Ice-skating in Joseon-era Seoul

Hwangwonjeong Pavilion at Gyeongbok Palace in December 2012 / Robert Neff Collection

For many of us, winter is best viewed from the comfort of our nice warm homes. Plummeting temperatures make even short walks to the bus stop or subway station into epic adventures filled with danger. Bundled in layer upon layer of clothing, one must contend with patches of black ice, carelessly wielded umbrellas and drivers who overestimate their vehicle’s ability to stop when confronted by pedestrians at the crosswalk.

However, for children, winter is a season of excitement and magic. Christmas and snow, hot chocolate and candy canes and the exhilaration of speed experienced while skiing or sledding down a steep mountain slope. Even in the heart of Seoul, the exhilaration of gliding across ice can be experienced. Recently, the ice skating rink at Seoul Plaza opened to the public for a mere 1,000 won entrance fee, with helmets and pads provided for free.

It is said that the first modern ice skates were introduced to Korea in the winter of 1884-85 by two American naval officers, Lieutenants Philipp V. Lansdale and Wilson of the USS Palos, who provided quite a spectacle to the Korean crowds as they passed by on their skates. While I do not question the veracity of the accounts, I think it wasn’t just the skates that attracted the crowd — while one of the officers skated, the other amused himself by throwing Korean coins into the air and watching people scramble for the money.

Gyeonghoeru at Gyeongbok Palace in December 2012 / Robert Neff Collection

By January 1886, there were several naval officers — American and British — skating in Seoul and Jemulpo. In a letter to his parents, Ensign George C. Foulk, of the American Legation, provided an amusing account of his skating experience in Seoul:

“The cold weather was long coming this year, but it has arrived with a vengeance. Some two weeks ago I found a lotus pond near the city wall, frozen over hard. Borrowing a pair of skates, I went there to skate quite late in the evening, with one of my guards. I got on the pond quietly and started out, found I could get around fairly well. In a few minutes I heard a Korean yell out, ‘Won! i-i-ron-chemi!’ (What in the devil is that!), referring to me, and in ten minutes I was fairly blocked by the hundreds of people who crowded on the ice to see me. Such a thing as skates was never before heard or thought of in Korea, and the first Koreans who saw me thought, as I heard them say, I was some sort of devil. I came close to being mobbed and it took an hour to make the crowd understand what was the matter with my feet. When I tried a succession of flourishes, the whole crowd kept up a yelling excited jargon, of oaths and exclamations. The skates were of the Acme pattern. One of the wonders to the Koreans was how they stuck to my feet. I passed the skates around the crowd and it gave me the greatest pleasure to see how interested they all were to examine them. I explained how a common skate could be made and I think the crowd will all have skates before many days. I told the Koreans the ice was too rough to skate well on. On the next day, I went again to the pond and found fully 2,000 people hanging about to see me skate. They had gotten old carpenter’s planes and axes and had planed and cut off all the bumps on the whole pond for me. This has been the whole talk of the town ever since, and a lot of Koreans have come here to beg me to try it again.”

Jibokjae at Gyeongbok Palace in December 2012 / Robert Neff Collection

The following year, Homer Hulbert, an American English teacher, echoed Foulk’s experience when he wrote:

“Whenever we go out for a skate the [Korean people] flock after us in swarms and will follow us miles in order to see the ‘ice-slip-much’ man perform. I have roughly estimated that from six hundred to a thousand usually congregate to watch the fun.”

However, the common people were not the only fans of this new sport:

“The King learned that there were a few of us who skate and sent an invitation to us to come over to the palace and skate on the ice there, so about two o’clock fifteen or twenty started for the palace to try the ice. In the center of the pond was a small island connected with the main land by an artistic little bridge and on the island a summer-house gorgeous with paint and banners from which the King was to watch the sport. After the King and his retinue had crossed the bridge and taken their places in the house the sport began. Only those who have been on the ice and know the exhilaration which the keen bracing air and the free swinging motion of the sport itself impart can picture the jolly time we had. Of course we all wanted to do our best before His Majesty and so while some were pirouetting about, standing alternately on their heads and their feet, others were enjoying the more dignified but none the less agreeable pleasure of skating with the ladies. Every time an extra feat of skill was performed or whenever one was punished for too great daring by a good sounding bump on the ice, rounds of applause were heard from the summer house.”

After the skating demonstration, the skaters were given an elegant banquet. According to one of the guests: “It was gotten up in the most approved European style and consisted of thirteen courses or more. The food, excepting the meat and fish, was all imported, as is all our food here with the above exceptions.”

Gyeongbok Palace in the snow in December 2012 / Robert Neff Collection

Of course, the king and queen did not openly attend the banquet — they did so from concealment. According to our unidentified guest:

“The King and Queen are never seen on such public occasions but they sat in an adjoining room and looked at their guests through holes cut in a paper partition. They could hear and see all that was going on.”

Apparently, these skating parties at the palace became an annual event up until the assassination of the Korean queen in 1895.

Not all skating was done at the palace. Sometimes it was done at the Han River or on a frozen rice paddy.

According to his diary, in 1892, William Ker, a member of the British Legation in Seoul, went skating frequently at the “rink” with other members of the diplomatic body. It is not clear if the rink he was referring to was at the palace or in one of the rice paddies near the Jeong-dong area.

In January 1896, The Independent (a newspaper published in Seoul) lamented that there was no skating rink in the Jeong-dong area and suggested that one be designated. Apparently the writer’s plea was answered and the foreign community was once again gliding across the ice and entertaining Korean spectators.

People wander around in front of the palace entrance on a snowy morning in December 2012. Robert Neff Collection

According to Yi Kyu-tae, “When the Western missionaries went skating near East Gate, people would pay for space from which to watch them and food vendors congregated to sell their wares to the crowd. The ice skating was christened ‘art of ice’ or ‘art of foot’ by the scholars while the common people called it ‘Western foot show.’” Yi wryly noted that Horace Allen was a particular favorite, not only for his skill, but for the additional treat provided when the wind blew his hat from his head revealing “his balding dome and red hair.”

In his letters to his sons, Allen explained his lack of skill was due to his weak ankles and not having proper skates — the latter problem was remedied when he purchased a pair from a departing Korean Customs employee.

Oliver R. Avison, a Canadian missionary doctor, made the mistake of promising to take his sons skating once the rice paddies froze over. The day came much sooner than he had expected — or hoped — and he was soon carried off by his sons to the impromptu skating rink. The boys had wanted to take their mother as well so “that she might be a girl once more and skim like the wind over crystal fields” but she declined the offer to risk bruising her posterior.

“[The boys and their father] made a happy crowd, all talking at once, and trying to see which would boast the loudest of what they were going to do on the ice. It was not far to the paddy fields and soon the whole company were slipping, sliding and skating about to the immense delight of a large crowd of admiring Koreans. An hour thus spent made the Doctor think that he had been a boy long enough for one day. He discovered that he weighed more than he used to do, and it was a good deal like work pushing himself around on skates. He accordingly raised the cry of ‘Dinner’ and by that means succeeded in getting the boys homeward bound.”

I am sure there are more than a few readers who may feel the urge to go out and reclaim their childhood by skating on the ice, but be careful. While the young may just bruise their pride (and posteriors) with a fall, for those who have seen more than a couple of decades, a fall could result in a long convalescence.

Go out and have fun — but keep your fingers, toes and nose warm and your posterior unbruised.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including "Letters from Joseon," "Korea Through Western Eyes" and "Brief Encounters."