The Korean Wedding Industry

Recently ,I attended my first Korean wedding, and it was quite the experience.  There are three basic styles of wedding in Korea.  First, there is a traditional Korean wedding.  However, they are no longer very common.  My co-teacher told me that his English teacher married a Korean, and they had a traditional wedding.  It was the first traditional Korean wedding many of the Korean guests had ever attended, and it was for a foreign groom!  Then there is a “western”/Christian-style wedding conducted in a church, which is also not very common.  And finally there is the most common style of wedding, which reflects Korea’s industrial rise of the past 50 years. 

Much of Korea’s modern traditions and culture can be traced back to the Korean War and its aftermath.  Since the nation was decimated by the war, as well as World War II, which also brought the end of Japanese colonial rule, the nation was practically starting from scratch.  After the wars, there were several false starts with corrupt officials and one fleeing president, but in 1961 General Park Chung-hee took power in a military coup and went on to lead the nation’s industrial revolution.  He was assassinated in 1979, and remains a controversial figure, but almost everyone gives him credit for the economic ‘Miracle on the Han,’ which transformed the nation into the industrial powerhouse that it is today.

So what does that have to do with weddings?  Well, the Koreans have imported many industries, from steel production to ship building.  In each industry, they mastered the systems and techniques from other nations and further refined them to become world leaders in each field.  And when it comes to weddings, they’ve done it again.  They took the western wedding, stripped away everything inefficient, added a staff to direct the production, and created a wedding industry.  And what industry could function without a factory?  Certainly not weddings, at least not in Korea, so they have built one-stop-shop wedding factories to further streamline the process. 

Like a typical factory worker, I carpooled to the wedding with some of my fellow teachers.  We clocked in at the basement-level car park before joining the large lines of fellow wedding attendees at a bank of elevators.  Heading for the sixth-floor wedding hall, we passed the first few floors dedicated to pre-wedding planning and shopping services: Sales and Counseling, Dress Shop, Make Up, Flowers, and even the Travel Agency to plan the honeymoon. 

- This wedding hall was on the second floor of the bus terminal in Suwon.  I guess it is the definition of efficiency.  Bus everyone in, second floor for your I do's, third floor for the buffet, and back to the first floor to bus home or on to the honeymoon.

 

We exited the elevators into a sea of attendees for two simultaneous weddings, because the wedding hall level is split into two halls to facilitate maximum output with double-barrel shotgun weddings.  In front of each hall, receiving tables were manned by the parents of the bride and groom.  Guests filed through and gave the customary envelope of cash rather than gifts. 

An interesting note, gifts are actually considered less personal than a gift of cash by some Koreans.  Also, the amount of gift money is pretty formalized.  Depending on your relationship to the couple, you are expected to give between $30 and $100, using crisp new bills in a simple white envelope.  This system makes sense when you consider the cost of the average wedding is $50,000.  However, I initially thought the cash was for the bride and groom, but it turns out it's actually for the parents - a little thank you for raising these two crazy kids.

Also, due to this formal monetary gift culture, and the expectation that you attend the weddings of your co-workers' children, there is also an expectation that children should marry before their parents retire, so that the family/parents get a ‘return on previous investments’ for all the other weddings they attended for co-workers.  This was true in my co-teacher's case. Her father decided to retire early, so her wedding date had to be moved up as well.

This may have been awkward if the groom had not already proposed.  But in Korea, couples typically don’t have a formal proposal before wedding planning begins.  Instead, they simply move directly into wedding planning.  I guess the rejection is not as bad if she is only saying no to planning a wedding, rather than the question, ‘Will you marry me?’ 

Back at the factory, attendees exchanged their gift envelope for a buffet reception coupon.  Again, to maximize efficiency, the reception was held on the next floor, rather than some banquet hall across town.  Plus, some guests didn’t even waste time with the ceremony, but headed directly for the buffet. 

I wanted to experience the entire assembly-line tour, so I was escorted to the photography studio where the bride was taking pre-ceremony portraits.  I peaked in to say hello and was quickly directed in, posed next to her, flash, flash, and escorted on to the wedding hall. 

Pre-ceremony photo session.

 

The hall looked like a typical a banquet room divided by a raised, catwalk-style aisle with round tables on each side for the bride and grooms parties.  A montage of wedding photos played on two wall screens as people took their seats.  The master of ceremonies announced the wedding would begin in five minutes.  The ceremony began with the arrival of the couple’s parents.  They were posed for pictures as they conducted traditional candle lighting ceremonies and were quickly escorted to their seats by a group of wedding choreographers. 

Next, the bride arrived in typical fashion, before the groom rapidly marched down the aisle to her side.  Rather than a priest, the ceremony is conducted by a respected elder, selected by the groom.  It is often a superior from work, or in this case, one of the groom’s university professors.  As he began his speech, the team of photographers and choreographers swarmed around the bride and groom, fluffing the wedding gown, straightening jackets and snapping away paparazzi style.

Suddenly, the couple was turned, a cake wheeled out, candle lit and blown out, sword presented, cake cut, and wheeled away again.  The couple then turned to the audience and was surrounded by the bride’s friends in matching outfits for a choreographed dance performance.  Next, the microphone was handed to the groom to sing a love ballad, followed by ceremonial bows to each set of parents, and just like that, they were married and marching down the aisle.  Newlyweds in 30 minutes or less.  The choreographers fired confetti poppers over their heads, and began sweeping it up before the last streamers had even hit the ground. 

A few bouquets were moved and they changed gears to wedding group photos.  Family shots, flash; bridal party, flash; grooms party, flash; bouquet tossed, flash; and we were out the door.  As we headed for the reception, we passed the first wave of diners lumbering down the stairs with full bellies and toothpicks in hand.  The buffet was packed with people from both of the weddings, and I quickly realized why some people opted to skip the actual ceremony.  It was crowded, but the food was excellent.

