TI first learned about Korea in 2013 during a Mandarin homework accident. I was 16 years old and lacked all the ingredients needed to be good at languages: confidence, thick skin, and the desire to speak out loud. When I had to choose a language, Mandarin seemed like the best option. Thanks to my self-proclaimed photographic memory, I spent hours cramming complex kanji and convinced myself that I could pass the exam without speaking a single word. I couldn’t.
My vow of silence was broken three months later when I was introduced to a native Chinese conversation teacher. As expected, I was miserable. I cried, she cried too. Stunned by my incompetence, she quietly wiped her tears with her knuckles while weakly suggesting that I watch Chinese TV dramas to improve my pronunciation.
That night, I anxiously searched for Netflix. Unlike today, there weren’t that many Asian dramas to choose from. There were just a few dark Japanese crime series, a few Chinese epics full of sword fights and long gray beards, and one Korean drama about a high school rock band with perfectly coiffed hair. For a British teenager obsessed with One Direction, this was a huge hit. I hovered over an attractive thumbnail that featured a lot of young Korean actors, and since no one refused to watch TV for homework, I naively thought, “Well, she definitely said we should watch a drama.” I often wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t clicked.
I fell in love with Korean culture right away. Soundtrack of the drama “Shut Up & Let’s Go”, ‘ is irresistibly catchy, the four main characters are impossibly handsome (you can hear the guitarist yelling “oh my” into his laptop when he first appears), and the streets of Seoul are singing like sirens. It appeared to be a vibrant place filled with enduring friendships, great food, and a booming entertainment industry. It felt like the beginning of something special. I knew I had to be there.
After 5 years, it was finally completed. Korean culture was not yet mainstream, so I traveled to Seoul with the ruse of learning Korean. Surprisingly, it was more true to life than any Korean drama obsession I had. I devoured and loved every Korean drama I could find while waiting for the world to catch up. But will Soul live up to my heightened expectations?
I have exceeded that. Weeks in Korea turned into months, and months turned into years. Through Squid Game, Parasite, and the music of the K-Pop boy group BTS, I was watching the boom in Korean culture from the inside, and I felt as if I was surrounded by the magic of K-dramas every day.
I existed as a contented observer until, completely by chance, I appeared in a K-Pop music video (Jeon Somi’s “What You Waiting For”) that now has over 70 million views. This shoot led to another shoot, which led to more music videos, which led to ads, and even more ads, which led to the holy grail: Korean dramas.
Eight years after I made my Chinese teacher cry, I was sitting on the set of a Korean drama. I appeared as an extra, and like most music video and advertising jobs, I was hired to look tall and blonde. But on this day, I also helped negotiate with a group of English-speaking foreign extras and helped translate between them and the Korean production staff.
My head spun when the star of the day snuck into the bar seat next to me. My jaw dropped. It was the gorgeous guitarist from Shut Up & Let’s Go.
At that moment, I was really shocked. I looked around the room. From the first Korean actor I fell in love with to the production staff who spoke loudly in Korean., There were about 15 extras that I was supervising. And then I realized that with one click, not only the trajectory of my life completely changed, but also who I was as a person. I overcame my aversion to language. I was confident. I was living my dream.
How Korean Corn Dogs Changed My Life by Alice Amelia is published by Little, Brown.
