How to Quarantine in South Korea

Travel? In 2021? Are you mad? 

Perhaps a little. Here's my lowdown of government mandated quarantine in South Korea if you are looking to travel there for ✨tourist purposes✨. I say this because I was the first tourist in Seoul many people had met in nearly two years. The ladies working in the tourist information centres practically had cobwebs on them. 

Genuinely in the corridor on the way to our quarantine hotel room

What you will need to enter Korea as a mythical tourist:

• Flights (or a ferry)
• Negative PCR test (within 48 or 72 hours of arrival), print this out and highlight the word 'negative'
• KETA form: this can be filled in on the KETA app, but I printed out the certificate for customs
• An address in Korea where you will stay post-quarantine
• A Korean resident or national to act as a reference (they will get called and asked if they know you are coming)
• I did not have to arrange a visa because Brits have a 90 day tourist visa automatically
• Travel Insurance - I got asked for this at the airport, I had it but it wasn't printed out which seemed to be a bit of an issue

The airport procedure

This is where is gets a bit Squid Game, although I am loathe to say it, mostly because of the hazmat suits. Disembark your plane and collect your luggage, and then as you approach customs, non-Korean citizens are separated into a different queue where your temperature and paperwork will be checked for quarantine.

Prepare to be shuffled around the airport to various cordoned off locations, it passes the time and helps you feel like there is progress. Don't bother asking any of the airport staff helping you which hotel you will end up at, it's a total lottery and they don't know. 

One thing I missed at Incheon airport was the SIM card stand - there aren't many places to get SIM cards in Korea if you are not a Korean resident. If you have a recent enough phone model, you can purchase an e-sim through Trazy.com or LG U+ online. This will add a virtual SIM to your phone, giving you a Korean number and data to use. I would recommend getting the data+voice e-SIM rather than just data, as you will need a telephone number to check into shops and restaurants to abide by Covid regulations. The benefits are you don't have to do the fiddly work of trying to open up your phone and there's no risk of losing your regular SIM card, too. If your mobile is an older model, look out for the SIM card stall (likely SKT) in the airport to get a short term SIM. 

Next was the bus - at this point you are shepherded by people in full hazmat suits and you are not allowed to remove your mask. One very irate smoker was determined to test this in the few moments we had outside loading our luggage into the bus: it did not end well for the smoker and I wonder if he had any plans to go cold turkey for 10 days before going to Korea. 

The Hotel 

At the hotel I had another PCR test, filled in more forms and paid for my "stay". 

The forms are essentially an agreement not to leave the room for the allotted time and to take health tests (this involves taking your temperature twice a day, everyday, and logging it on a health app). We had to download another app. If I remember correctly, the app on the left was downloaded at the airport, and app on the left at the hotel. 

I don't know the difference so I uploaded my temperature info into both apps

You are able to quarantine with another person so long as they are a family member (I'm not sure how far this extends beyond immediate family - sorry cousins!) and your spouse. I got a discount on the quarantine fees by staying in a joint room for 10 days: approx £1136 for the two of us, which if I remember correctly is a discount of 40% each compared to staying in separate rooms.

As it is South Korea, I was banking on there being excellent internet connection in the hotel: I was not disappointed. There were two of us on international video calls (an absolute mare in one room) with no problems. 

Weird features of the stay include speaker announcements inside the room three times a day reminding guests to NEVER LEAVE THEIR ROOM, to not open the window too wide, and to not smoke.

Highlights of the quarantine was definitely the view. Although balcony-less and unable to open the window fully without a finger-wagging from the policeman below - I was able to watch the sunrise over Incheon in the East and set over the island we were on in the West, all the time tracking its way over the ocean and Incheon bridge. The outside became another world, like the other side of a mirror, full of observable but unreachable tiny figures, birds, and, occasionally, some cats.

 

Food

There were "no beef", "no pork" and vegetarian options available when checking into the quarantine hotel. If you are vegetarian - prepare to have protein sources replaced by bread rolls. I have included a photo below of the four-carb dinner comprised of boiled rice, potato curry, a hash brown and a bread roll. 

It's surreal to hear the doorbell ring at the same time each day, and have bags of food mystically appear outside. Food was generally good - lots of pickles - and in a good quantity so you won't go hungry. 

