The smell of Korean nostalgia

Courtesy of Clark Gu

By David A. Tizzard

In Korean, the word "hyang-su" can mean either perfume or nostalgia. It's a beautiful coincidence. The fact that the word can refer to either smell or memory is easy to understand for certain odors are capable of triggering very strong and profound memories of the past. In Marcel Proust's 1913 novel "In Search of Lost Time," it was the smell of cake in tea that sent the French author spiraling into the past, memory, and one of the century's more ambitious literary endeavors. And so it was for me recently as a certain series of events had me remembering things of Korean yesterdays.

While some of my colleagues and friends have been here since the 1970s, I arrived in the early 2000s. Korea had already staged the World Cup in 2002 and Park Chan-wook's "Oldboy" had won critical acclaim in cinemas around the world. Nevertheless, I arrived knowing very little about the place. I didn't really understand what North and South Korea were. And I didn't know anything about communism, democracy, the "minjok," Tangun, or life in general. But I was young, full of wonder, and had my eyes, ears (and nose) open.

Kwanghwamun

When I first arrived in Korea it was the end of autumn. The weather was crisp in the mornings but nevertheless rather pleasant. I was staying in a back-alley in Jongno 3-ga. It was a simple little one-room place nestled close to one of the city's largest music stores and not too far from the gay bar community. I quickly picked up a "danso" (vertical bamboo flute) and taught myself to play. Every day, I would walk along Jong-no towards my office in Gwanghwamun. I worked right opposite the huge imposing statues of Admiral Yi Sun-sin and King Sejong the Great yet had little idea who they were or when the statues were placed.

I was also introduced to the Korean protest because it was often incredibly difficult for me to get home some nights as the roads outside my office were filled with thousands of people, gathered shoulder to shoulder, uniform in color, holding placards, shouting and demanding something. It was not always easy for me to work out what was being demanded other than the fact that the people really meant it. The sight of riot police dressed as storm troopers was also a rather arresting sight and gave me strong "Half Life 2" vibes.

The Walk

Walking along Jong-no, to and from Gwanghwamn every day, I couldn't help but take in everything that seemed strange. The most obvious one was how everything was for sale on the streets, hawked by vendors on disposable carts or just laid out on the grounds. Ties were sold out on the street, appealing to the businessmen who had either not gone home the night before, left home without one, or simply got too much soup down their front at lunchtime. Watches, many of them counterfeit, were also pushed around, providing the opportunity for people to put (fake) gold or silver on their wrists and hoped the batteries lasted more than a month or so.

Perhaps most surprisingly, you could buy pirate DVDs right there on the street. They generally cost 10,000 won for three or four, and you could get box-sets of Friends, 24, or the latest Hollywood and Korean movies. They came in flimsy plastic wrappings but were generally decent in quality. One day, as I stood looking through them and seeing how far behind I had fallen in terms of mass media and culture, two policemen passed behind me. They began talking about one of the movies on sale, laughed, and carried on walking. It was then how I realized that in Korea things could be both illegal and legal at the same time.

Obviously pirate DVDs were very illegal but they could nevertheless be seen in many places and purchased openly without too much fear. In the same manner, gambling and prostitution, also both illegal, were everywhere. Jong-no was home to lots of pachinko-style gambling arcades called "pada i-yagi" (sea story). These eventually became a huge point of social discussion as they were embroiled in high-level politics and organized crime. Brothels, massage parlors and other adult entertainment also advertised their wares with bright red lights and spinning polls. While no doubt much of this still exists in Korea today, if you walk down Jong-no you will not easily spot counterfeit goods, gambling dens, or prostitution.

The Smell of Nostalgia

And then there was the smell. I couldn't smell England. I was too immersed in the culture. But as soon as I arrived here, the garlic, the kimchi, the soju, the cigarettes, the squid and the combination of sweat and energy drinks was a revelation. It was both fascinating and disgusting in equal measure. Pubs would give you peanuts, dog biscuits, or squid with mayonnaise and ketchup as condiments. The ashtray would be filled with water and have a tissue in the bottom. People would happily spit in there as well.

The toilet was often unisex and, sometimes, little more than a hole in the ground. Men and women waited and passed each other as they passed to and from their tables to relieve themselves. The alcohol was oversized pitchers of Cass and OB poured into small stained glasses. It would be flat and warm after a while yet people poured soju and cider into it with abandon.

Taxis filled the roads and would not let you in until you had declared your destination. Only if it were deemed a suitable route for the driver could you enter. And when you did, they might pick up another person on the way to get the most bang for their buck. People smoked with abandon inside the cars as they whizzed through the city: red lights were suggestions, seatbelts were an afterthought, and the quick drivers were praised as Schumachers.

You would also hear punk and rock music on the radio. K-pop didn't really exist yet. Instead guitars were the sound of the night. Crying Nut and No Brain had songs that could be heard in pubs, baseball stadiums and election campaigns. Things were loud, electric, and dirty.

Memory

Young people often believe that history and fashion goes in cycles. Those of us with a few more years under the belt often believe that while history doesn't necessarily repeat itself, it sometimes rhymes. Flip-phones are coming back. Crop tops and baggy jeans are back in. Y2K concepts are dominating the cultural industry. And while the aesthetics might look the same, the smell is different. The Korea of the early 2000s was more violent and less refined. Women's rights, political correctness and multiculturalism were not topics of conversation. What was right and wrong was less clear. The smells have changed. But the memories remain.

Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online.