Caveat: 오블리비어스

If only the real world had hyperlinks in it.

Today was a day off from work. I spent time hanging out with my neighbor in my building, Basil. A Palestinian-Canadian-American, he’s an interesting character. And, as of last week, a coworker – one of those “small world” things, I guess. I’d been a passing acquaintance of his since we had met each other walking around one time, and realized we were next door neighbors in our building.  But now that we’re coworkers and nearby deskmates, we have more in common. So we talked for a while and hung out, and went into Seoul together, and had lunch/dinner at a middle eastern restaurant in Itaewon called Dubai. It was pretty good food, too.

But actually what I wanted to write about was the odd subway ride home. The subway was crowded, and so I stood in a corner of the subway car, and, per my usual habit, my eyes tried to find fragments of Korean to attempt to decipher. Obviously, I realize it’s impolite to read over one’s shoulder, but sometimes I can’t resist, especially when I catch something in Korean that I can actually understand.

This one woman was sending and receiving rapid-fire text messages in Korean on her cell phone (all the while reading a Japanese novel), and I read several words that I recognized, and I began to follow little isolated chunks of the conversation. One word she used that caused me to wonder, was when I read, clearly, 외국인 (foreigner), and then, a few words on, some form of 있다 (there is). Which made me wonder, intertextually, if she was perhaps texting her friend about the fact that a foreigner was reading over her shoulder. This seems unlikely, in retrospect, but it was one of those coincidences that piqued my interest, I guess. So I kept watching, circumspectly.

And then I saw the word 오블리비어스. What is that?  Hm…. obeullibieoseu.  Aha!  Oblivious!  Konglish, I thought. I don’t know what it is.  I don’t think “oblivious” is a common Konglish term.  So I googled it.  Not right then, of course – although if I’d truly wanted to, I could have: my cellphone can surf the internet, if I pay exhorbitant rates. But the day is not far off when everyone will be able to google (or naver, or whatever comes next) anything they see, right as they see it. And then the real world will begin to grow hyperlinks.

But, meanwhile… I filed it away in my brain, and as soon as I got home, I googled it. And lo and behold, “Oblivious” is the title of a song by a Japanese musical  artist named Kalafina, who appears to be popular in Korea, at least as far as I can tell. So, “oblivious” is not so much Konglish as Japanglish-borrowed-to-Korean. This made sense, given the fact she was also reading a Japanese novel at the time. She was probably reporting to her friend via text message as to what she was listening to on her MP3 player.

pictureAnyway, I found this website/blog [UPDATE 2021-12-08: this link has rotted and I can find no replacement – sorry] dedicated to posting the lyrics of Japanese pop songs in both Japanese and Korean, and found something else intriguing that I’d never seen before – the use of hangeul (Korean writing system) to represent the Japenese language, somewhat like Konglish, of course. I wonder what this is called? Nihongeul?

Here on the left is a sample (the website was in “Flash,” which made cut-n-paste difficult, so this is a screenshot instead). Each lyric line is given 3 times.  The first line (purple) is Japanese.  The second line (grey) is Japanese-in-hangeul. The third is a Korean translation. Isn’t that cool?  Hmm… most of you are shaking your heads–what a language-geek!

In any event, it turns out that I really like that song by Kalafina, “Oblivious” – I’m listening to it for the third time since I discovered it. Kind of chanty and new-agey, maybe, but not bad, for JPop. And I discovered it solely because I “clicked a random hyperlink” that I happened to see while looking over a woman’s shoulder in the subway. It feels like the future, today.

[UPDATE 2021-12-08: I’ve noticed this is a very popular post for random visitors from the wider internet – probably being found via google or some other search engine. For 2021, it’s my single most visited page in this blog. So, for my visitors’ convenience, here is a link to the actual song: カラフィナ – Oblivious.]

-Notes for Korean-
너무=too much, excessively
냉채=cold mixed vegetables (basically, korean salad?)
냉-=iced, chilled, cold
쓰디쓰다=extremely bitter
뭔데?=”what is it?” (…more of that problematic -ㄴ데 ending thingy that the grammar books are so unhelpful on–perhaps it’s highly informal/idiomatic?)
오피스텔=apartment (this is actually from English, but via Japanese, I think.  literally office-tel… as in office-hotel.  cf. 아파트=apateu:  The semantic fields work differently, 오피스텔 is the name of the individual unit in the building, 아파트 is the name of the entire building, if it’s strictly residential.  To the extent the former is used at all in English, the semantic fields are exactly reversed)
사실은 나 그 애를 많이 좋아했었거든=”actually, I liked her alot” (truth-TOPIC I that kid-OBJECT much like-do-PASTPERFECT-SUPPOSITION)
context:  movie titles (burning CDs to make room on my harddrive)
장화, 홍련 = rose flower, red lotus = “A Tale of two sisters”
광식이 동생 광태 = Gwangshik’s Little Brother Gwangtae=”When Romance Meets Destiny”
간큰 가족 = “A bold family”
context:  words
가족=family
가장=extremely, most
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Caveat: 곰 세마리가

“Gom semariga” (three bears) is a ubiquitous children’s song that appears to be derived from the tale of the three bears – whether from a native Korean version or a Koreanized version of the western folktale, I’m not sure.  The song is very simple and seems to have the typical melodic “hook” that’s found in children’s songs, that can cause them to insinuate themselves into your unconscious.
I was exposed to it because of watching the drama Pulhauseu, where it recurs as a leitmotif around the on-and-off relationship between the contractually-married couple Han Ji-eun and I Yeong-jae, and with her in-laws (his parents), where the grandmother refers to her as “Three-bear” because of this song.
Anyway, it’s just a cute little song, I guess.  Here are two non-Pulhauseu, cartoon renditions of it that I found on Youtube:
https://kr.youtube.com/watch?v=jYtoBRHXFJI [broken]

And here is an excerpt of various performances of the song as it occurs in the drama:

https://kr.youtube.com/watch?v=PkmE9SejiUk [broken]
[Update 2013-06-09: two of the youtube links were broken. I’ve replaced two links with embeds]
This includes Ji-eun’s initial, awkward performance, and a later hilarious part where Yeong-jae sings it in an “American accent,” apparently spoofing the fact that there seems to be a vogue among American teenagers who are fans of Korean dramas for singing this song and posting it on the interweb.
Here are the lyrics:
곰 세마리가 한집에있어
아빠곰 엄마곰 애기곰.
아빠곰은 뚱뚱해
엄마곰은 날씬해
애기곰은 너무귀여워
으쓱으쓱 자란다…
-more Notes for Korean-
context:  eavesdropping on a coworker’s telephone conversation
If somebody ends a sentence with -ㄴ데요, what does this mean?  For example, the copula (be-verb) 인데요.  Or perhaps I misheard it.
A grammar index in my Integrated Korean textbook (the one from my Univ. of Minnesota course) says that -ㄴ데요 is a “polite avoidance of refusal,” but then points to a chapter of the book in volume two, which I don’t own.  So I can’t look at any examples to make sense of the ending.  My Korean Grammar for International Learners tells me that -ㄴ데 is a connective ending (meaning it can’t end a sentence), and states, “it is useful to think of this anding as a sort of verbal semi-colon or m-dash, providing a loose linkage between two clauses” (p. 264).  But they make no mention of a sentence-final version with -요 added.
우산=umbrella

