If you were intrigued by last month’s post about Valentine’s Day in Korea, and thought it was too good to be true, well…you’re correct. While Valentine’s Day is all about the man in Korea, the next 14^th of the month is all about the women. That means, fellas, that you are required to pony up this time. Candy or chocolates, stuffed toys or flowers, it’s up to you. Just don’t, under any circumstances, forget!

All of that amazing luck we ran into a month ago, down the drain… (smile) 

Among other things, Seoul is notorious for wild nights. By day, Koreans will swear to you through and through how conservative they are. Spend a night out in places like Hongdae or Itaewon, and you know first-hand that isn’t true.

It isn’t uncommon to be in a club until the dawn, but if for some reason you’re feeling a little slow and can’t last, there is a unique alternative: jjimjilbang, or public bathhouse.

The sign you’re looking for when you need a rest

These are a kind of 24-hour spa that feature minimal luxuries: just hard floor mats to sleep or rest in a shared, gender-specific room, a locker for your possessions, and access to some public baths. For your entrance fee of anywhere from 7,000 Korean won (about $6.50) and up, you can rest for several hours or spend the night. They are commonly used by businessmen (and women) who have long commutes home and stay out late drinking after work, but occasionally serve the nightclub crowd as well.

In an otherwise 24-hour city, the subways here close around midnight, and taxis can be expensive. So if you won’t last the entire night at the club, jjimjilbang may be just the option for you, and a cultural experience to behold as well.

Spending a night in a jjimjilbang…

This isn’t exactly unique to Korea, but guys, just know that Korea should be the object of your envy when it comes to Valentine’s Day. See, here, you don’t have to do anything! That’s right—just sit back and receive your chocolate from that lovely lady of yours.

Yes, Valentine’s Day in Korea is all on the woman’s shoulders. Several days before the 14^th, streets are lined with vendors selling baskets of chocolate, which is a standard gift for boyfriends or even male objects of admiration. Those girls who want to go all-out even raise the bar beyond that, as Valentine’s Day is a huge profit-winner for department stores, hotels, bakeries, jewelers, and pretty much any other types of consumer goods vendors you can think of.

In Korea, this is definitely a great day to be a man!

In honor of Valentine’s Day coming up next week, I thought we would address the concept of chivalry and dating in Korea. Korean men, especially younger ones, deservedly or not, have a reputation around the world as romantics. Early on in relationships, they tend to shower their girlfriend with affection, in hopes of securing a long-term relationship.

A significant concept in Korean relationships is that of 100 days. After a child is born, families have a celebration on their 100^th day, giving thanks to Samshin (the birth goddess), for helping the mother and child through their most delicate time.

The 100-day mark has a similar importance for couples, who often celebrate this occasion with gifts. Popularized by Korean dramas which seem to significantly impact outsiders’ views of Korean men and romance, it is an opportunity to exchange gifts, and the first time at which it would be considered appropriate for the guy to express his love for the girl. Also, it has become a popular trend for couples to celebrate this day by dressing exactly alike—that’s right, shoes, pants, shirt, etc.

However, while during this 100 day period it is likely to see the guy showering every possible bit of affection onto his new girlfriend, it isn’t likely that this treatment continues far beyond that. Korea is still a male-dominated society, and traditional gender roles are still alive and well. So once a couple is established, it is generally expected that the woman serves the man by cooking, cleaning, etc. You won’t often see an elderly Korean man open the car door for his significant other.

So ladies, next time you are walking in Korea and see a guy carrying his girlfriend’s purse (yes, it is quite a normal sight to see a grown man prancing around with a Louis Vuitton bag on his arm), you should probably consider that they are likely still in their 100-day period before your heart melts into the pavement.

Definitely signs of a first-100 day couple: dressed alike, guy carrying designer purse.

The ideal of beauty extends to males too….I think?

For better or worse, looks matter in Korea. I mean, looks really matter. Regardless of where you go, you’ll see girls on the subway, in their cars, at a crosswalk, restaurant tables and anywhere else looking into the little tiny mirrors that seem to be customary cell phone compliments. If anything is out of place, it gets fixed, then and there. If anything is too out of place, well that’s just cause to break whatever had been on the day’s agenda and head home to get it sorted.

In a country that thrives on pressure, and even breeds it as a national sport, women always need to be on their “A” game. It’s too cold for that mini skirt? Wear some tights underneath. You will be walking a lot and don’t want to wear those stilettos? Tough, do it anyway.

Alarmingly, this pressure to appear perfect doesn’t stay limited to portable mirrors and choice of attire. Cosmetic surgery is so commonplace here that there seems to be a doctor offering it on every corner, and all of them stay busy. Conservative estimates suggest that half of women in their twenties have had some surgery done, in many cases several, and most anyone here knows that number is actually much higher. There is even such an obsession with angular-shaped faces here that cosmetic surgeons can essentially shave jawlines.

A menu of cosmetic options (image credit: girlandtheworld.org)

Eyelid surgery is most common, because Korean women all seem to be mortified that they don’t have a natural fold in their eyelids combined with a fascination for large eyes. But for women who have put on a few extra pounds, liposuction tends to be the preferred solution as opposed to exercise, and nose jobs are highly common as well.

I’m all for people doing what they wish to do with their bodies—want to cover it in tattoos? Do whatever makes you happy. The problem I have here in Korea, however, is that in spending enough time around these people, you get the sense that in most cases, the work that is done is not even necessarily because the girl herself wants it. Instead, she feels pressure from society, perhaps even subconsciously due to the importance put on the standard of ‘perfection’ here. Indeed, this is a country where photos are still attached to job or college applications, and most people believe that looks can be not only a deciding factor, but an absolute essential to even garner consideration.

