True Love, South Korean style: Part 5 - When couple love becomes family love. Confession time.

Yesterday was Sunday. The last day of Chuseok, a South Korean national holiday that is bigger than Christmas. It is all about giving gift boxes of Spam or a root of ginseng and spending quality time  with your family. Our Sunday began fairly innocuously. I managed a rare slight sleep in, ignoring the  kids as they roamed the house randomly yelling until they were handed the i-pad (genius device). Husband managed to get them fed and dressed (am still amazed that he knew where their clothes were) and out the door for Sunday church as I commenced my quest for the perfect pair of winter jeans (futile). Then we all met up again for lunch and that is where the horror began.

I sit here still shuddering and shaking as I write so ignore my longer than ever rambling sentences because what happened after lunch must go down as one of the most disturbing moments of our time here in Korea and, quite possibly, my time as a parent!  Before eating their much-loved toasted cheese sandwiches, all my children - yes, the three of them at ages 6, 4 and 2 - took it upon themselves to re-dress for the afternoon as they often do (three to four outfit changes a day are normal in our house). But this time, when they returned from their bedrooms there was no usual princess/fairy/pink thing in sight. Instead, they had conspired with each other to each put on the below blue t-shirt and become our own little family love match for the afternoon! Oh my goodness. The horror of it all!

The offending article of clothing

Before you smugly comment that this is all my fault as you assume that I was the responsible party for purchasing the said offending items, I would like to point out that the purchasing was done from one of their lovely grandmothers some time ago and I had mistakenly thought that the matter had already been dealt with: that at least one had already become too small; one had been thrown out thanks to some impervious to all forms of stain remover known to man mark down the front (this is the one in the picture); and one just sat unworn in the fussier child's wardrobe.  But no, how wrong I was. Yesterday, everything changed. The three blue t-shirts went on and they all went out and, for them, it was perfectly, perfectly acceptable. Oh my goodness (again)!

I had never thought that stopping random strangers in the street to request a photo or, at times, stalking strangers in order to sneakily take a photo of their loved up bliss could possibly result in my children becoming now willing accomplices in the love match craze. Chuseok hasn't helped. This three day harvest holiday of South Korea, where, as part of the celebration of Autumn's good harvest, Koreans return to their hometowns to pay respects to their ancestors, has, essentially been love match on steroids in the streets of Seoul. Love match pumped up to a new level previously heard of but not seen and definitely not expected at all or in such numbers. Witness the family love match on Chuseok holiday!

Korean family in holiday mode (taken last week in Thailand)

Insadong 

Samcheong-dong

Three men, three matching sneakers

Six people (one man missing from this photo)  = three couples = two sets of matching sneakers (so this wasn't taken on Chuseok but on another holiday but it is worth repeating here to add to the story)

So what does this family love match dressing mean? Maybe it is a holiday uniform: we go on holiday and will wear red t-shirts on Monday, blue t-shirts on Tuesday etc? Maybe it is for safety reasons: if you get lost just look for the same coloured t-shirt as the one you have on? Maybe the couple started off as a love match and already had two t-shirts the same, so purchasing for their offspring was just an extension of their wardrobe? Maybe it brings a sense of calm to an otherwise crowded sea of people visiting tourist spots (hot tip: do not visit Gyeongbukgung Palace during Chuseok. You, or a family member, maybe even a two year old called Zoe, will get lost in the mayhem). 

Whatever the reason, I don't think I like it. Love match I am kind of getting on board with (although this does not mean I am about to embark upon it) but family love match? I just don't know how it can be possible. I recently bought a pair of salmon coloured shorts (not as disgusting as they sound) and I fast came to the realisation that I was beginning to dress like my Mum. While this is slightly worrying (I once swore I would never wear salmon) I feel I can justify it because I am dressing like my Mum dressed when I was a kid and she was the Mum; not like I am five and I am dressing like my 35 year old Mum because that would never have worked. I would have wanted jeans and a t-shirt whereas Mum would have wanted something pink and frilly, coupled with oversized multiple necklaces and earrings. Based on this fact, maybe my under-appreciation of family dressing is the fact that, once again, I just don't understand how the decision on clothing is made acceptable to all parties involved, particularly where a generation gap is involved. 

What really worries me though is that, like PSY, it appears that family match's time to shine has come and my kids are already onboard. That means it is only a matter of time before we all become same-same crazed. Please don't let this be you. And definitely don't let it be me. If you see me in Gap this weekend, firmly hold my hand and walk me out the door. I beg of you. 

True Love, South Korean style: Part 4 - I have an answer to one love match conundrum but I fear it has posed yet more questions...

Much to the embarrassment of my Australian Korean speaking friend (although given how pumped she was afterwards I think that she was secretly quite into being my accomplice), I snapped this photo yesterday in Myeongdong and then managed to gently twist her arm so as to persuade her to utilise her interpreting skills for a mini-interview. I could only manage one question in the hustle and bustle of downtown Seoul on a sunny Sunday afternoon and that was: who in the couple was responsible for the outfit choice (dark chambray shirt, black jeans and beige TOMS shoes)?

