Caveat: Nevermind about the rant

Well, somewhat. In my previous post from earlier today, I was angry, and so I ranted about Korean racism. Riding the bus back to Suwon, I had an insight: maybe Koreans are no more racist than Americans. Which is to say, I would guess that there are probably just as many racist Americans as a percentage of total population as there are racist Koreans. Not a majority, but probably a scarily large subset of the total population.

The difference is more subtle. Americans who happen to be racist are raised, nearly from birth, to be circumspect about their racist attitudes. They come to understand that there are real consequences for openly expressing their feelings, from ridicule to lawsuits to criminal prosecution. So they learn to be circumspect. Koreans, who live in a largely homogeneous culture, have little reason to be circumspect about such attitudes. “Good” race or “bad” race, it’s all the same, mostly: just a bunch of foreigners – so openly expressing one’s positive or negative opinions about them is no big deal. So racist Americans are stealth-racists, while racist Koreans are in-your-face racists. Maybe there’s actually something positive in that, as there is in any kind of transparency. Certainly, at the least, it’s clear whom to avoid.

That doesn’t change my feeling that it bothers me. A lot. But I need to be careful about what I allow to annoy me about Korean culture, lest I fall into a trap of hypocrisy. So… nevermind about the rant – at least on the charge of racism. The other comments can stand, for now. But I’m over being mad about it, I think. Sorry.
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Caveat: Language is not the same as culture (thankfully)

This is one instance where the “caveat,” above, is “real” – I really mean that as a caveat to what I am about to say.

I have been feeling a bit annoyed with some aspects of contemporary South Korean culture, lately. The issue that came up yesterday was perhaps just a “final straw” that pushed me into outright anger. Many Koreans are unabashedly racist. This is not the same as the mild xenophobia that I often comment on.  Korean xenophobia is something that is both historically understandable given their repeated subjugation over the centuries to the Chinese, Mongols or Japanese, as well as being something that I would characterize as essentially more naive and reflexive rather than somehow premeditated or unethical.

But many Koreans also have openly racist attitudes, which are more complex than simple xenophobia, because there are hierarchies of “good” and “bad” races. I see these as having been “imported” at some point from both Japan and the West, and more specifically, from 1930’s Japan and 1950’s America – which were the “occupiers” at those specific times. Pale Europeans, whether from Europe or North America, are near the top of the hierarchy. Koreans and Japanese are, too – although since the Japanese are the “enemy,” they get disqualified from Korean respect for different, non-racist reasons… if that makes any sense. More like a hated sibling. But to be a non-European, non-East Asian in Korea must be utter hell. That’s my speculation.

Um… I’m being disorganized, here. I’m ranting. Yesterday, talking about student exchange programs with a Korean, he mentioned something about the difficulty of placing minority American kids with Korean host families. And something like, “hopefully we can convey this sensitive issue to the Americans.”

I thought about this a bit, and felt only outrage. Why should Americans bear the responsibility for accommodating Korean racism? If Koreans want to participate in a student exchange program, it should be their sole responsibility to cope with making sure their attitudes can accommodate any possible American. That’s the only possibility that looks ethical, from my point of view.

OK. Back to the “caveat.”

I have always felt a great deal of ambivalence about some aspects of Korean culture. There’s the low-grade disrespect for rule-of-law: the never-ending stream of offers for illegal employment being just my own personal brush with this phenomenon. There’s the xenophobia, already mentioned.  There are the in-group / out-group distinctions, which can sometimes make one feel that one is living in a country inhabited exclusively by people suffering from a mild form of autism.

Then there’s the ageism. Ostensibly, Korea is a culture that honors elders. But there’s a caveat there: elders are only honored as long as they’re doing what they’re supposed to – they need to be fulfilling age-appropriate roles. Thus, I have actually been refused two interviews for teaching jobs, solely because of my age, and I was openly told that that was the reason – it’s not illegal, here, to discriminate because of someone’s age.

My love affair (if you want to call it that)… my interest… my focus… has always been an unabiding fascination for the Korean language. Unless you’re some kind of unreformed Whorfian, you will understand that culture and language aren’t the same thing.

So, I reserve my right to love the Korean language, and nevertheless harbor serious misgivings about parts of Korean culture. Which isn’t to say there aren’t parts I like, also. The food is incredible. The entrepreneurial spirit is stunning – though often repressed by the neo-confucians in the bureaucracy. The genuine generosity and kindness of most individual Koreans is undeniable.

I feel thankful that language and culture are not, in fact, the same. Otherwise, I’d feel compelled to leave, just at the moment.

Well… that is a really poorly-structured rant. But… such as it is. More later.
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Caveat: Chasing Rhiannon

Having applied for another job last week, I’m now once again in that really difficult position of waiting for the next thing to happen. This is not something I do well. Yesterday, for that and whatever other reason, I felt very gloomy and sad.

I took a long walk, and I was thinking a lot about Welsh mythology: specifically, that business with Rhiannon on her horse, luring Pwyll to the underworld. Why does that particular story always haunt me? Aside from the fact that it was only text I ever got to the actual point of reading (with dictionary obsessively in hand), in Welsh. Maybe it’s the parallelism of living “dictionary in hand” as I am now (with Korean), that made me think of that.

