Thousands gather for Korean food and culture at mid-autumn moon festival

But the real draw was the food. Lines, some more than 50 people long, snaked around the field for each of the dozens of mostly Korean food booths and trucks.

“We were in line for an hour and a half to get this food,” said Grace Yoo, holding a near empty bowl of noodles, alongside her friend, Valerie Soe, and her cousin, Betty Pio. “But it was worth it. We all love Korean food!”

Yoo, who teaches in the Asian American Studies department at San Francisco State, said she was happy to see so many people who aren’t Korean at the festival enjoying and celebrating the culture.

“I’m so glad so many people are here,” she said. “It’s been fantastic.”

It was Yoo’s cousin Pio’s idea to come to the festival, she said — a “cousin reunion” of sorts. Pio said she wanted to bring her two toddlers, Chloe and Poppy, to experience the celebration.

“They’ve never seen anything like this before,” she said. Their favorite part, she said, might have been watching the K-Pop-Up dancers, who performed contemporary dances on the main stage to Korean pop hits as people of all ages, including a group of seniors in the special senior citizen tent, watched, clapped and danced along.

Eon-Jo Chang, who serves as an advisor and volunteer for the Korean Center, was thrilled to see so many people show up — they were expecting around 8,000 to 10,000 throughout the day, she said.

At the same event in 2019, which was the first of its kind in San Francisco, the turnout was about 5,000 people — more than they were expecting even then, she said. The pandemic meant the last two years’ festivals were virtual, so this year’s was the first one back in person, she said.

Chuseok, she said, is like Korean Thanksgiving, and is a very important holiday for the community. She was excited to have partnered with the Presidio Trust for this year’s event, who she said had been helpful in setting up the festival area, which spanned the whole Presidio lawn between the park’s red brick buildings.

“We want to support Korean American businesses, food and organizations,” she said, beaming as she looked around. “I am so glad we have this recognition. This is really cool for the Korean American community.”

One new feature this year, she said, was a station dedicated to writing wishes to Chuseok moon, which is believed to be the fullest and brightest of the year, symbolizing prosperity. The wishes, written on cut-out pieces of neon construction paper, were hung on a sculpture of wooden clouds hanging below a Chuseok moon.

“We wanted to do something special coming out of COVID,” she said. “It’s about celebrating the resilience of the community.

And the written wishes reflected that. Many simply said several words, like “love, happiness, contentment, health.” One child, who signed their own name, Lani, but seemed to have some adult help on the message, wrote “I wish for lots of gifts.” Another simply said, “I wish for a grandchild! Amen!”

Artist Lightning Yumeku, who designed the sculpture, was helping people tie their wishes below the clouds. He said the inspiration for its design came to him quickly, even pulling out the sketchbook where it came to life.

“I was thinking about what we do on Chuseok, and how we send our wishes to the moon,” he said. “From there, it was clear that the moon needed to be at the top, with everything moving up towards it.”

Yumeku explained that while he isn’t Korean, his best friend from childhood was, so Yumeku learned to speak some with his friends parents. That time, he said, also cultivated his love for the Korean culture.

“I’m making 40 pieces of artwork for the Korean Center in addition to this,” he said, before dashing off to ask a young child which cloud she wanted her wish on.

For many families, the festival was a chance to get together with long-lost friends and family, often evidenced by children shrieking and running towards each other, arms extended, before grabbing hands and running off to play. But for some, it was an opportunity to feel closer to home during a holiday meant to be spent with family.

Ji Hyun, who lives in San Jose, said that he made the drive to come to the event with his family — all of whom were wearing matching Jelly Belly shirts from a recent trip to the Jelly Belly factory — to experience a slice of where he came from, Korea, in his new home, the Bay Area.

“We’re Korean, and it’s too far to go back to visit family in Korea,” he said, smiling as he watched as his daughter Ellie, 6, played with a pink toy she had just gotten. “But this is great. We love it. I think she especially loves it.”