Caveat: comander-in-chief.com

pictureAn article in the LA Times (online) about Sean Tevis was intriguing.  It’s showing how the new, Obama-style of internet-based fundraising is beginning to impact local political races, in the reddest of red states, Kansas.  He’s using geek-speak and webcomics to transform the electoral process in a state legislative race. At right is a particularly funny excerpt from the comic on his website. I could borrow this diagram to explain how to survive in Korea as a westerner!
In fact, I’m not entirely unfamiliar with Olathe, KS… I’ve spent a little bit of time there. That area is basically a Marin County or Westchester County for red-staters (which is to say that Johnson County, KS, is one of the wealthiest counties in the country, but unlike most of the U.S.’s wealthiest counties, it’s about as red as red can get). So the fact that a democrat-leaning computer guy is using the internet to raise unexpected campaign cash, even there, is proof that this new mode of campaign finance is truly taking root, I guess.
Really, the credit belongs to Howard Dean, as I understand it. And various semi-counter-cultural computer types from Vermont and, of course, Silicon Valley. It was Dean, in the 2004 race, who first used the internet effectively in this way – and had it been the case that he’d managed to avoid the “Iowa Scream,” things could have developed Obama-style in that election.  But instead, Dean’s campaign self-destructed and the deanoids (including Dean himself, from his position running the DNC) are now the not-so-secret engines driving the internet-based fundraising juggernaut that is barackobama.com.  Hmm… I just had a thought. I said sometime back that Obama was going to be our Urkel-in-chief, but how about this: commander-in-chief.com? I wonder who might be squatting on that particular domain name.
In other news… The character Han Ji-eun in Full House is quite different from others I’ve seen, so far, in Korean dramas. Most of the characters (both male and female) in these shows seem to struggle with the same sorts of cultural-based communication taboos that I’ve confronted in my working environments–see my post of several days ago. In fact, it is the existance of these communication taboos that very often drive so many of the convolutions of plot and character development, where, just like in Baroque Spanish drama, the “misunderstanding” is the cultural apparatus behind all the great stories. But Han Ji-eun evolves to become amazingly straightforward in talking about her feelings and situation, which makes her a very sympathetic and appealing character to me.
Quote:
“Power begets more power, absolutely.”–Frank Rich, regarding Obama, in a recent editorial in NYT
-Notes for Korean-
context:  talking with my students about big numbers
억=100,000,000 (one hundred million)
context:  learning to use the grade-posting website at my new job
평가=evaluation
관리=management, admin
상담=consultation, talk
원생관리=(I haven’t got a clue what this means, dictionary not helping…
문제=theme, subject, question
풀이=explanation
표시=indication, manifestation (with a check box, …표시 means “show…” I think)
context:  reviewing old notes (from 7/1 – 7/14)
첫걸음 baby steps, first steps
첫 maiden, first time of something
걸음 walking, pace
정표 keepsake, memento, love token
걷기 fall into step, tip toe…
운동 movement, motion
인재채용 employment recruitment
눈싸움 a snowball fight
긴급 emergency
기상청 weather forecast
문화 culture, civ
겪다 undergo, experience, suffer
분야 sphere, realm
인간  mortal, human
인간계 the world of mortals
사신 (邪神) demon, false god
사신계  ?the world of demons (shinigami)
매일 daily
같이 like, similar to, same as, as usual, side by side
똑같다 alike, absolutely identical, exact image of
맞다 to be right
여행  travel, trip, voyage
돈 money, cash
여우 fox
암여우 vixen (female fox)
아이구 oh my! oh goodness!
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Caveat: Cicadas

Cicadas are singing loudly in the trees, now. It’s high summer: humid and hot, like the summer in Philadelphia or New York.
Here is a picture of a small part of a mountain as seen between some generic looking high rise apartment buildings. I took it when I was wandering around Seoul the other day.
picture
-Notes for Korean-
context:  episode 9 풀하우스:
해라=do it (again there’s that pesky intimate imperative that doesn’t seem to appear in any reference works)
곰곰이=musing over, considering carefully
이상(異常)=strangeness;oddity;abnormality… ―하다=(be) strange;queer;odd
so…
진짜 이상한 사람이야!=what a weirdo! (really strange-[DOING] person-[COPULA-INFORMAL])
…and from the transcript:
민혁; 그렇지만 한가지만 충고하자… 앞으론 흔들리지 말고 중심 잘 잡아… 그리고 나한테 빈틈 보이지마.
“Min-hyeok says:  still, let me give you some advice… from now on, don’t hesitate to get a grip on yourself…also, don’t underestimate me.”
I got interested in this piece of dialog was because of the translation of the second phrase:  “don’t hesitate to get a grip on yourself.”  It just sounds unnatural, so I decided to go out on a limb and make my own effort.  Here goes…
앞으론 흔들리지 말고 중심 잘 잡아
ab-eu-ron heum-deul-li-ji mal-go jung-sim jal jab-a
from now -[TOPIC] waver -[REVERSATIVE] don’t -[COORDINATIVE] center well hold -[INFORMAL]
“from now on, do not waver and stay centered”
I can’t really say I have much confidence in how I put that together, but it sounds better than the subtitle’s version, and conveys a roughly similar meaning.
words:
앞으로=from now on
중심=center
흔들리다=waver
말다=stop, do not
… more
왜 텔레비젼 광고 같은데 많이 나오잖아
“the way it is in television”
곰=bear
고민=worry, dilemma, trouble
이제=now, and now
이제 와요?=”so you’re home?”=now come?
context:  my refrigerator
마늘=garlic
국산=domestic (as in a product, opposed to imported)
context:  looking around
문법=grammar (lit writing-rules)
context:  that damn internet
설치=installation
삭제=cancel
context: a coworker
보신탕=dog meat soup (I never knew this… I know 개고기=dog meat)
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Caveat: Database Gurus Moaning in Dark Rooms

A recent business headline tells me that Microsoft is acquiring DATAllegro.  DATAllegro is a "Data Warehousing Appliance" vendor – which peripherally touches on some aspects of my last career.  I have a lot of lingering curiosity about the data warehousing industry, I guess.

It's not really surprising that MS is chasing and acquiring large data warehouse appliance vendors – just the press release makes clear that it's all about adding value to the SQL Server product line, and "scaling out" to be able to better satisfy the largest enterprise customers with SQL Server, where, currently, large enterprise customers are more likely to stick to Oracle, or find a niche-market provider (such as Netezza, Teradata, or DATAllegro).

Still, the fact that the acquisition is specifically DATAllegro is surprising – according to their website, DATAllegro is currently partnered with Ingres, which is an open-source database management platform.  Does that mean MS is going to be partnered with Ingres, now?  Or does it mean MS is now going to try to migrate DATAllegro's hardware/software appliances to their proprietary SQL Server?  I would assume the latter – but this causes me to visualize some extraordinarily miserable database gurus moaning in dark rooms, and much gnashing of teeth and pulling of hair.

I suppose that in the world of high-end specialized data warehouse appliances (which can run several hundred thousand dollars per terabyte of capacity), choices were limited for Microsoft's M&A guys.  But going out and acquiring a business such as DATAllegro, who is using an open-source competing product (Ingres), and running largely on Linux servers (another open-source competing product), strikes me as more of a preventive acquisition as opposed to a value-added one.  These are common enough in big business:  if you can't win in a given competitive market on the merits of your product, there's always the option of buying out the competition and mismanaging them into oblivion.

Hmm… Uh oh.  That's starting to sound like the introduction to another rant on my current employers, isn't it?  Sorry.