I had awoken from a really unpleasant dream, yesterday morning, which had a symbolism that was pretty transparent. I dreamed that…

…I found a suitcase in my room (since I’m effectively living out of my suitcases, currently, it’s not that strange) and when I opened it, it was full of Michelle’s clothes.  And further, there was blood all over the clothing.   I pulled the bloody dresses and skirts and shirts out onto the floor and just stared at it, inside the dream.

So: I see that I’m dealing with my old baggage; I’m digging out my dirty laundry.  With symbolism as easy as that, who needs Jung?

Friday, I had gone out to Ilsan to pick up reference letters that my former bosses Curt and Sun had written for me. Sun’s letter was surprisingly glowing – it was good for my ego. Curt was a bit lazy, and said, “what do you want me to write?” and I felt strange, like he was asking me to compose my own reference letter.  But now I have two good reference letters.

Before picking up the reference letters on Friday, I had had lunch with my friend Peter. He and I found this pretty nice restaurant on the second level of WesternDom (the big mall between Jeongbalsan and Madu stations) where I had some 해신칼국수 (seafood with homemade noodles) that was delicious.

Someone complained to me, a while back, that I don’t put many pictures of myself in my blog. I’m not good at that, that’s true. So, here is a picture that Peter took of me, getting ready to eat a very small, whole, slightly purple octopus that I found in my soup. Note that I dressed up in a tie on Friday because I wanted to be “prepared” in case I got a call-back from this job I’m trying to get. Plus, sometimes I do that, because feeling professional helps me feel more self-confident.

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Caveat: Toward a Quantum Theory of Holiness

There's no need for anything behind, or beyond.  We can look at each individual snowflake, each individual pebble, each face, each tree.  Little self-contained units of magic, or holiness?  Like Neruda's garlic, or Ginsberg's grandfathers in Kansas.  This is a poem that I haven't written.

A quantum of holiness would be… a hole?  A microscopic hole in reality, floating across… magical  beautiful window on nothingness.  Yes, a poem I haven't written, that I hold in my hand like a bit of snow, that's suddenly gone.

Caveat: 1000th post

According to my blog host’s administration page (on typepad.com), this is my 1000th blog post.

So it’s a kind of a little anniversary – of a serial, enumerative sort. I started this blog in August of 2004, when I was still working for ARAMARK corporation in Burbank (which I used to call, pseudonymously, Paradise Corporation, to avoid offending anyone, but I don’t think I need to worry about that much, anymore).

Actually, this blog has worked out almost exactly the way I intended and hoped.

It got a slow start – I missed many months at a time, more than once, and even a whole year (in the 2005-2006 range). But once I came to Korea, in September, 2007, I began posting quite regularly, and starting last year, I  began a commitment to post at least once a day, which I’ve kept, although a few times I’ve had to “cheat” and do a “back-post” from a later time.

Once I accepted that I might do “back-posts,” I began to consider the possibility that I could “back-post” my entire life – I have huge quantities of journal-type writing that I contemplate eventually adding here – but to date, I’ve only made exactly 2 “historical” posts, both for my birth year of 1965. 

I had envisioned this blog as means to achieve three primary goals: 

1) I wanted a means to overcome my perpetual writer’s block

2) I wanted a way to more easily communicate with my far-flung family and friends, since I’ve always been so negligent in writing letters or email

3) I felt that my expressing myself in so public a forum, I could in essence use the blog as a tool to look at myself more realistically, with a lesser degree of self-deceptiveness – it’s hard to continue deceiving yourself when you’ve decided to live “live” in front of others

I have achieved all of these goals far beyond my original expectations. I know that this blog is often banal, frequently self-indulgent, mostly chaotic. But for all that, it’s serving its purposes excellently. I had no interest in making something that would get lots of “hits” or become popular – I’m writing this, first and foremost, for myself, with the added benefit that those who are interested can “watch me,” too.

If I study who’s looking at this blog (using the administrative tools provided by typepad or by feedjit), I know that I rarely get more than one or two page views per day from “strangers” – but I’ve discovered that, for example, that the single most common way that strangers “discover” my blog is by googling: “뭥미 meaning english”.

To me, this is funny, but it also points up a 4th possible goal, to add to the above 3:  I can use this blog provide some unique or useful information to random people in the world – in the case mentioned, I seem to be the major online resource for people who are trying to figure out what the Korean slang term “뭥미” means in English (it seems to mean “what the…!”, normally said in a kind of tone of disgust or annoyance). I feel so proud. 

Now that I’ve got the blog consistently (mostly) cross-posting to facebook, that’s added some to its functionality. To those who find it annoying to have to come “outside” of facebook to “visit” me, I apologize – but I have too many friends or family who are not interested in adopting facebook, and so I need to stay outside of that convenient but tightly-walled garden.

If I follow my intention, I think the “next 1000” will come more quickly, as I genuinely intend to pursue my plan to “back-post” at least some of my pre-blog writing – I’ve even brought along some major chunks of it (electronically and in the form of paper journals) to Korea, with this plan in mind. 

