Originally published by Condé Nast Traveler
When I meet Patrick Lee, director of art behemothFrieze Seoul, the first café he proposes we try has vanished, its façade demolished. “This café was just here,” he says, disoriented but not at all surprised. “It was here the last time I was on this street. You see, this is what happens in Seoul.” In the city’s vibrant historical center,hanoks—the traditional curved-roof wood houses that give Seoul its distinctive heart-stopping skyline—are jammed next to sleek art galleries, fashionable glasses shops, and pop-up boutiques. And my God, the cafés. How to convey the love for coffee in this high-octane, thrilling city of late-night barbershops and 4 a.m. Tuesday karaoke? Seoul bursts with, at some estimates, more than 15,000 cafés, many of them freshly opened, and the number keeps escalating.
Lee and I grab coffee from a different café, then queue outsideArt Sonje Center, which has been one of the city’s most influential private art museums since it was founded in 1998. An astonishing postapocalyptic installation by Argentinian Peruvian artist Adrián Villar Rojas has visitors entering at timed intervals. While Lee and I talk, locals and tourists bustle past. People from both categories are dressed inhanboks, the sumptuous, intensely colorful traditional clothing of Korea, full skirts shaped like upside-down blown-glass flowers, pants billowing. Some of the locals are having engagement photos taken. The tourists, Lee says, dress up, in part, because shops in the neighborhood often give discounts to anyone clad in a rented hanbok.
Patrick Lee, director of Frieze Seoul, at Frieze House
Pastries at Fritz Coffee Company
“We are blessed with a society that values its culture,” Lee says. Increasingly, the rest of the world values South Korean culture too. You’ve probably encountered a significant aspect of it in the past week, if not today. Your children could be dancing and singing along toKPop Demon Hunters,the most-viewed Netflix film of all time. Four years after it first aired, nothing has toppedSquid Gameas the most-watched Netflix TV show in the world. Your aunt might be learning Hangul, the Korean alphabet, so that she can follow her K-dramas more closely, and half of your brother’s prized skin-care products could be Korean. Restaurants across the world are slathering their food withgochujang, a thick red chili paste foundational to Korean cuisine. Frieze, the important contemporary art fair that takes place annually in New York, Los Angeles, and London, launched in Seoul in 2022; Frieze House, a permanent art space, debuted here last year. The profile of Korean literature keeps rising higher, including but not limited to the fiction of 2024 Nobel Prize winnerHan Kang. This rapid ascent of Korean culture throughout the world, known as hallyu, or the Korean Wave, draws ever more travelers to the country and particularly Seoul.
It wasn’t long ago, though, that South Korea was one of the poorest countries in the world. In 1953, after the ravages of the Korean War and 35 years of colonization, it had a per capita gross national income of $67. Even recently it could be hard for someone like me, a Korean American writer, to find much anglophone literature written by other Koreans. What has driven the sweeping change?
For one thing, since South Korea is so small, there’s a relatively limited domestic market. “There are a lot of changes and a lot of competition,” says Kang Mingoo, the chef and owner of Michelin-spangledMingles, one of Seoul’s most lauded and inventive restaurants. “Maybe that’s why travelers find this place so dynamic and exciting.” He’s widely praised not only for his dishes but also for his work as an ambassador for Korean food; accordingly, we’re having lunch at Hansung Kalguksu, a casual restaurant in upscale Gangnam that specializes in a knife-cut noodle dish called kalguksu, a go-to for Kang. He orders a feast so lavish that even I, used to the large spreads that can come as part of a Korean meal, can barely get a taste of every outrageously flavor-packed dish. And the abundance keeps growing: The waiter brings more food, including a plate of noodles and octopus in a rich, creamy gochujang sauce. After, Kang and I head for Gyeongdong Market, one of his favorite places to buy ingredients for Mingles. It’s outdoors, with entire stalls devoted to, for instance, robust, gloriously pungent varieties of jang—fermented pastes and sauces. Vendors call out, suggesting we try their goods, their voices jovial in spite of the winter cold. Several seem to know Kang well.
A stall in Gyeongdong Market
I walk through Seoul toLeeum Museum of Art, on a slight hill in a stylish and especially art-rich part of art-loving Seoul. Obsessed as I am with Leeum’s extraordinary permanent collection of Korean ceramics, I’m heading to the museum to also see a big survey exhibition of the work of Lee Bul, one of Korea’s leading sculptors and an artist I’ve long admired. Bringing together decades of works that range from a large-scale mirrored installation to a giant metallic airship, the exhibition surpasses my already elevated expectations. Some of Lee’s sculptures refer to difficult events from Korea’s history, but the atmosphere is lively and festive, with small children staring open-mouthed at the stunning pieces.