We did need to order extra water via the telephone as we were given one 500ml bottle of water per meal, which was not enough for this thirsty ho.

 

Leaving

Departing the hotel was a rather unceremonious affair. Of course, the first time I had been outside in 10 days and it was pouring with rain. 

A few days before release, we were given the options of having either, some one collect us from the hotel in a vehicle, or get dropped off at a nearby train station by the hotel minibus. We plumped for the public transport option. On the 10th day of quarantine, I was packed and ready to say goodbye to my prison cell hotel room at the pre-allotted time of 8am. And from the moment you leave the room, it's face masks all the way. 

Given that so much paper work is needed to enter the hotel, it felt very strange to be leaving without even a signature. And with that, we were off into the big, wide world of South Korea. 

Let me know if you have any questions and I'll do my best to answer. Although I will caveat that this experience is time-bound to late 2021 and travel restrictions and regulations will change. 

Chinese Beauty Standards 中国审美

Beauty standards in China is a well discussed topic on the Internet, and this post is by no means attempting to offer a final say in the matter, given cultural perceptions are constantly shifting. However, I hope I can shine some light on a few of China's well entrenched and newly ensconced beauty standards through my own experiences and study, and readers comments and views are welcome!

White Skin 皮肤又白皙又滑

It seems from the very beginning of Chinese history, fair skin has been desirable in women, and men too. The reasoning behind its allure is a bit of a platitude; fair skin represented (and represents) wealth, it implies one does not need to labour outside. The same ideology existed for centuries in Europe, where the aristocracy would powder their faces deathly white for this effect. In China, India, and many other East Asian and South East Asian countries, an endless array of products promise to 'whiten' your skin. It is the same pursuit of paleness. As the sun has come out in Qingdao, so have the umbrellas. These are UV reflecting umbrellas, designed to keep those dastardly rays of sun off you. And then there's the 'facekini', which, let's face it, is just a balaclava. On the flip side, some women in the West give themselves skin cancer through overusing sunbeds in order to get a tan. Excesses exist on both sides of the scale.

A couple of years ago during a home-stay in China, I met a young girl who said to me, "it doesn't matter what my grades are, my skin is very white, so I will be fine." While this shocked me, as most Chinese students I know seem determined to succeed through study and hard work, it did highlight the extent to which the Chinese value fair skin. In fact, a recent term depicting the perfect woman has arisen, a 白富美, literally 'white, rich, and beautiful' lady. If I mentally list all the female Chinese stars I know, they all exhibit the same dewy white complexion. All except Jie Ke Jun Yi, who recently came third in China's version of 'The Voice'. She is probably the first "tanned" star to find favour from the Chinese public. 

Considering the Chinese language, it's no surprise the ideal of pale skin hasn't faded. The idea of a 'white beauty' is embedded in its very words. Take the idiom 冰肌玉骨 bingji yugu, meaning 'ice flesh and jade bones'. Sounds like a stone-hearted, cold-blooded person, right? It actually refers to a beautiful woman, 'jade' and 'ice' both being white and pure. Beauty and fair skin are hard ideas to divorce when they are synonymous. 

Face shape 脸形

Just as Brazil has over 100 different words for shades skin tone in order to describe its multi-ethnic population, China has a vast range of words to describe the shape of a person's face. For example, 烧饼脸 'pancake face' obviously describes someone with a round flattish face, and 苹果脸 'apple face' describes someone with round rosy cheeks. 国字脸 is the Chinese for square face, and is the ideal face shape for a man. 

The ideal features for Chinese women, however, are 瓜子脸 a 'melon seed face' (the English translation would be an oval face, but with a pointed chin) and 鹅蛋脸 a 'goose egg face'. Dating sites even list face shape as important information alongside build, age, etc. 

Fan Bingbing has a 'melon seed face'

Gong Yuanyuan has a 'goose egg face' 

Actress Gongli has a 'goose egg face'

This is perhaps one aspect that has seen traditional characteristics recede. From what I have read and seen in classical literature and artwork, rounder faces seemed to be preferred. However nowadays, if there's a body part you dislike, there's a surgery out there to correct it. Liposuction can be performed on the lower areas of the face to slim down the jaw, to the more extreme option of shaving away the jawbone to give a 'V' shaped face. 