Anyway, to my few but beloved readers – friends and family – thank you. Thank you for tolerating this rather droll effort to stay in touch. Thank you for being my friends, too! I have been so very lucky in my life, to have the kinds of friends and family that I have. Take care… 

~jared
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Caveat: 꿈도꾸지마

“꿈도꾸지마” means “stop dreaming” – it’s a negative command form.  It was cool to hear this on TV only a few days after having managed to finally acquire the relevant grammar and vocabulary.  Mostly I learn things and I’m left wondering, when do they really use that? … or else I hear things and I wonder, when am I going to learn about that?  
I’m frustrated with my current Korean teacher, still.  She seems less pedagogically able than the one I had last month.  The insight I had last night:  the one I had last month always dedicated a minimum 10~20 minutes in each class talking with each of us in the class about our lives.  Where we lived, what we were doing, etc., in Korean.  And often, successfully using whatever vocabulary or grammar items we were currently learning.  Whereas my current teacher always only follows the lesson, which at best represents fictional situations or roleplays and more often is just rote substitutions of various kinds.  
It’s so much easier to learn a new bit of language when you’re using it for something relevant to your life.

Caveat: Becoming a better teacher

I read a long book review of a book by Doug Lemov entitled Teach Like a Champion, in the New York Times.   While the apparent reported premise of the book – that good teachers can be "made" as opposed to it being something that is innate – resonated with me deeply, I came away from the review feeling a bit annoyed with the both the reviewer and the book's author.

That's because instead of coming out and explaining the details of Lemov's thinking about how one becomes a better teacher, or how one can be taught to be a better teacher, the review only serves to "tease" the content of the book.  The reviewer is obviously a Lemov "fan," and she's just cheerleading without really contributing to an intelligent discourse about teacher education.  Basically, the message of the review is:  buy this book, and you'll get the secret to becoming a better teacher.  

Knowledge like that shouldn't be proprietary.  But setting aside philosophical/ethical quibbles, I also suspect that knowledge of that sort can't be proprietary – by which I mean that it's not going to help improve education as long as it remains proprietary, when looked at from a cultural practices / knowledge systems angle.  Where good educators come from and how they're made, if they can be made, is not the sort of information you can or should hide behind a "for only $16.77!" barrier (current price on Amazon).  Lemov (and possibly the reviewer) may wish to revolutionize education in America, but I doubt they'll make much progress until they lose the mercenary attitude.  Is that too idealistic of me?

I have had consistently bad experiences with knowledge that hides behind "buy this book" barriers – I'm thinking mostly of the infinite number of self-help manuals that circulate in the world, but my experience with Rosetta Stone language-learning software is also a recent, and expensive, example.  I have begun to develop the belief that "good" knowledge (by which I mean truly revolutionary and/or useful knowledge) must, by definition, be "open source" in some sense of the term.  

So getting back to the idea that good teachers can be made, instead of found, I guess my thinking is that I agree, and I think the idea could be revolutionary for teacher training, but for now I'll continue looking at my own insights, and keep searching blogs and other online content, and keep reading less promotion-reliant tomes.

Caveat: ∃@*$

I carry around my little black book, which is kind of like a private version of my blog, combined with a place to write down names, or addresses, or vocabulary, or other things I want to remember. In my black book for the other day, I found written: “∃@*$”

I have a long history of inventing weird ways to symbolize and abbreviate things. I can go back and find pages of utterly incoherent codes and abbreviations in my old college notes, for example. But I figured out what the above meant: “I am at starbucks.”

The first symbol is probably the obscurest – it’s what’s called the “existential quantifier,” and is used in mathematical logic, higher-order mathematical proofs, and some types of formal semantics. So that symbol means “I am.” Really, I mean it in the locative as opposed to existential sense, though, which isn’t really right. But the “@” makes it clear that’s what I mean.

The asterisk is fairly clear: it’s a “star,” in computer-people-slang. And the dollar sign means “bucks” of course.

What was I writing about being in Starbucks? I was being weirded out about hearing Joan Baez on the soundtrack (all Starbucks play the same music – no concessions to locale on that playing field) while sitting in Korea. Why was I sitting in a Starbucks? Call it an indulgent and somewhat embarrassing habit.
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Caveat: 시티홀

I’ve been watching a drama called 시티홀 (The City Hall, from 2009 – although the hangeul could more justifiably be said to represent the English phrase “shitty hole,” from a pronunciation standpoint, which I think is kind of funny, although not really relevant).

Actually, I like this drama – it addresses South Korean politics, which, at least up until now in my personal experience of Korean dramas was an off-limits topic. And as a parody/commentary, it’s got some strengths. I’d say that in some ways, it seems a little darker, and more cleverly self-referential, than the others I’ve been looking at recently. I definitely recommend it, if you want an entertaining and fairly light look at the rampant cronyism and corruption that seems to prevail in South Korean politics.
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Caveat: Ephemera

(Poem #2 on new numbering scheme)

Ephemera

There were many faces in the corridors.
I had given my seat to an old woman, on the bus, and so I stood the whole way. It’s odd, but there’s no discomfort in standing that way – voluntarily. Swaying.
In the faces, then, I saw the resolve of each person, to live each person’s life. All separately.
On the sidewalk, there was a discarded cigarette, still burning.
I felt despair. These feelings come and go.
Like this, the sun strikes out across the sky in the morning.
I saw it glittering off the side of a glass building. A weird angle.
I felt resolute. These feelings, too, come and go.