In the past century the country has been colonized, heavily bombed, ripped in two by foreign countries, and ruled by dictators. On a tour of most historical sites in Seoul, the guide is likely to impart as much about what’s gone—usually pillaged or destroyed—as about what’s there, the absences markedly present. The gaps are there in the gorgeous, vastGyeongbokgung Palace. Though first established in 1395, it was entirely burned down during a prolonged and devastating 16th-century invasion, rebuilt, largely plundered in the 1900s, then rebuilt again, all of which in no way diminishes the former royal palace’s singular beauty.
Portion of Humanise Wall, a massive exhibit displayed in Seoul’s Songhyeon Green Plaza as part of the city’s Biennale of Architecture and Urbanism
The detailed roof of Changdeokgung Palace
This loss partly explains some Koreans’ desire to make their culture known, a desire that extends to the state level. Hallyu has some of its roots in a government commitment since 1998 to investing in and spreading Korean art, film, music, television, and food around the world. It isn’t just about making a profit. It’s also the hunger and pride of a people who, over and over, almost lost everything and want to do what they can to make sure it never happens again. By “they” I also mean “we,” for that’s part of whatdrivesme, as it does so many Koreans I know, whether in Seoul, the city of my birth, or in San Francisco, where I live. I want to do right by the Koreans who, preceding me, cleared obstacles, and to open more possibilities for those coming after me. Or, as Kang says when I ask about his hopes for the future: “Our parents’ generation sacrificed for us, so I want to make a road for others.”
The crowd skews toward the youthful in Seongsu-dong, a trendy, formerly industrial neighborhood so hectic that on weekends car traffic is restricted. There’s a pop-up shopping complex built out of 200 vividly blue shipping containers, the largest such construction in the world. A former rice mill has been turned into a café and exhibition space. I’ve gone there to meet Ha Ji-won, a well-known actor in Korea for the past 20 years, an artist, and the founder of a new skin-care line, Pouch24.
I first encountered Ha in the wildly popular 2010 K-dramaSecret Garden.While we stroll through Seongsu-dong—dropping in at one of the city’s multitude of photo booths to try on costume hats and plastic glasses, and eating soft, delicate strawberry-filled confections at rice-cake shopHanjungsun—people glance at Ha, nudging one another and taking photos. One person, perhaps a teenager, has been following us for a short while, sneaking photos from behind. At one point they lose enough control to run up to Ha. They say, helplessly, in Korean, “You’re so beautiful,” before rushing off.
The actor Ha Ji-won with a painting from her Persona series
As Ha and I talk about why aspects of Korean culture have resonated so broadly, she touches on how much people work. Things are shifting, but school in Korea is infamously challenging. As a result of this pressure, Ha suggests, Korean artists and entertainers might be especially disposed toward pouring their feelings into their creations. “This emotional authenticity and intensity could be part of what connects with audiences around the world,” she says.
But as might be obvious by now, Koreans can also play hard, and I go to Gangnam to meet a friend at a bar. Seoul is large. The subway ride is long and crowded but somehow tranquil. No one talks loudly or plays music on speakers. The first bar,Alice Cheongdam, is a Lewis Carroll–themed speakeasy lounge where I have an exquisite spring-green drink of elderflower, vodka, and aloe vera. We move on to the acclaimed Zest, a sustainable bar serving unforgettable cocktails. My friend and I are taking part in the over-the-top yet common tradition of “cars”: We go through “il-cha, i-cha, sam-cha,” or “first car, second car, third car” and so on, each car a different stop during the evening. As Koreans frequently do, I end the night at one of the city’s many jjimjilbangs, or bathhouses, in this case the nearby Prima Spa. Since I grew up in a predominantly Korean part of Los Angeles, jjimjilbangs aren’t new to me; this one, though, is especially Edenic. I’m thinking of something Patrick Lee said: “Korean art, culture: It’s not overnight; it’s not just hot.” While that might be the impression abroad, he added, the reality is that a lot more people are being exposed to what’s been thriving and growing here for a long time.
Inside cozy Bar Cham, housed in a renovated hanok (traditional Korean house)
A bartender at Alice Cheongdam
The next morning I go to an elegant hanok on a hill in Insa-dong to meet Lucia Cho, who leadsHwayo, a company that produces premium soju, a Korean spirit. Cho, whose work spans Korean ceramics, restaurants, and more, has thought deeply about the current demand for Korean culture. “We need to think about how long it’s going to last, why it’s popular, and what we are trying to be popular for,” she says. The night before, it snowed for the first time all winter, and I have a dazzling view of snow-striped hanok roofs, low-slung swoops of tile giving way to shining high-rises—the most magnificent of cityscapes. The sun is out, the light reflecting, splintering. Remember this, I tell myself, trying to hold on to the intensity. For all the ways I can find pieces of Korea outside of Seoul, there’s nothing like being here.