Slim Figures 苗条身材

I've read some blogs complaining about how China's predisposition towards thin women must be a vestige of Western advertising, forcing Chinese women to become unnaturally thin. This is a one-sided approach to a many layered phenomenon. 

Genetically, asian bodies are less able to store fat than, say, western bodies. Also, the average Chinese diet is healthier than those of their western counterparts. I would say the average Chinese woman is just naturally thinner than the average western woman. But, the times they are a-changing. In a couple of decades, it is possible obesity could be a real problem for China, as its swelling urban population gorges itself on Macdonalds and KFC. Being overweight is starting to be an issue for children, as parents and grandparents lavish all their attention and love on one child. However, there is virtually no one here my age who I would consider overweight or obese, by my UK standards. In fact, most of the time, I walk around being jealous of 99% of the girls I see. 

So the issue is perception. After a meet-up with one of my language partners, I said I was going home to eat dinner. She looked at me with surprise, and said, "you eat dinner? But you're so thin!" She then confessed that after going home for Chinese New Year she had gained a kilogram or so. Therefore, when term restarted, she had stopped eating dinner. It was my turn to be shocked. My language partner is by no means fat, or even pudgy. She would have no trouble fitting into a UK size 8. So yes, there is a pressure forcing girls to be thin. 

However, placing the blame for this at the door of Western media is to overlook China's own literary and historical ideals. The Chinese have favoured a wide range of female figures over history, often linked to the preferences of the emperor at the time. The sentiment is summarised in the saying 燕瘦环肥 yanshou huanfei, referring to Empress Zhao Feiyan who was slim (瘦) and Imperial Concubine Yang Huhuan who had a fuller figure (肥). Regardless of their silhouette, both are regarded as historical beauties. Moreover, one of the most important female characters in the Chinese classic Dream of the Red Chamber is famed for being incredibly waif-like. Lin Daiyu 林黛玉 is so painfully thin, that when she is sick and bed-bound, it hurts to lie down because her bones protrude so much. Yet she is still one of Chinese literature's most beautiful women. Lin Daiyu's love rival is Xue Baochai, and each embodies different a facet of Chinese beauty; Daiyu is slender whereas Baochai is shapely. 

Comely figures were not frowned upon, and when I was young I remember being told that if a Chinese person called you 'fat', it was meant as a compliment. But I can't help but feel this notion has turned on its head. My slim language partner represents a new generation of girls who can't stand to be over 50kg. It seems they have forgotten the essence of 燕瘦环肥 yanshou huanfei, that 'beauty comes in all shapes and sizes', and would rather skip dinner. The women I see at my gym never run because they are afraid it will give them muscle, so they just walk. Taking up all the treadmills.  

Those who have studied Chinese culture know that the Chinese are typically very upfront about someone's appearance. Especially weight. I made a trip to one of my favourite clothes shops, and the shop assistant said to me, "Oh, you've put on weight." Which isn't the best way to make your customers feel great about themselves. Anyway, my point is that chinese people don't skirt around the issue of weight, especially parents. Having your appearance, and more acutely, your flaws pointed out to you by your family, friends and even strangers can be hard going. Competition here for jobs and partners is fierce, and society is judging. The question is, whose standards are Chinese society judging by? There is both a precedent for thin ideals, and an influx of thin idols from South Korea and the West.  

Big Eyes and Small Noses 大眼睛，小鼻子

The pursuit of large eyes through double-eyelid surgery (known as blepharoplasty) is perhaps the most controversial, as it is the pursuit of a feature that is unnatural to Chinese and Asian aesthetics, instead of the enhancement of an existing trait (like skin whitening). That said, many Chinese people do naturally have double eyelids. For those unwilling or unable to get the surgery (I've heard in Korea some girls get double eyelid surgery for themselves as a present for graduating high school), there are 'eyelid tapes' available in pharmacies and beauty stores. 