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Caveat: (re-)making history

Korea has a lot of history. And contemporary Korea loves exploring, studying and re-enacting their history. Just take a look at the sorts of dramas popular on TV, for example – there’re always several historical dramas running. Those aren’t the sort I enjoy, mostly because the language is stilted and harder to understand (which makes sense, since they’re trying to capture the more formal Korean of centuries past). Also, I don’t always think those sorts of dramas are particularly faithful to the historical “facts.” But anyway…

Yesterday I went with some of my Suwon friends to see some re-enactors at the Hwaseong palace. These were guys with swords and pikes and other things, doing martial arts displays of various kinds. Half choreography, half hapkido / geondo (= japanese kendo), etc. Here are some pictures.

In the first two, the guy was using a big pikelike-thing to hack up some bundles of straw. The last picture is me with some re-enactors, along with two kids I’ve gotten to know, who are the Chinese tea-maker’s children: a brother and sister named Dong-jun and Dong-hui (it’s very common for siblings to share a syllable that way, in their name).

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Caveat: 다시 차를 마셨어요.

I went with Mr Choi again to meet his tea-making friend, and provide some informal English practice to him and his acquaintances and various children, too.  And then we went out for “Chinese.”  Going out for Chinese food in Korea is a bit like going out to Chinese in the U.S., in the sense that what you end up eating isn’t actually Chinese cuisine, but rather an American interpretation of Chinese cuisine.  So it’s basically a special type of Korean food, that they conventionally call “Chinese.”
It was interesting, and maybe helped to keep my mind off my frustrations with learning, at least while it was happening.  Afterward, of course, I could nothing but meditate on how ineffective and stupid my various efforts at using the language were.
It’s obvious I’m feeling very frustrated, lately.  This is, from a language-learning standpoint, entirely to-be-expected.  But knowing that it’s part of the process doesn’t make it any more pleasant.  And my feelings of discouragement tend to rebound against other aspects of my life:  feeling like I should be trying harder to find a job; feeling like I should be working on other things, like my writing; feeling lonely.
Of course, there’s the approaching solstice.  I always feel like I have some weird seasonal-affective thing going on, around solstices.  My mood starts to seem very volatile and shifts around.  Not sure what that means, either.

Caveat: Pop Architecture

Modern Korean pop architecture is fun to look at sometimes. I think any country where there is a strong capitalist, advertising-driven culture, you will find architecture that is kitschy, often tasteless, over-the-top, etc. Some of the more interesting buildings tend to be the ubiquitous “wedding halls” as well as churches. Here are some pictures I’ve taken recently.

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Caveat: 전 오늘 절망한 기분이에요.

I’m feeling very discouraged.  I can’t seem to understand anything my new teacher says.  Partly, it’s my “level-up” that I’ve just done, skipping a level.  Mostly, though, it’s because she’s got a different teaching style that I simply haven’t figured out yet – I can understand whatever grammar point / vocabulary we’re covering at any given moment fairly well, but I find her “meta-instruction” (i.e. what she expects us to be doing, her instructions to us, her explanations) incoherent.  I’m just not used to it, maybe.
Anway.  Sigh.

Caveat: Parachute

I was recently exposed to the term "낙하산 인사" (nak-ha-san in-sa) in one of the dramas I've been watching.  Literally it means "parachute personnel managment," roughly, but it refers to the way that Korean business and government organizations will "drop" someone into a given department or branch office from "above" (somewhere up the hierarchy) for either political or nepotistic reasons.

Anyway, I used the word "낙하산" (parachute) yesterday in class, to describe my situation.  The teacher laughed, so I must have used the word more-or-less appropriately.  What situation?  Well, I moved up a level in my Korean Language class, but found out yesterday that, because I was the only one enrolled at that level, that my class was cancelled for the term.  My instant solution?  I asked the hagwon manager (in English – my Korean's hardly that good, yet) if I could just jump up to the next level.  I'd have to work hard, obviously.  But she said, sure, give it a try – she hardly wants to lose a paying customer, right?

Actually, this may be a great development.  It will push me extra hard in my learning efforts, because now I have 16 chapters worth of grammar and vocab that I need to "catch up" on.  It will push me hard, preventing me from taking this "full-time-student" thing in too leisurely a way.

I have an ambition to put together a special web page that will be an index of Korean "endings."  I may have mentioned or undertaken this before, but without much success.   One of the difficulties with Korean is that given its highly agglutinative (this is the formal linguistic term) nature, it has a plethora of endings, for nouns and especially for verbs.  I even found a verb ending in my reference grammar that allegedly exists for the sole purpose of talking to oneself!  [-{ㄴ/는}담 … I have no idea how widely used this is, but the fact it's mentioned in a reference grammar highlights some of the fascinating aspects of the language.]

The problem, of course, is that it's hard to look up endings.  The online and cellphone based dictionaries I use are useless for this task.  If I put all the endings into a document or webpage, and ensure that it's consistently formatted and laid out, it will be easily searchable through the use of the simple "find" function, and I can look up endings.  And the fact of making it might help me remember things better, too.

The drawback is that, in fact, endings are not my particular area of difficulty.  I know far more, already, than I "should" given my level, at least from a recognition standpoint.  Grammar, in general, has always come easily for me.  My weakness is vocabulary.  So maybe this "endings" project is just my special way of procrastinating on what is, for me, the painful part.

