Seoul Stopover

Michael Ryan, chef and owner of Provenance restaurant in northeastern Victoria, recently took his family – and his two Chef’s Hats – to South Korea’s capital.

The vibrant city with its unique cuisine left a lasting impression… and a hunger to learn more.

Knowing that we – myself, my partner Jeanette and our six-year-old daughter – were going to be in Seoul for two days on the way to Japan, I made a point of doing as much research as I could.

I read magazines, articles on the net, a number of blogs and watched some YouTube clips – but my first and most useful point of contact was from one of my Twitter followers – @pikeletandpie – and her beautifully photographed blog of the same name (pikeletandpie.com).

The author, Lili, is an Australian living and working in Seoul with a real passion for the food of Korea.

I was armed with plenty of knowledge, but had the feeling that the more I learned, the less I knew.

However, upon arrival, I was so overwhelmed by the sheer number of eating establishments, the wonderfully hectic movement and sound of Seoul and the jaw-numbing cold – top of -8°C; low of -17°C during our visit – that all of my plans and recommendations disappeared into the deep frozen recesses of my brain.
As with all travel I do, it was to be based around food.

My knowledge of Korean cuisine was not extensive and only based on a number of visits to Korean restaurants in Sydney and Melbourne – my hometown of Beechworth in regional Victoria being surprisingly lacking in quality Korean restaurants.

I knew I liked bulgogi, bibimbap, yukhoe, kimchi and few others, and was keen to learn more about this lesser-known – to me at least – cuisine.

As has been said many times before, the food of a culture reflects their nature and soul. In the case of the Koreans, this truism is particularly apt.

Their food, grounded in centuries of tradition, is robust, fiery and upfront with its flavours and spices.

This is matched by a people who certainly seem robust – even in such cold weather, I found the streets to be full of people, particularly at night – and who are proud of their heritage and traditions, but equally proud of modern economic success.

The Koreans are one of the most racially and linguistically homogenous cultures in the world; their food, while having some influences from Japan and China, is unique.

The template for a Korean meal sees one central dish surrounded by a large number of supporting side dishes – or banchan – which are as important as the main event, often more so.

Two days in Seoul is not nearly enough to explore the cuisine of this city, let alone its cultural and historic side. But two days is what we had, so it was straight into it.

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We arrived late in the evening, disorientated and hungry, but managed to find a reasonable dinner – a rustic stew of beef with the prerequisite of kimchi.

It filled my stomach and, along with the soju – Korea’s national drink – prepared me for the next couple of days.

Next morning was a visit to the famous Noryangjin Fish Market, renowned for its selection of live seafood.

A fascinating way to spend a few hours, it was cold when we were there – bitterly cold – but still the vendors were there for the whole day, sometimes huddled around old tin cans housing small charcoal fires, every now and then getting up to half-heartedly encourage us to buy some of their produce.

And what produce: prawns almost the length of my forearm; octopuses in nearly any size you could want; endless varieties of fish; innumerable bivalves and crustaceans; a veritable garden of seaweeds and, in another parts of the market, store after store of pickles, fermented fish pastes and other mysterious looking preparations.

Being a traveller, you’re not normally in a position to purchase any of this bounty.

But at these markets you can buy whatever takes your interest, then have it cooked it for you on the market’s upper restaurant level.

Sounds great, and may well be, but the restaurants seemed just a little to opportunistic for me, so we left the market for a restaurant we’d heard about called Haneuldam, where we had our first real exposure to how varied and delicious banchan can be.

Served with the banchan was an oyster seaweed soup that we were to see again the next day.

It was made with a fine hair-like seaweed called maesaengi, which when added to a broth forms a thick mucilaginous texture – the sort of texture you just don’t see in Western cuisines.

Confronting initially, but so tasty it soon becomes a non-issue.