We could approach this issue of larger eyes from psychological perspective, as humans have an innate preference for things with large eyes, small noses and chins (think kittens and babies). These features in women often emulate youth, which in turn signify fertility. But this perspective oversimplifies the matter. Single eyelids were a desirable feature in numerous dynasties, but now you would be hard pressed to name a female celebrity without double-eyelids. The entertainment industry has a full time job suspecting who has and who hasn't had it done. To Westerners, this procedure often seems farcical, like MJ's sudden race change. However, to some Chinese and other East Asian women, that small fold in the skin is a huge deal. It's not about making yourself look Western, but about keeping up with your friends, giving yourself a fighting chance in a job market where you have to attach a photograph to your CV, and living up to the new beauty standards of the modern Asian woman.

 "From having performed double eyelid surgery since 1981, and teaching the surgical techniques to other doctors for the same period, I honestly do not believe that most of the Asian patients are wanting to look like Westerners or their Caucasian friends. Rather, they want to retain their Asian features with the addition of an aesthetically pleasing Asian eyelid crease, just like their Asian friends or siblings." {Dr. W.P.D. Chen, M.D., F.A.C.S.}

Another feature which is highly coveted is a small nose, with a high nose bridge. Words used to describe this type of nose include 'noble' and 'elegant', compared to the relatively flat noses with wide bridges and nostrils that are a common Chinese trait. I've received some atypical compliments during my time here, including "you have a small face" and "your nose is so high". At first I didn't know what to make of those comments, because I didn't understand the desirability behind those features. 

Lucky old Fan Bingbing, owner of large eyes and a prominent nose.

Body Hair

If you really want to watch Western standards imposing themselves on China in action, you should start looking at ladies' body hair. I'm serious. I remember going to Yantai, Shandong, two years ago and getting on a bus. I remember a rather attractive lady got on at the same time as me, we both paid, and then she reached up to grab the rail and - OMFG WHAT IS THAT?! Yes, her armpit was growing a  veritable shrub and her short sleeved top was doing nothing to hide it. I had literally never ever seen armpit hair in my life. Not that I don't have my own, but it is regularly decimated for personal and public reasons. Everyone I know does the same. In the UK, if ladies haven't maintained their own pits, it's polite to cover it up. So seeing not just any old armpit hair, but a such dense crop was a culture shock. I later went to an English corner and raised the topic of body hair, and I was told that if a Chinese person sees a hair-less armpit, then that is considered weird. I like the thought of that lady and I standing on a bus together, both appalled by each other's armpits. 

But Yantai is a small, third-tier city, how does it reflect changing tastes? Currently in Qingdao, a second-tier city of 8-million with a large foreign contingent, I cannot get a wax. But I can buy hair removal devices such as razors and waxing strips, which were very hard to find/impossible to buy in Yantai. There is also much less armpit hair on show. Yet in Beijing, there are a handful of places offering a full scope of waxing services, for foreigners but also for rich Chinese customers. 

It is sensible to conclude, the more interaction with foreigners and foreign habits, the more likely average Chinese women are to adopt Western hair removal practices. Who knows, maybe in ten years time, it will be possible to get a wax in Yantai. 

Memories of Murder; A Farm Village Thriller

Memories of Murder, directed by Bong Joon-ho, is perhaps one of my favourite Korean films of all time. If you haven't seen it, stop reading now. Go and watch it, then come back and continue reading. Below is a modified version of an essay I wrote for my Cinema East module, analysing the importance of setting and the extent to which Memories of Murder could be described as a Thriller.    

Before garbing Memories of Murder in the dress of the well known - if somewhat vague - Thriller genre, one must first look at what tropes this classification contains. Only then can one see where the devices of the Thriller can be applied to the film. The conventions of the thriller are as broad as its sub-categories, but there is a overarching recognition that a thriller should induce heightened emotions such as; exhilaration, anticipation, expectation, uncertainty, anxiety, suspense, excitement, tension and terror.

These emotions are engendered through narrative devices like red herrings and cliff hangers. Cinematic devices can also evoke the Thriller's emotions; for example an ominous mise en scene, or fast paced editing to build suspense. Attempting to cover all of the characteristics typical to the ‘rich literary feast’ of the Thriller would require much more time and space than can be discussed in a brief overview. However, regarding the most obvious tools of the genre, Bong - as a self-confessed fan of  the classic thrillers of Hollywood - has managed to generate the intense emotions distinctive to this genre. 