Caveat: Awoke at 2 AM

I dreamed 3 things.
The first thing: I dreamed a language.
I was holding a language, that writhed in my arms like a weeping child.
Or like a laughing child.
It was a rough and restless language.
I was holding a language.
The second thing: I dreamed an emptiness.
I was holding an emptiness, that stretched out around me like an enveloping forest.
But it was shapeless, quiet, cool.
A smooth, safe emptiness.
More safe than feelings, more safe than optimism.
I was holding an emptiness.
These were evaporating abstractions, but I held them close to me, like two musical instruments, ready to play.
The third thing: I dreamed a smile.
I was holding a smile, that was like a cat’s face in the sunshine.
Or like a painting of the stormy sky at sunset, more stunning than reality.
Or like a mask that reveals everything.
But it was a kind and guileless smile.
I was holding your beautiful smile, in memory.
I awoke at 2 am, from sleeping on a warm floor.

[UPDATE: I re-published this poem as one of my daily poems on June 20, 2021.]
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Caveat: 89

Because I’m continuing at my Korean Language hagwon, I took an end-of-level test today. There were listening, speaking, and grammar/reading sections. My overall score was 89.

That’s not bad, I guess. I was surprised that my lowest score was on the grammar/reading part, since that’s really my strength, but I had made some careless mistakes, on the one hand, while on the listening section, which was the hardest, the teacher gave all the dialogs and questions twice, which may have been stretching the intent of the test, a bit, making it easier, so that my score on that part was 94.

What else can I do to get more out of my language study? I need to spend more time reviewing and memorizing vocabulary. I have some excellent tools that I’m not making much use of, for example that Rosetta Stone software, as well as the spreadsheets I’m maintaining with list of words I’ve looked up. I could stand to spend more time with each of those.

I had a weird conversation with a short-term guest at my guesthouse, the other night. He was Australian. I told him I was studying Korean, and his comment kind of sums up some preconceptions and prejudices that exist out there, with respect to my endeavor. He said (roughly), “Wow, I never met someone studying Korean before who didn’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend helping them.” I just laughed. I had no comeback, at the moment, but I thought later, I should have said, “Yeh, I guess so. I’m in love with the language, directly, instead. It’s a frustrating relationship.”

I have so far to go. Will I become tired of it, at some point? Will I become disillusioned, over time, as the difficulty of this “relationship” emerges in all its permutations and complexities? I have been infatuated with the Korean Language since we did a unit on Korean in my undergrad syntax class at the University of Minnesota in 1988. But I didn’t really pursue that infatuation, for a very long time. Then, a little over 3 years ago, as I was shopping around for “what to do next with my life,” once I’d decided to quit the computer thing, I decided: “Find your passion, and chase it down.”

Then, over the following two years, I became side-tracked by the sheer volume of work related to teaching (or trying to teach) English to kids. And that was VERY rewarding. No denying that. It taught me new things about myself, and gave me new tools to cope with life’s challenges. But I didn’t pursue this passion, this linguistic avocation, very aggressively. I dropped the ball. Now, I’m trying to pick it up again.

When I was really trying to learn Spanish, first starting out, in 1986, living and working in Mexico City, I remember many times thinking, “wow, this is exhausting!” Learning Spanish, trying to become essentially fluent, is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Harder than basic training in the Army. Harder than grad school (although that was, in fact, part of learning Spanish, too, at a much more advanced level). Maybe even harder than that messy fall of 1998, when things fell apart with Michelle and I had to make the difficult decision that existing in the world was worthwhile.

And now, I’m trying again. I will learn Korean. Because if I succeed, it will be such a magical, amazing accomplishment. Unconventional, and, in the greater, grander scheme of things, pointless… yet, for all that, utterly worth doing.

There, I’ve laid my cards on the table. I always feel uncomfortable declaring goals, for fear that when/if I fail to achieve them, I have to then bear the secondary humiliation of everyone knowing that I’ve failed. But… by declaring my goals, I am also giving myself extra motivation, extra impetus.

So, friends… hold me to it. If I stumble, or pause, or fall down, or wander off in frustration or distraction, please gently remind me: “Jared, what about your goal? How are you doing with the Korean?”
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Caveat: Have you ever peed in a soccer ball?

I know that’s a strange title to a blog post, but I couldn’t resist.   I was taking a long walk the other day, and saw Suwon’s “World Cup Stadium” out on the east side of town.   There’s a park around the stadium, and in the park, there are soccer-ball-themed public restrooms.  I just had to make use of the facilities, just to be able to say I’d done it.

Here are pictures – you can see the boy-girl icon on the giant soccer ball, that tells you there are public restrooms inside.
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Here’s a view of the stadium from a pedestrian overpass.
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Below is a picture of the northeast gate of the Suwon city walls – where they’ve punched a hole under the wall for (or reconstructed it over) a major street.

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Caveat: Gazes of Incomprehension

I'm just feeling very frustrated about my progress with Korean.  I feel like no matter what I do, I can't seem to remember essential vocabulary.  And I say the same things, over and over, to clerks in convenience stores or to the manager at the guesthouse, and I'm never understood.

Gazes of incomprehension.

