteries within San Francisco city limits: Mission Dolores Cemetery and San Francisco National Cemetery. The area around Lone Mountain where the “Big Four” used to reside has become filled with residential neighborhoods and the University of San Francisco.

Colma has a living population of 1,500 people, but an estimated 1.5 million dead. A drive down El Camino Real furnishes views of expansive green graveyards on both sides of the road.

Persian graves at Cypress Lawn Memorial Park.

Serbian Cemetery. Notice the Russian Orthodox crosses. 

Our visits to the cemeteries in Colma were peripheral. Our hotel was in Colma, but most of our days were spent in San Francisco. If I had time in the morning I would take a quick drive through some of the burial grounds.

Several famous people are buried here, including Joe DiMaggio, Willie McCovey, Levi Strauss and Wyatt Earp. I enjoyed seeing the different styles of headstones that correlated with different nationalities or religions. Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery had several stone statues and crosses. I was surprised to see so many Russian Orthodox crosses at the Serbian Cemetery, surely a relic from Soviet occupation or their Slavic roots. Chinese headstones were etched with Hanzi characters, often with offerings at the base. Headstones at the Jewish cemetery, with their Hebrew letters, appeared to be crammed very close together, similar to photos of other Jewish cemeteries I've seen from around the world.

Grave of Joltin' Joe DiMaggio at Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery.

By the time we had to leave for our next destination I had just scratched the surface of what the cemeteries in Colma had to offer. As a taphophile, I could have spent days here wandering through the different cemeteries, exploring in depth the variety and history this place had to offer.

The stories beneath the surface would be fascinating to uncover. Not only did San Francisco attract those from the eastern United States, but also immigrants from all around the world, and especially Asia. The collection of cemeteries in Colma represent the melting pot of San Francisco, and indeed, all of America. ♠

Salem Memorial Park and Garden (Jewish Cemetery).

Dodger Stadium

Only two Major League ballparks⸺Fenway Park and Wrigley Field⸺are older than Dodger Stadium. To be sure, both of these ballparks have Dodger Stadium beat by nearly fifty years, but it is still the oldest park west of the Mississippi. It is the largest baseball stadium in the world by seat capacity. Not too shabby. 

When the Dodgers came from Brooklyn in 1958, they spent their first four seasons in the Los Angeles Coliseum while their new stadium was being built. During the construction phase several residents were pressured to relocate. Tops of ridges were trimmed down, ravines filled, millions of cubic yards of dirt moved, and an entire elementary school was simply buried rather than demolished. (It currently sits beneath the pavement of the parking lot on the third base side.) The first season of Dodger Stadium saw a MLB attendance record of 2,755,184 fans. 

As a teenager I was not a Dodger fan. But that was only because they weren't the Braves. I did, however, have respect for them. They always seemed to be good. Back then their superstars were Pedro Guerrero, Steve Sax, Orel Hershiser and Fernando Valenzuela. And, of course, who could forget manager, Tommy Lasorda? 

Decades have passed and my heart has softened. For years now I have wanted to watch a game at Dodger Stadium and today was my lucky day. We had seats directly behind home plate . . . and in the nose-bleed section! Yes, it was a long walk to the upper deck, but we had a wonderful view of the whole field and San Gabriel Mountains. 

Being an hour early we decided to get our food while the crowds were still filing in. For $7.99 I ordered the famous Dodger Dog. There was nothing special about it except that it was about ten inches long. It wasn't even thicker than normal. I decorated mine with the standard ketchup, mustard, relish and onions. The banger came when we tallied the total of food with drinks for five people: a whopping $88!!! —I've never spent near that much on concessions. 

The Dodger Dog.

Many decks of Dodger Stadium.

I don't believe the game was sold out, but it was close. The Dodgers are always a favorite and it helps that they seem to be perennially good. This was also the “Freeway Series” against cross-town rivals Los Angeles Angels. 