Ostensibly, one could view Memories of Murder as a thriller in a Korean setting - the small developing city of Hwaseong, far from the bright lights of Seoul. Certain scenes track the last movements of the victims, evoking the apprehension and suspense in-keeping with the thriller genre. What could be more chilling than a woman walking through Hwaseong's dark paddy field singing, only to hear the killer whistling along, as we realize the terrifying truth - she is not alone. We are provided with the thrill of the chase as the detectives pursue a suspect. Yet this chase is not in cars on a highway, but through the back-alleys of the small town. The detectives tear through narrow streets, hindered by a ill-placed rubbish bins, only to lose, find, re-lose and finally capture their target. Memories of Murder  provides the roller-coaster of emotions as we follow the detectives being dragged through mishaps and mistakes at the mercy of external events. 

From this point, the similarities with the Hollywood Thriller begin to thin. Bong has not used the villain as the only means to drive plot, as general convention would stipulate. Instead the detectives are thrown around by Bong’s ‘strategy of reproduction’, which is a technique of weaving real events from 1986 into the world of the film. The detectives are further waylaid by shamans and school gossip, and to some extent are even victim to the weather. In fact, the poster used to advertise Memories of Murder focuses on the desperate faces of the detectives, while in the foreground the photograph of the suspect is blurred. Surely Bong is demonstrating that while the killer's identity is important, or perhaps forever unknown, the film hinges upon the hopeless mission of the detectives. 

As a consequence of presenting the main characters as powerless, Bong challenges the typical Hollywood notion of a climatic ending where the mystery is solved and the killer defeated. A Korean audience may be aware of this theme far earlier than foreign viewers, as the name Hwaseong recalls the 1986 case. The setting and contemporary events invoke their personal memories of the murders, and ultimately the failure to resolve it. Thus as the film begins, it is bound with a tragic undercurrent of ‘forgone defeat’. However, the cause of this failure remains ambiguous. 

On the one hand Bong presents the police as blundering by series of contrasts throughout the film. Our first introduction to a sergeant is him tumbling into the crime scene, contrary to the suave entrance required of a respected crime solver. The detective's impotence in the investigation is portrayed by the almost slapstick way they fight and fall over; they are more 'clowns' than serious crime solvers. An interrogation is interrupted by the entrance of a boiler repairman, whose presence goes unnoticed by the detectives. Furthermore, halfway through the intense chase scene driven on by rhythmic non-diegetic sound, a detective stumbles in on a family at the dinner table. This juxtaposition of significant events punctuated by moments of triviality produces a comedic effect when it is least expected and ensures that the audience never view the detectives as fully competent. On the other hand, Bong also contrasts the idealised role of the police, who are supposed to be the maintainers of justice, with the harsh reality of the political situation of 1986. This connection to contemporary politics and events places blame at the door of the era; the incompetence of the military regime and the under-development of Korea failed these women. 

Detective Park greets Detective Seo with a fly-kick after mistaking him for a rapist 

Detectives Park and Cho visit a shaman to try to reveal the killer's face

While we long for a hero character who can prevent the gruesome fates of the victims, what we are given is far from that. Detective Cho Yong-gu comes to epitomise this disparity. Cho uses his authority to abuse and beat suspects, he punches a female protester and drags her along by her hair, he makes misogynistic comments about his colleague while he is meant to be preventing crimes against women. This antithesis is summed up in the amusing but disturbing image of Detective Cho’s shoes. There is the contrast between the strict black shoes of regiment and order, which he covers with a flowery shower cap to prevent blood from his “interrogation methods” marking them. Hence Bong elicits frustration in the audience over the lack of an untainted protagonist and lack of control the detectives have over events. They waste time bickering while the killer remains uncaught. However, Bong was not just implying that the detectives’ inability was due to personal flaws, but more importantly as an allegory to criticize the era.  