The Feast Continues

Dinner on the first night was at a Parkdaegamne, a Korean BBQ restaurant. Korea is renowned for these grill-your-meat-at-the-table restaurants, and rightly so.

The meat available is of a very high quality, with lots of different cuts available for different flavours and textures.

It’s not cheap, relative to other types of eating available; work on about $200 for two.

Served with the meats, along with of course a number of banchan, was an icy soup – shards of ice were quite literally floating in it – made with white (non-chilli) kimchi.

It was such a refreshing start to a meal, and a perfect example of the common thread of contrasting temperatures that you find in Korean food.

Early the next day we set off for the Gwangjang Market, Seoul’s oldest covered market.

This is a fantastic place to see the true variety of fermented and pickled goods available in Korea, and is also a particularly good place for some of the capital’s best street food.

An essential stop is at one of the many stalls selling bindaebuk, a fried pancake of mungbeans and spring onion.

Lunch was a simple affair of a bowl of gomtang (beef soup) served with rice and kimchi at Hadongkwan.

It was delicious and life affirming, as only a bowl of rich broth can be.

Our final meal was a traditional lavish multiple-course affair at Doore.

The food, lots of it, comes out of the kitchen in quick succession, until your table is buried under a mountain of rich, complex flavours of fermented fish and vegetables.

We possibly went at it too hard, so by the end of the meal we were too full to truly appreciate all that was happening on the table.

One part of the meal I found quite intriguing was the sashimi course; the sliced fish was actually served semi-frozen, and so was crunchy in texture.

We also chose to have some makgeolli, a milky alcoholic beverage made from a mixture of rice and wheat.

It’s what you might call an acquired taste.

In between these meals were occasional stops at some of the street food vendors in the city.

Koreans love to drink and the street food appears to have been designed with this in mind – think deep-fried morsels in a sweet tomato and chilli sauce.

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Getting around the city is a breeze thanks to the very modern, clean and punctual subway, with its ticketing system that leaves most others I’ve seen for dead.

There’s also the option of taxis, particularly the international taxis, which are cheaper than normal ones and guarantee some sort of translating service – one of many such programmes in place to encourage international tourists.

I guess the real test of any destination is: “Would I go back there?" And yes, I would go back to Seoul in a heartbeat.

It was challenging and perhaps slightly out of my comfort zone – literally and figuratively – but so interesting that I now have a real desire to learn more about this vibrant, complex city. 

Details

Metro Hotel
199-33, Eulji-ro 2-ga, Jung-gu
+82 2 752 1112; metrohotel.co.kr

Noryangjin Fish Market
13-8 Noryangjin-dong, Dongjak-gu; visitkorea.or.kr

Haneuldam
49-1, Samjeon-dong Songpa-gu
+82 2 421 6631; hanuldam.com

Parkdaegamne
Gangnam-gu Cheongdam-dong 124-3, at the Cheongdam intersection
+82 2 545 7708; open 24hrs; pdgn.co.kr

Gwangjang Market
6-1 Yeji-dong, Jongno-gu
+82 2 2267 0291/2; visitkorea.or.kr

Hadongkwan
10-4 Myeong Dong 1-ga Jung-gu
+82 2 776 5656; hadongkwan.com

Doore
8-7, Insa-dong, Jongno-gu
+82-2-732-2919; edoore.co.kr

After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?

In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.

Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?

Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?

How tourism is changing in Nepal

Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.

Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.

“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.

Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”

Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”

CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.

A new generation demanding more

Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”

We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”

Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels — Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…

bouda stupa prayer flags — Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.

Boudha Stupa vendors — Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.

A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.

Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.

Life unfiltered in the Terai region

tharu woman — Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.

Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.

Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.

Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.

On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.

community homestay entrance — A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.

The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.

In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.

food at community homestay — Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.

The power of community homestays

community homestay owners in Nepal — Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.

“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”

The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.

Sonara community room — An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.

Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.

CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.

“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.

In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.

“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”

Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”

Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.

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The Feast Continues

Final Impressions

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