Life in Davao. Thirteen years strong now. Sometimes it feels like yesterday I landed, sometimes it feels like a lifetime. Most days, it’s a good balance of running my tech stuff and just living. But then, some days just hit different. Yesterday was one of those.
My friend, Jun-Jun, he just opened his small takeout café. Not a big fancy place, just a tight spot right near a high school. Smart move, targeting the student crowd. His menu is exactly what you’d expect: cheap drinks, ice cream, a few snacks. Good, honest stuff for hungry kids on a budget.
A Dash of Korea in Davao
Jun-Jun called me a few weeks back. He said, “Hey Kevin, I got an idea. My customers, especially the students, they love Korean stuff. Could you help me put some simple Korean food on the menu?” He knows I’m Korean, obviously. And he knows I can cook.
My first thought? Kimchi. But then, too many steps for a small takeout place. Then it hit me: Tteokbokki. Everyone loves Tteokbokki. It’s spicy, savory, a little sweet. Chewy rice cakes. Perfect street food. Perfect student food.
I told Jun-Jun, “Tteokbokki. We’ll do Tteokbokki.” He was excited. I was… a little nervous, to be honest. It’s been a while since I made a proper batch. Not just for myself, but to teach someone. To represent a classic.
The Shopping Spree
So, yesterday morning, we linked up. First stop: the Korean supermarket. Davao has a few now, which is a godsend. Back in 2010, you had to drive all the way to Manila for decent Korean ingredients, or wait for a friend to fly something in. Not anymore.
Walking into that Korean market here in Davao is always a little trip home. The smell of kimchi, the rows of gochujang and gochugaru, instant ramen mountains. It’s a comfort. We grabbed everything we needed: rice cakes, fish cakes, a good gochujang, gochugaru, a dash of soy sauce, sugar, anchovy stock packets. The essentials. We weren’t going for gourmet, just authentic and easy.
Jun-Jun was soaking it all in. Asking about each ingredient, what it does, why we need it. He’s sharp, a quick learner. You can see the entrepreneurial fire in his eyes.
Tteokbokki Boot Camp
Back at his café, the cooking began. It’s a small kitchen, efficient. Just enough space for us to move around. I laid out the ingredients. This wasn’t just about following a recipe. It was about feel. About taste.
I showed him the prep. Soaking the rice cakes. Chopping the fish cakes. Getting the broth ready with the anchovy packets – a shortcut, but a good one for a busy café. Then, the sauce. This is where it gets tricky.
“Okay, Jun-Jun, listen,” I said, pointing to the gochujang. “This is the heart of it. Too much, and it’s just heat. Too little, and it’s bland. We need balance.”
I measured out the gochujang. A specific number of spoons. Then the gochugaru for that extra kick and color. A spoon of sugar to balance the spice. A splash of soy sauce. Stir it all together first, a thick, red paste. Then, into the boiling stock.
We tossed in the rice cakes. Watched them soften, plump up. Then the fish cakes. The smell started to fill the small café. That rich, spicy, sweet aroma. It’s unmistakable. My mouth was already watering.
I kept talking him through it: “See how the sauce thickens? That’s what we want. It needs to coat everything. Not too soupy, not too dry.” I made him taste the sauce at different stages. “What do you taste now? Is it sweet enough? Spicy enough? Does it need more umami?” He picked up on it fast. His palate is good.
The Moment of Truth
Finally, it was ready. A big batch, glistening red, steam rising. I scooped a small portion for myself, gave it a blow, and took a bite.
My first thought: Phew. It tasted good. Really good. I hadn’t messed it up. That initial fear, that small voice saying, “What if you’ve lost your touch?” It faded. It was legit.
Jun-Jun tasted it too. His eyes widened. “Wow, Kevin! This is amazing!” He was genuinely impressed. That was a relief.
Then came the test customers. A few students started trickling in after school. We offered them small cups, free samples. “New menu item coming soon, Tteokbokki!”
They all took a cup. Hesitated a second. Then took a bite. And the reactions were great. Smiles. Nods. A few asked, “Can I have another?”
Honestly, a part of me always wonders. Are they just being polite? Because I’m the Korean guy standing there, watching them eat my Tteokbokki? Filipinos are very polite people. But then again, I tasted it. Objectively, it was good. So, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just politeness. It was a hit.
More Than Just a Recipe
Watching Jun-Jun’s face light up, seeing the students enjoy it – that’s the real win. This isn’t just about selling Korean food. It’s about connection. About helping a friend build his dream. About sharing a piece of my culture here in a place I’ve called home for so long.
Living as a digital nomad, especially for over a decade in one foreign city like Davao, can sometimes feel… routine. You settle in. The initial excitement of the new fades. You build your life, sure, but it can get comfortable, maybe even a little predictable.
It’s these moments that break the routine. These small, authentic interactions. Teaching Jun-Jun how to make Tteokbokki. Seeing his ambition. Sharing laughs in his new café. It injects a fresh dose of energy into everything. It reminds me why I chose this life.
These are the moments that make living abroad truly rich. Not just the exotic destinations, not just the low cost of living, but the people. The friendships. The shared meals. The little cultural exchanges that happen organically, daily.
Jun-Jun’s café isn’t just a business for him. It’s a dream. And being a small part of that, helping him add a taste of Korea to his menu, it’s a good feeling. It’s the kind of day that reminds me that even after all these years, Davao still has new experiences to offer, and new friendships to deepen. And sometimes, the best experiences are as simple and comforting as a bowl of perfectly spiced Tteokbokki.
🚀 Kevin’s Nomad Insight
* Local connections are gold: Building genuine friendships with locals transforms a foreign country into a home.
* Cultural exchange enriches daily life: Sharing food, traditions, or skills creates deeper bonds and more memorable experiences than just seeing tourist spots.
* Embrace the unexpected: Sometimes, the most fulfilling moments come from helping a friend with their project, even if it’s outside your usual comfort zone.
* A taste of home, shared: Introducing aspects of your own culture can be a powerful way to connect and contribute to your adopted community.
