In 1999, the Beijing Youth Daily became the first publication to use the term ‘Korean Wave’ or Hallyu. It was in an article reporting the increasing popularity of Korean dramas and pop songs amongst the Chinese audience. A quarter of a century later, the largest OTT platform, Netflix, declared that it would invest a whopping $500 million in Korean TV shows and films, to ride out the surging Wave. Minyoung Kim, VP of Content for Korea, Netflix stated, “The K-Wave, or Hallyu as we call it here in Korea, is a huge moment of national pride and we’re proud to be part of it.”

The global surge in K-Drama fandom has been earth-shattering, or, to borrow a positive word from the Korean language, simply dae-bak (amazing!). In 2023 alone, streaming services reported a 30% increase in K-Dramas viewership worldwide, with shows like Queen of Tears and Squid Game breaking streaming records.

As a fan, I have to confess that Hallyu doesn’t do K-dramas complete justice. It makes Korean pop culture seem like a dazzling, high-tech spectacle—brilliant, choreographed, and conscientiously glazed. Hallyu captures the moment, the peak of a trend, or the height of a pop star’s fame. In this relentless spotlight, scandalous reveals, the behind-the-scenes struggles, and the genuine, spontaneous fan moments tend to hog all the limelight.

There’s an aspect to K-Dramas that is often overlooked. Their slower, more deliberate style surprisingly offers a contemplative lesson in "Slow Living," preaching a return to a more thoughtful and intentional way of life. K-dramas are known to present a multitude of themes spanning across a range of genres. From romance and slice of life to survival games, war, murder mysteries and fantasy, these shows don’t shy away from exploring complex social issues plaguing modern society. Mainly, the themes revolve around family drama and at worst, the classic revenge story, but also reflective personal growth, and true human connection.

Here are four K-dramas that teach you the essence of slow living:

After losing her mother, a self-driven dentist (Shin Min-a) from Gangnam lands up in the coastal town of Gongjin (which happens to share a striking resemblance with the real-life tourist attraction, Jeju island). Although Yoo Hye-jin initially meets the wrath of locals, she wiggles her way into their community with the help of the male lead, played by Kim Seon-ho. By episode 8, she’s a matured person, pruned to the way of life in the seaside village. Her life slows down and yet she’s never felt better. Strange new people and a change of pace help her fill an unknown void and deal with the loss of her mother. The show then becomes the prime example of finding community and living vicariously through it. Cha-Cha-Cha’s self-aware writing never lets the show fixate on a single character for too long.

Throw in some slow-burn, friendship-turned-romance the Koreans know all too well how to sell, tragic flashback stories, and a fitting conclusion one could only hope for.

The fixed episode-count of K-dramas (generally between 16-20) determines any story's pacing and depth. As a result, you may end up with a concise and well-rounded narrative without relying too much on gimmicky plot twists, filler or prolonged cliffhangers. On the other hand, Western shows often have longer seasons, which can lead to a more drawn-out and meandering narrative. This is a strategic win from a marketing point of view: showrunners get to keep the fandoms hungry for more.

Summer Strike isn’t strictly about finding community, unlike Hometown Cha Cha Cha. In fact, not all K-dramas are. Although a product of the same genre, it has a different take on living life far away from the prying eyes of the world. The message is simple: Think about what would make you happy.

The story similarly follows trauma-stricken people who start finding themselves after leaving life in a complicated city and moving to a strange new place. Lee Yeo-reum (Seolhyun) is one of them. At the start of her journey, she is someone you can’t even picture hurting a fly. She’s a doe-eyed, lanky bag of nerves, capable but helpless, especially at her workplace where office politics is the norm. All it takes for to turn her life around is heartbreak, followed by the death of her only surviving parent. Moving out to the countryside is the only innocuous decision she’s ever dared taken, and it turns out to be the best of her life.

Nearly halfway through, the story takes a drastic turn when it decides to delve into a murder mystery. Plot subversion gone wrong? (Not the first time it happened). It’s a subplot that feels strangely inspired but strongly uncalled for, as many fans of the show seem to agree. Interestingly, these are her parting words (for us) with Dae-bum, the male lead with his own troubled past and a recovering self.

