The Sound of Suitcase Wheels at Seoul Station
The first thing you notice isn’t the decorations or the banners. It’s the sound — thousands of rolling suitcases echoing through Seoul Station’s marble halls, all heading in the same direction: out. Seollal (설날), Korea’s Lunar New Year, falls on January 29 in 2026, with the official holiday stretching to the 31st. But the exodus starts days earlier. By the 27th, KTX tickets are gone. Bus terminals look like they’re evacuating the city. And in a way, they are.
This is the ‘great migration’ — 귀성 (gwiseong) — and it’s the closest thing modern Korea has to a national pilgrimage. The highways clog into parking lots. People who normally wouldn’t dream of a six-hour drive to Busan resign themselves to eight, maybe ten. It’s miserable and everyone does it anyway, because Seollal without family isn’t really Seollal.
What Actually Happens on the Morning
Seollal morning has a rhythm. You wake up early — earlier than you’d like — and put on hanbok. The traditional clothing is non-negotiable in most families, though younger Koreans increasingly wear modernized versions that are easier to move in. The full traditional hanbok involves multiple layers: an inner shirt, then the jeogori (jacket) and chima (skirt) for women, or baji (trousers) for men. Some families have started buying simplified sets that look the part without the twenty-minute dressing process.
Then comes sebae (세배), the New Year’s bow. Kids and younger relatives kneel on the floor and perform a deep, formal bow to their elders. It’s not a casual nod. You go all the way down, forehead nearly touching your hands. In return, the elders say something like ‘study hard this year’ or ‘find a good job’ — and hand over sebaetdon (세뱃돈), New Year’s money in clean, crisp bills. The amounts vary. Grandparents tend to be more generous. Parents give you a look that says ‘don’t spend it all at once.’
There’s an etiquette to the whole thing that’s easy to mess up if you’re not Korean. Men place their left hand over their right when bowing; women do the opposite. The living bow to elders; the dead receive a different form. If you’re invited to participate, someone will probably walk you through it, but watching a few YouTube videos beforehand doesn’t hurt.
After sebae, you eat tteokguk (떡국) — rice cake soup in clear beef broth. The sliced rice cakes are coin-shaped, which is supposedly connected to wishes for prosperity, though I’ve also seen explanations linking it to the idea of a fresh start. The important part: Koreans say you turn a year older when you eat your first bowl of tteokguk on Seollal. Not on your birthday. On Seollal. So technically, the entire country ages together on the same day. Korea has been phasing out this traditional age-counting system in official contexts since 2023, but the tteokguk joke persists.
Every family has their own version. Some add mandu (dumplings), some use anchovy broth instead of beef, some throw in sliced egg garnish and dried seaweed. The Gyeongsang region does it differently from Seoul, which does it differently from Jeolla. If you eat tteokguk at a restaurant, you’re getting the standardized version — fine, but missing the point a little.
The Afternoon Goes One of Two Ways
Either your family plays yutnori (윷놀이), or they argue about something. Often both. Yutnori is a traditional board game where you throw four wooden sticks and move pieces based on how they land. The rules are simple enough for a five-year-old, but the strategy — and the shouting — can get surprisingly intense. Families huddle on the heated ondol floor, and what starts as a polite game tends to escalate. Someone accuses someone of cheating. An uncle insists on a house rule nobody else remembers. It’s good.
The other afternoon activity is jesa (제사), the ancestral rite. Families set up an elaborate table of food offerings arranged in a specific order — fruits on one side, meat on the other, rice cakes in the center. The positioning matters. Fish head faces east. There’s a saying for the arrangement: 어동육서 (fish east, meat west). If you’re invited to participate as a guest, follow the family’s lead and don’t touch the arrangement.
The food from jesa doesn’t go to waste. After the ceremony, everything on the table becomes the family’s meal. Some of the best eating during Seollal happens right after jesa — the spread is enormous, and there’s a particular satisfaction in eating food that was just ceremonially offered to your ancestors.
Visiting Seoul When Everyone Else Has Left
Here’s the thing about Seollal that most travel guides undersell: Seoul empties out. The city that normally feels like it’s operating at 150% capacity suddenly drops to maybe 40%. It’s eerie and wonderful. Myeongdong, which is usually shoulder-to-shoulder with shoppers, has actual open sidewalk space. You can walk through Bukchon Hanok Village without being stuck behind someone’s selfie stick.
The trade-off is that many restaurants and shops close. Chain stores and convenience stores stay open, but that family-run samgyetang place you had bookmarked? Probably closed for three days. Plan accordingly — stock up on snacks from a convenience store or look for hotel restaurants that operate through the holiday.
