🎎 My First Seollal Experience
I can’t say I didn’t know what Seollal was. I had heard it was the Lunar New Year, with traditional clothes, family gatherings, ancestral rituals… I’d even read a few things online. But when the day actually arrived when the stores closed early and the streets fell quiet I realized I’d only scratched the surface.
My friends had already packed their bags. Train tickets had been sold out for days. The city was slowing down, but something in me was speeding up. “Something’s happening,” I thought to myself. And yet, it didn’t feel like it was happening to me. I felt like I was standing just outside, unable to step into that silence.
🕯️ Charye and the Quiet Connection
Over time, I learned that Seollal isn’t just about flipping the calendar. In many Korean homes, early in the morning, a special table is set not just any meal, but a symbolic bridge to the past. This ritual is called Charye (차례). Each dish is placed with care and intention. Then, one by one, family members bow in silence to honor their ancestors.
The first time I witnessed it, I was struck by the weight of the silence. No words were spoken, yet so much was being said. It was meaning beyond language, connection without sound.
🍲 Dduk-guk: Gaining a Year with One Bowl
After the ceremony, the family gathers to eat. The first dish served is dduk-guk a warm soup with thinly sliced rice cakes. Simple, yet meaningful. In Korea, you’re not considered a year older until you’ve eaten this dish. Its white color symbolizes purity, and the long rice cakes represent longevity.
When I held that warm bowl in my hands for the first time, I felt something stir inside me. “This isn’t just soup,” I thought. It carried a sense of belonging.
🧧 Sebae: Respect Folded into a Small Envelope
Another tradition during Seollal is sebae. Children kneel before their elders and bow, showing deep, quiet respect. In return, grandparents offer sebaetdon money given in small envelopes. But it’s not about the money. It’s the gesture that matters.
The first time I received such an envelope, I was a bit surprised. There was a subtle but clear message inside: “You are part of this, too.”
🌕 Chuseok: Sharing Under the Autumn Sky
Just as I was beginning to understand Seollal, autumn arrived, and I was introduced to Chuseok. The air was cooler, the sky brighter. Once again, bags were packed, tickets sold out, and the city grew still. But this time, I wasn’t just observing I knew what was coming.
Chuseok (추석) is a harvest festival celebrated on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month. A time for gratitude, for honoring nature’s gifts and human effort. Charye is performed again, but this time, seasonal fruits and vegetables fill the table. Some families also visit graves seongmyo (성묘) cleaning the area and offering bows of respect.
And once again, silence takes center stage. Not emptiness, but presence. A quiet kind of remembering.
🥟 Songpyeon: Folding Wishes into Dough
The sweetest part of Chuseok is songpyeon small, half moon shaped rice cakes filled with chestnuts, sesame seeds, or red beans. But more than the flavor, the beauty lies in the making. Everyone shapes their own, and while doing so, they make a wish. “If your songpyeon turns out well, so will your year,” they say.
I was clumsy with the dough, but my heart was full. Around the table, hands moved gently, and smiles passed without words. That quiet happiness stayed with me.
🎁 Gift Sets: Tuna Cans That Say “I Thought of You”
Before both holidays, Korean supermarkets bloom with gift displays. Soap sets, ginseng, olive oil and yes, even canned tuna. I remember laughing at first. “Really? Tuna?” But then I understood. These aren’t just products they’re ways of saying, “You’re in my thoughts.”
The value isn’t in the price, but in the intention. A bar of soap can be a gesture of deep care, if chosen with thought.
💬 From the Outside In
During my first holidays in Korea, I didn’t really know what to do or how to feel. I was present, but somehow also apart. In my quiet apartment, where nothing simmered on the stove, I caught myself thinking, “Something is happening today… but not to me.”
Then one day, someone handed me a cup of tea. Another said, “Come sit with us.”
That’s when I realized: holidays in Korea don’t just live at the table.
They’re in the silent kindness of a shared moment,
in a carefully chosen gift set,
in a glance that says “you belong.”
I still don’t know every tradition by heart.
Maybe I still slice my dduk-guk ingredients unevenly.
But when Seollal comes, it’s no longer just a day off.
And when the Chuseok morning sun rises, I feel it in my chest.
Because sometimes, feeling like you belong…
simply starts with understanding.
And one day, without you even noticing,
the holiday finds its way into your heart.