And people say things I should understand, and I just stare, with the thought, I should be understanding this, but I can't.  I dream in Korean, sometimes, but it's always that specific type of Korean that I can't understand at all… it's just dreaming in confusing babble.  So dreaming in a language isn't a guarantee of progress, after all.

At moments like this, my resolve to stay and try to learn this language wavers dangerously, and I think, oh, hell, I'll just go back to the US and do something else.  I feel intimidated by the job search, depressed by my lack of progress in the language, unimpressed with my lack of diligence in the tasks that I set for myself.   I'm feeling too old, insufficiently competent.

OK… so here I am, venting my despondency in this very open forum.  Maybe, it's just springtime blues?   Well… "아자아자!"

Caveat: 환갑

Yesterday I was invited by the owner of the guesthouse where I’m staying to accompany him to his older sister’s 환갑 [hwan-gap]. This is a special ceremony/event that accompanies one’s 60th birthday party, which is considered quite significant. It really wasn’t that different from a 돌 [dol = child’s first birthday party, one of which I attended last year], nor was it different from a wedding or catered business party, for that matter. But it was interesting to once again be an observer at another Korean social function – not really a fly-on-the-wall, as I’m too conspicuous for that, but I don’t think anyone’s behavior is that different because I’m there, either.

pictureI felt proud of the fact that it seemed my Korean was improving, in small ways. Still, sometimes I hate to write about feelings of improvement, not just for fear of “jinxing” my progress, but also because it makes it sound like I’m out there in the world having actual conversations, when in fact, I’m still stuttering along with occasional good sentences, a few chunks and phrases now and then, but mostly just incomprehending smiling, and barely understanding the things said around me.

Later that day, I joined an “English class” that the owner here coordinates for occasional Sundays, where some neighborhood children (the building’s owner’s son [building owner is distinct from guesthouse owner], for example) showed up and I pestered them about their likes and dislikes in English. One boy, Jun, was quite good, especially at his ability to listen to what I said and synthesize it in succinct Korean for his less-comprehending peers.

After that, Mr Choi (the guesthouse owner), took me to a traditional Chinese tea-maker’s establishment (I have no idea what better term to use for this guy’s profession). The man was some acquaintance of his who lives and runs his business a few blocks away from the guesthouse.  This was a fascinating experience, and the people – the tea-makerand his wife – were quite kind. They struck me as a sort of wonderful syncretism of the very traditional Korean, mixed in with some loopy western counter-culture. They had a computer playing mp3 tracks of western music, and a wine-cabinet on one wall with all these European wines, but he was sitting at a traditional-looking tea table and doing all these elaborate things making tea, talking about 30-year fermentations and the fact that evidently (based on my face?) I needed something for my kidneys. And there was a lot of beautiful traditional pottery and furniture around.
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Caveat: Zina’s Musical

Last year around this time, I went to see my student Zina in a musical production. I blogged about it. This year, I had the opportunity to go again, even though she’s not now my student anymore.

pictureThis time, I had my video camera with me. Here are some clips from the musical. I’m still working on figuring out the plot (I bought the CD and the words are in the extended program, so I can spend as much time as I want deciphering it), but the basic idea is that some kids who live in a futuristic “ecologically sustainable” village get bored and decide to go to visit the big, dirty, polluted, future-city, and have some interesting and scary experiences. It was pretty cute, although I liked the plot of last year’s production better (nothing is better than the idea of mosquitoes bringing lawsuits!).

Note that although the kids are lip-syncing during the performance, I’m pretty certain it’s their own voices, that were pre-recorded so as to raise the production value a little bit – Zina’s voice defintely sounds like Zina’s voice to me.






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Caveat: Eerie Synchronicities

[this is a "back-post" written 2010-03-01]

I was riding the subway on my way up to Ilsan, this afternoon.  There was a giant earthquake near Concepción, Chile.  And at almost exactly the time that the earthquake was occuring, I was reading Pinochet's chapter in his autobiography about his own experience in the January 24, 1939, earthquake in near Concepción.  Of course, I didn't realize the synchronicity until hours later, when I heard about the Chilean quake.  But it struck me profoundly.  Obviously, pure coincidence.  But still kind of eerie. 

Caveat: 잠잤어요 (heterosyntactic reduplication)

Korean has lots of “normal” phonological reduplication, which is a common linguistic phenomenon in many languages, notably in micronesian and polynesian groups, for example.  Opening my dictionary at random, I can locate words such as:  붉다 (bulk-da, “red”) => 붉다붉다 (bulk-da-bulk-da, “very deep red”).   This is a “classic” sort of linguistic reduplication, as might be taught in Linguistics 101.
But recently, in my Korean class, I was introduced to a strange sort of reduplicative process that crosses syntactic boundaries.  I tried to invent a term for it, and came up with “semantic reduplication,” but that seems to be already taken for a slightly different process.  So I’m not sure what to call it – maybe something like heterosyntactic reduplication?  The idea being that the word element is repeated, but under different semantic categories (in this Korean case, a verb stem gets repeated, first in a derived gerund form and then in the basic verb form).  Maybe someone’s already named it, but I was unable to find anything on a cursory search.
Here are some examples, that were given in class (accusative particle -을 in parenthesis is optional).

