Korean Customs
One of my earliest childhood memories is that of begging more boiled chestnuts from my father, who happened to be feeding me that delicious baby food for Korean children.
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
“Korean Customs” from When I Was a Boy in Korea by Ilhan New, 1928
One of my earliest childhood memories is that of begging more boiled chestnuts from my father, who happened to be feeding me that delicious baby food for Korean children.
My father, as did many other Koreans who were able, took his family to the mountains, in order to be out of the beaten path and escape the soldiers during the Chino-Japanese War of 1894. There were Mother, my elder sister, and I. The place to which Father took us was away up in the mountains of North Pyeng, a province noted for its cold winters and its large chestnuts. He chose such a place because there he was least apt to be troubled by the plundering soldiery. Wars, even in those days, were serious affairs, accompanied by pilfering and hardships for any one who happened to be in the path of the armies of either side. Korean mountains were safe, and a natural refuge because of the difficulty of traveling over them with a large body of men.
I have mentioned the large chestnuts, for in my recollection they furnish the Korean children at once with delightful food and a sort of confection in a country where candy is very scarce. In the cities and hamlets one hears during the day and far into the night the melodious cry of chestnut-venders singing out their wares. These chestnut-merchants of the streets are usually boys, though not always, who are getting their first training as business men.
They build a small charcoal fire generally in a Korean “wharoo,” a round vessel made of brass or cast iron with legs standing about a foot high. They first cut several crosses through the shells of the chestnuts and then put them in a wire cage somewhat similar to a corn-popper and hold it over the charcoal fire, all the while shaking the container to turn the nuts over. While this operation is being performed, the vender cries out, “Goon-Balm-ee-oh! Goon-Balm-ee-oh! Sul-sul- Gul-en Goon-Balm-ee-oh!” meaning: “Roasted chestnuts, roasted chestnuts, piping-hot roasted chestnuts!”
All this is said in a singsong way, and the boy has such a good time in saying it over and over again that it is not unpleasant to hear.
Customers often ask to buy the very hot nuts in the roasting-cage, in which case he stops his singing long enough to make the sale. At other times customers are a little slow, and then the boy peels the shells from the roasted chestnuts and arranges the meats in neat piles, generally about fifteen to twenty in a pile which sells for a copper, equal roughly to a half-cent. Then he thriftily uses the shells to make fire to roast more chestnuts, and so it goes.
Among other confections, Korean children have a sort of taffy that they are very fond of, and which furnishes them as well as the grown-ups with an article to satisfy their desire for sweet things. This taffy is usually made from the juice of sorghum cane which is boiled down to a thick consistency, but it can also be made from the juice of barley malt. When stiff enough to be handled, it is put on a handy peg on the wall and pulled until the color changes from dark brown to light creamy color. Quite often it is eaten without pulling, and sometimes more elaborate candies are made by adding roasted soy beans or roasted sesame seeds to the unpulled taffy. The finished candy is twisted into handy sticks, somewhat the size of the American candy sticks, and venders carry them about the streets crying out, “Yut-Sa- see-oh,” which means “Buy your yut here.”
I have said that the venders go about the streets. That is one of the first things one notices in Korea. Stores are only for the larger cities, and most of the business in smaller places is done in the highways. The Korean people from time immemorial have carried on most of their business by conducting, every five days, a fair in each village, to which every neighboring farmer, tradesman, and craftsman carries his wares to sell or barter for other things he or his family requires. The needs of the people being simple, this custom is still followed. At such fairs, a man could buy a cow, which is the beast of burden of Korea, or he could buy a stick of yut for a cash.
A cash is roughly worth one-twentieth of a cent and is a round coin of cast brass with a square hole in the center, through which a string or thong may be run, and Chinese characters stamped around the edges. Most of you have seen the Chinese cash that decorate souvenirs, purse-strings, etc. The hole in the center comes in very handy, for in business transactions it takes many cash to make a deal, as in buying a bolt of silk or a sack of rice or a donkey. Often in my boyhood I have seen a man carrying on his back a full load of cash pieces, which would hardly amount to five dollars of American money. Of course, gradually such conditions have changed so that now we have not only silver and nickel money, but also paper money to represent gold deposited with the government treasury; and we also use the decimal system of counting the units.
Cakes, cookies, candies, etc., are considered as confections primarily for children, in Korea, and to obtain them in a country where money is not so plentiful, barter is often entered into. Old copper, brass, and iron are a familiar sight in most city junk-shops, where not only mothers’ worn-out teakettles go, but where everything from rusty railroad spikes to brass hinges is taken in exchange for a piece of candy or a handful of nuts. It happened more than once, in our own family, that my mother would miss her favorite pair of scissors or one of her iron kettles, which in my opinion had no better use, and then through questioning of the candy-vender she would discover its whereabouts. Very often these little candy-peddlers are boys of about ten years of age who sing their wares in the most musical manner, clicking their huge scissors as they go along the streets.