Meanwhile, the bride and groom took a detour to change into traditional Hanbok attire, and possibly had a small traditional ceremony with their parents, before arriving at the buffet to say hello and thank you to everyone who attended, or at least anyone who had not already done a dine and dash.

And that was it, my first Korean wedding was a wrap.  We hopped back in the car, clocked out of the parking garage and started our commute, the longest part the day. 

Beautiful Soup?

So I am wrapping up my first few weeks here in South Korea, the land of the morning calm, or the Empire of Han.  The name of Korea in Korean is apparently up for debate.  In North Korea it is Choson, which is land of the morning calm, and in the south it is Hanguk (Han-gook), the country or empire of Han.  This brings us to where I’m from, I’m Miguk (Mee-gook) or American, or a literal translation Beautiful Country.  However, in Korean, country is more commonly ‘nara’, and ‘guk’ is soup; which means Miguk (America) could be translated as Beautiful Soup, which I guess is somewhat fitting, since we call ourselves a mixing pot.  So, in the kitchen that is America, we throw in a little of ‘your tired, your poor, your huddled masses’ simmer them in amber waves of grain, beneath purple mountain majesty and spacious skies, and end up with a beautiful soup of culture that is all American. 

Back in Korea, they do love their soup and eat it every meal of the day, from their morning calm to dinner, the staples of every meal are soup, rice and kimchi - a fermented and spicy cabbage.  In addition to those staples, I must also mention Soju, the national liquor.  You might be thinking “What is Soju?” And I’m glad you asked, because that just makes the next statistic even more impressive.  Soju is the highest-selling alcohol in the world.  The Jinro brand sold 61 million cases to beat out the world’s number two liquor, Smirnoff Vodka, which only sold 24 million cases.  AND, coming in at number three was another soju brand at 23 million cases!  So combined, they beat out Smirnoff by over three times the sales.  That is a lot of drinking done mostly by 50 million South Koreans.  Tonight, I’m trying to share in the glory by drinking my ‘white russian’ with soju instead of vodka.  Now the question is, would that make it a white Korean, or am I the white Korean?  Or, should I put down the soju, because it is some powerful stuff, and this line of thought is getting a little too deep.

In addition to Soju, Koreans are also starting to drink coffee.  However, in their fast-paced life they don’t seem to have time for the slow drip, and prefer the speed of instant coffee.  They even sell it with cream and sugar all in one handy single-serve satchel.  I, however, prefer the real bean experience and spent several days shopping for a coffee maker, and then a few more days looking for real ground coffee instead of crystals. 

I finally popped into the coffee shop just up the street from my apartment where the smell of the roasting coffee was wafting into the street.  Inside, I found two coffee chemists behind the counter meticulously monitoring the controls and temperature gauges on the computerized roaster, and taking occasional bean samples to measure the roasting progress.  The only thing they were missing were lab coats, which they had substituted with coffee house sweaters. 

On the counter were test tubes with slow, cold ‘Dutch coffee’ drips running for the coffee drinkers that don’t drink it for the caffeine.  Apparently it is the heat that releases the caffeine in coffee, so brewing the Dutch coffee with cold water leaves it with very low caffeine content.  Yeah, I don’t see the point to caffeine-free coffee either, but they bottle the Dutch coffee in wine bottles, for the sophisticated drinker, and it’s a bit of a thing here. 

Anyway, lining the walls of the coffee shop were large plastic bins and burlap bags filled with fresh coffee beans from around the world, awaiting roasting by the coffee technicians at work behind the counter.  In short, this place takes coffee seriously. 

Just inside the door, they have a book case of small-batch coffees with names like Gentleman, Geisha, Tchembe, Panama Diamond Mountain, along with a few I actually recognized.  I asked one of the chemists what he’d recommend for a French Press, and he went into a ten-minute monologue arguing the pros and cons of a few choices and finally settled on the Tchembe.  Bear in mind that in most shops where I had looked for a coffee maker, the word “French Press” and my best charades impression got me nothing more than quizzical looks; but here, it got me a coffee thesis.  Unfortunately, it was in Korean.  I was in luck however, because the label listed flavor notes in English: Dried Banana, Strawberry, Spicy, Heavy. 

Banana?  Strawberry?! What have I gotten myself into?  I thanked him for the advice and continued to browse the shelf reading the flavor notes for something a little less daring, and suggesting a darker roast.  As I narrowed my search, the only other patron sitting at the counter chimed in to ask if I had understood anything from the recommendation.  And he asked me in English, so I now had a translator on the coffee safari.  After some discussion, I decided to try the ‘Gentlemen,’ which said it had notes of caramel.  And, after a little more discussion to explain that I did realize it was not a tasting room, and I would have to pay for the drink, I sat down to watch the coffee-making performance. 

The barista began by pouring hot water back and forth from one kettle to another, extending his arms to extend the pour, either for show, or to aerate, or maybe even cool the water to the right temperature.  Whichever the case, he was happy with the results and next, he poured some in the coffee pot to warm it, and then poured it out.  Then, he carefully dampened the filter, before adding the grinds and beginning the slow-pour brewing.  After he finished brewing, he sampled two small shots to check the quality before pouring a cup for me and my translator at the bar.  I didn’t dare ask for cream or sugar.

My first choice was nice, but had a bit of an acidic finish, so I decided to try the Tchembe that he had recommended.  After another preparation performance, I found it had a cleaner finish and, possibly due to the power of suggestion, I could actually taste a hint of strawberry.  After an hour of sipping and chatting with my new translating friend, I thanked the coffee chemist crew and headed home with a bag of fresh ground Tchembe goodness.