An Excuse to Talk: Culture, Coffee, and Pinggyego

When wanting to know about different cultures, there are many available entry points: movies, series, interviews, songs, documentaries, food, etc. These formats are useful as they organize the cultural nuances into defined themes and concepts, in order to make it flow more easily and be understandable.

These shows are made for entertainment, not to explain culture. As a result, cultural insight often appears in structured segments that feel more like a topic being taught than everyday life being lived.

This is exactly where Pinggyego stands out to me.

It does not place itself as educational content, nor is it intended to teach/explain anyone/anything; yet, it often offers cultural insight in a more natural and immediate way.

WHAT IS PINGGYEGO (핑계고)?

Pinggyego (Just an Excuse) is a popular South Korean YouTube talk show hosted by comedian Yoo Jae-suk on the "DdeunDdeun" channel. Built around informal gatherings rather than structured interviews, the episodes do not follow a fixed format, topic list, or agenda. Participants come together under loose premises—often framed as meeting “because of an excuse”—and conversations are allowed to unfold without a predefined direction or outcome.

Pinggyego Official Poster (YouTube)

There is no visible emphasis on promotion, scripted questioning, or time-bound discussion. Episodes are shaped by shared meals, casual seating, everyday settings, and conversations that move freely across subjects. Rather than describing culture, Pinggyego allows it to surface naturally through ordinary conversation—through what people choose to talk about, how they speak, and what they leave unexplained.

Learning as an Excuse

What makes Pinggyego particularly valuable for cultural understanding is that learning happens unintentionally. Episodes are not framed as informative or instructional, yet viewers repeatedly encounter insights into everyday Korean life.

Through unplanned conversation, participants speak about social habits, food routines, money-related decisions, work experiences, and personal values. These topics are not introduced as lessons. They appear because they are part of daily life and are discussed in the way people would speak among acquaintances rather than for an audience.

As a result, Pinggyego feels less like content designed to inform and more like a space where viewers are quietly allowed to listen in.

Structure as an Excuse

Much of what can be learned from Pinggyego comes from observation rather than explicit dialogue. Participants eat during conversations, drink coffee or other beverages, sit on the floor, interrupt each other comfortably, and allow silences to exist without urgency.

Episodes that include trips or countryside stays extend this further. Watching people travel together, rest, eat, and talk without a defined purpose provides insight into everyday social rhythms that are rarely captured in structured formats.

These moments do not explain cultural behavior.

They show it consistently and repeatedly.

Profession as an Excuse

Another reason Pinggyego functions as a cultural “treasure chest” is the diversity of people who appear on it. Across episodes, viewers encounter comedians, actors, singers, writers, filmmakers, athletes, and individuals from other professional backgrounds.

Because the format does not separate participants by role or status, viewers are exposed to how different people reflect on similar experiences—work, uncertainty, success, failure, routine—using their own language and reference points.

This creates a layered understanding of Korean society built from lived experience rather than categorization.

Actors, Singers, Comedians, Models seen at Pinggyego (Youtube, Ep. 95)

History as an Excuse

Many conversations in Pinggyego move naturally toward the past. Participants recall earlier stages of their careers, older working environments, and social norms that have shifted over time.

These recollections are not framed as historical explanations. They surface organically, often triggered by shared memories or casual remarks. As a result, viewers gain insight into social and generational change without being placed in a formal learning framework.

History, here, is spoken rather than narrated.

Familiarity as an Excuse

The conversational ease visible in Pinggyego is supported by familiarity within the space. The presence of Yoo Jae-suk, who is widely recognized, contributes to an environment where participants appear comfortable speaking without formal self-positioning.

Importantly, the focus remains on conversation rather than the host. Topics are not strongly driven or redirected. Discussions arise, pause, and dissolve in ways that resemble informal social interaction rather than guided dialogue.

This atmosphere allows experiences to be shared without performance.

Yoo Jae-Suk and Pinggyego Awards 2025 (YouTube)

Teaching as an Excuse

Pinggyego does not attempt to explain Korean culture or translate behavior for external audiences. Instead, it allows viewers to observe how people interact when shared understanding is assumed.

Viewers learn by noticing what is treated as obvious, what remains unsaid, what draws collective laughter, and how agreement or disagreement is expressed. Cultural meaning emerges through tone, pacing, and interaction rather than explanation.

This makes Pinggyego a particularly natural way to encounter Korea through Korean voices themselves.

Public Image as an Excuse

Alongside cultural insight, Pinggyego offers an additional layer of understanding. Removing interview framing and promotional pressure, it allows public figures to appear as individuals shaped by routine, memory, and shared experience.

This does not replace their public image, but it adds depth to it. Viewers come away with a more grounded sense of people they may already be familiar with, without that familiarity being the primary focus.

Resource, is NOT an Excuse

Pinggyego does not present itself as a cultural archive, yet it functions as one. Through casual conversation, it captures how Korean culture is spoken, remembered, and lived in ordinary moments.

For those interested in understanding Korea through a Korean lens, it offers a natural, informal, and deeply human point of entry—one that teaches without ever announcing that it is doing so.

Sometimes, the most valuable cultural insights are not delivered directly. They are found in conversations that were never meant to teach.

~Hiyaa Upadhhyay