Seoul, Right Now

What if you could walk into a museum, choose an artifact you liked, and then become that artifact yourself? In South Korea, this is no longer just an imaginative question. On September 19, 2026, the National Museum of Korea in Seoul hosted the final round of Dress Like a Museum Exhibit 2026 , a costume competition that invited people to transform themselves into objects from Korea's cultural heritage. And this was not your usual museum event. Instead of quietly admiring objects behind glass, thousands of people gathered to watch them come to life on a stage. Ancient artifacts, Buddhist sculptures, royal seals, and traditional pottery were reimagined as costumes, complete with performances, humor, and plenty of personality. Among all these creative interpretations, one particularly unusual character stole the show: a blue-and-white porcelain carp. When Museum Artifacts Become Costumes Museums are usually places where visitors look at objects from a respectful distance. A glass case ...

A shark appeared in Busan's North Port, and suddenly, a quiet waterfront park became one of the most talked-about places in South Korea. It was no small fish hiding beneath the surface. The shark was estimated to be around 10 to 11.5 feet long (3 to 3.5 meters). Instead of swimming somewhere far out in the ocean, it was moving through a canal at North Port Waterfront Park, close to walking paths where people usually come to relax. The first report came on the morning of September 18, 2026. Within days, thousands of people were making their way to the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of the unexpected visitor. Some came from nearby cities. Others traveled much farther. One visitor reportedly came all the way from Seoul and even spent the night in a parking lot, waiting for a chance to see the shark. For a few days, Busan's North Port had become something like an open-air aquarium. Except there was no glass between the visitors and the animal swimming in the water. Meet Bukangi, t...

 If you go to a post office in Seoul, you probably have one thing in mind: sending a package, buying stamps, or picking up a delivery. Lunch is probably not the first thing you think about. But some post offices have cafeterias. And they are not quite what you might expect. There are post office cafeterias in different parts of Seoul. Some have been introduced in personal blog posts as inexpensive places to get a proper Korean meal. Others are simply everyday dining rooms where employees sit down with a tray of rice, soup, and side dishes. At Mapo Post Office, for example, a typical lunch might look like black rice, soybean paste soup, pork stir-fried with kimchi and tofu, a couple of vegetable side dishes, and kkakdugi. At other post offices, the details are different, but the idea is much the same. A cafeteria meal. A short break in the middle of a working day. Rice, soup, and a few side dishes. Nothing particularly glamorous. And perhaps that is exactly what makes it ...

If you visit a traditional market in Seoul on a weekday, you may notice something that is easy to miss on a weekend. There are a lot of older people. At Cheongnyangni Market, grandmothers and grandfathers are everywhere. Some arrive carrying backpacks. Others have shopping bags in their hands. Some walk slowly through the market, while others move with surprising purpose, stopping at one stall after another. They are not here to see a famous Seoul attraction. They are here to shop. A Different Side of Seoul Cheongnyangni is not Gwangjang Market. Gwangjang Market is famous with visitors from around the world. People come for the food, the busy alleys, and the experience of walking through one of Seoul's best-known traditional markets. Cheongnyangni feels different. On a weekday, the market feels much more like part of the neighborhood. People come because they need something. They buy vegetables, fruit, fish, side dishes, meat, and other things for home. They compare prices, talk to...

 If you spend a little time walking around Seoul, you will notice a particular kind of bag. It is a backpack. Not the kind carried by a student on the way to school. Not necessarily a sporty backpack worn by someone heading to the gym. This one is often carried by an older woman, usually on her way to the market, the neighborhood store, a bus stop, or the subway. Once you notice them, you start seeing them everywhere. Small backpacks. Large backpacks. Black ones, brown ones, patterned ones. Some look almost like handbags with two shoulder straps. Others are clearly designed to carry a surprising amount of stuff. And yes, you will see quite a few of them on Korean grandmothers. Why a backpack? The simple answer is that it is practical. A backpack leaves both hands free. That matters in Seoul. You might be carrying groceries in one hand, holding an umbrella in the other, checking your phone, opening a subway gate, or picking something up at a market. A shoulder bag can slide around. ...

You take the cable car up Namsan because you want to see Seoul. From the top, the city spreads out in every direction. Skyscrapers, apartment buildings, mountains and the Han River all seem to fit into one enormous view. You take some photos. Then you decide not to take the cable car back down. Instead, you start walking. A few minutes later, something unexpected appears among the trees. A gym. Not a fancy fitness center. Not a private club. A free outdoor gym on the mountain. People are actually using it. Welcome to a "sans-jang." What Is a Sans-jang? The Korean word "sans-jang" combines san, meaning mountain, and jang, meaning a place or facility. In everyday Korean, it has come to mean an outdoor exercise area on a mountain. Seoul has many of them. Some are little more than a few exercise machines beside a trail. Others are surprisingly well equipped, with benches, pull-up bars, weights and machines that look much more like something you would expect to find insi...

When you stand beside the Han River in Seoul, one thing is hard to miss: it is enormous. At its widest, the Han stretches about three-quarters of a mile (1.2 km) across Seoul. The river runs about 26 miles (41.5 km) through the city. Seoul's own figures describe it as roughly five to six times wider than the Seine in Paris and the Thames in London. So a natural question comes to mind: If the Han River is that wide, how can a boat possibly run into trouble because the river is too shallow? The answer is surprisingly simple. A wide river is not necessarily a deep river. And for a boat, the width of the entire river is not nearly as important as the depth of the water along the route it actually uses. A river is not a giant swimming pool with the same depth everywhere. Its riverbed rises and falls, and sediment and other material can accumulate in particular places. A vessel can have plenty of water around it and still encounter a shallow area directly beneath its hull. This is one re...