Surviving Seoul’s Snow
During a winter trip to the South Korean capital, Michael Tatarski discovered several entertaining ways to deal with record-breaking cold. I had been following the weather forecast for several days, and I was terrified. The low temperatures in Seoul were -12 C, more than 30 degrees colder than balmy Ho Chi Minh City. I hadn’t experienced that type of cold in years, and all I had to keep me warm was a North Face coat of dubious quality. Shortly after my early evening arrival a snow shower began, adding to the layer of white on the ground that had built up over the previous week. By the following morning the skies had cleared, but the temperatures were biting, and the slightest breeze cut to the bone. I took the subway to 34 asialife HCMC
Gangnam, the upscale Seoul neighborhood that has become world-famous thanks to a certain overplayed song. The brutal cold made it difficult to stay outside for very long; luckily I had a wedding to attend. I was looking forward to seeing what a Korean wedding is like, but it turned out rather sedate. The ceremony itself was carried out efficiently, and even the reception was low-key. Few people drank the available beer and soju, and there was no music or dancing. This was a far cry from a Vietnamese wedding, where booze flows freely and the whole thing gradually descends into a drunken haze.
Nonetheless, the wedding was a good way to spend a frigid afternoon inside. After the reception a friend and I went to Hongdae, one of Seoul’s most popular nightlife districts. Located near a major art university, the neighbourhood is packed with the young creative class. This bohemian atmosphere lends itself to a good time, and that night there was a special event going on: Santacon. Santacon is held every year before Christmas, and the concept is simple: hundreds of people dress up in Santa hats and suits, gather in Hongdae, and go on a pub crawl. We picked up Santa hats at a dollar store and then stood, shiv-
ering, at the designated meeting point. Shortly afterwards dozens of already inebriated, mostly foreign Santas began pouring out of the nearby subway station, plastic bottles of soju and juice, or sojuice, in hand. The growing mass of red-faced, red-clothed partiers quickly attracted a crowd of onlookers, and one confused Korean woman asked me what sort of ceremony this was. As we waited for the signal to head to the first bar, a foreign woman wielding a stack of paper cups and a bottle of sojuice came by handing out drinks. The powerful mix burned on the way down, and after a few sips I was feeling much warmer. Eventually the