There was an excitement in the air. Not only could I feel it, but I believe most of the 50,000 people there could also. For me it was the opportunity to see someone who was becoming a legend. It was like going to the ballpark and watching Willie Mays or Micky Mantle. Today we would be able to see in-person, Shohei Ohtani. 

I will admit that over the last three decades, I have not followed baseball like I used to. But Shohei Ohtani might help change that. He started his career in Japan and later made his way to the United States and the Major Leagues. He both bats and pitches, and is very good at both—a rarity in professional baseball. Comparisons have been made between him and Babe Ruth. This evening at the game there were thousands of fans with Dodger jerseys and “Ohtani 17” on the back. He was by far the most popular player in the stadium. 

Shohei Ohtani on deck.

One of many who wore a Shohei Ohtani jersey.

Angels dugout.

As the game progressed, not only was I mindful of current players, but also of the legends who once played in this stadium. As I strolled the walkway between levels I saw murals on the walls of Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale. 

I remember my dad talking about Sandy Koufax when I was younger. Kofax played when the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles. Even though he only competed twelve years in the Major Leagues, he is still considered one of the greatest pitchers of all time. He won the Cy Young Award three times and the National League Most Valuable Player once. He was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame on his first year of eligibility. 

Mural of Don Drysdale.

Beyond the outer doors of the upper deck gift shop is a beautiful view of the Los Angeles skyline. As the crow flies the stadium is just over a mile from downtown. (As I stepped into the plaza I didn't realize I had technically exited the stadium and it was a minor hassle to get back in.) 

Other than the view, the other thing that drew me to this plaza were the memorials for retired Dodger numbers. Each number bore a summery of that person's career. As far as I could tell, they all played in Los Angeles, and many also in Brooklyn. They included Gil Hodges, Duke Snider, Pee Wee Reese, and #42, Jackie Robinson. 

Memorial for Gil Hodges in the Retired Numbers Plaza.

View of Los Angeles from the Retired Numbers Plaza.  Memorial for Jackie Robinson partially visible.

A look from right field.

The evening was perfect, not a cloud in sight. After an hour the sun went down and lights came on. The crowd was enthusiastic, especially every time Ohtani came to bat. For the night he went 1 for 4, with a walk and a solid home run. In the end, the Dodgers won convincingly, 7-2. 

On our way out we were able to exit through the Retired Numbers Plaza. The view over Los Angeles was spectacular, now with all the skyscrapers lit up. 

The only negative of the night was that pesky L.A. traffic. It took us an hour to get out of the parking lot, and at least half of that we were at a complete stand-still! ♠

 

From Dodger Stadium looking toward Santa Monica.

 

An Outsider's Impression of San Francisco

Many years ago I sat in a Barcelona airport waiting for my flight and talking with a man who had traveled extensively around the world. I asked which place was the most beautiful he'd ever been. His response: Istanbul and San Francisco. 

Since then I have made it a goal to visit both those places. But as the years have passed, I started to doubt if San Francisco was the Mecca it used to be. It seemed that every story I heard of the City by the Bay was either of its increasing homeless problem, crime, or high cost of living. 

Finally, twenty-nine years after my conversation in the airport, I was able to make it to San Francisco. We only spent two days, but here are a few of my observations. 

Golden Gate Park.

Zoomed-in view of San Francisco from Alcatraz Island.

I will say right off the bat that San Francisco was absolutely beautiful. He was right about that! The first thing we did when we came into town was drive across the Golden Gate Bridge to a viewpoint at Marin Headlands. Transitory fog engulfed the bay, but when it finally moved out we had sweeping views of the bridge and San Francisco skyline. Both were amazing. I was intrigued by the blue of the bay, the ingenuity of the bridge, the verdancy of the rolling hills, the mystery of the fog and the smell of the sea on the wind. 

