If you fly through Incheon International Airport Terminal 2, which opened in 2018, one of the first things you notice is the enormous curved digital display above the check-in area. It is not just an advertisement screen — it is part of a large-scale media art project designed to make the airport feel more like a cultural destination.
The massive curved LED installation frames the departure hall and can display ultra-high-resolution content reaching up to 16K resolution across its giant digital canvas. Recent installations feature Korean cultural themes, nature, futuristic animation, and immersive media art that can be viewed from multiple angles throughout the terminal.
When Koreans travel, they don’t just eat—they learn. Cooking classes have become a popular way for Korean travelers to connect more deeply with a country’s culture. Instead of simply ordering dishes, they want to understand ingredients, techniques, and the story behind the food.
Cooking classes
This mindset starts at home. In Korea, many people take cooking classes to learn traditional dishes like kimchi, 된장찌개, or 잡채—especially younger generations who didn’t grow up cooking. Others learn through family, watching parents or grandparents prepare meals during holidays and daily life. Cooking is not just a skill; it’s a way to preserve culture.
So when Koreans travel to places like Bangkok, joining a cooking class feels natural. They approach it the same way they would at home—hands-on, curious, and focused on learning.
For many Koreans, food is not just something you eat. It’s something you understand.
A Korean traveler visiting Bangkok might sign up for a half-day cooking class instead of just eating at a famous restaurant. They learn how to make pad thai from scratch—cutting vegetables, balancing flavors, and cooking over high heat.
This mirrors what happens in Korea. A young professional in Seoul might take a weekend class to learn how to make kimchi or simple home dishes they never learned growing up. In both cases, the goal is the same: not just eating the food, but understanding how it’s made and why it matters.
Vocabulary
요리 수업 (yori sueop) — cooking class 체험 (cheheom) — hands-on experience 문화 (munhwa) — culture 재료 (jaeryo) — ingredients 김치 (gimchi) — kimchi
In Korea, one of the most delightful surprises when dining out or shopping is something called “service” (서비스). Unlike in the West, where service usually means customer support, in Korea it often means free extras—like a complimentary dish at a restaurant or a bonus item at a shop.
Step into an elevator in Korea and you’ll notice something immediately—silence. No small talk, no casual greetings, just people standing quietly, often looking at their phones or straight ahead. To many foreigners, this can feel cold or awkward. But in Korea, it’s actually a form of respect.
In the middle of busy Myeongdong, I found a surprisingly calm escape: several cat cafés. These cafés combine coffee culture with Korea’s love for pets, offering visitors a chance to relax with friendly, well-cared-for cats.
A very new trend in Korean social media is something called “quiet flexing.” Instead of showing off luxury brands or expensive experiences, people subtly display quality through minimal photos, neutral colors, and everyday moments. A simple coffee cup, a clean desk, or a calm street scene can quietly signal taste, lifestyle, and identity. This trend reflects growing fatigue with flashy influencer culture and a shift toward understated aesthetics. Many young Koreans say quiet flexing feels more authentic and less exhausting than traditional bragging.
Self photo booths in Korea have transformed from simple picture machines into full experience spaces. What used to be a quick four-photo strip is now a mini studio with themed rooms, colorful lighting, costumes, and playful props. Young people visit self photo studios as part of a date course or a casual hangout with friends. Many booths rotate seasonal concepts such as retro, Y2K, school uniform, or cartoon styles.
The appeal is not about perfect photos, but about capturing silly, imperfect, and fun moments together. In a digital-heavy world, these tiny studios offer a physical way to create memories instantly.
Photo booths
A common weekend plan is stopping by an 4-cut photo booth after dinner, choosing a theme like “retro classroom,” borrowing props, taking multiple rounds of photos, and immediately sharing the printed strips and digital files on social media.
Another reason these photo booths remain popular is their role as emotional documentation. Many young Koreans treat printed photo strips like small diaries, storing them in phone cases, journals, or wall collages. Some even revisit the same booth every year with the same friends to recreate similar poses and compare how they have changed. In this way, self photo booths are not just about looking cute — they quietly track friendships, growth, and phases of life, one four-frame strip at a time.
