Growing up, I often encountered the cliché that Innuits had anywhere between 50-100 words for snow. The numerous different terms and expressions reflecting not only the importance but also the prominence of snow in their daily lives. The same might be said for rice in Korea. We often think of rice as just a single entity, but for Koreans it lives a multilayered life. It is “byeo” when it’s in plant form, “ssal” as husks, and “bap” when it’s the thing placed on the table. By the same token, “bap” also means meal. You can test this by asking a Korean person what “bap” means: shome will shout rice while others will tell you it 바카라게임 means something like food or meal. Some of them will also say that if a meal doesn’t include rice, it’s not a real meal. I know when I order bossam from a local restaurant and tell the lady I don’t need the scorching hot stainless steel rice bowl filled with white stuff, she will give me a funny look. I must be joking! No rice with your lunch? Nonsense.
When you greet people, instead of asking them how they have been, you might ask them “bap meogeosseo?” (Did you eat rice/a meal?). When you leave them, you don’t say that you’ll see them next time but rather “daeume bap hanbeon meokja” (Let’s eat rice/a meal together next time). These expressions aren’t to be taken literally, but rather figuratively.
You also have rice cake marinated in a red spicy sauce sold on most street corners, rice porridge for when you’re sick, sikhye as a sweet desert drink after meals, and soju and makkoli as rice wines for when you want to get blasted. Rice is everywhere. And it has had an important role in shaping and making the Korean people into who they are. It might even be one of the reasons why people here have been so collectively intertwined and focused on a culture of “woori” (ours) rather than the individualism found elsewhere.