My favorite 대학동 Pho joint

Great food. Great mess.

한식: 김밥천국 (Part One)

한식 (hanshik) strictly translated means "Korean food". It's most often used in two ways: 1) to refer to Korean style of eating and 2) to refer to the traditional Korean meal. I'm going to post a series of blogs about my experience with 한식. All Koreans and residents in Korea have different takes on 한식 because it's practiced in various forms all over the peninsula. Feel free, though, to leave questions in the comments. I'll attempt to answer them. I'd also encourage readers to share their own stories about 한식 and food culture pertinent to each post. I'm beginning with Korean comfort food and one of the most famous Korean chains, 김밥천국 (kimbapcheonguk).



I spend a lot of meals at the Kimbapcheonguk near my house. I was scooting around my neighborhood today taking photographs of the places I like to eat. I don't have a kitchen in my 원룸 (one-room). I do have a hot-plate and rice cooker; you'd be surprised how much good food I can cook with these two appliances, but the food is so cheap in 대학동 (Daehakdong) that it's easier and often less expensive to eat out. (I should note that I think I'm a good cook, but Praise's Korean cooking is wonderful. I can't wait to get into a real kitchen and learn some more.)

My neighborhood is known for students, 24hour street-life and food. Not too long ago, maybe ten years ago, it was known for trying to lose its reputation as the slum next to 서울대학교 (Seoul National University). Everything I've heard from my friends who grew up in 신림동 (Sillimdong) and 봉천동 (Bongcheondong) is that both were very poor neighborhoods. This is saying a lot because much of Seoul was poor, remains poor. It's a little difficult to compare the neighborhoods here to urban neighborhoods in the US if only because the population density in Seoul is so much greater. Moreover, Seoul's urban landscape has radically changed in the last 20 years. In March, my future father-in-law is returning to Seoul for the first time in 32 years. I'll be interested to hear how he sees the difference. The traditional Korean neighborhoods in Seoul are mostly gone. I'll discuss and describe this in more detail in future posts. Back then my neighborhood, 대학동 (Daehakdong,) was known as 신림9동 (Sillim-gu-dong). I think it's safe to say the visible display of the recent past is being purposefully designed away.

Kimbapcheonguk. My favorite place. Two can eat well for under manwon, $10. The problem: not all stores are like the others. In Itaewon-2-dong, on what the foreigners call "Veggie Hill," there are two Kimbapcheonguk stores near each other. They both provide less food for more cash than the stores in my neighborhood. In addition, I found the food rather greasy and the side dishes rather spare. In Hongdae, not far from the main entrance to the University and towards Sinchon is a small Kimbapcheonguk. It's usually very dirty (food and napkins on the floor and greasy tables) and full, leaving customers to sit uncomfortably against the wall. It can be smelly and hot. On the other hand, the older women working there are sweethearts and, like a lot of ajumma, will flirt with you if you make attempts to speak a little hangukmal with them. (The attempt goes a long way with folks here, contrary to popular foreigner complaints otherwise.) The two stores in Daehakdong are small but clean and always busy. One makes the best 순두부찌개 (sundubujjigae); the other makes the best 김치찌개 (kimchijjiggae). The one near my flat offers the best banchan (반찬찬).

In the next post I'll discuss more of the menu. But my favorite dishes continue to be sundubu- and kimchi- jjigae. Unlike most Western chains, where menus are designed so customers can expect to eat the same thing each visit no matter where they visit, Kimbabcheonguk restaurant owners and cooks each have a different take on traditional Korean dishes. This permissible variation helps make finding the best Kimbapcheonguk an enjoyable mission. I've learned that every Korean cook has a specialty: that one thing on their menu they love to cook more than the others . That's what you want to eat.

I'm on my way out the door and will talk more about food in future posts. I don't have time right now to describe the dishes above. But here are a few links to help clear up any confusions:
김치찌개 (kimchijjiggae)
순두부찌개 (sundubujjigae)
반찬 (banchan)

Coming Next: More on my favorite places to eat in Daehakdong; more on hanshik and banchan; food and restaurant photos.



This is the Kimbapcheonguk near my flat. The Chinese restaurant above it, Tami Hong, is another place we like to go.

약국: 심한 감기를 걸렸어

Translation of the title: "Pharmacy: caught a bad cold"
It's pronounced "yakguk: shimhan kamgileul keolryeosseo"
감기 is cold.


I've had a wicked cold for a month. I'm healthy for three or four days, then I go through a three-day spell of really bad sinus pressure. I've suffered with sinusitis since I was young. Sometimes it's easy to deal with; other times, the pain is unbearable. This cold has brought it close to unbearable.

I went to the ENT clinic (이비인후과) near my house--they're everywhere here--and the doctor said it's just bad sinusitis made worse because I have a deviated septum. Some doctors here will give foreigners whatever drugs permitted according to the regulations. I suppose this is a result of 1) foreigners who are used to easy access to medication and 2) the doctor's wish not to attempt to speak English. In the case of Western Patient Meets Korean Doctor, you can imagine any observer being witness to two very strong examples of impatience and intolerance.

My general doctor--his office is across the street from the ENT clinic--is like this. He'll see me for 15,000Won, $12.50 give or take, and write me a prescription for Loratadine or similar and common medications you can't get in Korea without a prescription. He makes sure I'm well with a quick glance and then he motions me out of his office. Nevertheless, many doctors resist western medicines and insist you provide them with a decent narrative of your illness before he or she decides what's best for you.

