Lunar New Year in North Korea | What is Seollal (설날)?
North Korea has several major holidays, the most prominent being centered around the birthdays of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-il. But there are some holidays that predate the regime, and continue to be celebrated in both North Korea and South Korea.
Seollal (설날) is one of these traditionally significant days. Known more broadly as Lunar New Year, it marks the first day of the lunar calendar and is observed in many Asian cultures. While January 1st marks New Year’s Day on the Gregorian calendar used by many western countries, the exact date of Lunar New Year differs every year. It typically falls at the end of January or beginning of February, and is celebrated over a period of three days.
Seollal in South Korea
In South Korea, Seollal is a time for families to gather and honor their ancestors. With people across the nation traveling back home, roads are packed and train, bus, and plane tickets are all booked months in advance.
Long hours are spent preparing traditional foods like tteokguk (떡국), or rice cake soup, and jeon (전), a savory pancake-like dish usually made with green onions. The act of eating tteokguk symbolizes turning one year older in Korean, and is believed to bring good luck and health for the year ahead.
Food is also an important component of Charye (차례), a memorial service to honor one’s ancestors. Led by the family’s eldest son, an assortment of dishes are set out on a table as an expression of gratitude, and rites are performed for the last four generations of one’s ancestors.
Another well known Seollal tradition is Sebae (세배). Younger members of the family, often while wearing traditional hanboks (한복), do a deep bow to their elders with the greeting “새해 복 많이 받으세요,” which translates to “May you receive good fortune and blessings in the new year.” In return, elders share words of wisdom and sebaetdon (세뱃돈), new year’s money in a colorful envelope.
The rest of the holiday is usually spent exchanging stories, reflecting on the past year, and playing Korean traditional games like Yutnori (윷놀이), which involves four wooden sticks that are tossed like dice to move tokens around a board.
Seollal in North Korea
In North Korea, the celebration of Seollal is encouraged by the state to emphasize Korean folk traditions. Historical programs are broadcast on TV, and local authorities organize mandatory activities such as kite flying and spinning tops. North Koreans gather with loved ones over the highly anticipated three day rest from work.
But unlike in South Korea, January 1st is actually considered the more important holiday to celebrate the New Year. This is when North Koreans do Sebae. Instead of the South Korean greeting, it’s customary to say “새해를 축하합니다,” or “Congratulations on the new year.”
On New Year’s morning, it is compulsory for all North Koreans to visit statues or portraits of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il. After that, respects must be paid to town leaders, particularly the person in charge of one’s unit, such as the company president or homeroom teacher. Finally, greetings are exchanged between in-laws and neighbors, and families gather for ancestral rites, sharing food, and other traditional festivities.
Another key difference between New Year’s celebrations in North and South Korea is that there is no widespread travel. The lack of freedom of movement inside the country means it is extremely difficult for North Koreans to go from one city to another for any reason. Any requested travel requires a specific stated purpose, proper identification, and documentation that must go through several levels of approval, including from the head of the neighborhood watch (inminban), local People’s Committee, local district office, and a relevant police officer. Permits for restricted areas, such as Pyongyang and the border regions, require more complex issuing processes.
Yet both New Year’s Day and Seollal in North Korea are still celebrations of life and community. Many North Korean refugees fondly remember the holiday, recalling not the state enforced displays of propaganda, but precious time spent with loved ones.
“I grew up with a lot of aunts and uncles and they all lived in the same area, so on Seollal…everyone would get together to make rice cakes, noodles, and dumplings. After making a lot of food, we’d play Yutnori and everyone would start squabbling. Then we’d find out everyone’s fortune. I miss it now.”
- Hannah, escaped from North Korea in 2015
On Seollal, North Koreans don’t do a separate bow because they have already greeted the New Year. Depending on the region, North Koreans enjoy a variety of dishes like tteokguk (떡국), manduguk (만두국), dwejigukbap (돼지국밥), songpyeon (송편), nokdujijim (녹두지짐), and noodles.
“North Korea is a very communal society, so everyone gets together on Lunar New Year. The adults would play card games and Yutnori, we’d eat delicious food, and spend time together until the sun went down. I would wake up especially early to visit the homes of the neighborhood elders and they’d share the food they made with me… Later in the afternoon, I’d go to my homeroom teacher’s house with all my friends, and we’d play there until late in the evening.”
- Yulseong, escaped from North Korea in 2017
All around the world, the New Year is a highly anticipated time of reflection, gratitude, and turning the page. It’s a universal experience, one that is shared with the North Korean people as well!
I Escaped at 6 Years Old. Am I Really North Korean?
