It was my first night in Korea. Past 11 PM, I was hungry, unfamiliar with delivery apps, and most restaurants were closed.
As I wandered through the quiet streets, a few brightly lit spots stood out in the dark — convenience stores. What I assumed would be a simple place to grab snacks turned out to be an entry into Korean convenience store culture.
Always Open – A 24-Hour Rest Stop in the City
Where I’m from, 24-hour stores are rare, usually limited to gas stations or supermarkets. But in Korea, nearly every convenience store is open 24 hours a day. They’re everywhere — from bustling city corners to quiet residential alleys.
And they offer more than food. You’ll find toiletries, medicines, ATM services, even postal services. It felt less like a store and more like an essential part of everyday life in Korea.
The Triangle Kimbap That Started It All
Looking around, unsure of what to buy, I noticed a triangle-shaped rice snack — samgak-gimbap. “You microwave this?” I wondered.
Back then, I barely spoke Korean. But the store clerk gently heated it up for me and showed me how to unwrap it. That warm, salty bite became my first taste of comfort in a foreign city — and my first real step into Korean convenience store culture.
Not Just a Store – A Shared Living Space
Over time, I realized the convenience store wasn’t just for shopping.
I shared late-night beers with friends there. I printed documents when no other place was open. I studied at its tiny counter late into the night.
What amazed me most was the instant ramen station and small seating area — where people quietly ate alone, yet somehow never felt lonely.
It was more than a store. It was a quiet, inclusive healing space.
Silent Friendliness – Wordless Connections
I began to recognize the same store clerk each day. We never exchanged names, but our eye contact turned into nods and smiles.
One evening he asked, “Ramen again today?”
I laughed, replying, “Spicy flavor this time.” In that simple moment, I felt a piece of jeong, the Korean warmth that exists even without words.
The Place I Miss Most
Now that I live abroad, I sometimes think back to those little corners of warmth.
Not fancy restaurants, but a small 24-hour convenience store, where you could sit under soft lights and eat triangle kimbap in peace.
That store wasn’t just a place to shop — it embodied everyday life in Korea. A space to pause, breathe, and feel a little less alone.
When I think of Korea, that’s one of the first places that comes to mind.