…and how is it that I end up hearing Bob Dylan singing "You Belong to Me" (in English, of course) in the soundtrack of episode 5 of 풀하우스?  It seems it's all about love quadrangles:  roughly, 영재 loves 혜원 loves 민혁 loves 지은 and around again…

-Notes for Korean-
잠깐만요=just a sec
걸다=hang, hook, suspend, talk to, start [an engine], call [on telephone] … clearly a very useful word.
거셨어요=[you've] called… note verb is irregular, drops -ㄹ…
그럼=well, surely … transition/filler word

Caveat: Sandinistas and Mad Scientist Girls

pictureI found an unexpected treasure of a book yesterday.  A book I’d meant to buy, once, some time ago, but then upon coming to Korea, I  had postponed it indefinitely and forgotten.  In the several shelves of Spanish language books at Kyobo, yesterday, there was sitting the first volume of Ernesto Cardenal‘s autobiography, Vida Perdida.
I was profoundly affected by the work of another Nicaraguan author, 20-something years ago:  La montaña es algo más que una inmensa estepa verde, by Omar Cabezas.  One of my “top 50” books, I would guess – though that list is always changing, isn’t it?  That was an autobiographical bildungsroman, covering Cabezas’ life as a Sandinista rebel in the epoch before the Nicaraguan revolution of 79 and the overthrow of Somoza.
So…
I had always struggled to appreciate the poetry of Cardenal (the poet-politician-priest, who was also a Sandinista, and in fact was later a minister in Ortega’s revolutionary government), and I have thought I would get more out of his prose, but had never had the opportunity to read it.
And there it was, published in Mexico, waiting forlornly to be purchased for only 22,000 원, in a Seoul bookstore. So, of course, I bought it. Vida Perdida, por Ernesto Cardenal. And started reading it.  It begins, not chronologially, but instead with his departure for a Trappist Monastery in Kentucky, having decided to become a priest. I’d forgotten about that – he went off to the same monastery that hosted Thomas Merton for so long.  Such a divergent life from Merton’s, though, despite the latter’s mentorship.
pictureIn other news, I finished the drama Delightful Girl.
Check out the girl with purple hair. A kid sat next to me on the subway and was reading this book, 프래니 (peuraeni = Frannie), about a Mad Scientist Girl. I remembered the title, I and navered it when I got home – it’s a translation of an English-language children’s book by Jim Benton, but the illustrations looked so extremely wonderful and entertaining.  Perhaps next time I hit a bookstore, I should buy this book and use it to try to work on my Korean some more – a children’s book would be about the right level, right?
-Notes for Korean-
context: Now I’ve started watching another drama, called 풀하우스 (pulhauseu=full house).  I find the attribution of its “hanja” name (according to the English wikipedia article) confusing:
浪漫满屋…
lemme try to analyze this:
[1浪][2漫][3满][4屋]
=[1랑][2만][3not in naver’s online hanja dictionary, but I found it here:만][4옥]
=[1물결][2흩어질][3그득][4집]
=[1?wave][2?scatter][3full][4house]
Is this truly a “hanja”?  Or is it simply a Chinese name for the show?  The proper Korean name of the drama is a Konglish term, and Konglishemes don’t have matching hanja, do they?  I’ll be the first to admit, my comprehension of the niceties of the hanja system is next to nil.
context:  dictionaryland and websites.
목록(目錄)=catalog, inventory
구동사=phrasal verb
명사=noun
형용(形容)=form, shape, appearance, description, metaphor
형용사=adjective
미리보기=preview (lit advance example)
다시보기=(lit again example)=?review?
가르치다=teach (I should know this)
말씀=language, talk
context:  thinking about what’s best.
최고=superlative, best
짱=best (slang.  perhaps mostly used by children–but don’t forget what you saw Ella and Stacey writing on the wall at school, that time)  (…a site for korean slang info)
context:  reading the script for episode 3 of 풀하우스, I’m seeing all kinds of reduplication words, which seem common and are interesting.
쓱쓱=easily, smoothly…
툭툭 치고=tapping…
씩씩=?smiling at each other? not sure what this is
잘 있어=take care (jarisseo=be well)
수목=tree
알았지?=understood?  got it? (This was exciting for me to understand, as I parsed it simply upon hearing it, without having seen the form in writing before… and then I was able to type it in–correctly spelled–and confirm that I’d indeed understood it).
context:  other random curiosities
문어=octopus
문어=literary expression
…wow – nice pair of homophones.  far out!
고기=meat, fish (and could I forget this?  It’s one of the few words I thought I’d retained from my first time in Korea, in 1991)
글월=letter, note, epistle
동물=animal, brute, creature
낙지=common octopus
발=foot, paw, arm
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Caveat: 빌코멘 오바마

I was riding the subway, and looking at a newspaper over a man’s shoulder. There was a big headline, that read “빌코멘 오바마” (bil-ko-men o-ba-ma). And there was a picture above the headline, that definitely gave away the second word – it was a certain popular American politician. The first word took a few more seconds to puzzle out.  But I’ll give a clue – that certain American politician was giving a speech in Germany. So, I’ll let you polyglots out there decipher what that first word is – it’s not Korean.
I decided to do some random exploring.  I got off the subway at 독립문 (Dongnimmun). I wandered around the neighborhood, with a vague idea of trying to go up over the mountain to the southwest, toward Sinchon past the Geumhwa tunnel, but the moutain didn’t appear to have footpaths over it – at least not from where I went.
picture
One odd thing I noticed was when I looked up at the Independence Gate (which is what 독립문=Dongnimmun means), and I saw written there, very clearly, 문립독=Munipdok… which is to say, the three hangeul glyphs are in reverse order!  Why does the gate have its name written backwards, on it?  I have two speculations.  First, it’s because I was looking “out of” the gate – I was standing to the east of it, meaning closer to downtown, and the gate was on the western side of the old city, so, the side I was looking at was the “inside.”  So maybe the name was written backwards to match up with what was written on the other side?  The other speculation is that maybe it has to do with Chinese word order?  I couldn’t find a solution to the mystery through any googlings.  Anyway, I took a picture of the gate, but the backward hangeul at the top of the arch doesn’t show up very well – the resolution wasn’t good enough on my phone’s camera, I guess.
I got on a bus randomly, and it did in fact take me toward Sinchon.  But in the meantime I’d lost interest in trying to get to Sinchon, and had become fixated on making my weekly visit to a major bookstore.  So I got off the bus when I saw a station on the number 5 subway line, and rode it two stops to Gwanghwamun, where there’s a big Kyobo bookstore.  Too big – I like the one in Gangnam better.  This one was a freakin zoo, it was so crowded.  Maybe it was because of the rain.  I bought a few magazines and one book, and left much more quickly than I normally do.
I have spent some time messing around on naver.com, trying to become more comfortable and proficient navigating the internet in Korean.  I found a great posting (in English) that someone did on the basics of how to use naver.com, Korea’s number one internet portal.  In any event, I can now proudly say that I have a Korean email address – to go with all my other email addresses!  It is jaredway [at] naver.com.
-Notes for Korean-
context:  surfing naver.com
만들다=make, create, so… 만들기=[a button on a website, “create!”]
…and therefore, “하느님께서 태초에 천지를 만드셨다” “in the beginning, God created heaven and earth.”
On seeing this, I got curious about the Korean word for God.  There are two words which have different origins but are (in)conveniently quite similar in pronunciation (which creates confusion and/or clarity depending on one’s attitude towards semantic ambiguity, right?):
하느님(haneunim)=god as a traditional “lord in heaven” and mentioned even in pre-Christian Korean literature, and, e.g., the Korean national anthem.  It comes from 하늘(haneul)=heaven, sky… hence, “sky guy [honorific]”
하나님(hananim)=a capitalized, monotheistic God, “number one guy [honorific]”

