Hello Hanguk

  I remember walking past a climbing gym in Seoul's Hongdae neighborhood one winter evening and seeing the walls lit up through the windows—bright holds in every color, people halfway up routes that looked impossible. I'd been curious about climbing for months but had no idea where to start. Do you just walk in? Do you need your own shoes? And how do you even ask for help in Korean when you don't know the vocabulary? Korea's climbing scene has grown fast over the past few years, especially after climbing became an Olympic sport. You'll find gyms everywhere now—from massive facilities in Gangnam to cozy neighborhood spots tucked into basements near university districts. What surprised me most was how beginner-friendly most places are, even if your Korean is limited. This guide covers what you actually need to know: how day passes work, what gear you'll need (and what you can skip at first), and the handful of Korean terms that will make your first...

  Last winter, I walked past a basement storefront in Seoul at 11 PM and noticed a group of friends laughing inside, swinging golf clubs in what looked like a small room with a giant screen. No grass, no cold wind—just them, a projector, and what seemed like a full golf course somehow compressed into a space smaller than my studio apartment. That was my introduction to screen golf, or what Koreans call "스크린골프" (screen golf-peu). It's indoor golf simulation played year-round, often late into the night, and it's become one of the most popular social activities in Korea. If you've ever been curious about trying golf but felt intimidated by the cost, the dress codes, or the six-hour time commitment, screen golf might be exactly what you're looking for. This guide walks through how screen golf actually works, what to expect on your first visit, and why this particular version of the sport has taken root in Korea in a way that feels almost cultural....

  Last spring, I watched a delivery cyclist weave through pedestrians on a sidewalk in Gangnam, narrowly missing a mother with a stroller. Minutes later, I saw another rider get pulled over by police for the exact same behavior. The difference? One knew the rules, the other clearly didn't. In Korean cities, cycling sits in an interesting gray zone—it's encouraged as eco-friendly transport, yet the infrastructure and enforcement can feel inconsistent depending on which district you're in. If you're planning to cycle in Seoul, Busan, or any other Korean city, understanding where you can ride, how locals expect you to behave, and what mistakes can actually cost you money makes the experience much safer and less stressful. This isn't about memorizing traffic law—it's about reading the unwritten rules that keep everyone moving smoothly. Table of Contents The Reality of Bike Lanes in Korean Cities Where You're Actually Allowed to Ride ...

  I remember looking at my August flight to Busan, wondering if I should even bother packing, after seeing the news about yet another typhoon heading toward the peninsula. My friend had been stranded at Gimpo Airport the year before, watching flight boards flip from "delayed" to "canceled" while scrambling to find accommodation. That sinking realization—that nature doesn't care about non-refundable bookings—made me think harder about what actually happens when tropical storms meet travel plans in Korea. Korea's typhoon season isn't just a weather footnote. It's a recurring reality that shapes how locals and visitors navigate summer and early fall. Understanding when these storms hit, how to stay informed, and what your rebooking options look like can mean the difference between minor inconvenience and a travel nightmare. Table of Contents When Typhoons Actually Hit Korea The Real Impact on Travel Plans Travel Insuranc...

  I still remember my first spring in Korea—waking up to what looked like a yellow fog covering Seoul's skyline. My Korean colleague immediately handed me a mask and said, "You'll need this every spring." That was my introduction to hwangsa, or yellow dust season. What surprised me most wasn't just the visible haze, but discovering there's actually a second, invisible threat called fine dust that shows up year-round. The apartment windows stayed closed on certain days, air purifiers ran constantly, and people checked their phones before heading outside—not for weather, but for air quality numbers. It took a few months to understand this wasn't paranoia; it was just part of managing everyday life here. Table of Contents What makes yellow dust and fine dust different Why Korea gets hit harder during spring Which mask actually works (and which doesn't) Air purifier basics without the marketing hype Real-time apps tha...