Discovering My Love For Korean Food

A lot of people who decide to teach in Korea for a year are concerned about what kinds of food are available. They, like I, may have heard horror stories of food loaded with spice, use of unfamiliar vegetables, and a land devoid of Western fast food joints like Macdonald’s and KFC. Although it is true that Koreans love their spice, you can rest assured that as long as you teach in a fairly populated area, you’re bound to have at least one Macdonald’s close by. And the closer you are to a huge city like Seoul or Busan, the higher the chance that you’ll find restaurants serving food from all over the world. From Vietnamese to Indian, my town, Cheonan, offered all different types of food, including multiple Macdonald’s and KFCs.

When I first came to Korea, I was not a fan of spice, so I was one of those who was fairly concerned about what Koreans had to offer in terms of food. Not only did a year of teaching in Korea help me discover a newfound love of spicy food, but also of Korean food. I grew to love kimchi—a spicy fermented cabbage served as a side dish in almost every Korean restaurant—as well as all of the other vegetable side dishes offered, which Koreans call banchan. And not everything was spicy. Most of the vegetable side dishes are neutral or sweet in flavour, serving as a means to balance the often hot and spicy flavours of the main dish.

I remember the first time I stepped into a Korean restaurant. I was into my first week of living in Korea and I decided to try eating in one of the many Korean restaurants in my neighbourhood.

The posters of food that decorated the restaurant were colourful pictures of cooked meats. The tables contained a small grilling surface in the center, with a vacuum hovering above it to suck in the cooking smoke. I figured I’d entered some sort of Korean barbeque restaurant—a type of restaurant familiar to me since they have a few in Toronto.
So I picked a table, settled down, and gazed blankly at the menu that was posted on the wall next to where I sat. To my dismay, the menu was written entirely in Korean without any pictures showing what was listed. When the Korean worker approached my table, I realized he didn’t speak a lick of English so I decided to pick something randomly and hope for the best.

At this point, I had no idea of pricing and what things were supposed to cost. Since I was living on limited funds (I’d yet to receive a paycheck), I didn’t want to spend too much so I turned my attention to the cheaper side of the menu. The prices ranged from 20,000 to 4,000 won ($18-$3.50 Canadian), and I figured that the items priced at 4,000 won must be smaller portions of the higher-priced items. So when the worker came over to my table and apprehensively waited for my order, I pointed to one of the items listed at 4,000 won, completely unsure of what I’d ordered.

The waiter looked at what I’d pointed at, turned back to me puzzled, and then said something that I’d interpreted as, “Are you sure?” At this point, I was getting nervous about what I’d ordered, but determined to find out, I nodded and he walked away, chuckling softly to himself.

When my food finally came, I was shocked. What the waiter laid before me were five small bowls of vegetable side dishes. They were filled with kimchi, radish, coleslaw, a leafy green vegetable, and seaweed soup. The waiter also set down a bottle of some mysterious drink, the contents of which made me choke a bit when I tasted it.

I honestly did not think that what I’d been given was the entirety of my order. I waited 15 minutes for some meat to grill before I realized my order was only going to be the side dishes—nothing more. Oh, and the drink, which I was to discover was an alcoholic drink widely consumed in Korea called makgeolli. I was so embarrassed that I continued to act like this was exactly what I’d intended to order and quietly finished the small side dishes without a word. The bottle of makgeolli remained nearly full on the table when I got up to pay.

After I’d made friends, discovering Korean food was a lot easier. The meat that you grill is called galbi and is made of beef or pork. I’m not sure how one orders either beef or pork galbi, but I do know that the more expensive your galbi is, the more likely it’s beef, not pork. And wherever I’ve gone to eat galbi, banchan were always served prior to the meat, which you grill yourself. The side dishes are refilled for free if you ask.

Korean restaurant owners for the most part leave you to your business, but there’ve been instances when women servers have grabbed the grilling tongs from my boyfriend’s hands and cooked our meat for us, as though he were doing it wrong. Otherwise, if you want their attention to get more of anything, a hand in the air with a loud “yo-gi-oh” or “cho-gi-oh” will do the trick. Saying “yo-gi-oh” means “over here!” and “cho-gi-oh” means “over there!” Such commands will also come in handy when in a taxi cab and you need them to stop at a specific place.