I don't mind that at all. In fact, I'm into alternatives and am likely to visit the acupuncture clinic near 신림역 (Sillimyeok, Sillim subway station,) in a day or two to endure a forty-five minute session of long needles for help relieving the sinusitis and related pressure. The acupuncturists here are cheap because they're covered by the National Health Insurance Plan. For 4,000Won, $2.50, I can get a full session of treatment.

The accupuncture (침술, chimsul,) here can be scam-y. If you go, check with your neighbors first; or, at least look into the clinic you're visiting. Good clinics will have excellent reputations and come recommended. Just because a clinic is busy doesn't mean it's trustworthy. Every Korean asks me the same question. When they hear I go for acupuncture, they ask me about my 침술사 (acupuncturist) to make sure I'm not getting ripped off.

At any rate, my eyes are so pained with pressure right now that I cannot possibly read. I try and continuously tear-up. Sitting at the computer just to type this note is giving me a headache. So, I'm off.

I HATE lying around, doing nothing. It puts me in the worst mood. To make matters much worse, I am a professional whiner.

Korea: Things I don't Understand

I don't understand why Korean adults are intimidated by children. I guess a HOW might be better than a WHY. I know why children and young adults scare older adults and parents. But this is a peculiar kind of intimidation. Maybe I'll address it more as I think more about it. (UPDATE:  see the comments.)

From government to parents, every child leads a highly-structured life. After middle school, which ends at what most of my readers know as Freshman Year, students move on to High School and become the scariest thing Korean adults encounter on a daily basis.

High School women might rank as the most intimidating group of youth. In 대학동 (my neighborhood Daehakdong,) the young women from my school congregate mornings and afternoons off campus. They lurk in tiny alleys and in the alcoves of buildings just off the street. In these little spaces, they gossip, sing songs, and smoke cigarettes. They bully each other, make friends, tell horror stories about school, and talk about romances and fantasies.

Any noise in Korea is frowned upon by folks over 30. If you or you and your friends are being loud, you'll hear about it. That groups of school children scream and yell their way to school every morning is proof enough for me that Korean adults don't like to speak to children. But this isn't a simple dislike. These kids can pretty much get away with what they like.

On my walks to and from school, I often catch them smoking. They don't like to be caught. I'll often crush their cigarettes. But my teasing and hassling them is far less punishment than they'll receive if their homeroom teachers smell smoke on them in class.

Imagine waking up to a group of ten, 18-year-old women standing under your window shouting and smoking. They're screeching and screaming and their smoke finds its way into your flat. I can't think of anything more irritating. Especially at 715 in the morning. When I see it, I chase the students away scolding them for being rude and unhealthy. The ajumma and ajossi refuse to speak to the high school students and tolerate the daily annoyances. I asked my colleagues and was told "Koreans are intimidated by school children." I thought it couldn't be that. But after a year, I've realized that the students, especially high school students, have an incredibly bizarre power over adults, even their parents. And some students, those wise to their black magic, really torture the adults.

I've never seen anything like it. And I don't understand it. Because the students' powers vanish as soon as you step into their private space and ask "What's up?" They giggle, give up the power and scatter.

It's one of those things I find both cute and disturbing. What do you think? Have you noticed this? Do you have any similar stories of the young men and women turning the tables on their oppressive authority figures?

Who's Afraid of Korean Students? (Their parents....)

One Year Down, Two to Go

A year has passed. A little too quickly for my pleasure. Nevertheless, I'm very happy with Seoul.

I'm writing this post in a PC bang. The Internet connection in my apartment is great some days, slow others. I head to the PC bang whenever I want to use youtube and facebook, or stream video and radio.

I'm a fan of MonkeyTown. In 대학동(Daehakdong,) it's one of the only PC bangs that's non-smoking and where the computers and PC stations are kept clean. I keep an account with them: for $35, I'm able to utilize a personal login and work for 47 hours. My last payment has lasted the entire summer and I have 11 hours left as of this post. Pretty good deal.

I live in what was recently known as 신림9동 (Sillim 9 dong.) Sillimdong was an 11 district neighborhood within 관악구 (Gwanakgu,) the most populated area of Seoul. My neighborhood is now known as Daehakdong. Daehak means academy or college as it points to where students assemble and dong is a place where we live like a neighborhood. It's a good name. The neighborhood is home to students of Seoul National University as well as 고시 (goshi) students who are studying for law tests, like the bar in the US.

From what I can gather, all the old Seoul neighborhoods where the poor lived and are undergoing slow gentrification are being re-named. Not that anything progressive is being done to combat poverty in old Sillim; the buildings, on the other hand, are being renovated and folks are taking advantage of the cheaper real estate.

I've promised myself to post more. I want to get back to posting once a day. I have little scrapbooks filled with notes and miscellany. I really should be getting my more of my thoughts down.

I'm going to begin looking for office space to write. Most likely, I'll rent a little room like the law students do while in Seoul for several months studying for their exams. I'm working on my novel again. Finally. I'm no hermit while I write. If anything, I'm more social, more energetic. I certainly sleep less, dream more, and I consume more text.

I'll try to get some photos of my neighborhood up.