According to the old custom and belief in Korea, there were only two callings for which a boy could prepare himself. He might aspire to and train for government service, which included any position from that of the governor of a large province to that of an insignificant page at a county court; or he might aim to be a great scholar who would be revered all the days of his life for his great wisdom and his ability to write poetry at will and on the least provocation. All other lines of human activity, such as farming, business, and handicrafts, according to their idea, needed no preparation and were to be resorted to only under misfortune.
Being the eldest son in an average Korean home, where much importance was attached to the perpetuation of the family name, my future was naturally slated to be that of a scholar. Much to my satisfaction, my father, being forced by circumstances at an early age, was a merchant trading with buyers from China. He had always felt that he could have reached his zenith in the literary line, and so was determined that the first son should have all the advantages that he was denied—a feeling which most parents the world over no doubt harbor in their hearts.
My interest in his mercantile life was discouraged, and, from earliest childhood, I was surrounded with classical books and tutors and carefully protected from the necessity of doing any manual work. Like most boys, I did not object to being allowed to escape doing such work, but in payment for that freedom I was forbidden to do many things which a normal child delights in, such as sliding on the ice with straw shoes, gathering firewood in the mountains with my chums, or riding the donkey bareback.
My more fortunate, or as they thought themselves, my less fortunate friends enjoyed these mild adventures in connection with their village life. On one occasion I remember very distinctly having gone with the outside man to the pasture to tie the family bull. The pasture was on a hill beyond the house and, being out of sight of the family, I asked the man if I might ride the bull while it was grazing. Wanting to please me and not thinking of the fresh white pantaloons that I had just put on, he lifted me up on the bare back of the work animal where I passed a perfect half-hour. Before we came in sight of our house, I dismounted and walked leisurely into the house as befitted a boy preparing to be a scholar. I had no more than gotten inside of the door when my mother wanted to know where I had been and what I had done to my pantaloons. I looked back cautiously before answering, and was mortified to find the whole seat black with dirt from the bull’s back. During the secret session which followed with my father, he reminded me that riding bulls was not the proper thing for even so young a scholar to do.
In spite of the many restrictions put upon children’s play, on account of the unreasonable belief as to what a proper training is, we had many good times, and I believe that Korean children after their own fashion receive as much attention from their parents as do any other children. For instance, regardless of how poor any family might be, it is almost a universal custom to feature each holiday by fitting out every child with new clothes.
Even to the present day there are not many stores in Korea where ready-made clothing for any member of the family can be purchased.
It took the family more than a day to rip apart, wash, iron, and sew together again those fresh white pantaloons that were spoiled in a half-hour. Had they been winter pantaloons, it would have required an even longer time, for they would have been of double thickness, with a heavy layer of cotton padding for warmth.
I refer to trousers as pantaloons because that is about the only word which describes them. In appearance they are almost like the ones the Hollanders wear. Both men and boys wear the same style. The legs are very wide and are tied at the bottom with colored ribbons, and also at the waist with a colorful fancy flat cord with tassels at either end. Over these, we wear a coat cut on box lines reaching to the hips. The collar of the coat is V-shaped at the front, and the lapels are fastened across the front with ties of the same material.
Generally, unless boys are in mourning, their clothes are colored, but the universal color for men is white. One can always tell when a boy has lost a near relative by the white that he wears. The period of mourning for each relative depends upon the closeness of the kin. For parents it extends over a period of three years.
Among the articles of apparel, what now seem to me among the most peculiar and yet most practical in a country where leather is scarce are the wooden shoes used in wet weather. Unlike the Dutch children, we do not wear the wooden shoes at all times. When it rains, however, the streets are full of them, and some of them are really masterpieces of carving. These shoes are shaped like boats, and each has two high cleats on the bottom so that the body of the shoe does not touch the mud of the street. Very often I have taken these shoes off at a pond and, making masts of a piece of bamboo, have put sails on them and played sailboat. Not infrequently I have seen them carried away into deep waters by the wind, and have had to go barefooted in the end.
On a sunny day, and the days of sunshine are many in Korea, the streets of a Korean city are a spectacle to behold, not so much because of the buildings or the street itself, but on account of the dress of the people. In summer particularly, all the men, women, and children wear garments made of mo-see, commonly called China grass-linen. Those of you who have seen table-cloths or clothing made of this material can readily appreciate how cool and clean a street must look filled with people clothed entirely in this material, of a shiny whiteness, and with a crispness and a freshness that no other cloth possesses in such measure. To top their costume, and accentuate the whiteness, the men wear the typical horsehair hats tied on the tops of their heads with crisp black ribbons or with strings of amber beads underneath the chin and hanging down the front somewhat similar to a necktie.