성격=personality, type
열린=open, unlocked
닫힌=closed… from 닫히다=close, shut
숨은=hidden… from 숨다=hide

분류=classification
생활=livelihood, lifestyle
생활하다=live, subsist
-점(店)=a store;a shop
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Caveat: Parsimony. Then, more 쾌걸

I got home from work. Feeling very gloomy. LBridge made me pay for my visa “revision” (including 40 bucks for the medical checkup, the 30 bucks to the U.S. embassy, 10 bucks for the online “no criminal background” paper, 60 bucks for Korean immigration office). The last time we had to submit a revision, when LinguaForum took over my contract, they paid for it.  Which is logical – after all, it was the fact of the take-over that meant the revision had to be done at all.  If there had been no take-over, there would have been no visa revision fees and expenses, right?  Why should I be paying these expenses that have arisen solely because of the corporate comings and goings of my employers?  Well… the simple answer is, there’s nothing in the contract that says they have to pay for it, of course.
And when I said I needed some supplies for my desk, Sarah, my “team” supervisor, said, oh, I needed to go buy them. Again – supplies at the last two hagwon were something that the office managers would offer to buy.
It’s not that I’m being in the least parsimonious… I have spent hundreds of dollars of my own money to supplement my teaching work:  I have bought supplementary books, supplies that I didn’t feel justified asking for from my bosses, treats, food and gifts for my students, etc.  And I begrudge absolutely none of it.  Because in all those instances, what my bosses would say is… oh, you shouldn’t spend your own money.  Now, it’s the opposite – they’re saying to me, up front:  you should spend your own money.  They’re being cheap and miserly.  Maybe that’s why they’re big and successful.  But it makes them unpleasant to work for.
I screwed up today, too.  I had miscopied my schedule from Sarah, and the consequence was that an odd quirk in the Friday schedule didn’t get transfered to my version of it.  And so I failed to show up for a class I was supposed to teach, because I had it written down for a later hour.  It was entirely my own fault, and I feel guilty about it – the kids sat for 20 minutes with no teacher, while the front desk tried to figure out who was supposed to be in there.  I can’t even blame the problem on the “lack of communication” issue that has been so bothering me.  Sucks.
I came home and made some pasta with curried vegetables for myself, and I have been watching my drama.  In episode 16 of 쾌걸춘향, 이몽룡 says to 성춘향, “Boy, time flew by as if you were in some TV drama.”  I listened to this quote over and over trying to parse the Korean, but finally I broke down and found the transcript for the episode online, and the line is:  “인생이 참, 믿기 힘들 게 드라마 같이 흘렀다.”
I will swear, that Mong-ryong is very much eliding the fourth-from-last syllable of the phrase (which should be 티=ti, based on liaison rules), essentially eliminating it, but then palatalizing the /tʰ/ into /ʧʰ/ as a sort of a trace of the elided /i/, so that instead of 같이 흘렀다 he’s saying 가츨렀다.  This makes perfect sense, phonologically, but I’d be willing to bet that Koreans will swear to you up and down that they never do such a thing in their language.  Psychologically, internal representations of language are heavily influenced what we are told is “correct” in school and social settings, of course.  And it makes it damn hard to parse, aurally, since that word that’s getting mangled, 같이=”as if” (roughly – it’s a verbish thing that means “like that”), is critical to making sense of the phrase.
Anyway, apparently, according to some things I found online, there are all kinds of clever intertextual things going on in this scene.  성춘향 is making up a story about her past several years (which have elapsed since the last episode), and the made-up scenes are showing in flashback form as she tells them – but they’re all references and recapitulations of important plot points and scenes from other popular Korean television dramas.  So at this point, when 이몽룡 says this above quote as a reaction, the typical Korean drama watcher is going to burst out laughing – at least if they have any capicity for Cervantine irony whatsoever.
-Notes for Korean-
흘렀다=[time] elapsed<=흐르다=elapse, trickle, run down + [PAST marker]
드라마=drama
Later in the same episode, repeatedly:  잘가라=”take care” lit. go well, farewell… the ending -라 (as such) isn’t in my reference grammar, which is kind of annoying, but I’m assuming it’s some kind of intimate imperative
제-(第)=number, [ordinalizing ending, as in -th in English]
회=installment, episode… hence 제16회=episode 16
context: surfing the korean dictionary
푸르다=blue
풀다=solve, work out, answer
설명=explanation, illustration (說明)
설명하다=explain, illustrate
-도(圖)=a chart, a plan, a picture
-공(工)=worker, mechanic
context:  surfing the internet in Korean
연결=connection, linking
생산=production
활발하다=lively, brisk, vivacious
아름답다=beautiful, lovely (irregular, cf 아름다운 with that adnominal ending thingy)
푸른=blue
자연=nature
여러=diverse, many
-분=esteemed person
so 여러분=ladies and gentlemen
초대=invitation
so 초대하다=invite
제로=zero
context:  surfing the dictionary
북부=southern part
남부=northern part
-부=part (cf also 1부, 2부 as part of the school’s published class schedule)
the confusing word 주:
주(州)=a state(미국의);a county(영국의);a province(캐나다의)
주(株)=stock, share (this is how Koreans write “inc.”, too)
주(主)=owner; proprietor; master, lord
주(洲)=river delta; continent
주(朱)=vermilion;Chinese red color
주(週)=a week
주(註·注)=annotation, footnote
주(駐)=resident, stationed in
주(酒)=liquor, wine, alcoholic drink
이에=hereupon, hence, accordingly
그이의 딸=that man’s daughter
용어(用語)=terminology (hanja lit. use-language)

Caveat: “Notes for Korean”

Over the last month, I’ve been trying to get more serious and disciplined about my study of Korean.  I have begun to keep little computerized notes, every single day, of interesting or useful vocabulary items, phrases, and things like that.  But I’ve reached a point where I have compiled enough of these that they’re becoming difficult to keep organized;  more importantly, I sometimes go looking for something I know that I put into a note, and cannot find it.  Also, some of these things are things I would love to have found by searching online, in the same way that I have found other similar things.
Because of all of that, I have decided that it might be useful to post these daily notes and observations about Korean as a kind of footnote to each day’s blog entry.  This will make them searchable by not just me but by anyone – although it won’t improve their level of organization.  But with google, who needs organization? – just let the spiders crawl around and find it, right?
So, starting today, I will include a little, disorganized spattering of notes somewhere in each blog entry.  Most of my regular readers (how many are there, really? 3?  2?) will not have much use for this, but they’re mostly going to be there just for myself, as it’s a convenient and logical place to put them – I’ll be able to access them anytime I need, and I’ll be able to search them, too.  Further, by compiling them I’m helping myself to remember them, and I can express my joy at trying to make sense of this fascinating yet difficult language.
-Notes for Korean-
context:  my cellphone’s “phrase of the day”:  식품 매장이 몇 층에 있는지 알려주실 수 있습니까?
매장 =department, floor (as in a dept store), store
so:  식품 매장=food floor, food court
and: 알리다=know, tell, inform, notify
context:  episode 13 of 쾌걸춘향, 춘향 says to 몽룡, “금해애애!” (approximately) = “stop thaaaat”
금하다 =refrain, prohibit, or (idiomatically) stop doing something
In researching this online, I also found an interesting double negative:
…-ㅁ을 금할 수 없어요 = [I] can not stop myself from …
context:  deciphering instructions in a student textbook
풀이 =explanation, clarification
찾다= seek, search for, spot
발견 =discovery, revelation
발견하다=find, discover
context:  conversation of words with a coworker
나륵풀=basil (the herb)
풀=grass, herb, plant, pasturage, weed
context:  trying to figure out instructions on a korean website
지나다=pass, spend, elapse… etc. (I should know this – it’s lesson 1 in most Korean-as-a-foreign-language textbooks!)
사용=use, employment, appropriation
복사=reproduction, copy
주소=address
똑=exactly, precisely
소리=noise, sound, talk, word
끝=end, conclusion
처음=first, beginning, start, cf. 첫
도우미=helper, wizard (in computers)
정보=information, report
닫다=close (close button says 닫기)
당신=a special word meaning “you” (I should know this)
context:  vocab words for “blue” class
discover (v)=발견하다
energy=정력, 에너지
forecast=예보
shed (v)=벗다
source (n)=원천
stay (v)=머무르다
put on (v)=입다
until=-까지 (nominal ending)
spot (v)=발견하다, 찾다
always=항상
have seen / haven’t seen=본적 있는 / 본적이 없는
Meanwhile, in other pursuits… I rediscovered a Portuguese poet named Fernando Pessoa, who apparently wrote criticisms of his own poetry under alternate pseudonyms (heteronyms). This is interesting, cf. Borges. I vaguely recall running across him before, but, if so, I completely forgot him.  I was reading the Portuguese-language wikipedia article about him, just to entertain my linguistic fancy, I guess – keeping myself challenged, and all that.  And under the Spanish-language article on him, I found the following pithy observation about Pessoa by Octavio Paz:  “nada en su vida es sorprendente, nada excepto sus poemas” (nothing in his life is surprising, nothing except his poetry).