Something more delicious than galbi was a dish called dak galbi, which, like galbi, is cooked right in front of you. But instead of beef or pork, the meat is chicken with leeks, cabbage, bean sprouts, and small rice cakes. This was my favourite meal to eat in Korea, hands down. It’s very spicy, but in a good way. I also loved how Korean barbeques provided you with stacks of leafy lettuce that you can roll your meat in and eat like a taco. It had a cooling effect on the spicy dak galbi and also went great with galbi. This lettuce is called sanchu and to order more, which I frequently did, I just raised my hand and said, “Yo-gi-oh!” and then, “Sanchu, ju-se-yo” meaning, “I want lettuce.”

Eating galbi was more on the expensive end of Korean dining. A single portion costs from 6,000 to 12,000 won ($5.35-$10.71 Canadian). There was one instance when I visited Busan that my boyfriend and I found a galbi place selling portions at 3,000 won ($2.68 Canadian) each. But one can be fed Korean food quite cheaply if you visit a Gimbap Cheonguk, which translates to “Gimbap Heaven.”

These places were more like little snack shops that sold Korean food costing 1,000 to 5,000 won. The food at 1,000 won included basic gimbap: Korean sushi rolls with ham, radish, and a few veggies. What I loved to order from these places were the bigger dishes like bibimbap (rice, meat, and veggies served in a hot bowl), ramyeon (noodle soup that you can also get with a slice of processed cheese on top), and all kinds of jigae (boiling hot soup). All orders (even the kimbap) come with a small side dish of kimchi and broth. The bigger the order, the more sides you get.

Kimchi jigae was my favourite hangover cure. The soup is filled with kimchi, glass noodles, rice cake, leeks, onions, and chunks meat. A bowl of rice is served on the side as well. I know it might not sound delicious at all, but it was one of the best things to eat for me in Korea and I miss it dearly now that I’m back in Toronto.

Other cheap places to eat were the various street meat vendors that were very common in the downtown area of Cheonan. They sold anything from grilled meat on a stick to fried egg bread (a favourite of my boyfriend’s). There were hotdogs wrapped in bacon, dried squid, hotdogs in buns, hamburgers, and kebab wraps. Street meat vendors selling Korean food sold kimbap, mandu (fried dumpling), strips of battered and fried squid, and tteokbokki (rice cake in a spicy sauce). These were great places to catch a bite after a late night of drinking as they are usually open quite late.

The variety of food available is enormous.

Pleasant Surprises

The best thing about coming home was, of course, seeing my friends. Another good thing was eating some Western food in a restaurant that employed workers who understood every word I said. I was able to say with confidence, “light dressing, please,” knowing that my Caesar would arrive just the way I wanted it.

Combining the two things makes for a good time so I did just that a few days ago, joining my friends *Donna and *Daniela to a diner called Wimpy’s. It’s a great little diner-dive place with the typical greasy, griddle food fare. We settled in and were enjoying a great meal when Donna dropped a bomb on me.

“Speaking of douchebags,” said Donna in between chews of her club sandwich, “I saw *Josh the other day.”

My heart froze. Most women have had that one disaster of a relationship (usually in their teens when one is dramatic and stupid) that continues to haunt them as they continue into adulthood. Josh was that guy. I went through everything with him: abuse (emotional and physical), drugs (his use, not mine), and police involvement. How I’m alive today is borderline miraculous, but the important thing is I was able to escape the situation.

“Where?” I asked.

Donna waved her hand in the air, “You know, here and there.”

My eyes widened. “Like, all the time?”

“Mostly at Chapters.”

My friend Daniela had seen him too. Josh sightings have been eerily frequent during my adventure to Korea. I shudder to imagine what would happen if I were to run into him now. I like to take moments every now and then to compare that relationship with the one I have now. It’s honestly like comparing Robert Downy Jr.’s former destructive self to his current success. And both stories owe their happy endings to decisions well made.

