My first encounter with “kimchi” was when my brother-in-law brought three containers of this dish from Manila ten years ago. Kimchi is actually this traditional Korean dish made of vegetables, like cabbage, that was fermented with a variety of seasoning. So the moment my brother-in-law opened the plastic containers, it nearly knocked me out with its odor. Believe me, the smell was enough to make me swear never to eat kimchi.

This fascination with “kimchi” by people I’ve met still surprises me until this day. There is a colorful array of colors from the vegetables and the seasonings.  Two months ago I traveled to Seoul and I have this nagging curiosity to understand this fascination with kimchi. Surely, I didn’t like its smell but it should be worth understanding its significance. Because of its distinct smell, I can pick up “kimchi” anywhere in Korea.  I would rush in the morning and bumped shoulders with Koreans and I smelled “kimchi” with morning coffee. I had my morning donuts and when I stepped out of the building, I’d smell “kimchi” in the air. I waited for my train and when the doors opened, the whole train smelled like “kimchi.”  I ordered fried chicken for delivery to my hotel room and they sent me an extra side dish of commercially-packed kimchi. I had no escape.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner in Korea seemed to consist of kimchi as their sidedish.

So off I go to the Kimchi Musuem in COEX. It wasn’t a busy day so there were only two people in the museum. I was on a self-guided tour with just a brochure to give me some information about the museum. I saw a variety of kimchi, its method of preservation, its nutritional values and how they use different spices to fill jars of cabbage. There were variety of kimchi, too, for every season. I was aware that women work together during winter to make kimchi. This is something traditional during the long winter.  At the end of the tour, there were sampling for the variety of kimchi. There were three small clay pots with leftover kimchi and toothpicks (instead of chopsticks) to sample small pieces of the kimchi. I opened each of the pots and peered. I just wrinkled my nose.

So I made a pact with myself that I will try kimchi on my last day in Korea. I went to Insadong and had dinner with some Korean friends. We had roasted pork, kimchi, yellow radish, an omelet and lettuce. I was supposed to wrap the pork with lettuce and place the kimchi on top of the pork. The first times I didn’t put kimchi but packed with enough courage, I did. I pushed the lettuce in my mouth and slowly chewed on my food. I barely tasted the kimchi. The kimchi tasted more like elbow macaroni with tomato sauce and chili peppers. I wonder if this is a vague description?

You know, it wasn’t so bad. Nothing too deep to elaborate except I look back on this experience to make me realize that “kimchi” is a great art. It is a struggle to understand so here comes Aristotle explaining this to me:

“The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.”

So then let me ask this: what is not art?

Oh yes, my plane on its way back to Manila smelled like kimchi, too. I am immune now due to prolong exposure to kimchi. I should say it is a good immunization. But I had to castigate my nose for deceiving me.

© rustan108 for Babel: The multilingual, multicultural online journal and community of arts and ideas, 2008. | Permalink | No comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: kimchi, kimchi museum, kimchi side dish, winter

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