What’s worse is that these unrealistic ideals are confirmed even in the home, where it is common for parents to pay for cosmetic surgery on their teenage girls. Can you imagine actually wanting your own child, the fruit of your loins, to be put under the knife because she isn’t good enough?

At some point, this has to stop if Korea is to continue its growth as a major player in the world economy. Pressure to be beautiful isn’t on the radar of human rights watchdogs yet, but at the rate Korea is going, it could soon be. Jobs and promotions are still won and lost based on willingness to perform sexual favors in this still male-dominated society, as the suicide case of actress Jang Ja-yeon, who was sexually abused by several entertainment executives, shed light on. Along those same lines, it was news recently when a local politician was quoted as telling a group of students that debate judges, of which he was one, “don’t really pay attention to the debate. They are actually interested in how participants’ faces look.”

Quite simply, the combination having males still highly dominant in this society, and the lack of any cultural theme that beauty comes in different shapes and sizes and colors, or is in the beauty of the beholder, makes for a potentially major social issue in Korea.

Don’t tell me what is or isn’t beautiful unless you want a smack in the jaw.

Jang Ja-yeon’s story exemplifies what is wrong with Korea’s pressure society (image credit: popseoul.wordpress.com)

Today is the 14^th, and you know what that means! There is something special going on in Korea!

As one of the world’s most advanced and bustling consumer goods economies, Korea has, more than anywhere else on earth, mastered the art of creating demand. And one of its most effective tactics has been to create artificial holidays designed to move products off shelves.

Today happens to be Diary Day. On this special day, couples exchange for the upcoming year with each other. Clever and convenient, right? This way, they can mark each other’s birthdays, anniversaries, and other special plans they may have together in the upcoming year.

Happy diary-ing!

Asians, male and female alike, generally tend to do pretty well when it comes to aging—in many countries in the Far East, it isn’t uncommon to see working professionals who could probably pass for high school students in many places. Whether it is genes, the hefty emphasis they place on body and skin care, or overall healthy lifestyles, it can be difficult for people from other cultures to play the age-guessing game here.

In Korea, that is even more challenging, because of Korea’s unique method of calculating someone’s age.

Most of us turn a particular age on the day that is exactly that number of years from our birth. So if I was born on the first day of March in 1990, then today, March 1st, 2013, I turned 23. For the rest of this year, and actually until March 1st, 2014, I will be considered 23 years of age.

Koreans, however, are all considered two years older than they really are. Three months after birth, a Korean is already considered to be age 1, factoring in the 9-month pregnancy. Then, on the New Year’s Day of their first year, they are considered to be 2. So from our example above, if I was Korean and born on the first day of March in 1990, then I turned 1 on June 1st of that year. Then, on New Year’s Day of 1991, I turned 2. From then on, I add a year every New Year’s Day.

So under this method, even though today is still celebrated as my birthday, my age doesn’t change. I actually “turned” 24 on January 1st. Come January 1st, 2014, I will turn 25, while the non-Korean I share a birthdate with will still be 23.

Of course, this method opens up another can of worms: If the first birthday is considered 90-or-so days after birth, and the second is the first New Year’s Day, then what about those babies born in the last three months of the year? Does that first New Year’s they experience just not count, because they haven’t reached their 90 days yet?

In this case (which the math would suggest applies to about 25% of Koreans), the first New Year’s Day is indeed “skipped” in regards to counting age. But the age calculation quickly catches up after that. For babies in this case, the first actual birthday (as in, the anniversary of the actual date of birth), would add a year, and then the annual New Year’s Day tally would continue as per normal.

So in this example, if I was born on November 1st, 1990, I would turn 1 on February 1st, 1991. I would turn 2 on November 1st of that year, and quickly turn 3 on New Year’s Day of 1992, just as in the example above when I was born on March 1st.

Got that?

Next time you bet a drink on guessing your Korean friend’s age, don’t forget to clarify whether you’re guessing their Korean age or their other age, and if it’s their Korean age, add two!

(image credit: eMagAsia.com)

My ID:  8:48pm, Sunday, 04 September 2005:  Seoul-Incheon International Airport

Cathay Pacific flight CX420 from Taipei

Descending into ICN

My Initial Descent into Korea came as part of a trip I was taking around Asia. Lucky for me—or so I thought—I had met a group of Koreans while I was in Thailand a few weeks before I was scheduled to get to Seoul, and they said they would be happy to meet me and show me around once I got there.

Dynamic Korea

I had no trouble finding the “limousine bus” to central Seoul (which, for the record, is nothing like a limousine, but efficient nonetheless). After I dropped my bag at the Sinchon guest house I was to call home for the next few days, the people I had met the week before in Bangkok were on their way to pick me up.

A girl named Soo Jin, who wanted to be called Sarah, was driving. We were headed first to a department store, and then across town to the trendy neighborhood of Apgujeong. I was impressed by the density of everything—I just remember being overwhelmed by…imagery. Buildings covered with signs, more buildings, signs and more signs. I thought about how someone had once told me that Korean was easy to learn to read, and at that moment I told myself I’d try to learn it.

Not amused with the navigation system

But while I was highly impressed by the Seoul I saw passing by out the window, I was equally scared for my life. This was in the early days of navigation, and Soo Jin had a console attached to her dashboard. It seemed the entire time that the directions were a bit slow, and so besides the fact that the console was positioned at the side of the dashboard and therefore here eyes were focused anywhere but the actual road, we also seemed to make a habit out of right turns from left hand lanes.

Made it to Apgujeong

Luckily, thanks to some observant and quick-reflex other drivers, we made it to Apgujeong for a fun night out. But when it was time to turn in, I high-tailed it to the Metro’s Line 3, not wanting to play navigation roulette twice in the same day.