I met *Chris the first week of my time in Korea. He was one of the three men I initially met during Pool Night. Tall, with an athletic build and long blonde hair kept back with an elastic hair band, he really wasn’t my type. I tend to be drawn to men with dark hair whose artistic, quirky personalities mirrored my own. They usually were considered nerds by society, as I am, and I relished in their geeky habits.

I would find out during Pool Night that Chris came from Tacoma, Washington and his calm, laid-back manner reflected the relaxed West Coast persona one would expect. He loved being active—running was his passion—and was very family oriented. He knew every word of John Denver’s “Country Home,” and idolized Kenny Chesney and the Rascal Flats.

In spite of all this (or perhaps because of all this), I found myself drawn to him and he was the only person I gave my number to that night. Perhaps it was because I’d never met anyone like him before and there was something in him that I’d always wanted in my life. He was a person who hadn’t seemed to have experienced any ugliness in his life and he exuded a warmth one acquires from being raised in a family filled with love.

That same night I met *John, a half-American half-Korean man of 28. He’d been in Korea for 3 years and did not see himself coming back to America any time soon. The ease of his job and the hoards of Korean women available to him made the idea of returning to America less and less appealing the longer he stayed.

John gestured to Chris, “So me and my partner in crime here are heading to a club Friday night. You’re more than welcome to come along.”

I considered his invitation pretty seriously. I really wanted to start making friends and I had no other plans. Unfortunately, I didn’t end up going that night due to my lack of knowledge concerning taxis and where train stations were.

In the meantime, I hung around Raye and Juliet, going shopping, discovering Korea, and planning Saint Patrick’s Day. They were going to a town called Hongdae in Seoul for the event. I realized that Seoul was a massive city filled with dozens of towns each with their own name. Hongdae is popular for their extremely happening night life. Amazing nightclubs play Western music and foreigners swarm by the hundreds to dance the night away.

Sipping wine at a wine bar, Juliet decided to tell me about her friend *Karl. “So cute! But special.”

Special? My interest was piqued. “How so?”

“Well, he absolutely adores musicals. He can sing the entire intro to Little Ship of Horrors.”

“Little Shop of Horrors,” I corrected her. And it was at this point that slight interest turned into genuine intrigue. You see, I enjoy musicals at a nearly unhealthy level. Finding a guy that not only understands that but also shares in that joy is a rare and unique gem.

“Oh, he’d like you,” decided Juliet with a smile. “He’s struck out so much with girls, unfortunately. You may find him a little awkward.”

A little secret here: I love geeks. Big time.

When I met Karl he was everything Juliet had told me and more: cute, insanely into musicals, funny, and a huge nerd. He lived in a town called Ilsan, which was quite a ways away. It took a long bus ride to get there from Cheonan, my town being the very southernmost subway stop in the Seoul line, his town being the northernmost subway stop. I visited him a few times and enjoyed his company, but I couldn’t get Chris out of my mind.

Maybe a lot of my past relationships didn’t work out because they were too much like me. Perhaps I wanted someone to show me another side of life, to balance my passions and interests with completely different tastes and hobbies.

John had a larger than usual apartment with two rooms in addition to his bathroom and kitchen area. Because of this, he liked to host various events at his place. One of these events was a poker night that I decided to attend one evening. Of course, Chris was there too.

Poker, or any kind of gambling for that matter, isn’t really my thing. I’d rather keep my money, thanks. But the game is kind of fun and making friends isn’t too bad either. Chris had some great news: he’d just purchased a scooter to help him get around places. Buying a scooter is one of the best things a guy teaching in Korea could buy. It saves LOADS on gas, gets you places lickity-split, and really impresses the girls.

Like me.

So at the end of the night, when Chris offered anyone who wanted one a ride home, I eagerly accepted. His scooter was awesome and intimidating at the same time—a huge turn on.

“You’re his first passenger, you know,” said John after I mounted. “Make sure he’s careful.”

“O…kay,” I replied a little nervously.

