“Mandu Guk,” or “Man” Soup

For those of you out there who do not speak any Korean (I only utter a few words, so I can hardly say I “speak” Korean), and therefore do not grasp the reference of this blog’s title, “mandu guk” is Korean for “dumpling soup.” This blog, however, is about “man soup.” Save the “du,” mix in some hot baths and a nice spa, and toss in a handful of naked men. Tada. You’ve got “man soup.”

The spa culture here in Korea is one that must be experienced first-hand, and recently I played that hand at the local spa at our hotel here in Daejeon. I’ll preface by saying that if you are a family member or someone who gets uncomfortable around naked talk…don’t worry, I don’t go into too much detail, so it’s safe to read on.

Step one: strip! Leave all defenses behind as you step into the land of naked men (or women, I suppose) with nothing but a towel that could maaaybe wrap around one of your thighs. Unabashedly enter the large room of skin and water, take note of all exits, and begin to feel awkward as every Korean man looks your way. Yes, you are young. You are white. You are different.

Step two: the process. I was informed of a routine or process to get maximum effect from the spa, and so I made it a point to follow that guide, making sure to make the best of this unclothed hour -

First, open your pores and sweat it out in the steam room for five minutes (there’s no clock in there, but use the large hour-glass with pink sand provided), and prepare yourself for the faint smell of fish…that is IF you are able to breathe through your nose without burning out your sinuses.

Second, five minutes in the sauna to bring all those toxins to the surface, feel like you just ran a marathon, and make small talk with the naked man sitting next to you. “You have good body…muscle…like Arnold Schwarzenegger.” Yes, thank you, I’ll let him know you thought so at the family reunion.

Third, walk by the naked man lying under a lamp that you’ve only seen before at supermarkets to keep rotisserie chickens hot, and dive (well, step gently) into the freezing cold pool to shrink up your…pores and wake your body up from its recent exposure to different moisture-levels of heat.

Now repeat that process three times, wonder how it is possible you are still sweating after a half hour of this, and then relax into the scalding hot pool in the center of the room with the rest of the dumplings…I mean men. At this point one cannot help but notice the kitchen-esq atmosphere with a man scrubbing to the right, the steamer to your left, the broiler next to that, and the rotisserie chicken light in between, and as you recline in this pool of water, your head engulfed with steam and your body slightly red from the heat, you cannot help but wonder how a dumpling feels.

For many, it is a daily ritual, a lunch-time routine, or a habitual practice. It seems as though it is something carved into the native culture, a normative activity, and one that would blast away the comfort zones of most 21st century American men. However, if for no other reason than to understand the plight of the dumpling, I encourage you to experience the custom of traditional Korean man soup.