Quote of the day:
Tenho o dever de me fechar em casa no meu espírito e trabalhar quanto possa e em tudo quanto possa, para o progresso da civilização e o alargamento da consciência da humanidade.” – Fernando Pessoa

picturePessoa is perhaps best known in the English-speaking world for his last words:  “I know not what tomorrow may bring.” I’m sure others may have said these words as their last, too, but he’s the one to whom the quote is generally attributed. It’s notable that he, in fact, wrote them rather than speaking them, as he was unable to speak at the time. And it’s also worth noting that they were in English, not Portuguese, since English was a second native language for him, because he’d spent much of his childhood in South Africa.
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Caveat: 얘들아 깝치지마

I finally figured out the ending –지마: it means don’t [imperative]. It coalesced last night, as I was walking home, and I overheard two small boys playing, they were jumping off of a low wall along the footpath. One of them said to the other “하지마” (hajima – don’t do that). I have been familiar with this as a set phrase, but I had never successfully parsed it before into its component parts: ha [the verb to do] + ji [a verb-ending conveying conjecture or insistence] + ma [I think this is an informal intimate form of the verb 말다, meaning stop or cease]. So, at last I figured out that you can put –지마 (or the more formal –지마세요) onto any verb, in order to say don’t do X.

And the reason this finally clicked, for me, was because of another expression I’d learned yesterday from my students, and had been puzzling out: 얘들아 깝치지마 (yaedeura kkapchijima), which roughly means “you kids, stop being so obnoxious,” but the phrase is extremely informal, basically rude if not downright vulgar – so maybe a good idiomatic translation might be “y’all need to shut the hell up” (which is how an Army sergeant I once had used to introduce himself whenever he walked into a room, as a kind of signature phrase, and it was particularly humorous because he would say that, first thing, even when entering a room that was utterly silent).

Yesterday, I also found a great resource for learning abstruse tidbits of Korean language from a foreigner’s perspective: there’s a guy who’s been blogging (in English) his in-depth explorations of Korean for years now, at Korean Language Notes. He has a pretty academic orientation (which I find appealing given my own tendencies). I spent several hours surfing through old posts, though I’m at too elementary a level to understand all but some fragments of it.

I also successfully made use of naver.com’s Korean-Korean dictionary for the first time, which feels like a landmark of sorts – the ability to look up a word in Korean, and comprehend what it says about that word, in Korean. It’s a trivial step, but it felt like progress.

Caveat: Lyric Babel

One thing I have been doing to improve my Korean is downloading Korean pop music (mostly pretty randomly, and not very focused on whether I like it or not), then finding the lyrics so I can try to learn to sing along a little bit.  Here is a fragment of the first song I grabbed that way, some months ago, and then forgot about.

나를 불렀던 똑같은 호칭으로 그 사람을 부르고
내가 널 데려 간 곳들을 그 사람 손잡고
마치 처음가보는 사람처럼 설레이는 척하며
모든 게 나와 함께했던 소중한 추억들인데
그 사람과 다시하면 다 지워질텐데
우리추억들을 왜 지우는데 왜왜

Nareul bulleottteon ttokkkateun hochingeuro geu sarameul bureugo
naega neol deryeo gan gottteureul geu saram sonjapkko
machi cheo-eumgaboneun saramcheoreom seolle-ineun cheokhamyeo
modeun ge nawa hamkkehaettteon sojunghan chu-eoktteurinde
geu saramgwa dashihamyeon da jiweojiltende
urichu-eokttereul wae ji-uneunde waewae

[Calling at him as if you were calling me
Holding his hands at those places where I hold yours
You seem so excited as if it’s your first time
The precious memories you’ve had with me
You’ve wiped them all away
While creating a new one with him
Why do you want to wipe away our memories?
Why? Why?]

The artist is Rain (Bi) [Bi=Rain in Korean], the song is called "In my bed."  Lyrics, romanization and translation courtesy various random websites.  It's an effort, anyway.

Caveat: 어린왕자

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Sometime back I bought Le Petit Prince, in a trilingual edition. Recently I’ve been trying to read little bits of it – the Korean part.  It’s fun to do that with a text as familiar as this one is. I was talking about it with someone at work the other day, and realized that the book has the peculiar distinction of being the book I’ve read (or tried to read) in the most different languages. I even remember once trying to decipher the Arabic version, though I made very little progress. I love the story.
The story starts, “나는 여섯 살 때에” (na-neun yeo-seot sal ttae-e) => I-[TOPIC] six [YEAR-COUNTER] time-[AT] => at the time I was six years old…
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Caveat: Reading Some “Found Korean”

One thing I often do is try to decipher the "found Korean" in my environs.  I randomly look at signs, graffiti, etc., for phrases or words I'm curious about, and fiddle them into the dictionary in my cell phone to find out what they mean, to try to make sense of them. 

In the stairway of my building as I came home tonight, I found a scattering of abandoned business cards for a Buddhist 도사 (do-sa, teacher).  I brought one of the cards home and decided to read it.  A bit more challenging than just words on a sign.  Here's what I came up with – and the translations are tentative and in no way authoritative.

내 운명은 내가 알아야 성공할수 있다!
nae un-myeong-eun nae-ga ar-a-ya seong-gong-hal-su iss-da
My fate-TOPIC I-SUBJECT know-NECESSITY take-on-ABILITY there-is
I must know my fate in order to take it on.
"사주팔자"는 바꿀수 없어도 운명은 바꿀수 있다.
sa-ju-pal-ja-neun ba-kkul-su eops-eo-do un-myeong-eun ba-kkul-su iss-da
"Destiny"-TOPIC change-ABILITY there-isn't-ALSO fate-TOPIC change-ABILITY there-is
"Destiny" cannot be changed yet fate can be changed.

These are very Buddhist-sounding aphorisms, which leads me to think I'm at least on the right track as far as making sense of them.