By Sean
Sean is a participant of LiNK’s Intensive English Program (LIEP), designed to build the capacity of North Korean English speakers at the intermediate level. In partnership with the British Council, LIEP aims to cultivate participants’ communication and critical thinking skills in English. LIEP is complementary to our broader LiNK English Language Program (LELP), which supports speakers of all proficiency levels.
From Fear to My Spear
Growing up, I was a very timid boy who avoided anything that made me uncomfortable. I never raised my hand in class because I was too embarrassed to speak in front of people. Just the thought of everyone looking at me made me freeze.
One time in elementary school, every student had to sing in front of the class for a music assignment. I was extremely nervous, not only because I hated standing on stage, but also because I was afraid people would laugh at my terrible singing. It felt like a kind of phobia. I ended up crying and quietly went back to my seat.
But as I grew older, things started to change.
In early 2021, I began playing the electric guitar. At first, I practiced by myself, but after a while I wanted to play with others and do something more meaningful with music. I heard that my church band was looking for a guitarist, so I asked the band leader if I could join—very unusual for someone like me, who had never wanted to be on stage before. To be honest, I wasn’t even good enough to play during a live service. But the band leader still let me join.
I made plenty of mistakes every week. Every Sunday, I was always nervous before going on stage. But this time, I didn’t run away from fear. I knew I wouldn’t grow if I kept avoiding challenges. I realized that achieving goals often comes with pain and discomfort.
Over time, I got better at guitar and became more comfortable performing in front of people. Now, I feel totally fine being in front of a crowd. That experience really changed me. Since then, I’ve tried to face challenges instead of avoiding them.
In the summer of 2023,I had the opportunity to go to England and help raise awareness about North Korea. A Christian organization invited me and some North Korean friends to speak to people in the UK about life in North Korea. My role was to translate their stories into English for the audience.
At one of the events, I was shocked by how many people were there. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of chairs. I had never spoken in front of such a large crowd before and I had to speak in English, not my first language. I was terrified. But I reminded myself that this was another opportunity to grow. I didn’t back down. I did my job and didn’t give up. I continued translating for two weeks as we traveled across England, helping North Korean refugees share their stories.
There was another reason I had to translate. I didn’t have much of my own story to share. I was born in North Korea, but I left when I was six years old, so I don’t remember much. But during this trip, I learned a lot more about North Korea. I also saw that many people around the world truly care about what’s happening there and I realized that I care, too.
This was the first time I used my language skills for something meaningful. It was the first time I spoke, not just for myself, but for North Korea.
Growing up, I never really realized that I was from North Korea. My mother didn’t want me to interact with other North Korean kids, and I didn’t have any of the typical traits of a North Korean refugee. The way I spoke and behaved was completely South Korean. I spoke fluent South Korean, and I just lived like everyone else around me.
It wasn’t until late 2020 that I met North Korean students for the first time at an alternative school in Seoul. It was quite interesting to meet people who were born in the same place as me, but I felt different from them. Most of them had arrived in South Korea during their late teenage years. They spoke with a North Korean accent and shared detailed memories of their lives in the North. But I had nothing to share. I didn’t remember anything from North Korea. I felt like a South Korean kid surrounded by North Koreans. I couldn’t relate to their stories at all.
That’s when I started to question my identity. Am I South Korean or North Korean?
But after my experience in the UK, I can now say with confidence that I am both. I am North and South Korean.
One meaningful moment was when I shared my mother’s story---how she escaped North Korea and survived in China. She had told me this story many times, but saying it out loud myself was very different. I could feel it more deeply. It wasn’t just something I had heard anymore, it became something I carried. I realized more clearly that I am from North Korea and that my mother went through many hardships. Telling the story helped me feel more connected to my background. North Korea started to feel closer, more real, and more personal.
Now, more than anything, I want to study and learn more about North Korea. The world needs to be aware of what is happening in the North. With increasing attention and focus from the outside, we will be able to take the first step toward unification. Even if unification doesn’t happen, it could lead to the opening of borders.
Since I speak both French and English, I have come to realize that I am able to use my language skills to let the world know about North Korea. I’ve already overcome my fear of speaking on stage. That fear used to hold me back, but not anymore. Now, I feel that I need to get ready to speak up for North Korea and help the world understand its people and stories.
I’ve lived as a South Korean and connected deeply with North Koreans. I understand both sides in a way that not many people can. That’s why I believe I can become a bridge between the two Koreas.
As I continue to grow, I will keep improving my language skills and keep learning so that one day, I can stand on the global stage and speak for the people of North Korea. I want to be someone who helps the world see them not as strangers, but as part of one family.
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Opportunities like LiNK’s Intensive English Program (LIEP) are helping North Koreans find their voice, reach their goals, and lead change on this issue. Your support can help us continue to make an impact in the lives of North Korean refugees, like Sean.