I continued to be impressed when we went to Golden Gate Park, the West Coast's version of Central Park. Fog was there too, along with tall wind-swept trees, lots of green grass, ponds, flowers, ducks and even bison. I was further impressed when I learned from a worker that this whole area used to be sand dunes and the early settlers started by planting trees along the coast for a wind-break, and eventually worked their way inland. 

But . . . there was a caveat in this Garden of Eden: Don't leave your car. Yes, the worker told us this too. He warned that car break-ins were rampant and that if you leave your car too long unattended, you run the risk of someone breaking in and stealing anything of worth. I will admit that this bit of information made me a little anxious during the rest of our stay, but luckily for us, we were never victims. 

On the "red line," making our way to the city center.

From the corner of 28th Avenue and Anza Street, looking toward Lone Mountain and University of San Francisco.

Public transportation here was disappointing. I thought that because San Francisco was progressive and liberal, then their public transportation system would be very much akin to that in Europe. In my opinion, I was very wrong. 

The first time we parked our car and came to a rail station, we spent forty-five minutes trying to figure out how to pay our fare. There was no counter with a real person behind it. None of the passengers passing by seemed very friendly or helpful. We couldn't just plug in our credit card and buy four tickets. We eventually learned that we had to purchase a “card” and put money on it, but how much we knew not. After three tries it canceled our credit card and we had to use another one. What a nightmare! For a while I thought we'd end up missing our ball game—But we finally figured it out. 

We took the red line to the city center where we had to switch trains to Oracle Park. I thought it would be straight forward with signs pointing to our connecting train like there is in Europe. Maybe I was blind, but I couldn't see it. We ended up back above ground where we ran into a very nice gentleman who went out of his way to get us to our destination. He was the nicest local person we met during those two days. 

Our evening at the ballgame displayed once again the magic of the city. We had an upper balcony seat where we could look out over the bay. There was a lively atmosphere in the stadium and from what I could tell, much of the music they played came from local musicians or songs about San Francisco (for example Journey, Lovin' touchin' squeezin'; Starship, We built this city; and Metallica). 

Oracle Park is a beautiful stadium that sits next to San Francisco Bay.

When listening to critics talk of San Francisco, they will emphasize the homeless issue and “feces in the street.” I will be honest, I didn't see much of that and there was no incident when I felt in danger. The only time I recall seeing homeless people was near the corner of Embarcadero and Market Street where we saw a couple tents on the sidewalk. Admittedly we only spent two days in the city and stayed mostly on touristy streets. 

Alcatraz was just as good as I hoped it would be. Not only did it have a fascinating history, but the view from the island, including the boat ride, offered spectacular views of the city and Golden Gate Bridge. 

Alcatraz Island.

Over and over in my mind I couldn't believe the genius of the architecture of the city. The Bay Bridge, which we could also see from Alcatraz, was a double-decker bridge. I knew there were also tunnels that ran beneath the bay. Nearly every building in the city was built on some sort of hill. And to think that it was nearly obliterated during the 1906 earthquake and they had to rebuild it! 

During our last evening on our way to the hotel, we had another memorable experience. At the far end of the subway car in which we traveled, a homeless man stood by himself. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to finger something in the center of the cloth. Then he plugged one nostril and started snorting whatever was in the handkerchief. I am no expert on drugs, but it appeared he was snorting cocaine. It wasn't exactly the environment I was excited to have my daughters in. 

San Francisco trolley.

We survived our two days in San Francisco. We did not get injured or robbed. We learned that it was indeed a beautiful city. It also had a shady side that demanded caution, although I thought the stereotypes were a bit embellished. 

Hotels in San Francisco were very expensive. We considered a room in Oakland, but decided it was far too crime-ridden. So we decided on Colma, a suburb just south of San Francisco. I thought it would be more laid back and calmer, but it wasn't. I was nervous to leave my car out in the parking lot overnight.⸺When it was time to check out and leave town, I will admit that there was a burden lifted from my shoulders. I was happy to escape San Francisco in one piece. ♠

 

San Francisco skyline and Golden Gate Bridge from Marin Headlands.