Major palaces often run special Seollal programs. Gyeongbokgung and Changdeokgung typically offer free admission during the holiday, along with traditional games and hanbok photo opportunities. The Korean Folk Village in Yongin goes even further with ancestral rite demonstrations, traditional performances, and craft workshops. It’s touristy, but it’s also one of the few places where you can see the rituals performed in full when you don’t have a Korean family to spend the holiday with.
N Seoul Tower is another option that stays open. The views are better than usual when the city is this quiet, and you avoid the usual hour-long queue for the cable car. Whether the love locks are worth your time is a different question.
The Logistics Nobody Warns You About
Transportation during Seollal is a nightmare. Not ‘busy’ — a nightmare. KTX trains sell out weeks in advance. If you need to travel between cities during the January 28-February 1 window, book as early as humanly possible. Some people set alarms for the exact moment tickets go on sale. Korail opens reservations about a month before major holidays, and the good time slots disappear within minutes.
Flights to Korea itself are usually fine — it’s the internal travel that kills you. Incheon Airport operates normally, but getting from the airport to wherever you’re staying can take longer than usual because highway traffic backs up. The Airport Railroad Express (AREX) is your best bet — it runs on its own tracks and isn’t affected by road congestion. The direct train to Seoul Station takes about 43 minutes regardless of traffic.
One more thing: don’t count on your phone for navigation. Cell signal in crowded areas like bus terminals and train stations can slow to a crawl. Download offline maps before you go.
Weather in late January is genuinely cold. Seoul averages around minus five to minus ten Celsius at night during this period. If you’re planning to do outdoor sightseeing — palace visits, market walks — layer up seriously. The heated ondol floors indoors will feel like a revelation after an hour outside.
The Hanbok Trick (and Other Practical Notes)
Renting a hanbok near the palaces costs roughly 15,000-25,000 won for a few hours — I’ve seen prices vary a lot depending on the shop and how fancy the outfit is. The main draw isn’t just the photos: wearing hanbok gets you free entry to most major palaces. It’s one of those deals that’s almost too good, so naturally everyone does it. The areas around Gyeongbokgung are lined with rental shops. Fair warning: in January, wearing a traditional hanbok outdoors for extended periods is cold. Most rental places offer padded winter versions, and you should absolutely take them up on it.
Traditional markets operate on reduced hours but are worth visiting. Gwangjang Market usually stays partially open and sells seasonal treats — songpyeon and various tteok (rice cakes) are everywhere. Namdaemun is more hit-or-miss during the holiday.
For flights and accommodation, Trip.com tends to have decent package deals for Korea, though honestly you should compare prices across a few sites. Booking two to three weeks early is the minimum for Seollal season — a month out is better.
If you want to do something structured during the holiday — palace tours, cultural experiences, that kind of thing — KLOOK lists Seollal-specific activities. I’d book anything palace-related at least a few days ahead since the free-admission programs draw crowds even in an emptied-out Seoul. KKday has similar listings and sometimes different availability, so it’s worth checking both.
The Food You Should Actually Seek Out
Beyond tteokguk, Seollal food is worth a dedicated section. Japchae (glass noodles stir-fried with vegetables and beef) shows up at every family table. Jeon — savory pancakes made from everything from zucchini to mung beans — are fried in enormous batches. The smell of jeon frying in sesame oil is essentially the smell of Seollal.
If you’re eating out during the holiday, your options narrow but don’t disappear. Major food chains like Gyeongyang Sikdang and Tosokchon stay open (though hours may change — check before going). Hotel buffets run special Seollal menus that can be worth the splurge if you want traditional dishes without the family obligation. Some hanok restaurants in Insadong do holiday set meals, though reservations fill fast.
Convenience stores become surprisingly important. GS25, CU, and 7-Eleven all operate through the holiday, and Korean convenience store food is legitimately good — triangle kimbap, cup tteokbokki, instant jjajangmyeon. It’s not glamorous, but at 2 AM when everything else is closed, you’ll be grateful.
After the Holiday Ends
The return migration on January 31 and February 1 is just as chaotic as the departure. Highways fill up again, trains are packed, and Seoul slowly refills with people carrying leftover tteok and the slightly dazed expression of someone who just spent three days with their extended family.
By February 2, everything reopens. The city snaps back to its usual pace like nothing happened. The only evidence that Seollal occurred is the occasional plastic bag of homemade kimchi someone’s mother insisted they take back, sitting on a subway seat because there’s no room left in the luggage.
