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Pedestrians carry umbrellas throughout snowfall, revealed in The Korea Occasions Jan. 4, 2003. Korea Occasions Archive
My first winter in Seoul taught me the that means of heat — by taking it away. I had grown up with Midwest winters, and thought I knew chilly, however this was totally different — much less about endurance than consideration.
In 1990, my condominium in Jamsil regarded stable sufficient from the skin — concrete, utilitarian, constructed to final — however inside it held the chilly. Not drafty, precisely, simply unyielding. The home windows have been sealed tight, but the coolness lingered in corners and partitions, settling quietly in a single day. One morning, I went to retrieve my garments from the laundry room and located ice layered on the partitions and home windows, my garments frozen stiff within the unheated house. It startled me — not the chilly itself, however how calmly it had arrived whereas I slept.
Then there was ondol.
I had heard of it earlier than however didn’t but perceive it — not likely. The primary evening, the ground started to heat, slowly and invisibly, the warmth transferring beneath me the way in which it was meant to. I sat on the ground as a result of that was the place the warmth lived. The chilliness retreated upward, lifting from my bones in levels. The room stayed chilly. The air supplied no consolation. However beneath me, the ground held its heat, regular and unhurried.
Individuals sit on a heated ground in an ondol visitor room at Resort Seoul Backyard, revealed in The Korea Occasions Sept. 28, 1986. Korea Occasions Archive
Outdoors, winter dominated with out sentiment. Mornings meant a brisk stroll to the subway station, collar turned up, breath hanging in entrance of me like a thought I hadn’t completed but. The streets have been sharp with chilly and noise. The sky usually hung low and hazy, smoke drifting upward from condominium buildings, blurring the exhausting winter mild.
By January 1991, earlier than the Gulf Conflict had begun, there was an odd stillness to the nights. Stress hung within the air — speak of Iraq, of oil costs, of what would possibly come subsequent. Neon indicators have been dimmed or switched off sooner than common: whether or not by mandate or warning, I by no means fairly knew. Streets felt darker, quieter. Smoke drifted upward into the winter haze, and town appeared to carry its breath, conserving mild and warmth.
Years earlier than supply apps introduced piping-hot meals to wherever you lived or labored, Korea’s unique supply drivers — serving Chinese language and Korean eating places — had already mastered the streets. Steel bins have been balanced precariously as they navigated icy roads, one hand on the handlebars, the opposite steadying the load. Some bikes had cold-weather modifications: padded covers, gloved handlebars, small human options to a tough season.
Taxis within the snow, revealed in The Korea Occasions Jan. 31, 1990. Korea Occasions Archive
These first weeks of my first winter in Korea, lunch was usually in a drafty hole-in-the-wall restaurant tucked inside Gangnam Station, the sort of place you stepped into since you have been chilly and hungry, not since you meant to. A kerosene heater stood within the heart of the room, its steel sides ticking because it burned. A brass kettle sat on prime, all the time boiling, sending up a gentle plume of steam. The air carried the blended scent of kerosene and kimchi. Barley tea was poured into small cups, warming your arms earlier than you drank, the steam easing the dryness from the air.
The heat stayed behind once you left, however the scent of kerosene adopted you. Outdoors, it rode the air by way of eating places and cafés, clung to stairwells and bars, adopted you down aspect streets. Supply drivers raced by way of site visitors with plastic cans strapped to the backs of their bikes, the gas sloshing dangerously with each flip — warmth in movement, necessity on two wheels.
In different places, particularly older eating places, the warmth got here from squat, barrel-shaped yeontan (charcoal briquette) heaters set low to the ground. The coal burned slowly, stubbornly, radiating heat that gathered round ankles and knees. Coats stayed on. Scarves have been loosened however not eliminated. Bowls arrived rapidly. Kimchi jjigae, bitter and alive. Sundubu jjigae, delicate and volcanic. Yukgaejang, darkish and restorative — the sort of soup that reached locations the chilly had already claimed. You ate with goal, letting the warmth do its quiet work.
Nuclear submarine crew delivers yeontan charcoal briquettes, revealed in The Korea Occasions Feb. 21, 2008. Korea Occasions Archive
Not removed from Gangnam Station, outdoors locations just like the New York Bakery, younger ladies stood shivering in miniskirts, naked legs reddened by the chilly, whereas younger males waited in skinny jackets, scarves looped loosely round their necks. Palms jammed into pockets. Shoulders hunched. Seoul avenue cool held agency, even when the temperature dropped into the one digits. Winter would possibly chunk, however model endured.
I marveled on the market distributors close to my condominium advanced — largely middle-aged Korean ladies bundled in layers of padded jackets and scarves, cheeks ruddy from the chilly, sitting low to the bottom behind shallow bowls of fruit and greens. They barely appeared to note the winter, arms transferring steadily as they rearranged potatoes and apples. I haggled as finest I might in my restricted Korean, not as a result of I anticipated to win, however as a result of it was what was anticipated. We carried out the ritual collectively — numbers, laughter, a shake of the pinnacle — till the value settled the place it all the time appeared meant to land.
An aged man pulls a cart as snow falls, revealed in The Korea Occasions March 9, 2000. Korea Occasions Archive
Hurrying by way of the streets of Jongno, Myeong-dong and Insa-dong, bundled tight in opposition to the wind, I felt like I used to be again house in Chicago. The identical chilly urgent in. The identical ahead lean into it. However I wasn’t house. I used to be right here, transferring by way of a metropolis that carried its age in another way. The chilly stripped Seoul right down to its bones — stone and concrete, previous store fronts, their wood facades worn and weary, indicators painted in Hangeul, neon buzzing overhead, some letters darkish, others flickering. Nothing about it was romantic or inviting. And but beneath the grit, there was a quiet magnificence in how town endured it, in how individuals moved by way of winter with out criticism, with out pause, as if this, too, had been practiced.
Some evenings, I purchased roasted candy potatoes from a vendor simply inside the doorway to my condominium advanced. They have been roasted in an oven transformed from a metal barrel, the hearth stoked with scraps of wooden. He wrapped them in newspaper, the ink smudging onto my fingers, and I peeled again the paper as I walked by way of the labyrinth of condominium blocks, choosing on the steaming flesh, relishing the straightforward pleasure of a winter deal with. Different nights it was fish-shaped bread — bungeoppang — stuffed with crimson bean paste. I cradled one in my arms and broke it open as I walked, the filling nonetheless molten inside. The heat was temporary, however it stayed with me.
Ice on the Han River in Seoul, revealed in The Korea Occasions Dec. 19, 2005. Korea Occasions Archive
Korea in winter was chilly in all places — on the streets, in stairwells, within the air itself. Warmth got here anyway, rising from flooring, from yeontan and kerosene, from brass kettles and meals eaten shut collectively.
That winter, I used to be usually chilly. However inside, one thing was warming — quietly, steadily — filling with recollections I didn’t but know would final.
Jeffrey Miller is the writer of a number of novels, together with “Conflict Stays,” a narrative concerning the early days of the Korean Conflict, and “No Method Out,” a thriller set in Seoul in 1990.
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