Detective Cho's boots, complete with flowery shower cap

Memories of Murder could be described as ‘archeological’ film, to borrow Walter Benjamin's term. Bong used archaeological methods as his film looks back to the incidents of Korean society in 1986 and incorporates snippets of events from that era. Furthermore, the setting of Hwaseong once again uses contrasts to present the problems of the development, or more correctly, underdevelopment, of Korea. Bong opens with extreme wide shots firmly placing the film in a small city where rice cultivation is still an important way of life. Detective Park, resident of rural Hwaseong,  Yet the industrial park bordering the paddy fields is an imposing, dominating feature. The looming factory provides a reminder of the economic change taking place at the time. Extreme wide shots continue throughout the film and Bong incorporates the characters into them, but they are minuscule in comparison to the vast fields. Like a landscape painting, extracting the characters from the era or setting is impossible. Or perhaps Bong wanted to show the characters are all victim to the larger forces at work in Korean society. For example, the portrait of Korea's military dictator looms down from the wall in the police station with a constant presence. Either way, this firmly roots the film in a Korean setting and in a specific time in Korean history. 

The fields of Hwaseong - wide and bleak

The detectives chase a suspect to a large industrial quarry

However, Hwaseong is more than just a setting for a thriller themed plot. Memories of Murder is more than ‘archeological’, at its core it is a Korean Thriller. The strategy of reproduction actually alters the narrative as contemporary events are used as turning points; the riots prevent police from being deployed to Hwaseong to stop a murder, and the television reports of police brutality tip Detective Cho over the edge. This unfortunate train of events leads to the death of their only witness, the mentally retarded Kwang-ho. Bong presents Detective Park’s powerlessness in the opening where a long take  shows the chaos around him as we follow his viewpoint and see his only evidence get destroyed. 

Furthermore, the helplessness of the detectives is represented through the motif of the blackout, which was a common practice in the military regime of the 1980s. The blackout drill not only provides the killer with the perfect opportunity to abduct and kill his victims under complete darkness, but it is also a metaphor for the cluelessness of the detectives, who are figuratively left ‘in the dark’. Actual fade outs to black are used after the killer captures his victims, a vestige of traditional thriller as we dread what happens next. Moreover, the blackouts also implicate the government in the murders, who force these drills upon the populace, placing the maintenance of their social order above the safety of their citizens. A portrait of the military dictator hangs above the police in the station while they discuss the crimes. This simple aspect of mise en scene implies the government is always at the top of the hierarchy delivering justice and law. Thus the failures of those at the grass roots are symbols for larger failures of the system, summed up with the DNA tests which have to be sent to America as Korea has no facilities conduct the tests. 

Another possible metaphor for the ignorance of the detectives could be the expansive rice fields. The tall stalks allow the killer huge freedom of movement while also being able to remain completely hidden. If one enters the rice fields there is a limited area which is visible, but if you never venture in then you will never find what is hidden within it. The rice paddies also conceal one of the first victims, one which Detective Park believes to be alive and living in Seoul. This is an aspect of the film that simply could not be translated, as the rice fields are typical of Korean scenery and provide a staple diet for East Asians, compounding the relationship between the narrative and the setting. Memories of Murder is inextricably Korean as it relies on events of the 1980s to drive the narrative, it exploits the social consciousness of the failures of the era, it uses the setting of Hwaseong to represent how 'pathetic', as said by another Korean director, Korea was at the time. Bong has expanded the Thriller; the disappointment of the ending evokes a sense of pity and frustration, and leaves anything but nostalgia in the minds of Korean audiences as they recall the blackouts, the oppression, the police brutality and most of all their own weakness.  

Bong himself described Memories of Murder as a ‘farm village thriller’; the plot is far too interwoven into Korean society to be transported elsewhere. It belongs in the small town of Hwaseong; ‘farm village thriller’ removes the grandness of ‘crime thrillers’, or ‘psychological thrillers’, and encapsulates the frustration of the lack of a solution because it represents the backwardness of the times. With young Korean directors of the 2000s there was a movement - intentional or not - to merge genres or weave in a distinctly Korean flavour into them. Bong may have been caught by the drive that he “can’t do it like Hollywood, and mustn’t do it like Hollywood” due to financial constraints and cultural pride. In which case Memories of Murder is a success in diversifying what a thriller can achieve and how it can manipulate people’s emotions and memories. 

