The perfect gift for the holiday

A stand selling fruits circa 1910-1920s. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

"Chuseok" (a Korean harvest festival and national holiday) is once again upon us. The markets are full of people rushing to buy last-minute gifts before stoically braving traffic snarls, crowded buses, trains and planes to visit their hometowns where, if they are not married, face the ever-increasing demands to know when they will find a mate and have children.

Other than a wedding ring and children, money, fruits and the-ever-ubiquitous Spam are some of the most popular gifts. As a foreigner, Spam is undoubtedly the gift I am most familiar with. According to some of my Korean friends, nobody gives Spam to one another; only companies or organizations give it to their employees as a gift ― it has almost become symbolic as a compulsory gift. I don't know how accurate their opinions are, but it is no secret that Spam sells a lot of their product during Chuseok.

Many years ago, when I was a young soldier, I remember the most popular gift I could give my Korean friends was not Spam or even alcohol, it was blue jeans. In our small provincial town (actually a big city by American standards), finding blue jeans was not an easy matter so anyone who had a pair was definitely envied.

A postcard with a Korean laborer circa 1910-1920. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

It is interesting to see how the ideal gift changes through the years. When the early Westerners arrived in Korea, they were often given relatively simple but practical gifts. In 1884, William R. Carles, a British diplomat, recalled:

"Nothing better than these presents could show the extreme simplicity of the country, and I give a full list of one which I received: 100 medicated fruits (balls composed of various drugs mixed with honey); 600 dried clams; 6 strings of flat persimmons; 4 bushels of raw chestnuts; 4 bushels of raw walnuts; 4 bushels of pine seeds; 2 bushels of dried chestnuts; 2 bushels of salisburia seeds; 2 live pigs; 10 live fish; 200 sea-slugs [and] 400 eggs."

The ever-cranky Horace N. Allen ― then a missionary doctor in Seoul ― received a present from the royal family in September 1885.

"[I] received my share of the Royal Favors being four squealing pigs, 20 chickens, 600 eggs, a basket of large sized large smelling fish, a basket of direct fish dried another of dried sort of sole, a basket each of apples, pears, and peaches. I gave 5,000 cash ($3.12) to the coolie for bringing the worthless stuff as is the custom. I gave half to Dr. Heron and then gave all of my portion to the servants except the chickens, eggs and a small portion of fruit such as we may eat before it spoils. This also is the custom. It would be proper now for me to send a couple of cases of wine to the King."

Eggs wrapped in straw circa 1905. Robert Neff Collection

In 1887, another Westerner wrote:

"[Eggs] and game were sent to some of the foreigners, and, each member of the royal family sending a hundred eggs, the recipients were rather embarrassed at getting 400 eggs all at once."

It is interesting to note that many of the early Westerners complained about the eggs. Some complained that many of the eggs were rotten while others complained that there were just too many and tried to comprehend why anyone would give so many eggs. It was only later that they came to understand they were to share their bountiful gift with their staff.

Not all of the gifts were things to eat. According to one recipient in 1887:

"The Queen often sends as gifts to foreign ladies bits of embroidery done by her women in the palace, and they are generally little amulet bags or ornamental pockets of royal red satin embroidered with a fine, smooth floss in conventional flower designs most nearly like Chinese work."

A Korean mourner with a fan in the early 1900s. Robert Neff Collection

Fans were also very popular gifts ― especially during the summer. Like eggs, fans were given to the various Western diplomats in great numbers ― undoubtedly with the understanding that they would be shared with the legations' staff. Judging from the letters home, not many fans made their way into the hands of the Korean staff.

Westerners also gave gifts to the palace. One example was in February 1884, when Rose Foote, the wife of the American minister to Korea, sent Queen Min "a large loaf of fruit-cake, and a larger one of pound-cake, both elaborately frosted and decorated with the national motto, also a boiled ham, jellied and fixed up in a fanciful way, some home-made bread and preserves, some California bonbons, and a large quantity of Pacific canned fruits."

According to one American naval officer, the Korean monarchs were so impressed that even after two months had passed they were still talking about it and "a repetition will probably be expected at the proper interval in the future."

Fortunately, the fruit cake (the Christmas white elephant) never really caught on but canned fruit did. In the northern part of the peninsula, near the American-owned gold mines, canned Californian peaches were one of the finest gifts to present to one's Korean host.

According to one miner's daughter:

"At the end of a perfect meal, a bowl of American tinned peaches was passed as the Koreans thought no European repast complete and elegant without this last touch."

I wish everyone a great holiday ― may your table be filled with cans of Spam and peaches, pyramids of eggs and an endless supply of fans.

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