The ride home was great. John’s neighbourhood, Dujeong-dong, is right next to mine so it was literally a 5 minute ride. When we got to my house, I took off Chris’s massive helmet and handed it to him.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said.

He smiled back, “Anytime.”

It was so simple. And Karl was the farthest thing from my mind.

This all happened within the first couple of weeks I was in Korea, which essentially threw out my initial idea of not only not having any friends, but also not falling in love. You can’t come to Korea with any expectations. Everyone’s experience is unique and different with surprises for everybody, both good and bad.

Love works the same way. It often finds you when you’re not looking. I was a little foolish to think I could escape it, flying to the other side of the world. I dated both Karl and Chris for about a week before I chose Chris and dumped Karl—a story which deserves its own blog post. 10 months later, back in Toronto, I speak with Chris very often on Skype. He plans to visit very soon. I’ve got a good feeling our adventures together will continue beyond Korea as I build a new life on this side of the world.

*Names have been changed.

How I Made Friends In Korea

In the weeks leading up to my big departure, I was resigned to the fact that I would be lonely. My employer told me I was the only foreign teacher at the school, something I didn’t want and initially thought I wouldn’t have to deal with (that’s another story and blog post). But after hearing the news, I literally said, “fuck it! I’m still goin’!” ‘cause I figured, I was going to get some life experience—not to party. The life I had prior to going to Korea was one I wanted to escape from: too many nights out, too many paths taken leading nowhere, and too many guys. I wanted some quiet, self reflection time. So when I packed, I left all sexy underwear, jewelry, and party clothes out, packing instead some comfy work clothes, pjs, and jeans. I seriously thought I was about to face a year all by myself, with facebook, and youtube as my nighttime companions.

The first couple of days in Korea were a daze. Here I was, a wide-eyed Canadian living in my own space for the first time, my absent blackberry no longer vibrating constantly in my pocket, and planning what to feed myself throughout the day. It was amazing, and my first taste of freedom. I’ve come from a home of very strict, overbearing, and protective parents. Going to Korea was as much an escape from them as it was from my hectic social life. I was almost drunk with my new-found independence and I loved it!

But as I predicted, I was lonely. The teachers in my new school were distant, and, well, Korean. Their English was halting and awkward at best. They were extremely formal and I knew with a sinking heart that I could never develop meaningful friendships with any of them. But I was prepared for this, so it wasn’t a huge deal. I enjoyed walking the streets of my neighbourhood, Baek-Suk Dong, alone, taking pictures of absolutely everything, but it sucked experiencing this amazing adventure without any friends.

Self-reflection only told me that I needed a friend.

While working, I guess I wore my loneliness wrapped around me like a scarf because my boss approached me one night and asked if I was lonely. This took me aback quite a bit. He never seemed to care whether or not the students of my class were being little shits, let alone if I had any friends outside of work. After insisting I was fine and having fun in Korea, he then asked if I had made any friends. To this question, I admitted I hadn’t and that was when he offered to introduce me to another foreign teacher from another school that his friend was a principal of.

Although I had planned on a lonely year of self-reflection, I didn’t see the harm of meeting another foreigner. I welcomed it! I craved hearing another voice speak English fluently, who didn’t add an extra syllable at the end of every other word. I wanted someone to react to my humour in a way other than awkward silence. I’d learned quickly that sarcasm doesn’t translate well across cultures. So I eagerly agreed and he set up a play date.

*Raye was tall, blonde, beautiful, and had been in Korea almost 8 months at that point. She carried about her an air of someone who had seen it all, and would be gracious enough to advise me, an ignorant new-comer, on everything. Although she spoke to me literally with her nose in the air, blue eyes appraising me, and a smug tone in her Tennessee-accented voice, Raye seemed very eager to befriend me.

“Ted,” she drawled when her boss was wondering what to order us for dinner. “Do you think she’d like kimbap? I feel like rice so I want bibimbap…” My eyes widened with wonder at the Korean words she threw around with such casual grace. I wanted that to be me someday.