There's probably something going on with the different vocabulary items indicating destiny, e.g. 사주팔자 (hanja:四柱八字) vs 운명 (hanja:運命).  Naver.com tells me that the former refers to the Four Pillars and Eight Characters (which is the day and time of one's birth, hence, via astrological notions, one's destiny), while the latter is just basic fate or fortune.   So with that understanding, it's saying that although obviously we cannot change the date and time of our birth (and hence, we cannot mess with the "stars" that shape our lives), we nevertheless control our fate.  The whole free will problem, right?

Who knows?  It's fun to try figuring it out, anyway.

Caveat: Crazy about Crazy

The Korean word for “crazy” is “미친” (mi-chin).
When we say someone or something is crazy, in English, there’s not really a value judgment involved – at least, it’s not a very strong one. Being a child of the 60’s, myself, I would go so far as to say that there are plenty of times when the word “crazy” can be used to mean something almost complementary. As when you’re sitting, reminiscing with friends, and someone says, “those sure were crazy times.”
But if you say someone is “michin” in Korean, it’s a grave insult – at least on the level of “son of a bitch” according to some of my students, if not a great deal worse.  There’s a great deal of cultural anxiety about craziness, here. And this got me to thinking about the issue with the madness about mad cow disease and the national paranoia over American beef imports.
Perhaps the real problem is the name of the disease. If it were only ever called Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (BSE), would anyone care about it, in its extreme rarity?  Did the British name the disease unpropitiously? Are Koreans going crazy and rioting in the streets because of a crazy fear of craziness and of a crazily named disease?
What might Foucault have to say about that? And how might this national anxiety about craziness impact the reception of a text such as Don Quijote? Maybe I should research this – I saw a Korean language edition of DQ on sale at Kyobo the last time I was there.  Maybe I’ll pick it up, and try to decipher clues to its reception.  Ha… as if my Korean were even close to being up to the task. But it’s an interesting question, I think.
Here’s a coworker at the hagwon. He remains nameless.
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Caveat: 변기 물이 새요

I have a maintenance problem in my apartment: “변기 물이 새요” (beongi muri saeyo = toilet water-SUBJECT leak-POLITE = the toilet leaks).
So there’s this guy here fixing it – hopefully. I hate how tongue-tied I can get, trying to speak. For example, I know very well what my apartment number is. But when I was at the doorman’s desk reporting my problem just now, I was utterly incapable of saying a simple o-i-sam (five-two-three).
Brain malfunction. The guy was clearly puzzled, as I’d just managed a more or less fluent sentence explaining that my apartment had a leaking toilet, and then I couldn’t tell him what my apartment number was (which is presumably a much simpler bit of Korean). Argh.
The offending device:
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Caveat: Verbcastles

Allegedly, the Korean language has no relative pronouns.  So how do they phrasally modify a noun?  They do this cool thing whereby they can nominalize a verb (and all its accompanying baggage, subject, object, etc.) and make it the object or subject of another verb.  And this can pile up:  a nominalized verb phrase functioning as the subject of another verb, which in turn is nominalized and made the subject of another, etc., ad infinitum.
I won’t even dare to try to show an example – I don’t want to embarrass myself by publishing mutilated Korean.  But it’s mind-boggling complex and yet syntactically elegant.  We can do it in English, within certain limits, but our natural Subject-Verb-Object word order makes it difficult to enchain indefinitely, while Korean’s Subject-Object-Verb order means the structures can nest comfortably.   Maybe I can try to conjure some reliable and concrete examples.

Meanwhile, I have been contemplating sandcastles, and found this old picture of a sandcastle Jeffrey (my stepson), Andrew (my brother) and I built on a Santa Monica beach in 1994.

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Think of them as complex syntactical objects made of sand.
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Caveat: 응!

I’m reaching a kind of landmark with my time in Korea.
Cumulatively, I have now spent more time living in Korea than I did in Mexico.  And I wonder at the fact that my Korean is still so bad.  Well, not really – there are clearly reasons my Spanish improved so fast when I lived in Mexico, that haven’t applied in this situation.  I was much more immersed when I was in Mexico.
That year I spent here in Korea while I was in the Army was the opposite of immersion – my exposure to the language was minimal and my opportunities to study it virtually non-existent.  And since I’ve been here this time, my work environment does not provide me with the opportunities I had when in Mexico.  Then there’s the issue of the fact that a 20 year old brain is going to perhaps acquire language more efficiently than a 40 year old brain.
Yesterday I was learning the words 법 (beop) and 법률 (beomryul), both of which mean “law” in slightly different ways (one is a derivative of the other, and they relate semantically a little bit like the law/legal pair in English, I think).
But it wasn’t the meanings that threw me, but rather the fact that I still haven’t wrapped my mind around the allophonic (pronunciation) rule that says that in a syllable ending in -/p/ followed by a syllable beginning in /r/-, the -/p/ changes to a -/m/.  I understand it phonologically – it follows well-documented, similar patterns found in many languages.  It’s just hard to remember to do it.  And if I forget to do it, the Korean listening to my speaking ends up hearing gobbledygook.
I did sort of work out a cute little aphorism for describing some essential, stereotypical difference between English and Korean pronunciation.  As many know, in English, our “default” sound is a kind of very relaxed schwa sound that leaves the lips relaxed and slightly rounded – that “gaping uh” sound.  Further, English has a lot of semivowels (like /r/ or “dark” /l/) that purse the lips out a little bit, as in a /w/ (which purses the lips a lot).  Korean, meanwhile, seems to have as its “default” sound a kind of high, tense, unrounded vowel (hangeul 으, romanized as “eu” but /ɯ/ in IPA), and many consonants and vowels are much less rounded than in English, with the sides of the lips drawn back almost tightly.  When trying to get Koreans to better pronounce sounds such as /r/ or /w/ in English, I’m constantly saying something like, “push your lips out.”  And when they’re trying to help me better pronounce one of those difficult vowels, they’re saying something like, “pull your lips back tight.”  Hence my aphorism:  Korean is a smiling language, English is a kissing language.  Hopefully you can visualize this.
Last summer I visited Arcata (my birthplace and hometown) and went out to Mad River Beach.  This is a picture I took of a small stone and a sand dollar I saw lying in the sand in the sun in the surf.
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Caveat: Humilific Fun

“Humilific” is a real word – it describes a class of Korean words (mostly verb infixes and pronouns) that are used to show deference on the part of a speaker with respect to a listener.  They are somewhat the inversion of an honorific, which are linguistically more common, and which exalt the listener’s position with respect to the speaker.  A good example of a beginner’s level humilific is the use of 저(jeo) instead of 나(na) to mean “I” (first person singular).  When I call a student’s house, and I get a parent who I can’t expect to speak English, I have a phrase of badly pronounced Korean where I say “I am the English teacher” and I use this humilific form for the “I” in this sentence:  “저는…” (jeo-neun …).
Here is a picture of a building I saw in Suwon, on top of the hill I climbed there last month when I went there, just for kicks and to provide something interesting to look at.
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And for those who feel that the price of gas in the U.S. is out of control, consider this:
pictureThat’s 1913 Korean won per liter, which comes out to about $7.25 a gallon at recent exchange rates.  The fact is, American gasoline is highly subsidized, if only indirectly – not least by that astronomical Iraq war cost, but also by military aid to e.g. Saudi Arabia.
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Caveat: 뭥미?

A new bit of Korean youth slang: "뭥미?" (mweong-mi? said in a kind of dumb rising tone). It means something like "what the?" (as in "what the hell?") although you won't find it in a dictionary.  When I say it in the right situation to one of my classes, everyone collapses in riotous laughter.  But when I tried it out on Curt (my boss), he said "is that Korean?" Generation gap, y'know?

Caveat: 헐!