잠(을) 자다 (jam-eul ja-da, “to sleep a sleeping”)
춤(을) 추다 (chum-eul chu-da, “to dance a dancing”)
꿈(을) 꾸다 (kkum-eul kku-da, “to dream a dreaming”)

I have no idea how “productive” this type of reduplication is, but I know that at least for those verbs with which it used, it is common – not a day after my class where I was introduced to this concept, my friend sent me a text message where he used it, in the phrase “잠잤어요” (jamjasseoyo, “[you] slept a sleeping”).
In any event, I think it’s rather interesting, linguistically.  Someone could write a dissertation on it.

Caveat: 메롱

I always like learning “non-dictionary Korean” when I can.  The above took me a while to find the meaning for, but finally I found some forum postings that aluded to its meaning:  roughly, it means “nyah-nyah” – like teasing someone.  So that’s what 메롱 (meh-rong) means.

Caveat: The Literate Dictator (Dreams of His Father[land])

One of my many eccentricities is my strange fascination for the now deceased former Chilean dictator, Augusto Pinochet.  I've been carrying around and re-reading the first volume of his autobiography, "Camino Recorrido:  memorias de un soldado." 

I'm hardly an apologist.  He was a brutal dictator, and his actions on September 11, 1973, and subsequent misrule and corruption are indefensible.  But several things stand out about this man, that make him different from most historical personages of the "evil dictator" stripe. 

First, of course, is the very existence of a fairly well-written, reflective autobiography.  And although some will disagree, I'm almost certain it was not ghost-written.  Firstly, there's the fact that he was a published author (mostly in the area of social sciences and military history) prior to becoming dictator of Chile.  Not very many evil dictators moved into that latter career from academia, but arguably, Gen. Pinochet did.   Secondly, the book is too stylistically immature to be ghost-written.   What I mean, is that its tone veers from petty-defensive to philosophical to nostalgic to sociological, without much logic or consistency, yet, for all that, it's got some very well-written passages.

Secondly, there is the fact that, unlike most evil dictators, Pinochet accepted the results of a plebescite and stood down, after 15 years in power, and willingly allowed the dismantling of the undemocratic 1980 constitution that he himself had created.   Again, his late-career actions hardly excuse his behavior at the height of his rule, but… well, not all evil dictators are equally evil, perhaps.

Lastly, I for one am inclined to believe the speculation that he was not an entirely willing participant in the initial coup, despite his own efforts to rewrite history after the fact to make his role more prominent.  In essence, I believe that he attached himself "at the last minute" to the CIA's plot, because he saw the writing on the wall, and that, as bad as things were, there were few leaders in the Chilean military who would've been "better," and many, many, who would have been much worse, and much scarier.  In essence, I would argue that his role was, paradoxically, a moderating one vis-a-vis the ultraconservative establishment in Chile.

Again, it's not my intention to defend him – but having access to his autobiography, and to sit on the bus this morning reading his nostalgic prose about his high-school years in Valparaiso and his time as a cadet at the military school in Santiago in the 1930's… well, even evil dictators can be humanized.  I've always thought that there were eerie and unintended similarites between his autobiography and, for example, Garcia Marquez's El otoño del patriarca.

And, how can I deny that I relish the sheer eccentricity of being an American on a commuter bus in Seoul reading Pinochet's autobiography – it's one of those moments when you get to think:  "Wow, I bet no one has ever done this, before.  Ever."

Caveat: Hermit Kingdom 2.0

I've commented before about South Korea's stunning loyalty to Microsoft – that company's 90-something-% market-share is the highest of anywhere in the world, I believe.  And I think I've noted before that it's driven been by one major thing:  early adoption of internet-banking and online secure-transaction tools, under the aegis of extensive government mandates regarding middleware and security features, that coincidently relied on Microsoft's proprietary ActiveX technology. 

Mozilla has recently taken the time to post an excellent blog entry on the subject of South Korea's "Monoculture" vis-a-vis browsers and operating systems (and no wonder, being Microsoft's most successful competitor in the browser market).  They provide a good summary of the issues, and implicitly explain why iPhone and Android will fail in South Korea, despite their huge cachet and positive brand images.

Given that Samsung recently announced they were going to try joining the crowded field of smartphone OS design, with their "Bada" product (I think that's what it's called – I'm writing from memory on this), I wonder if this will change?  Or will Samsung go ahead and pay some kind of royalty to MS in order to license and use ActiveX and/or internet explorer, in exchange for being able to exploit the current monoculture to protect and enhance their potential for suceess in their home market and suppress their most innovative potential competitors (e.g. Google, Apple, RIM)?  Hmm… I bet there's some kind of dealing going on, there.   I wonder how many shares in tech chaebol Bill Gates owns?  He should own a lot.

Caveat: The Magical Syntax of the Korean Language

I have found a really excellent example of one of the things I find so amazing and fabulous about the Korean Language. I’ve been watching a TV drama called “커피프린스 1호점” (from 2009), and there’s a scene where the characters are eating together while playing intensely with language as they try top each other’s insults.

They make each other’s names into verbs, they make them into adjectives, they make them into adverbs. Korean syntax is extremely flexible in its ability to make new vocabulary, and also in its ability to change any given part of speech into another part of speech through the use of endings and particles of various kinds. It’s highly systematic, driven by complex rules, yet it’s also mind-bogglingly creative. Really, it’s exactly my kind of thing. Korean rocks!