A family in traditional hanboks at Changdeokgung Palace
Gangnam district Kang Mingoo’s sublime restaurant Mingles mixes tradition with innovative techniques and global influences. The signature dessert brings together the three traditional jangs—fermented pastes—of Korean cuisine (a trio that Kang identifies as the soul of Korean food in his cookbook,Jang). Nearby, my favorite Korean barbecue place,Byeokje Galbi the Cheongdam, specializes in snow-marbled hanwoo beef from the most prized of Korean cattle. The sirloin and galbi—marinated ribs—are standouts. Leave space for buttermilk ice cream.Hansung Kalguksuoffers incredible knife-cut-noodle soups; oyster and zucchini jeon (small pancakes); and beef brisket. Koreans work hard but are good at letting loose too. Zest bar relies on locally grown products for its drinks (I recommend the Daiquiri No. 6 and fizzing Men-Ge Mule). Alice Cheongdam, down the street, is a Lewis Carroll–themed speakeasy. Nights can get late in Seoul, and it’s not uncommon for locals to go from drinking to a bathhouse. Prima Spa is beautiful. Skin care is also big.Sulwhasoo’sflagship shop offers a selection of many Koreans’ favorite high-end brands (and an excellent spa).Repic Clinichas an array of up-to-date skin treatments.
A seafood and kimchi dish at Onjium; an advertisement featuring the K-pop boy band Riize
Head chefs Cho Eun-hee and Park Sung-bae at the restaurant Onjium
Jongno district Southeast of Gyeongbokgung Palace is Insa-dong, a picturesque neighborhood with hanoks, those traditional Korean houses. Within walking distance there are many art museums and galleries, restaurants, cafés, and teahouses. I like to visitKukje Gallery, Art Sonje Center, and the main branch of theNational Museum of Modern and Contemporary Artto see the latest exhibitions; Frieze House Seoul, a permanent space from the global festival, is found in nearby Jung-gu. For lunch or dinnerA Flower Blossom on the Riceserves plant-centric food made from farm-sourced organic ingredients. I like to stop at CCOT for its strawberry bingsu, or shaved ice. West of Gyeongbokgung Palace isOnjium, a unique Korean restaurant and cultural research institute reviving traditional recipes. Nearby, set in a hanok, isBar Cham, with drinks based on traditional spirits and indigenous ingredients, andIlsangyeoback, a prized ceramics shop. For more ceramics theKwangJuYobrand is available in Shinsegae department stores. For an energetic area full of boutiques, cafés, and people, there’s Seongsu-dong. Seoul Forest is best during cherry blossom season and in autumn, when the ginkgo trees have burst into gold. My favorite dumpling soup (apart from my mother’s) is fromAmamri. It’s a tiny place run by one woman and can be difficult to find, but it’s at 13 Seoulsup 2-gil. Noryangjin-dong has Seoul’s massive Noryangjin Fisheries Wholesale Market, where visitors can browse, feast, or both. Hannam-dong is an ideal area for shopping as well as a long visit to the formidable Leeum Museum of Art. Sensational art continues at nearbyLehmann MaupinandPace Gallery Seoul. For a coffee break, cocktail, or both in adjacent Itaewon-dong, it’s best to stop at charmingHit Coffee Roasters. The lush and playful Mr Ahn’sCraft Makgeolliis a banju restaurant; its exceptional food pairs well with flights of makgeolli, a creamy, sparkling rice wine.
Josun Palace, a Luxury Collection Hotel, Seoul Gangnamis a 36-story tower in slick Gangnam with art-filled green-and-gilt interiors, sweeping city views, and a Michelin-starred progressive Korean restaurant, Eatanic Garden.Park Hyatt Seoulis a little Scandinavian and a bit zen. Light, airy rooms and high ceilings let guests catch their breath in the whirl of the city. Gangnam’s best restaurants and the luxurious Galleria Department Store aren’t far.Moxy Seoul, Myeongdongis an ideal bare-bones base in its bustling namesake neighborhood. The neon-lit property has rooms for everyone, from single-bed digs to quad bunk setups.The Westin Josun Seoulpromises easy access to Gyeongbokgung Palace and offers a touch of tradition while ticking all the boxes: heavenly beds, a large gym, a stellar pool and spa, and a w
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