Dining etiquette is integral to professional and social life in Korea, finds Andrew Farrell
The summer has recently departed us here in South Korea, making way for some beautiful autumn weather that’s tinged with chilliness in the evenings.
For the locals, there are plenty of meals out to say goodbye to what was a particularly wet and miserable summer. Staff dinners are a pleasant change from the banter and bravado that accompany those meals with your foreign friends. When in the company of expats, traditional Korean customs – apart from sitting on the floor, using chopsticks and taking off shoes – are not adhered to. One might as well be dining in Temple Bar, because after a period of time you simply forget you’re just a dot in a county with a population of 50 million.
Oddly, staff dinners are one of the most intense cultural experiences you can have in Korea. Something as mundane and familiar at home as dining with co-workers is transformed into an exercise in respect, tradition and social values. There is no event too big or too small – you are expected to know your place in the social hierarchy (but are also afforded on-the-spot training if it appears you’re veering off course).
Let me give you some examples. Most staff dinners take place in a barbeque restaurant that specialises in one particular dish, whether it’s pork, duck, beef or chicken. When the food is ready, the eldest person will have the first bite, followed by the second oldest and so on, until the youngest can get to eat. The youngest is also not expected to finish after the oldest at the table.
When it comes to pouring drinks, it is imperative that you don’t pour your own glass. Picking up the bottle of beer, you scan the surrounding tables for someone with an empty glass and offer to fill it up. They will hold their glass in a particular way, which is almost a motion towards grovelling in thanks for the honour of filling their glass. They will then take the bottle and return the favour. The two or more people will then toast each other, but it is important to bring your glass down after the ‘clink’, not upwards.
Then there’s the moment when you’re called to show gratitude to the principal of your school – as every other teacher must – kneeling next to him with a shot glass and a bottle of soju (Korea’s version of vodka, adored by the locals but hated by huge numbers of foreigners).
By the time the foreigner is called into action, the principal is clearly hammered from having to sit through this ritual for close to an hour. You fill up his glass and, through an English-speaking teacher, he will pass on words of advice and guidance in that soothing, unintimidating way that only an older person can.
After two or three minutes of bowing and thanking, the principal will then tell you how proud he is of you for the work you’re doing, and remind you of the importance of maintaining a strong relationship with co-workers and students. Then he downs his shot ‘one-time’, fills up the glass for you, and then waits for the next member of staff to come along.
For some people, this must feel like a suffocating sense of tension and fear, in case you inadvertently say something disrespectful. But the reality is that, through the eyes of a foreigner, this is a glorious opportunity to see how Koreans interact with each other at the dinner table. As for what they make of it themselves? Well, it’s just another night out in the company of elders.
Personally speaking, I can’t put a price on how thrilling it is to experience such social gatherings. My only advice is to sit back and watch how the world can move in a wholly different direction.
Andrew Farrell works as an English language teacher in Korea.