“Do you regret moving here?”
“I don’t. What about you?”
“Me neither.”

In South Korea, honjok ["hon" (meaning "alone") and "jok" (meaning "group" or "sect")’] has caught on pretty quickly. In honjok culture, individuals engage in activities traditionally done in groups—like dining out, traveling, or attending auspicious events—by themselves, finding comfort and satisfaction in their own company. Summer Strike embraces honjok in its entirety. Yet in the finale, we are shown Lee Yeo-reum and Dae-bum, content in love and seated, enjoying a meal with their new friends in town. Lurking somewhere between South Korea’s Confucian collectivist mindset and the rise of honjok, the show reflects the changing landscape of the country’s social dynamics in 21st century. But it’s neither apologetic nor confused about relating one's sense of self with their own happiness.

This beautiful story revolves around two people who took separate paths in life but found themselves back where the roads diverged. Beyond their personal journey, the story is about the emotionally rich lives of two families, and childhood friends as they navigate failure, grief and a “second chance” at a life that they were always meant to live. The characters live with intention, fully engaged in their work, relationships, and personal growth. They stay rooted in the present, finding fulfillment in everyday routines and the natural flow of life.

“The drama beautifully showcases the joy that comes from simplicity, where true happiness is discovered in small moments—a warm meal, a stroll in nature, or a meaningful conversation.”

Running away to live life is what we often hear unsatisfied people say. Is it really running away, though? I think it’s taking charge. It’s about finding the courage to take the plunge, a leap of faith that may have a harsh landing.

Soo-Hyun, played by Song Hye-kyo, is the daughter of a politician, forced to lead a sheltered life that was laid out for her. Divorced and single, she has everything in life that one could materially ask for. And yet she is at the mercy of her overambitious mother, a scheming ex mother-in-law who wants her back with the ex, and the gaping emptiness of her own solitude. On a business trip to Cuba, she meets an earnest and fresh-faced Kim Jin-hyuk, brought to life by Park bo-gum, and they hit it off, slowly but surely. In their chemistry, sparks don’t fly, but they shimmer—all this against the gorgeous, sun-glazed backdrop of Cuba wherein tropical singer Omara Portuondo’s beautiful raspy voice blesses us with a ballad.

Back in South Korea, things are different. Jin-hyuk ends up working at the hotel Soo-Hyun acquires. Albeit she lays the boundaries in their friendship at the beginning, they start dating eventually. The power dynamics in their relationship comes into display, and the instant media exposure shakes Jin-hyuk’s mother out of her wits. In a writerly-drastic turn of events (and spoilers you should reserve for your watch), the ending rides off an emotional rollercoaster. On the surface, it’s no secret that the show is about two star-crossed lovers like most romances but without a love triangle.

Soo-hyun’s leap of faith entailed opening herself up and letting Jin-hyuk into her heart, without compromise.

In a fast-paced world of many maladjusted Soo-Hyuns, Encounter is a story of fearless personal growth. Many such K-dramas offer a refreshing alternative by celebrating the art of slow living in a revolutionary manner. These stories invite viewers to take a step back, appreciate the beauty in life's quieter moments, and live fully in the present. By focusing on deep emotional connections, thoughtful storytelling, and the simple joys of daily life, K-dramas inspire a shift in how we experience entertainment and, ultimately, how we live our lives. For those new to K-dramas, this slower, more mindful approach can be a welcome change, encouraging a modern audience to embrace a pace that allows for reflection, growth, and genuine connection.

Slowing down, even for a moment, can be a necessary respite.

*Even though K-dramas like Glory, Startup, and Pachinko are great at grabbing our hearts with their gripping narratives, slice-of-life dramas like Welcome to Samdal-ri and Encounter offer much-needed lessons in slow living, like a breath of fresh air on a busy summer day.

If you have made it thus far, check out this list of underrated Kdramas by Sneha Mehta, an active member of Openvy—a social listing platform for all things pop culture.