Even in the summer, during the hottest and most humid weather, a Korean gentleman must wear an outer garment when outside of his own home. These, however, are made of the sheerest mo-see and do not add much to the weight or discomfort of the owner. I say discomfort with qualifications, for being fully dressed in such a costume often prevents one from sitting down in public conveyances lest the crisp garments become creased and mussed. One often enters a crowded street-car to find almost all the passengers standing and clinging to straps, the seats being occupied only by workmen and bundles.
While speaking of the Korean gentleman’s summer outfit, it would not be proper to omit what I have often called the inner armor or dress shield. In order to protect his clothing from body moisture and to keep him cool, he wears next to his skin long wristlets and a slip-over similar in shape to the sleeveless sweater. This outfit is made of the finest split reed or bamboo, which is wrapped over a reed skeleton or framework corresponding to the pattern of the outer garment. This “armor” is often a masterpiece of handicraft, being exquisite in design and in weaving.
Women of Korea also wear white, and their dress includes pantaloons which look more like a divided skirt with the legs tapering towards the bottom. Over these they invariably wear full apron skirts, whether in the house or on the street. The upper garment is a short jacket with a V neck, and is tied on one side over the heart with wide ties of material similar to that used by the men. The collars of such jackets are generally of different material and, like the little cuffs, are often of colored silk or satin.
A woman’s hair is dressed in a low fancy knot on the back of her neck. Through this knot goes a large pin made of precious metal or jade. Needless to say, her coiffure is immaculate. This is partly due to the style of dressing. The hair is combed smoothly and flat over her head to form the knot on the back and every hair is in its place or else she calls on the hair oil for help in this respect. The manner of dressing ladies’ hair is often different in the back provinces. One of the pleasing styles is to comb the hair straight to the back, there making two smooth braids which are wound about the crown in a coronation braid. Where this style of hair-dressing is in vogue, the ladies make a very pretty head-covering of sheer white material which they fold into a band about six inches wide, and which they tie over their forehead, bringing it to a very good-looking bow at the back.
To me, it seems that the children wear everything. They have a distinct style of clothing which is nearly like that of the grown-ups in shape, but, dependent upon the parents’ whims, their garments may be as dignified and flowing as those of their elders or highly colorful and extremely fancy. In summer, as in other countries, the boys’ apparel is very simple, consisting merely of trousers and the usual jacket; in the case of a girl, a skirt is added. In the winter, however, fond parents bestow on the children’s clothing pains and workmanship often beyond any reason.
The boys, like their fathers, wear little vests that have four great pockets, the only pockets in their entire costume. As a consequence, they carry a variety of treasures in these. Of course, in the boys’ pockets one might find nearly anything imaginable from broken glass to printing sets, and that is almost so with the men. In fact, vests are made of sheer material for summer wear, not because they want to wear vests but to have the use of the pockets. I have seen old men’s pockets bulging with all sorts of things. From each pocket come one or several strings that are fastened to the buttonholes. The end of a string might be tied to anything from a tobacco-pouch to a purse or a man’s seal. A very old man carries many pouches strung along his belt: one for his match-box, one for his spectacles, one for his tobacco-pouch, one for his money, and one for his jewelry, etc., etc.
Little boys’ pantaloons are tied at their ankles, like their fathers’. The ties serve two purposes, that of fixing the garment, and of holding up the short po-sons or foot-coverings which are of the same material and style for men and women as well as children. These are made of some white material like heavy sheeting, cut to fit the foot carefully. They are of two thicknesses in the summer, but in the winter a layer of cotton batting is inserted between the two thicknesses. As the Koreans do not wear their shoes in their houses, these po-sons serve as a kind of cushion in the house when walking around; outdoors, they keep the feet protected from the shoes which are not so well shaped to the foot.
Of shoes, there are many varieties. They vary from the cheapest straw sandal-shoes or somewhat better sandal-shoes made of finer vegetable fibre, up to leather low shoes. Rubbers and wooden shoes are available for wet weather. These do not have buckles, ties, or buttons. They all slip easily over the toes and heel of the wearer, as do the Chinese or the Turkish shoes. In a country where one has to take off one’s shoes before entering the house, slipping them off without untying or bending over is very convenient, not to say necessary. Children’s shoes are miniatures of their parents’. While the men’s and boys’ shoes are plain, without frills, although they may be made of the finest soft white kid leather, the women’s are more decorative in material and design.
