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When local becomes global: The everyday appeal of small-town flavor

Published: 10 Apr. 2025, 00:03

Song Gil-young

The author is a data analyst and writer.

Not long ago, Korean singer and TV personality Kang Nam uploaded a YouTube video that quickly drew attention. The premise was simple but unusual: a same-day round-trip to Japan for the sole purpose of eating udon.

He boarded a morning flight to Takamatsu in Kagawa Prefecture, a region often referred to as Japan’s "Udon Prefecture," and spent four hours sampling noodles from five different restaurants before flying back to Korea later that evening. The clip, a rapid-fire culinary pilgrimage, has already surpassed a million views — an impressive figure for a video that’s effectively about eating noodles.

Watching it stirred a memory from the 1990s, when I first read an essay by novelist Haruki Murakami recounting a similar udon experience. On assignment for a magazine, Murakami visited Kagawa and was struck by the local custom of eating udon from morning to night. He described his journey through a series of noodle shops, surprised by the locals’ passion for what outsiders might consider a modest dish. His narrative, quiet and observant, left a lasting impression. Kang Nam’s YouTube version, decades later, felt like a contemporary echo of that same journey.

Press conference for Netflix's ‘Culinary Class Wars’. [JOONGANG ILBO]

What makes these stories enduring is not just the novelty of a food tour, but the consistency of life in Kagawa. The people there were eating udon every day back in the 1990s, and they’re still doing so today. That continuity itself is the draw. Travelers are not coming to Kagawa for reinvention or spectacle — they’re drawn by the desire to experience something that is both ordinary and deeply rooted.

This desire to share what one eats, and to take pride in preparing it every day, is one of the most powerful forms of human connection. It’s not about performance or hospitality in a formal sense. It’s about extending a part of daily life to a visitor and doing so with sincerity.

Korea, like Japan, is grappling with demographic challenges — low birthrates, aging populations and the steady migration of young people to major urban centers. Small cities are hollowing out, and the idea of reversing that trend through relocation alone is increasingly unrealistic. In response, both countries are turning to tourism as a strategy for regional revitalization. More visitors bring more exchange, and with it, the potential for economic and cultural renewal.

Japan formalized this ambition in 2016 with a plan to increase its foreign visitors from fewer than 20 million in 2015 to 60 million by 2030. It has pursued the goal steadily, and now, projections suggest 40 million tourists will visit Japan this year. Korea, by comparison, has struggled to return to pre-pandemic levels and is still striving to reach even 20 million. The gap underscores a need for more creative, sustained efforts to attract and engage visitors — not just in Seoul but across the country.

One notable trend is the rise of repeat travel. In 2024, more than 8.8 million Koreans visited Japan. Increasingly, these travelers are not content to visit Tokyo or Osaka once. They are returning, exploring beyond the urban centers, and seeking out local culture and everyday experiences. This growing interest in small-town life is something Korean travel agencies have picked up on — many now offer packages centered on Kagawa’s udon tour.

The appeal lies not in spectacle but in subtlety. When a place is known for something simple but excellent — noodles in Kagawa, for example — it gains a kind of authenticity that is increasingly rare and valuable.

Korea’s own small cities hold similar potential. Jeju Island could lean into its signature gogiguksu, a pork noodle soup unique to the region. Daejeon is already known for kalguksu, handmade knife-cut noodles in rich broth. Busan, famous for dwaejigukbap — pork and rice soup — reportedly has over 740 establishments serving the dish. According to local research, Daejeon has more than 720 kalguksu restaurants. These numbers reflect not just regional culinary specialization but communities that are still very much alive in their own traditions.

This type of local resilience is invaluable. The key is not to imitate what has succeeded elsewhere but to refine what is already present. Kagawa doesn’t host elaborate food festivals or Michelin-starred reinterpretations of udon. It simply makes great noodles, consistently, in a place where udon is woven into the rhythm of daily life.

Food-focused content, too, is increasingly shaping travel trends. The recent success of the Netflix series "Culinary Class Wars," which reached audiences across the globe, showed how cuisine can become a cultural ambassador. Unlike physical goods or streaming content, food requires presence. To taste something, you must be there. That’s the inherent power of culinary tourism.

Haemul kalguksu, or seafood knife-cut noodles at Mangyangjeong Haemul Kalguksu in Uljin, North Gyeongsang [GNC 21]

But this opportunity carries risk. If visitors arrive expecting a genuine experience and are instead served low-quality meals at inflated prices, the disappointment spreads quickly. Negative experiences, especially in the era of social media, can do lasting damage to a destination’s reputation. No amount of branding can compensate for a bad meal.

Korea has long been a place where food is intertwined with care. The everyday greeting, “Have you eaten?” speaks to the cultural importance of sharing a meal. In the past, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to offer a guest a fresh bowl of rice or a carefully sliced portion of kimchi, even when there was barely enough for themselves. That spirit — one of generosity and pride — remains the country’s most compelling offering to travelers.

Officials from Incheon’s Namdong District Office and local residents carry out a campaign on Tuesday at Soraepogu fish market to prevent vendors from overpricing the seafood and marine products and to stabilize consumer prices. The district office also conducted an intense on-site probe to cease illegal commercial activities in the neighborhood where the fish market is located. [YONHAP]

Sharing what we eat is one of the simplest and most powerful gestures of connection. And when done with honesty and heart, it becomes something worth traveling for. The goal should not be to impress but to be real. The kind of real that visitors remember, talk about and return for.

In a world where "global" and "local" are often treated as opposites, perhaps the real opportunity lies in recognizing that local is global. Our most ordinary rituals — our morning bowls of soup, our neighborhood noodle joints — can become extraordinary, not through reinvention, but through openness.

The future of regional tourism may not lie in building new landmarks or chasing trends, but in inviting the world to sit down and eat what we’re already serving — with pride.

Translated from the JoongAng Ilbo using generative AI and edited by Korea JoongAng Daily staff.