Answer: apparently they went shopping together with the express purpose of choosing a suitable love match outfit. How wonderfully, beautifully romantic is that? Not only do young, loved up Koreans happily (I assume) shop together but they also manage to jointly decide on an outfit together (in this case a shirt, jeans and shoes even not just a simple, plain white t-shirt) and purchase together? Again, I assume, with no arguments. This does not accord with my memory of the one and only joint shopping trip I have been on with husband which took place in the Sydney Ikea (on a rainy Sunday and before there were two Sydney Ikeas to share the load of slightly crazed newly-weds and/or expectant couples) and, despite the chocolate covered coffee beans I had cleverly stashed in my bag to cope with the occasion, within five minutes of stepping into the store it was on and we both were in a world of pain, pitted against each other over the appropriate choice of chair colour. 

So, I therefore now have an answer to my relationship dilemma no. 2, posed back in Part 1 of this obsession - the responsibility for outfit choice (Part 1). However, far from easing my interest (anxiety) over love match, the express action of shopping, selecting and purchasing together has raised additional questions.

Firstly, ownership over outfit. Is the outfit reserved for only those days when you are to be out together (presumably you don't need to wear same same when lounging about at home however I have no proof for this) or could you wear it when alone, ie, on the days where you are not intending to see your partner? Secondly, is it acceptable to break up the outfit: could you chose to just wear the shoes and not the shirt, jeans, shoes combination or must the outfit be preserved to be worn in its entirety only when the other partner is around and clothed the same way?

Part 1's relationship dilemma no. 1 - the timing of the selection -  remains unanswered also. My current hypothesis as to how Koreans make this at all possible is that the "choice" must be made early on in the relationship - in the rose-coloured days of young love where your partner's quirks are still quite cute. Miss that window and your ability to jointly choose an outfit might not be so easy (refer to Ikea experience above). But, again, I could have the entire relationship trajectory around the wrong way. Maybe, the longer you are together here in Korea the deeper your need becomes to dress the same?  

Well, good thing my Australian Korean speaking accomplice was into the questioning (some might call it stalking but I am calling it investigative journalism) as I need her around for further couple analysis. 

Soul to Seoul: soul searching seoul for answers to love!

Myeongdong love

Beanie love

Full outfit love 

Backpack love

Uniqlo love 

Hongdae love

New Balance love

Stripey love

drinking coffee in seoul

I thought I had packed my little stovetop coffee machine (google research = official term is moka pot) in our removal boxes which meant that just for the first little while here in Seoul I would have to buy coffee but it has sadly failed to materialise (yet another thing that has mysteriously disappeared despite the fact we were supremely confident we had organised the removal process extremely well (husband had his trusty clipboard at hand so how could we fail?)). This means I must continue on my quest to discover the best coffee from the streets of Seoul. So far, my diligent drinking research, averaging one coffee a day, which over eight months equals roughly 250 coffees purchased (and drunk) from various vendors across town, has led me to the following observations on, and hot tips for, coffee in Seoul.

• Coffee in Seoul is expensive, generally expect to pay KRW 5000 won for a cup. Coffee in Gangnam is ridiculously expensive. KRW 10,000 won for a petite, classy, cup with saucer, coffee (you are in Gangnam after all). The cheapest is underground in the subway.
• A coffee shop (usually two or three) is on every corner so please don't worry about ever going thirsty. Angel in-us Coffee, Holly's Coffee, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, Ediya Coffee and Starbucks are the big chains. And then there are the smaller, independent coffee shops scattered in between. When all else fails, 7-11 does a mean takeaway number from the fridge that you can heat up with your instant noodles in their in-store microwaves. 
• Coffee from  McDonalds is pretty good (possibly helped by the fact that I can also understand the menu).
• Every coffee house advertises hand drip coffee although I am yet to see it in action.
• Coffee from the dude on the hill in Samcheon-dong is good. Really good.  
• Apparently, it is not the done thing to drink hot coffee in Seoul in summer so don't be surprised when you receive a very, very confused look when you say you want it hot. 
• The man who makes "pure" coffee in Insa-dong will not let you have a cappuccino to go but a latte is fine to take-away. 
• Cinnamon goes on top of all coffees here. I miss the chocolate dusting (it has been the reason that I have long resisted being grown up and ordering a latte as opposed to a cappuccino in Australia). 
• Coffee from the school cafeteria will take at least 10 minutes as they painstakingly make one coffee at a time and give each cup a lot of love. 
• Bringing along your own take-away cup to a cafe is a novelty and will draw attention (particularly when you Keep cup is hot pink with lime green). 
• There are no coffee makers in this town who wear overalls (from what I have seen thus far anyway). So maybe it is true that the coffee making man who totally worked his red coffee machine in his grey overalls in Canberra is totally unique. Who would have thought?
• Coffee must be drunk through a miniature straw. I don't know why but it does. 

My favourite coffee to date?  The local Lotto store where you can place a bet (I have no idea what on) and have your coffee at the same time from the guy with glasses who measures exactly the right amount of milk with his glass pyrex jug. It is really good coffee at a good price but I am wondering if maybe my liking  it  might have something to do with the fact that coffee maker man always rushes to open the door for me when he sees me coming, gives free drinks to the kiddlylinks, can speak perfect English to compensate for my complete lack of Korean (note that, by now, I have discovered my exceptional sign language talent), has posters of k-pop stars adorning the walls and, might I add, is just a little cute to boot? Of course not. It is only the coffee, people, that brings me back...

Lotto coffee. Got to love the slogan!

The advertisement for the coffee man in Samcheon-dong. Follow the yellow horse dog thing.

Samcheong-dong coffee. Roasted in (a very cool) house.