A Korean’s Take: Culture, Media & Everyday Life

Confession first. I wrote a bunch of posts in September and then just... didn't publish them. They sat in my drafts folder getting older while I kept telling myself I'd tidy them up tomorrow. Well, it's the last day of the month. So I'm clearing the pile, one after another, before October shows up and judges me. This is one of them. It's about a moment a lot of visitors hit in Korea, usually on their first or second night, usually hungry. Lunch at Mabangjip in Hanam, just east of Seoul: two stews in the middle and more banchan than anyone ordered. Photo: A Korean's Take What does "il-in-bun an dwaeyo" mean? You walk into a pork belly place alone. The smell alone got you through the door. You point at samgyeopsal on the menu, hold up one finger, and the owner shakes her head. "Il-in-bun an dwaeyo." One serving, not possible. Sometimes it's printed right on the menu: 2인분 이상 주문 가능, orders of two or more only. Dakgalbi places do it. Hot ...

Get on a Seoul subway around 8 on a Saturday morning and you'll see it. Neon jackets. Trekking poles folded into backpacks. Visors, gloves, serious-looking boots. Half the car seems to be heading off on an expedition, and you're just going to brunch. Don't worry, it's not a club outing. (Well, sometimes it is.) It's just Saturday in Korea. Why does everyone hike? Look out almost any apartment window here and there's a good chance you'll see a mountain. Roughly 70 percent of the country is mountainous, depending on who's counting, and our cities got squeezed into whatever flat land was left. So the mountain isn't a trip. It's the thing behind the supermarket. That changes everything. You don't plan a hike weeks ahead. You wake up, throw a few mandarins in a bag, hop on the subway or a local bus, and forty minutes later you're on a trail. National parks don't charge an entry fee, either, which Koreans of a certain age will point ou...

Every October 9, Korea takes a day off to thank an alphabet. Say that out loud to a friend back home and watch their face. It's called Hangul Day (한글날, Hangeul-nal), and it marks the year 1446, when King Sejong made the new script public. Plenty of countries have holidays for wars won or kings born. We have one for the letters we use to order tteokbokki, read the subway map, and type ㅋㅋㅋ at 2 a.m. I've always liked that about this country. The holiday has a strange little history of its own, by the way. It was a day off for decades, then in 1991 the government dropped it from the list of public holidays because, apparently, Koreans had too many days off. (People who have worked in a Korean office may laugh at that.) It stayed a regular workday until 2013, when it came back. So yes, the alphabet got its holiday cancelled and then un-cancelled. Quick facts Hangul Day: October 9, a public holiday again since 2013 The script was published in 1446 as Hunminjeongeum 24 letters in ...

For most of 2024 and 2025, RESCENE was one of those rookie girl groups you knew existed but couldn't quite place. Five members (Woni, Liv, Minami, May and Zena), a small agency called The Muze Entertainment, a debut in March 2024, and a concept built around scent. Then, sometime this year, they started showing up everywhere. Music shows, KCON stages, variety clips, and a meme that half of my younger coworkers could quote. So what happened? The short answer is "Pretty Girl." The longer answer is more interesting. First, a meme The turn actually started before the remake. Earlier this year a clip from leader Woni's personal YouTube channel, a cheerful "Geoje Yaho" in a thick regional accent, spread as a meme. People went looking for the group behind it and found "LOVE ATTACK," the title track from their August 2024 mini album SCENEDROME . Almost two years after it came out, the song climbed back up Melon's Top 100 to No. 5. Koreans have a wo...

I noticed it in Japan before I had any way to explain it. The man next to me at the counter finished a bite of grilled fish, picked up his rice bowl in his left hand, brought it up somewhere near his chin, and ate from it with chopsticks. Nobody looked at him. I did, because I am Korean, and at a Korean table the bowl stays where it is. We move the spoon, not the bowl. A few months later, at a family table in China, a small rice bowl came up toward someone's mouth in exactly the same way, and by then it had stopped looking odd to me. What stayed with me was the suspicion that this had very little to do with politeness. It has to do with equipment. Is it really a rule? Korean etiquette on this point is reasonably firm. Rice and soup bowls stay on the table, and you lower the spoon to them rather than raising them to you. Real meals are looser than that, obviously. People tip back the last of a cold naengmyeon broth. Students eat instant noodles out of the pot. Modern tableware i...