Seoul Searching: A Mother-Daughter K-Drama Adventure to South Korea with Thrillophilia
I had spent years watching my mother roll her eyes every time I gushed about my favourite K-dramas. “It’s just another TV show, Priya,” she’d say, flipping through her newspaper, unimpressed by my obsession with slow-motion glances and dramatic rain-soaked confessions. But when I finally convinced her to come with me on a K-drama-inspired trip to South Korea, I saw it as my one shot at converting her into a true fan.
With Thrillophilia handling our itinerary, we set off for Seoul, a city that had always felt familiar to me despite never having visited. The streets, the cafes, the palaces—I had seen them all before, through the lens of my favourite dramas. But for my mother, it was an entirely new world.
Day 1: A Hanbok Dream at Gyeongbokgung Palace
On our first morning in Seoul, we headed straight to Gyeongbokgung Palace, the grand historical setting for countless dramas. I had booked a hanbok rental, determined to live out my period drama fantasy. As I twirled in my pastel pink hanbok, feeling like a lost princess, my mother hesitated.
“I don’t know, Priya… I feel ridiculous,” she murmured, eyeing the elegant yet elaborate outfit.
“Umma,” I said, deliberately using the Korean word for mom, “if you don’t dress up, how will you ever understand the magic?”
Reluctantly, she chose a deep green hanbok, and as soon as she saw herself in the mirror, something changed. She straightened her back, smoothed the fabric, and gave me a small, proud smile. “Not bad,” she admitted.
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We wandered through the palace, posing by the grand pavilions and watching the royal guard-changing ceremony. My mother was surprisingly fascinated, asking our guide questions about the Joseon Dynasty, and for the first time, I saw a spark of curiosity in her eyes.
Day 2: Namsan Tower & A K-Drama Surprise
The next day, we made our way to Namsan Tower (N Seoul Tower), one of the most iconic romantic spots in K-dramas. We took the cable car up, and I made sure to bring a love lock to attach to the famous fence.
“You know, couples do this in dramas to symbolize their unbreakable love,” I explained.
“Then why are we doing it?” my mother asked dryly.
I laughed, handing her a marker. “Because mother-daughter bonds are forever.”
We locked it in place, the chilly Seoul air making the moment even more special. Just as I was about to take a picture, a commotion broke out nearby.
A small crowd had formed around a man wearing a cap and mask - a typical K-pop idol disguise. And then I heard the whispers:
“It’s him! It’s…..”
I didn’t need to hear the rest. My instincts kicked in, and before I knew it, I was face-to-face with a rising K-pop star, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses. I gasped. My mother, meanwhile, had no idea why I was frozen in place.
“Priya, why are you staring at this poor boy? He’s probably just a tourist like us,” she said loudly.
I wanted to scream. Instead, I watched as the idol gave a polite nod and slipped away with his manager. The moment lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough for me to explode with excitement.
“Umma, I just saw a K-pop star up close!”
“I still don’t see what the big deal is,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Day 3: Lost in a Market, Found by Kindness
That evening, we visited Bukchon Hanok Village, where traditional Korean houses lined narrow streets, giving the whole place a cinematic feel. But the real adventure began when we headed to Gwangjang Market, one of the busiest and oldest street markets in Seoul.
My mother, always one to get distracted by food, wandered off while inspecting a row of golden-brown hotteok (Korean pancakes). I turned for just a second, and when I looked back, she was gone.
Panic hit me. “Umma?” I called out, pushing through the crowd. No response.
After twenty minutes of frantic searching, I finally spotted her—sitting inside a tiny restaurant stall, casually chatting with an elderly Korean woman.
“Priya, meet Mrs. Kim,” she said, smiling. “She invited me in to try her homemade kimchi.”
Mrs. Kim grinned, gesturing to the dishes in front of them. “Your mother is very kind. She reminds me of my grandmother.”
I sat down, relief washing over me. As we ate the spiciest, most flavorful kimchi and bibimbap I’d ever tasted, I realized something astonishing—my mother was laughing, engaged, and genuinely enjoying herself.
For the first time, she wasn’t just a spectator in my world—she was part of it.
The Journey Back Home
As we boarded our flight back, I reflected on the trip. South Korea had given us so much more than beautiful sights and delicious food—it had transformed our relationship.
My mother had come to Seoul as a sceptic and was leaving with new memories, a newfound appreciation for Korean culture, and a new bond with me.
As we took off, I whispered a silent thank you to the land that had always felt like home to me. Because now, it felt like home to both of us.
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