Hotteok and other things to warm the heart

by Juliette Hettema (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Korea South

I asked Eojin with only five days notice if I could visit her in Seoul, as a result I did not expect her to have much time but she told me "It's fine! I only need to work in the mornings currently, so we have all the afternoons to explore the city together." We met at art school in London about 10 years ago, this was the first time we would see eachother in about 5 years. When I arrive she meets me bearing all kinds of supplies, such as small disposable hand warmers, Korean face masks and snacks she made herself. We meet near Yong-san, an area of Seoul with a vast American military base. There are plans to turn the area into a recreational park, with parts of the base having been moved outside of Seoul already, to provide residents with a communal space. The military base is a stark reminder of the fact that the city is only about an hour removed from the demilitarized zone, which separates South Korea from North Korea. The presence of US troops in the city is used as a deterrent to North Korean threats, since a peace treaty was never officially signed. It is -9 degrees Celsius (F 15.8), my lips are cracking, my hands are kept warm by Eojin's hand warmer and I am wearing thermals underneath my clothes. Seoul gets surprisingly cold in winter because of Siberian winds, in contrast to Tokyo, which is sheltered by the Japanese Alps. We visit Myong-dong, known for its beauty stores. Korean beauty is having a bit of a moment worldwide, as is Kpop. I am surprised to receive a face mask, cosmetic samples and cat stickers with my purchases. Every purchase seems to come with something extra. "Let's get some 'hotteok' to warm up, it's a winter food staple!" Eojin says. We walk to one of the many street stalls and I get a paper cup with a folded pancake inside filled with cinnamon and chopped nuts. It instantly becomes one of my favourite things to eat in Seoul. We walk through Gwangjang market and I buy several bags of seaweed 'senbei' crackers from an elderly lady. Next to her, another elderly lady is grilling rice cakes on a very small fire inside the covered market. She presses a hot rice cake in both our hands, as a gift. She barely wants to hear our 'kamsahamnida' (thank you), brushing it off as if her generosity was nothing special. Eojin tells me she always tries to buy items such as vegetables from elderly people selling at stalls or by metro stations. Low pensions and social changes have rapidly increased senior poverty in the country. The next day we go to a Buddhist Temple to take part in a vegan cooking workshop, making buckwheat pancakes. Two enthusiastic older ladies join our cooking table instantly, abandoning their own counters. I learn that the way I chop vegetables really isn't up to scratch, and I fry peppers for too long which makes them lose their colour. Over the length of the course, my chopping skills improve and the peppers remain vibrant. The ladies keep a close eye on me to make sure I am doing it right. Meanwhile, Eojin gets instructed to wash plates and even Moon, our volunteer translator brought in by the temple, also receives some tasks. Eojin looks apologetic and says "I didn't think it would be this intense, but these ladies really want to make sure you have the best experience and wanted to share their knowledge. It's coming from a good place." We have dinner at a small traditional Korean restaurant that evening. Our meal comes with a couple of sides and if you run out you can request more. "We always get free sides with our meals such as different types of kimchi, rice or broth and sometimes also free coffee. "We call it service." Eojin explains. While free sides or cat stickers with purchases might seem fairly meaningless compared to the generosity of the people here, it also shows in a small way the clear hospitality and kindness at the core of Korean culture.