I’m not sure exactly what it means, but I feel that I’ve come to understand its linguistic pragmatics quite well.  The word is “헐” (roughly pronounced as a long, drawn out “hol”).  I may be wrong, but I think that its literal meaning may be close to “broken” or “busted.”  But in terms of pragmatics, it seems to be used very similarly to the way youth culture in the U.S. uses the word “dude!” as a kind of general purpose exclamation of surprise, interest or dismay.   I’m trying to pronounce it authentically and use it appropriately, and a few times my students have been quite amazed and pleased at my having used it.  헐!
Today was a day of contrasts.
I had one extremely terrible, horrible class – a group of lower-level elementary students who just wouldn’t behave.  I finally had a loud, verbal tantrum and set them to copying sentences, I was sooo frustrated.  I almost never resort to these sorts of make-work “punishments” that are next best thing beating the kids with a stick (which is completely out of the question as far as I’m concerned, regardless of what my colleagues may do).
But I also had a fabulous class for the debate topic, with the lowest level middle-schoolers.  The debate question was “Are pets a good idea?”  –  fairly elementary question, but about right for their level.  And they all wanted to say “No, they’re not.”  So we improvised, and they had to debate against me – I would make a little speech, then one of them, then I would, then another, then I would, and another.  And I selected two of the students to be “judges” and placed a handicap on myself, since I allowed the judges to only score me up to 5 points, whereas they could score their peers up to 10 points.  It went very well, and the students won.  It was pretty cool, and I could tell they were having fun and actually learning something.
Then I had an interesting occurrence in my TP cohort, where I’ve been forced to give up the “debate program” in favor of a very dry, boring text that’s intended to prep them for the iBTOEFL (internet-based TOEFL) speaking section.   They were moaning and complaining about the boringness of the book, and I was trying rather lamely to defend it (and failing, as I really at heart agreed with them).  And then, after the class was over, they were standing around in the lobby area on between-class break and the six girls lined up in a row in front of the counter, and Pete was standing behind it, and I heard my name (Je-re-deu-seon-saeng-nim) and something about textbooks in Korean, and, lo and behold, they were holding a rebellion:  they were collectively requesting to Pete that their class with me be returned to the debate curriculum.  I couldn’t help grinning and I’m certain Pete saw my expression, and so I ran away and decided to let their complaints have their effect.  And maybe, just maybe… I’ll get to go back to teaching something that I want to be teaching them.  I’m excited.
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Caveat: 뺑끼

The word of the day:  뺑끼 (bbaeng-ggi).  I don't know what it means, exactly – my students seemed to feel it was important that I learn it – they emphasized the spelling of it and the emphatic pronunciation.  Sometimes I can't tell if they're pulling my leg, or messing with me in some way.  So I didn't just want to take their word for what it meant.

I couldn't find in the naver.com dictionary I use, nor was it in the dictionary in my phone.  I googled it, and found it in another online Korean dictionary called zKorean.  And also, it was in a long list of words titled:  "틀린 말 바른 말" (teul-lin mal ba-leun mal = "wrong talk right talk").  I'm assuming it's either slang or somehow not-quite-correct Korean.  The one dictionary said the meaning was "paint."  My students insisted the meaning was "lie" (as in, to tell a lie).  I could see how one meaning could shade into the other, in slang terms.

Caveat: 애국심은 악한의 마지막 도피처이다

"애국심은 악한의 마지막 도피처이다" (aeguksim-eun akhan-ui majimak dopicheo-ida) => patriotism-[topic-marker] scoundrel-[possessive-marker] lastly hideout-[copula].  Does anyone recognize the immortal words of Samuel Johnson?  "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel."

The idea also appears in a Bob Dylan song, and for a long time, I mistakenly believed he was the origin of the quote.  Anyway, it's been on my mind lately, in light of the annoying progression of events in Tibet and China, and the constant posturing of ALL (yes, ALL) of our presidential candidates in the U.S.  I'm sick of it!

The world will be a better, happier place when the last self-declared patriot (of any stripe) finally recants or passes away.  "Patriotism" is almost always just a kindly euphemism for some brand of xenophobia or another:  hating other countries and peoples, or at the least distrusting them and devaluing their common humanity.  I know this is controversial, and it might get me in trouble to declare it so publicly, but on some things you must take a moral stand, right?

I made some curried pasta for dinner.  Kind of a makeshift using various things I had left in my kitchen – curry powder, garlic, onion, tomato, some italian pasta, and yoghurt.  It came out very delicious, and then I sat and watched the original Star Wars movie on KBS2 (dubbed into Korean) and ate my dinner, while running an upgrade to ubuntu 7.10 on my linux OS.   It was a good evening.

Caveat: ₩11100

I have become somewhat happy with my ability to understand spoken currency amounts in Korean.  When shopping at the quickie mart, I will deliberately avoid looking at the cash register when my purchases are rung up, so that I can test my ability to understand the clerk's recital of the amount due.  I've gotten pretty good at it, and most of the time, I can even give the correct amount of change if I have it and I'm trying to get rid of coins – which I often am.

But tonight's purchase amount threw me for a loop:  ₩11100.   The problem is that when you have one of something in Korean, you don't give the number – just the "counter" or the digit placeholder.   And there's a digit placeholder for each column in a long number, just like we have in English – hundred, thousand, million – but we're much less committed to using them.  So Korean has a ten-thousand placeholder (만 =man), a thousand placeholder (천 =cheon), and a hundred placeholder (벡 =baeg), and then the word for won (원 =weon).  So this price of ₩11100 (about 13 bucks) was 만천벡원 (man-cheon-baeg-weon) and there were no "digits" recited.

I was utterly nonplussed for a second.  It would be as if, in English, we said for, say, $1,001,100, "million thousand hundred dollars."

Caveat: “그놈은 멋있었다”

"그놈은 멋있었다" is the title of a 2004 movie that I recently downloaded and watched.  Roughly, the name geunomeun meoshiteotda translates as "He was cool" or "That guy was cool."  It was a teen comedy-romance.

But I enjoyed it, as I spend most of my working days immersed in the world of Korean teenagerdom, and thus, although the movie is hyperbolic and romantic fantasy, it is also, at another level, a somewhat realistic portrayal of contemporary Korean teen culture. So, despite its genre limitations, I recommend it.  It's available on youtube in about 14 segments, with subtitles, if you can't find it in your video store or are unable to find a good subtitled download of it (I found mine on silentregrets.com [update: silentregrets no longer exists – presumeably shut down by the copyright police])

I learned a wonderful and useful phrase from the movie:  정말?  jeongmal = "really?"

The lead actress in this movie, 정다빈 (Jeong Da-Bin – a screen name), committed suicide in 2007, suffering from depression.  A quote associated with her is: "I'm complicated and I feel like I'm going to die…I have lost my identity."

Caveat: 우우우우… 외국인!

When I walked out of my building yesterday morning, there were some children playing just at the doorway.  They froze in mid-roughhouse when they saw me, and one girl said, in a very loud stage whisper, "우우우우… 외국인!" ("oooooo… oegugin!" "oooh… a foreigner!").

I think the main reason I derived such an immense amount of pleasure from hearing this was due to the simple fact that I'd understood it. 

Caveat: 민주주의의 의의

The phrase of the day is:  "  민주주의의 의의."  Not primarily because of its meaning (roughly, "the significance of democracy") but because it's my latest addition to a reluctantly expanding collection of "impossible to pronounce" phrases.

