181 global Korean learners converge for Sejong Institute contest ahead of Hangeul Day

Amira Kamal Mohamed spent a decade studying Korean in Cairo, watching her shyness dissolve as the language opened new channels for emotion. Arabic gave her "sad" and "happy." Korean gave her dozens of ways to say each one, textures and gradations that let her speak herself into being. She wanted to become an interpreter. On a Wednesday in October, she sat in a hotel ballroom in Hwaseong, Gyeonggi Province, watching twenty finalists compete in speaking and writing contests organized by the King Sejong Institute Foundation. She was one of 181 learners who had traveled from 71 countries to be there.

The gathering arrived two days before the hundredth anniversary of Hangeul Day, the celebration of Korea's alphabet. It was a moment to take stock of how thoroughly Korean language had traveled the world. Most of the people in that room had found their way to Korean the same way: through K-pop, through K-dramas, through the cultural products that had become global currency. Mohamed had started with EXO, a boy band. Jeanne Perreault, who works at the Superior Court of Quebec, had begun listening to K-pop around 2019 and taught herself Korean in her spare time. But both women had discovered something the initial spark could not sustain alone. The language itself had become the thing. Perreault enrolled at King Sejong Institute Montreal in 2024 to sharpen her speaking skills. Her teacher gave her a bilingual poetry collection. Reading it in both languages felt like proof that she had actually changed.

The competition had drawn staggering numbers. The speaking category received 284 applications for each of the nine finalist spots. The writing category drew 105 applicants per finalist position. These were not casual learners. The finalists came from Vietnam, Egypt, Tajikistan, Colombia, Kyrgyzstan, India, Hungary, Ecuador, Cuba, Uzbekistan, and Iran. On Wednesday afternoon, they gathered under a single theme: "Korea in My Heart." Eleven writers, dressed in the robes of Joseon-era scholars, composed essays. Vietnam sent the largest delegation, with four finalists in the writing competition alone.

The speakers went first in the afternoon session. Nine finalists, each given five minutes and a question from the judges, took the theme in different directions. One described Korea as an unfinished letter, written in songs and drama scenes, that she had kept returning to as her dreams grew larger. Another spoke of how learning the language had led her to unexpected friendships, to people she now studied alongside. Marjan Haghi of Iran won the grand prize for speaking. Sara Larenas Guerrero of Ecuador received the excellence award. In writing, Nguyen Bao Chau of Vietnam took the top honor, and Mariam Khalid of Egypt won excellence.

The contest was part of a larger program. The King Sejong Institute Foundation had brought a record 357 participants to Korea in 2026. The 181 institute learners were joined by 176 others, including winners of the Korean Culture Contest. They would spend time in Seoul and Gyeonggi Province across two separate visits. On Thursday, the speaking finalists would share their experiences at Hangeul Hanmadang, an event hosted by the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism. On Friday and again on October 29, participants would tour Gyeongbok Palace in hanbok, Korea's traditional dress. The foundation had commissioned roughly 360 outfits, selected by Lee Jin-hee, a professor at Korea National University of Arts who had worked as a costume director on Korean films and television.

Perreault was visiting Korea for the first time. The palace tour was what she wanted most. For Mohamed, simply being in the country felt like stepping inside the dramas she had watched. She had studied Korean for ten years without ever believing she would actually arrive here. What she wanted now was simple: an evening by the Han River, eating instant noodles and delivery food like someone who belonged.