Here is a youtube clip of the scene that I like so much. Ignore the romantic song at the start, and focus on the scene from minute ~2:30 up to about minute ~3:30, and watch the characters as they talk to each other. The subtitling only weakly begins to capture the amazing things that are done first to Eun-chan’s name, and then to Han-kyul’s.

[UPDATE: the video was removed from youtube, and since I was stupid and didn’t record the Episode number, it’s nearly impossible for me to relocate this clip. Regrettable.]

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Caveat: I am not a criminal

Finally, after more than a month of sending off the paperwork and waiting, I have received my "apostille" criminal background check, which is a document that I will require when I apply for my Korean alien registration card – at least, presumeably.  The last time I was asked to present such a document, I was told when I finally took it in that I didn't need it.  But, it's important to be prepared, and no one will offer me a contract unless I can show that I'm prepared.

On Thursday, I'll get my copy of the medical checkup I did last week, which should mean that at least from a bureaucratic standpoint, I'm 100% employable in Korea.  Then, of course, there's the matter of finding a job.  But, as I've mentioned before, I haven't been looking that hard, to date – because the fact is that I'm enjoying putting my energy full-time into trying to learn the language, and I can afford to do so, at least for now.

Caveat: Caffeine

Sunday evening, after getting back from my templestay, I had a splitting headache.   At first, I thought it was something about the long journey and/or about the experience that was making me feel terrible, but then I thought back to the last time I'd felt that way:  my first few days in Tokyo last fall.   I must really be a terrible caffeine addict!  It's withdrawal, of course – there was no caffeine in the food/drink we consumed at the temple, and I'd neglected to bring a backup supply.

So a few cans of cold coffee later, everything was fine.  But jeez… I need to cut back, I think.  This will be difficult.

Caveat: 금산사…

I went on a “templestay” tour to Geumsansa over the weekend.  Here are some pictures.
Here is the main entrance to the provincial park that hosts the temple, down by the parking lot:
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This is a turtle statue near the entrance to the temple complex:
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Here is a view of the main stupa (left, over a 1000 years old, though repeatedly rebuilt) and big old main temple (right, 400 years old, currently being restored due to arson by some right-wing Christian group):
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Architectural detail on the structure housing the old drum, bell, and gong:
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A cool painting on the side of a side-building:
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The entranceway to a small temple dedicated to Chijang Boddhisattva (I think), with the statues visible inside (this is where I did my 108 prostrations, see farther down):
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A view of the main temple courtyard looking back toward the entrance building (a modern building but in the traditional style), and the gong structure off to the right:
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The ancient stupa that is the core of the temple site (i.e. the oldest part, dating in one form or another to at least the 500’s AD):
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A cool statue I saw (well-armed, indeed):
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The men’s dorm where I slept Saturday night (bathrooms are around back – this is a modern building built to look traditional, but women’s dorm out of sight to the right is quite old and traditional, with a fire-burning ondol heating system) :
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Walking from the dorm area across the stream to the side gate into the main temple courtyard:
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A waterfall that I found while wandering around a ways up the stream beyond the dorm area:
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These beads below represent my 108 bows (or prostrations) to the Chijang Boddhisattva. I really did this – it was quite tiring, and yet an old woman came into the temple, about the time I was working on bow number 50 or so, and she did 108 of her own, and finished and had left when I had gotten to my own number 70! I will keep these beads as a souvenir, because each one represents a bow that I actually did:
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This is the charismatic monk who led the templestay guests around and led us in meditation, etc. He was very friendly, positive, and interesting (despite having an incoherent interpreter):
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Caveat: Baru Gongyang

Korean Buddhism has a tradition called 바루공양 (sp? = baru gongyang), which is the idea of eating in a very structured, formalized manner and making sure that absolutely no food is wasted.  It's a bit similar in concept to a Japanese tea ceremony, I suppose.

So for breakfast this morning we had a baru gongyang meal.  There were four bowls.  Food between the bowls should not be mixed during eating, and the sound of chopsticks and spoons against the bowls should be minimized.  Also, bowls should be held while eating so that the mouth is hidden from others around you as much as possible.

Before eating, there is a chant:

Where has this food come from?

My virtues are so little that I am hardly worthy to receive it.

I will take this as medicine, to get rid of greed in my mind and to maintain my physical being so as to be able to achieve enlightenment.

The following etiquette rules are given:

Sit cross-legged

No speaking except for chants or recitations

Be careful not to make noise while eating

Always hold bowl while eating

Do not mix food from separate bowls

Do not let your eyes wander while eating

Be mindful of equlity, purity and tranquility

After the chant, we bow, and begin eating.  There are four bowls:

Rice (Buddha) bowl

Soup

Water

Side dish (kimchi, radish, some greens)

After finishing, place chopsticks in bowl 2, receive warm water in bowl 1.  Clean bowls with the water and a piece of radish that you've reserved, and drink this water – this ensures that no food goes to waste.  A second washing is performed and the water is placed into pots.  The monk told us that there are hungry ghosts who will drink this cleaning water, but that if there are particles of food in the water, the ghosts will choke and disturb the peace of the monastery.

Finally, you wipe the bowls dry and wrap them up again.  You bow and put the bowls away.

I did all this, this morning.  It was very interesting.  [This is a "back-post" written 2010-02-24]

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