Note that the syllable "의" is repeated four times.  This hangul's official romanization is either "ui" or "wi", but neither of these capture two complicating factors.  First of all, neither romanization indicates much about the real sound.  I would describe it as something similar to a cross between a French "u" and a Russian "ы", but more diphthongized.  But the additional problem is that it's one of those phonemes that shifts around allophonically depending on both word-position and grammatical role, with the consequence that the same symbol repeated four times receives three distinct pronunciations:  in the phrase above, transcribed, roughly, "min-ju-ju-i-e-ui-i". 

So, perhaps unfortunately, you won't find me discussing democracy's significance – in Korean – anytime soon.

Caveat: 한국말을 미국에서 배우했어요

I take my small victories, when they come along.  In the language learning arena, I mean.  I was at my Saturday Korean class, and there was a different teacher from before.  And she asked me a very complex question in Korean, and I not only understood, but provided a simple but grammatically correct and accurate answer in response.  This was a sort of first, for me.  At least, it felt like one of those language-learning milestones.

So, for posterity, the sentence is today's blog title:  "I studied Korean in the U.S."  Which is to say, I was answering a question to the effect of, "how did you learn what you know in Korean?  You studied it in the U.S.?"  The teacher seemed impressed with my ability to understand and use the past tense.  I felt the same way.

I took a walk over to the Kyobo bookstore after class, and browsed for a while but made only a small purchase of my weekly magazine fix.  Then I walked some more and, somewhat impulsively, I went into a Burger King.  Honest truth, this is only the second time I've gone into an American-brand fast-food restaurant since I came to Korea in September.   That's got to be some kind of record, for me.  My ramyeon habit is unhealthy enough, I don't need to make things worse by getting regular doses of American fast food.  I've been pretty happy to have mostly shaken my former junk-food-restaurant habit.  But today was a relapse, I guess.

Then I took a walk through a rather desolate area where there are gazillions of new high-rise apartment buildings under construction, as the sun set and the winter afternoon got cold… colder.  Then I found the express bus terminal, conveniently on the orange number 3 subway line, and came straight home. 

Caveat: Learning 한자

I have this book on 한자 (hanja) for learners of Korean.   These are Chinese characters, which are widely used in Korea, but do not form an indispensable part of the written language, unlike e.g. Japanese, where you cannot learn the written language without learning the Chinese characters too.  Nevertheless, it has seemed to me that true literacy in Korean requires knowing these Chinese characters, much as an ability to understand Latin and Greek roots can aid in being well-educated in English.  In fact, I have sometimes explained to my students that Latin and Greek roots are the English language's hanja.

Therefore, I'm going to try to learn some.  But at the moment, I can't even figure out how to type them – I know there should be some kind of "type in hangeul and look up appropriate hanja" functionality on my Korean keyboard gadget on my laptop, but I can't get it to work.  So, I'll let you know when I get it to work.

Meanwhile, we're having some freezing rain, and, knock-on-wood, the flu I've had seems to be getting a little better.

Caveat: Ephesians 6:12-19

One of my coworkers has the following posted prominently at his desk:

12 우리의 씨름은 혈과 육에 대한 것이 아니요 정사와 권세와 이 어두움의 세상 주관자들과 하늘에 있는 악의 영들에게 대함이라   
13 그러므로 하나님의 전신 갑주를 취하라 이는 악한 날에 너희가 능히 대적하고 모든 일을 행한 후에 서기 위함이라   
14 그런즉 서서 진리로 너희 허리띠를 띠고 의의 흉배를 붙이고   
15 평안의 복음의 예비한 것으로 신을 신고   
16 모든 것 위에 믿음의 방패를 가지고 이로써 능히 악한 자의 모든 화전을 소멸하고   
17 구원의 투구와 성령의 검 곧 하나님의 말씀을 가지라   
18 모든 기도와 간구로 하되 무시로 성령 안에서 기도하고 이를 위하여 깨어 구하기를 항상 힘쓰며 여러 성도를 위하여 구하고   
19 또 나를 위하여 구할 것은 내게 말씀을 주사 나로 입을 벌려 복음의 비밀을 담대히 알리게 하옵소서 할 것이니   

This is from Ephesians, chapter 6 – I used the amazing world wide web, to figure this out.  The same section of King James begins this way:

12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.   
13 Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
….

I'm going to come straight out and say: looks like more apocalypse, to me.

I have been feeling a bit under the weather, again.  But hardly apocalyptic.

Caveat: Twisted discourse and green giraffes

I was telling a few of my students about some tongue-twisters today, and they particularly liked the one about woodchucks.  But then they surprised me by teaching me a Korean tongue-twister, that I actually was able to understand with a minimal amount of parsing:
“내가 그린 기린 그림은 잘 그린 기린 그림이고 니가 그린 기린 그림은 잘 못 그린 기린 그림이다.”
Since it’s a tongue-twister, for the full effect, here is a transliteration:  “Naega geurin girin geurimeun chal girin geurim-igo, niga geurin girin geurimeun chal mot girin geurim-ida.”
And, for your reading pleasure, here is a rough translation:  “My picture of a giraffe is a good picture, [but] your picture of a giraffe is not a good picture.”
pictureHowever, there is the additional confusion that 그린 could be a Konglish rendering of “green,” which makes me think of green giraffes.
I really, really like this phrase.  I think it’ll be my motto for the month!  Boy is it hard to say, though.
picture

Caveat: Oops, missed a day

I was on such a good roll, posting each day to my blog.

I was awakened yesterday morning to my phone ringing, but when I answered "hello" there was dead silence.  I thought it was a telemarketer – there are as many of those here as there are in the US, but usually a few sentences of English discourage them quickly enough.   They also like to send you little text messages all the time.  Anyway, my phone rang a few more times after this, and finally I shut off my phone and tried to go back to sleep.  It was about 10 am… but I'd not gotten to sleep until 3 am the night before – my schedule here is so late, usually, which I don't really like, but I have nevertheless become very accustomed to it.  Sigh.  I couldn't sleep, so I pulled out the book I've been reading and several hours suddenly disappeared.

Net result: yesterday was a total write-off.  I did none of the things I'd intended to do, I was lazy and read all day.  But I guess sometimes I need days like that?

I finally made the dreaded "ne" mistake, which English-speaking learners of Korean often complain about.  I was in the convenience store downstairs, last night, stocking up on cold coffee and orange juice, two of my staples, and the woman asked me if I needed a bag.  I still have no idea what exactly they're saying when they say this phrase, but I hear it often enough I understand the drift of it and recognize it when I'm being asked.  So I shook my head and said "ne."

Here's the problem:  "ne" means "yes."  But it sounds too much like an English negative, don't you think?  So far, for whatever reason, I had successfully avoided this bit of linguistic confusion, but yesterday, whether because of my recent accelerated efforts or day of escapist reading, I slipped up.  It clearly confused her, that I was shaking my head no, and saying yes.   She gave up trying to give me a bag, because I was leaving the store, but she was obviously thinking "crazy damn foreigners!"

The proper word for "no" is "anio" (or even "anyo" like Spanish "año"), where the key negation syllable is "an" (which is also attached to regular verbs to negate them).   

There are other issues with affirmation and negation in Korean, which show up frequently with my students.  Koreans always say yes or no to questions in the spirit of "confirm" or "deny," thus, I will ask a student "So you didn't do your homework?" and she will blithely nod and say "yes," meaning she didn't do her homework.

In English, we typically say yes or no to a question in the spirit of the underlying content of the question, and asking the same question of a native speaker would get "no" as an answer in reference to the same basic facts.  So… lots of confusion.

Perhaps it's best to avoid yes-no situations as much as possible?  Stick with the gray middle ground.

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