Korean people have very small feet, especially the women. This is not the result of binding, but perhaps due to the constant wearing of tight-fitting po-sons, which preserve the shape of their feet. They are great walkers and have very little foot trouble.
In the olden days almost all communications were carried by runners on foot over the mountain passes that are everywhere in Korea, and where there are only difficult paths, if any. These professional couriers often covered as much as seventy to seventy-five English miles from sunrise to sundown. On regular routes, stopping-places were established where they could secure their food, wash their tired feet, and perhaps enjoy a pipeful of tobacco before the fires. In winter these fires were on the hearth in the room, but in summer they were only sage-leaf smudges to keep away the pestering mosquitoes or other insects.
The designated stopping-places were generally; small inns, of which there are many alongside the traveled roads in Korea, due to the many foot travelers. The hospitality of these places is nothing less than that of the wayside inns of England, famed in song and story. People in these small taverns or the villages en route would gather around the traveler to hear all about what was happening in other parts of their land, learning of events of the past month or year.
Newspapers and fast means of travel and communication have not yet penetrated all parts of the land, and the simple-hearted people look forward to the coming of a traveler, especially a learned one who can, at his will, keep the village awake to the small hours of the morning with his wonderful stories of adventure and what he has seen. Often, as a boy, I have been kept awake with the permission of my father, listening to the entrancing tales of far-away lands and peoples from a traveler. Later, I have come to suspect that the traveler very often stretched his imagination, or told as his own experiences the colorful and dramatic tales he had derived from several different sources. Whatever the truth of these chronicles, they were generally harmless but entertaining, and furnished these simple rural people with social companionship that made up the greater pleasures of their lives.
To revert to the boy’s outfit, to be fully dressed in the presence of elders or on the street means to wear at all seasons a long garment that comes to within three or four inches of the ground. This is called a do-roo-magie, about the nearest thing to a duster coat, but very correct as to cut and style. The hair is done up in a single braid down the back and tied with a flowing gay silk tie not unlike a four-in-hand necktie. With engagement or marriage the hair is put up on the head in a characteristic topknot.
I remember very clearly the occasion when one of my older boy friends became engaged. His parents were members of the old school, so his hair was wound in a tight knot on top of his head, in fact so tight that his facial expression took on that of a person much frightened, but trying to look happy. The shorter hairs were held up by a very finely woven horsehair band which was bound tightly about his forehead and tied at the nape of the neck. Stuck downward on the topknot was a gorgeous red coral pin for ornament, about the size of the little finger. Perched on top of his head, or rather around his topknot, was a copy of the dignified head-gear of his honorable father, except that the engagement hat was made of fine handpicked straw; the brim was curved up somewhat saucily and the high crown of the hat tapered upwards more pronouncedly, whereas the father’s hat-brim was almost flat and the crown was tapered only a little, in comparison. This hat is worn by the engaged boy only until he is married. My friend henceforth put on airs and lorded it over us smaller lads, as the putting on of a hat of any description was a sign that he was to be recognized as a full-grown man—or was to become one soon.
The custom of the country dictates that no man, no matter how old he may be, can assume the attitude of full manhood until he is married, and I have often seen men as old as fifty years who still wore their hair in a long braid down the back and were addressed in what is known as “affectionate low talk.” From the day that our boy friend put on his funny little hat, he expected us to speak in respectful tones to him and address him in “high talk,” while, of course, he continued to talk to us in “affectionate low talk,” just as we had always been doing to each other in our play.
It might be well to explain that the so-called high and low talk exist in both Japan and Korea, but not so much in China. The “high talk” is used in speaking to elders or to equals and among the grown-ups in conversing with each other, while the “low talk” is spoken by the higher or elder persons to children and to servants, and among younger people. “Low talk” has, therefore, been aptly called “affectionate,” since generally it is used by children to denote close friendship and by endearing parents to their children, or to children of others to whom they want to show their affection. Of course, this is not true in case of the address to servants, but, even in the case of servants, the talk is generally in an affectionate tone such as a benefactor would use towards his protege.
It is a peculiar thing that the servant class, and, in fact, the whole population, speak in no mistaken terms when they address persons of different importance. That is, the children and the servant class seem instinctively to know when to use the “low talk” or the respectful tone. This has contributed much to the beauty of the language, at least to the spoken language. From childhood Koreans are taught the best language to use to the elders, and when they grow up they already have what is commonly known as best grammar and choice of words at their command. When any mistake in the proper use of the language is made, every important personage seems to take it upon himself to reproach the culprit; especially is this true in the schools.
New, Ilhan. When I Was a Boy in Korea. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co., 1928.
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