After our meal (which was absolutely fantastic, Ted having ordered for me some sort of stir fry) Raye and I exchanged numbers and quickly arranged some meetings in the future. On one of our outings, she introduced me to another beautiful blonde (from England this time) named *Juliet. A little older at 28, Juliet had been in Korea for 3 years and worked the much coveted university job. Like Raye, she also wore a very cultured aura around her, but with a frank humour devoid of any pretension.

“Oh, you’ll love Korea. I know I do,” she happily shared as we sipped coffees. “I love it a little too much, I think.”

To my amazement, I found that both girls knew the teacher I’d replaced, Juliet having had somewhat of an interesting relationship with him.

“Oh, I was so worried when Raye told me the new Bookstart teacher was Canadian! But then she said you were a girl and then I was so relieved!” Apparently she had been involved with not only the teacher I replaced, but with the teacher he had replaced, both men being from Canada. I was to learn of the familiarity most foreigners shared with each other in Cheonan very quickly. Everyone seemed to know everybody and each foreigner had at least one funny, intimate story with another foreigner.

As we shopped the dozens of stands of shoes (Korea is the shoe nation of the world), we passed by a pool hall. “That’s where they have pool night,” Raye informed me.

“OOOOH! Newbie night is coming up, right?” Julia interjected. “She could be our newbie! Wouldn’t that be fun?” There was an event held in the downtown part of Cheonan called “Pool Night” run by someone I had seen on Raye’s facebook named *Stan. Once and awhile, Stan organized a “Newbie Night” to encourage pool hall attendees to introduce new foreigners to more foreigners. It was a window to a social life and free pizza and beer—something else that enticed people to come.

So I was very excited to attend. I had a feeling I was getting closer to throwing my previous plan of lonely nights watching documentaries on youtube out the window. Yet on the night of, I got a devastating text from Raye:

“Im sik! And so is Juliet. Wer both not goin.”

I responded with, “Aw, that sucks. Get better!” hoping that my text came off casual and didn’t reveal the huge sense of disappointment washing over me. I also felt a tinge of suspicion: both Raye AND Jude were sick? Mm-hmm…

“Well I can send directions if u still wanna go?”

Now there was an idea! I asked for them and she dutifully sent the requested directions, but I was a little uneasy. Was I really ready to walk into a new social situation completely by myself? Did I really want to put myself in a situation without an ally? I glanced at my computer which held a promise of a comfy, non-awkward night in of learning about ancient Egyptians (I like documentaries). But I wanted to try and see what I could do. I came to Korea to be independent and I was not about to back down.

So I finished getting ready and headed downtown not knowing what exactly would happen.

When I got there, I was annoyed to see I was really early. I know very few people who like being the first people to show up at events, I know none that would show up early and without any friends. So to kill time, I looked around downtown, shopping a bit. I ran into a foreigner trying on shoes at a store.

“Hey! I like those shoes!” I decided to make the first move towards friendship.

She glanced down at the black flats she was trying on. “Yeah, me too. It’s so hard to get shoes my size in this country, you know?”

“So, you goin’ to pool night?” I cut to the chase. The shoe shop we were in happened to be right under the pool hall where Newbie Night was happening.

She rolled her eyes—a reaction I was not expecting. “No… not my crowd. Plus,” she added, “I don’t really like making friends with foreigners.”

Awkward.

I took that as my cue to leave. When I glanced at the clock it was thankfully past the time the event was scheduled to start so I left the girl in her quest for bigger-sized shoes (not for foreigner friends), and made my way to the pool hall. As I climbed the stairs, I almost turned around and went home. Was I really doing this? I was.

When I stepped into the pool hall, I was shocked and a little embarrassed to see about 3 foreigners—all male. I recognized Stan right away so taking a deep breath, I march right up him and stuck out my hand.

“Hey, I’m Jerika!” I introduced myself. “I saw you on facebook,” I added lamely.

“Yeah, Juliet’s friend. I know you!” Stan’s 6 foot plus frame swung from one foot to another as he spoke, and his frank, friendly face was sparsely topped with dark hair. He, like Juliet, also worked at a university and had been in Korea some time.

“She’s not coming… neither is Raye.”

