As you can tell from the pictures, baked kogumas on the street are only found during the winter. As I said in the previous posts, the scene has been a part of our culture for the last few decades. I left Korea ten years ago, but as I was writing these posts and looking at the pictures, I was certainly reminded of something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was not as intense as the time I found a stack of old journals that I kept twenty plus years ago. I just found a new place to move and was in the middle of packing up my stuff, but I had to stop. I sat down on the spot, and lost track of time.
Yeah, it wasn’t like that kind of magnitude, but there was surely something that was stirred in me when I got to reminisce about koguma.
Wonder why I talk about these things, in a translation blog? They are all related to translation in some respect. I'm a Korean translator and translation Korean to English is what I do.