Meeting My Korean Buddy

 Dumplings, Conversation, and a Night to Remember:

One night during my time in Korea, I finally got to meet my Korean buddy in person, and it turned into one of those simple but meaningful memories that stay with you. She treated me to dumplings, which already made the night feel special, especially because she ordered ones filled with all my favorite things. It felt thoughtful, like she really paid attention to what I liked.

As we ate, we talked a lot. The conversation flowed easily, jumping from light topics to more personal ones. We talked about our lives, school, culture, and the small differences between where we came from. Even though we grew up in different places, it felt surprisingly easy to connect. There was no awkwardness, just genuine curiosity and laughter.

Something that stood out to me was realizing she was younger than me. It didn’t create any distance between us at all, but instead made me reflect on how age doesn’t really matter when it comes to forming real connections. She was mature, kind, and open, and I admired how confidently she shared her thoughts and experiences.

Before the night ended, we took a picture together to remember the moment. It wasn’t just a photo; it felt like proof of a shared experience, a reminder of how meaningful small encounters can be when you’re far from home. Looking back, that night wasn’t about the food alone, even though the dumplings were great. It was about connection, kindness, and feeling welcomed.

Meeting my Korean buddy reminded me that some of the best memories come from simple moments: a shared meal, good conversation, and a photo taken just to say, this mattered

Gyeongbokgung Palace

 A Day at Gyeongbokgung Palace: Stepping Into Korea’s Past

Visiting Gyeongbokgung Palace was one of the most special and memorable experiences I had in Korea. It wasn’t just about seeing a historic site, it was about fully stepping into Korean tradition and living the experience, even if only for a day.

Before entering the palace, I stopped at a hanbok rental shop nearby, which honestly became part of the adventure itself. Inside, small rows and rows of dresses filled the space in every color imaginable. After some browsing, I chose a teal hanbok that immediately stood out to me—elegant, soft, and somehow perfectly fitting the calm energy of the palace and me.

One of my favorite parts of the whole experience was picking out the dress with an ajumma from the shop. She guided me through the options with confidence and care, adjusting fabrics to my size, offering suggestions, and making sure everything looked just right. Even though we didn’t share the same language fluently, her warmth and experience made the moment feel personal and comforting, like being looked after.

After choosing the hanbok, I had my hair done at the shop as well. Watching my hair being styled with jewels in a traditional way made everything feel even more real. Once I was fully dressed, I barely recognized myself in the mirror in the best way possible. It felt like I had stepped into another era.

Walking into Gyeongbokgung Palace wearing a hanbok completely changed the experience. I had Ajumma and Ajussi taking pictures of me while I was walking to the palace. The palace didn’t just feel like something I was observing; it felt like somewhere I belonged, even temporarily. As I walked through the grand gates and across the wide courtyards, the flowing fabric of the hanbok and the soft colors around me blended beautifully with the traditional architecture.

Taking photos became one of the highlights of the day. Standing in front of the palace buildings, framed by wooden pillars and open skies, I felt graceful and present. The teal hanbok stood out against the neutral tones of the palace, making every picture feel timeless. Other visitors passed by, some also dressed in hanbok, creating a scene that felt alive and authentic rather than staged.

What struck me most was how peaceful everything felt. Despite being in the heart of Seoul, the palace grounds were calm and reflective. Wearing hanbok made me more aware of my movements, encouraging me to slow down, take my time, and appreciate the history around me.

By the end of the visit, I didn’t just feel like I had toured a famous landmark,


I felt like I had connected with Korean culture in a meaningful, hands-on way. From choosing my hanbok with an ajumma to walking the palace grounds dressed in tradition, Gyeongbokgung Palace gave me more than photos. It gave me a memory that felt elegant, grounding, and unforgettable.

First Encounter to Busan and Busan Food

 March 24, 2024, was my first time trying Busan food, and I didn’t expect it to feel so different from what I was used to in Seoul.

I remember sitting there, taking my first bite, waiting for the bold punch of flavor I usually associate with Korean food in Seoul. But instead, Busan food felt… calmer. More plain, more subtle. Not boring, just quieter. The flavors didn’t rush at me; they took their time. It made me slow down and actually think about what I was eating.

At first, I was confused. Was something missing? Was my palate just too used to stronger seasonings? Or was this exactly how Busan food was meant to be experienced, simple, honest, and close to its ingredients?

The more I ate, the more I started to appreciate it. The food didn’t try to impress me. It felt local, comforting, almost coastal in personality. It made me wonder: is Busan’s food shaped by the sea and the city's slower rhythm? Is this what people mean when they say food reflects where you are?

Another thing I noticed while I was in Korea, especially in Busan, was how generous the portions were. The meals were huge, yet surprisingly cheap. No matter how hungry I thought I was, I could never finish everything on my plate. I’d look down halfway through and realize there was still so much left. It made me pause and think about how different the food culture is how abundance doesn’t always come with a high price.

Comparing it to Seoul food made the contrast even clearer. Seoul feels fast and busy, layered with intense flavors, just like the city itself. Busan felt relaxed, straightforward, and grounded. Neither was better or worse, just different. And that difference made the experience memorable.

By the end of the meal, I realized this wasn’t just about taste. It was about learning that even within one country, food can tell completely different stories. How many more stories are hidden in other cities? How many flavors am I still unfamiliar with?

That day in Busan taught me that sometimes “plain” doesn’t mean lacking, but it means balanced. And sometimes, trying something different isn’t about loving it immediately, but about understanding it.