A Taste of America at Thanksgiving in Seoul

We were invited to Thanksgiving dinner on the American base in Seoul — the kind of invitation you can only get if you “know someone on the inside.” Our American friends took us, and from the moment we drove in, it felt like stepping through a crack in time.

The wind was howling, the streets were dark, and the buildings stood like tired giants, holding the memories of everything they once were. It felt like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock film… the quiet kind, where nothing moves but you can still feel the ghosts of a once-bustling life brushing past your shoulders.

And that’s exactly what Yongsan Garrison once was — the beating heart of the U.S. military in Korea. The Americans moved in right after World War II, in 1945, when Japan surrendered and withdrew from Korea. After the Korean War (1950–1953), the garrison expanded steadily, eventually becoming the main U.S. Army base in the entire country.

From the 1970s through the early 2000s, more than 20,000 people lived here — soldiers, families, kids riding bikes to American schools, parents shopping in the commissary (a full-size American supermarket!), grabbing Burger King on the way home, meeting friends at bowling alleys, churches, playgrounds. Families gathered for weekend barbecues, known as Fleisch Fest, and other celebrations — a taste of home in the middle of Seoul. A whole American suburb tucked behind walls. A complete world. A “you never need to leave the compound” world.

Now? It felt like walking through the remains of a forgotten town. Maybe 200 families remain. Everything else is shutters and silence. The U.S. military has been moving south to Camp Humphreys for years, and the base is slowly being handed back to South Korea. Even the entrance to the presidential office sits nearby — layers of history pressed together on one patch of land.

As we stepped into Dragon Hill Lodge through the revolving doors, we were welcomed by twinkling Christmas decorations — bright, warm, full of glittering lights and Christmas tunes. All that quiet outside dissolved as soon as the doors closed behind us. Dragon Hill opened in the 1990s as a hotel, restaurant, and social hub for military families — weddings, balls, holiday dinners. Once a centre of life. And now, for one evening, we got to experience it.

The Thanksgiving dinner buffet itself was lovely. It reminded me so much of a Carvery (English-style Sunday roast dinner) that I instantly felt at home: turkey, gammon, beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and boiled vegetables.

There was an American twist on the sweet potatoes, with that white sugary topping Americans adore. The stuffing was a bit different from what I’m used to — hints of apple made it look almost like a cake. Not everyone was keen, but it added a surprising twist to the familiar flavours. And the horseradish — wow, that was spicy! My husband and I, used to mild English horseradish, took a spoonful and almost choked. Definitely worse than the spiciest English mustard — not for the faint-hearted!

And of course, the pumpkin — pumpkin soup, and pumpkin pie with cinnamon that transported you right into the heart of Christmas. Our friends insisted that a proper pumpkin pie should be covered in so much cream that you cannot see the pie at all.

“Thanksgiving is bigger than Christmas,” they said. “You eat, then you eat again, then you talk about what you’re thankful for, and then you graze all day — with a bingo game in the middle of it.”

The tradition goes back to the 17th century, when English settlers gathered to celebrate a harvest and give thanks for simply surviving.

Sitting there, surrounded by food and laughter, I couldn’t help imagining what it must have been like here long ago. I pictured the American base in Hawaii at Pearl Harbor — full of life, kids laughing, shops buzzing. Yongsan must have felt that way once too: alive, busy, overflowing with community.

But now, the Korean government has different plans, slowly reclaiming this precious land in the heart of Seoul. Some areas will become public parks, museums, and cultural spaces — perhaps Seoul’s own version of Central Park.

After dinner, walking back into the cold November wind, I felt the nostalgia of what it used to be — but also the excitement of what it might become. The old making way for the new.

I realised this evening wasn’t just about tasting an American holiday in the middle of Seoul. It was about noticing what changes, what stays, and what still matters — appreciating what’s already here, rather than chasing what’s not.

I’m so grateful we got to be part of this small celebration in a place that once held so much life, and to share it with such lovely friends.