Korean dramas, with their heartwarming narratives, picturesque settings, and deeply human themes, have enchanted audiences worldwide, including me. What began several years ago as an escape from the seemingly unbearable realities of my life, quickly morphed into an enduring fascination that not only enriched my evenings – and weekends because one is required to binge watch a 16 episode show – but also profoundly influenced my worldview. Ultimately, this passion became a catalyst for one of the most significant adventures of my life: traveling to Seoul, South Korea during the summer of 2024.

The allure of Korean dramas lies in their ability to weave stories of love, ambition, and resilience with a cultural richness that feels both intimate and universal. From the bustling streets of Seoul depicted in shows like Goblin The Lonely and Great God and Itaewon Class to the serene temples showcased in period dramas such as Alchemy of Souls and The King’s Affection, each scene offers a glimpse into a land where traditional and modern elements harmoniously coexist. Through the screen, I was transported into a realm of stunning palaces, vibrant marketplaces, and idyllic countryside landscapes. So compelling was the visual tapestry that I had to see these places with my own eyes.
Yet, it wasn’t just the scenery that drew me in—it was the culture. Korean dramas often highlight the warmth of communal dining, the importance of family ties, and the subtle nuances of social etiquette. Watching characters share steaming bowls of kimchi jjigae (kimchi stew) or exchange quiet moments in a hanok courtyard, I found myself intrigued. The language, too, began to resonate with me. Familiar phrases like “saranghae” (I love you) and “gwenchana” (It’s okay) became part of my vernacular, deepening my connection to the dramas and, by extension, to Korea itself.
This love affair with Korean dramas eventually grew into a tangible desire to experience the country firsthand. I planned my trip with a fervor that matched my excitement. My itinerary became a homage to my favorite dramas: visiting Namsan Tower, where countless couples have sealed their love with padlocks; walking through Gyeongbokgung Palace dressed in a hanbok, its courtyards reminiscent of scenes from historical dramas; and indulging in a feast of tteokbokki and bulgogi in Myeong-dong, which was probably a tourist spot, but I loved it just the same.

What struck me most during my travels was the familiarity of it all. The places I had seen on-screen came to life in vivid detail, and the cultural nuances I had admired felt natural and welcoming. Speaking even a few words of Korean earned warm smiles from the ajummas (middle-aged or married Korean women) when I purchased plums from their stands surrounding my hotel, and the cuisine tasted even better than I had imagined. South Korea wasn’t just a destination—it was a dream realized, a promise fulfilled and a bridge between fiction and reality. My journey to South Korea was a testament to the power of storytelling. Korean dramas didn’t just entertain me; they inspired me to embrace a culture, learn a language, and explore a world beyond my own. As I stood in the shadow of Gyeongbokgung Palace and admired the beauty and tranquility of Seoul Forest, I felt a profound gratitude—not only for the experiences but also for the stories that led me to them. This adventure was a celebration of love—not only for a country but also for the art that brought it alive for me. My love of Korean dramas reminds me of the beauty in connection and the boundless possibilities of stepping beyond the familiar.