Petty Romance and Korean Romances

Another perk of working for UK based Asian film distributor, Terracotta Films, was watching this hidden gem of a film: Petty Romance. I read another blog focusing on the inadequacies of the film's name, but that doesn't even cover it. Terracotta's founder and director is (a great guy) committed to bringing Asian film to UK audiences, but this film was such a marketing conundrum for him and his team. I'm guessing most people reading this haven't watched the film, but if I say to you Petty Romance, the name doesn't really sell itself. Not only that, but it doesn't tell you anything about the characters, the motifs, or even the film's ambience. Whereas, the best thing about Chen Kai Ge's 2011 offering of 'Caught in the Web' was its name. Seriously. Now I've mentioned it, forget it, it's not worth remembering.

So, overlooking the mediocrity of Petty Romance as a title, I'm here to sell this film to you. The leading characters' lives converge when they are forced together by money troubles; Da-Rim has just been fired from her job as a sex columnist for extravagant lies and a hyperactive imagination. Soon after, during an argument with her brother she swears she will move out of his flat. On the other hand, Jung-Bae is an unsuccessful manga artist, although he lacks no skill in the drawing department, his plot-lines fail to impress. His father was also an artist, who only achieved posthumous recognition. In order to save his father's portrait of his mother, Jung-Bae has to find a huge sum of money to buy it off his corrupt uncle.

This is where a main element of the story comes in; manga. More importantly, an international manga competition where the winners could bag enough money to, say, buy a portrait AND buy your own flat. Of course this isn't just any old manga competition, it's adult manga. Desperate to win the prize-money, Jung-Bae advertises for a story writer. This is where over-imaginative sex columnist Da-Rim steps in to save the day. Except not really. Because she's actually still a virgin. And lying about most of her work experience. She's also demanding, a bit of a drama queen, and gets on Jung-Bae's nerves.

However, they actually balance out each others problems and realise that only together they can create a manga capable of winning. Manga is woven artfully into the film by having several brief scenes with animation, giving the film a playful and unconventional edge. Not only this, but it strips back the conventions and tropes of the romance genre; we see the leading lady poor a bottle of water on herself before knocking on Jung-Bae's door for pity, even though it's not raining. Hell, we even see her in a toilet scene, which has to be a first for a female Korean protagonist, whose only bodily function seems to be exuding beauty. Romance fans, don't worry, you've still got some kissing-in-the-rain scenes you can squeal at.

Then obviously you're going to have the romantic complication. I'm not going to give it away, but while watching the film with my boyfriend, he turned to me with a worried look on his face and said, "are they going to get together at the end?". I watched this film with my mother, and we had a riot. I was confident enough to show it to my boyfriend, and it even made him have a little chuckle.

I'm constantly in awe of how Korean cinema can invent and reinvent romance, and Petty Romance no exception. I was never bored; I laughed, I cringed, I sighed. This film was so hard to market because it had so many layers, a romance, a comedy, an adult manga. Every time I watch a Hollywood romance, be it a romantic comedy, or regular a weepy one, my cinematic stomach is just not satisfied (excluding 50 First Dates and She's The Man). Demand more from your Romances. If you feel the same way, I have compiled a list below of my favourite Korean romance films for you to get your teeth into. Happy romancing!

My Sassy Girl - a classic, and a good starting place for people new to Korean film.
A Millionaire's First Love - Your classic Korean tragedy, prepare the tissues, it's gonna get messy...
My Girl and I - high school tragic romance in beautiful korean countryside, with the added dimension of the Grandfather's story.
Daisy - a more grown-up tragic love triangle, an interpol agent chasing a master assassin, when an innocent girl gets caught in the middle. You'll need tissues again.
200 Pounds Beauty - although there are ongoing debates about the overall message of the film, as the protagonist gets full body plastic surgery, I found it very entertaining.
Crazy First Love - example of a well named film. I liked it.
Lost and Found - great film poking fun at Korean romance stereotypes, in a similar way to Petty Romance, so you should probably watch the above films to get some of the jokes.
Please teach me English - characters are refreshingly normal, mundane even, the leading male is an assistant in a department store's shoe section. Which makes the dramatic romantic parts all the more touching!