He shrugged his shoulders dismissively, “Well, glad you made it out!”

“Me too!”

“You what?” said a voice behind me. I turned to face another beautiful blonde with striking blue eyes and a friendly smile, unwrapping a scarf from around her neck.

“Glad I came!” I said.

Her smile grew wider. “Yeah, you must be new. I’m *Jennifer.”

I was delighted to find out she was from Canada. The first of four Canadians I was to meet that night. That was the night I was to meet my core group of friends that I would share countless memories with during the time I spent in Korea. I’d like to say that it was my charm that helped me make friends, but it was most definitely the act of going out and meeting them. Friends will not be made sequestered in your apartment watching youtube clips of Planet Earth. These are friends that I still speak with and see now that I’m home, and are friends that I value just as much as I do the friends I had waiting for me back in Canada.

So if you’re lonely, in Korea, and wanting some companionship, find out where all the foreigners are at. Go out by yourself. Many people are in the same position as you and will not snub your friendly advances. Who knows? You might even find yourself a boyfriend or a girlfriend—something that I also managed to do that night, which is definitely another story and another blog post.

*names have been changed.

My Tiny Korean Apartment

Big is an adjective least commonly used by English teachers to describe the apartments provided to them by their Korean employers. I was no different. When I approached my building in the wee hours of the morning after a 2 hour plus taxi ride from Incheon, I was pleasantly surprised to find the building looking newly-built, modern, and clean. Entry codes were needed to get into both my building and my apartment, so I was also glad to see there was some measure of security. Apartment buildings requiring an access code to gain entry inside are quite common in Korea, as well as a password-secured lock in replacement of a key for one’s apartment.

I tend to lose things easily so a password lock was a nice change.

When my boss opened the door, I faced a 10 feet by 10 feet room with one door leading to a closet-sized bathroom and a sliding door leading to an equally tiny laundry room/kitchen. The room was also completely bare save a wall unit with some shelving and a nice tv that I never used the entire time I was in Korea.

It was small. Smaller than any bedroom I’d owned back in Canada. But I loved it immediately. It had everything I needed (or eventually, when the bed came later that day, and after I bought a toaster oven and a clothing rack to hang my increasingly expanding wardrobe). Being a tiny person myself, I found the cramped space comfortable and easy to live in.

The bathroom was very typical of a bathroom in Korea. The concept of an enclosed shower seems to be abandoned for the necessity of space. My shower consisted of a shower head that was connected to my sink and hung above it. I literally had to almost sit in my sink to take showers. The tiled floor had a slight incline that led to a drain so the water could go down it. My first couple of showers took some getting used to.

I also found that hot water doesn’t just come forth from the taps like they did back at home. Water is heated by gas that I had to turn on with a machine that looked like a thermostat. This machine also heated water contained underneath my floorboards, heating the room if I felt cold. I guess Koreans do this as a way of conserving energy as leaving the gas on leads to soaring utility bills (as I found out a few times early on in my stay).

The kitchen was cramped, but cosy. It lacked an oven (as most Korean apartments do) and a microwave (again, a luxury that you shouldn’t expect waiting for you in your apartment unless you’re lucky). I had an electric burner with a washing machine nestled underneath it—right where an oven should’ve been. Overhead hung my clothes dryer: a rack on which to hang-dry my clothes.

Although a tiny apartment is what you should expect upon coming to Korea, mine was on the smaller scale of what I’ve seen from youtube vids, blogs, and my friends’ apartments who also lived in Korea. But they don’t get much bigger. Overtime, I added stuff to it and made it an amazing comfortable retreat my boyfriend and I enjoyed many nights in.

So a quick recap of what to expect:

-a small living space/kitchen/bathroom.

-a Korean washing machine that you’ll spend some time trying to figure out.

-no keys.

-no oven or microwave.

-gas-heated floors.

-non-enclosed shower.

In spite of what my apartment lacked, I was able to make it a home that I couldn’t wait to return to after a long, hard day of teaching or a night of heavy drinking. If space is going to be an issue for you, then maybe spending some time as an English teacher in Korea may not be for you.