Korean Words I Don't Know Why I Know

Simon from Omniglot Blog recently posted about unusual words or phrases one might learn in a foreign language. In his case, he said, "I forgot the elephant!" and realized upon later reflection that it was a somewhat odd combination of words. Yet the words were perfect for the situation.

I think it's both fun and useful to learn odd vocabulary words in a target language, even when you're first studying it. When I tutor my taekgyeon teacher in English, I often have to come up with lists of words with similar spellings for pronunciation practice. Once, I found myself dictating: "Each, teach, teacher, read, lead, meat, heat, beat... beaver." Now, I don't think 관장님 will ever encounter the word "beaver" in his Master's course, but who knows when it will come in handy for him?

In the same way, I have accumulated a few dozen truly random vocabulary words over the past two years of studying Korean. I don't always remember them, but I keep them in my Anki flashcard deck just for the heck of it. And you know what? Sometimes I find myself in a situation where I need them, and then, if I can get the timing right, the result is a Korean giving me the "Where the heck did you learn that?" look. I love it.

So here's a list of a few oddball words I've picked up in Korean. I do, of course, encourage you to add them to your flash card decks. ;)

배신자 - traitor
I first encountered the word in 광장시장 in Seoul last winter, where overwhelmed shoppers are courted by four or five intensely enthusiastic shopkeepers simultaneously, making it hard to actually buy anything. I spent a while browsing clothes in one man's stall, but eventually bought a shirt someplace else. The guy jokingly called me a 배신자, which I looked up and then stored in my back pocket for months. Last Friday at taekgyeon class, we were playing indoor soccer, and one of my teammates accidentally scored an own goal. I called him a 배신자, everyone laughed, and my inner nerd rejoiced!

쌍거풀 - double eyelids
So many of my non-Asian friends have no idea what double eyelids are. Since I grew up in a largely Asian-American community, I'm well aware that some people have single eyelids and others have double eyelids. Unfortunately, there's a pretty strongly-held standard of beauty that favors double over single. You can't be in Korea for very long without seeing advertisements for a quick and cheap plastic surgery procedure that turns a single eyelid into a double one, thus this word isn't really all that esoteric.

단풍 - leaves' changing colors in autumn
My host mother taught me this word last year, highlighting it when we went on a trip to a temple to see the beautiful foliage. I rarely encounter it nine months out of the year, but now that it's autumn once more, I'm reminded of 단풍 every day.

시루떡 - steamed rice cake
A word I learned from my taekgyeon master. He used it as a metaphor for being exhausted: "난 시구떡 됬어요!" He meant to express that his muscles had turned into jelly, or something like that. It was pretty memorable, and I stored it in my flashcards. But when I tried to use the expression in a journal entry on lang-8, another Korean remarked that he'd never heard it before and that it sounded really creative, albeit original.

초딩 - adult who behaves like a child
Another gem from my host mother; too bad I can't remember to whom she was referring when she taught me this. I haven't yet found any reason to call someone else a 초딩, but I really can't wait to do so!

외모지상주의 - lookism
I hadn't encountered the term "lookism" before seeing it as the provided translation for this phrase, but it makes sense. Like classism or racism, lookism is discrimination based on one's appearance, and it is rampant (or should I just say "standard"?) in both Korea and the US. In Korea, it is customary to attach your photo to job and university applications, which is mostly unheard of in the US; I'm afraid it gives Koreans just one more reason to worry about their appearance. Why can't skill alone be the deciding factor for hireability? I talked with my students about this in class once. We were brainstorming "problems in Korean society", and one student was trying to describe the over-emphasis on appearance. I dropped 외모지상주의 to make sure I was on the same page as him, and his reaction was, "Yeah! ... Wait, how did you know that?"

가부장제 - patriarchy
I like to throw this into conversation with my female students, who are outnumbered by the males at my school by a 3:1 ratio. Down with gender stereotypes and male domination in Korean society!, I tell them. But I think the most productive opportunity I took to put this random word to use was when I was arguing with a Korean friend about, well, "reverse sexism". He was complaining that it was really hard to be a Korean male these days, since they were all expected to make enough money to buy a house before proposing, and Korean women didn't have to worry about climbing the corporate ladder since they could just hop off and marry some rich dude whenever they wanted, and how come military service wasn't required for women, etc. I tried to summarize my counter-argument with one word: It's the 가부장제! But I ended up having to further explain how rigid gender roles aren't good for any gender, but patriarchy is inherently oppressive toward women, and, well, you should just stop complaining, dude.

비린내 - fishy smell
Picked up from my host father, either when we went fishing together or maybe when he was cooking some sort of seafood once. I really dislike 비린내, and it was unfortunate that last week's Bike Party route took us behind the famous Masan Fish Market. We rode past the docks and through a cloud of 비린내 that almost had me gagging.

등나무 - wisteria
I also learned this from my host father when we went on a walk to visit his childhood elementary school in Daegu. Months later, I identified some wisteria by the Provincial Education Office building, and my co-worker who was with me was nearly struck dumb with amazement, as if knowing the name of a somewhat obscure plant made me a linguistic genius or something. Well, I'll just admit that the wisteria is one of my favorite flowers, so it's not too surprising that I'd remember it, right?

That's all for now. These days, I have my students write daily journals, and sometimes they'll throw in a Korean word or two that they don't know how to translate. I've been adding all of these random words to my vocabulary as well, and I think I can make a part 2 for this post once I have enough! The sad part is that my Korean self-study has been going rather poorly overall since October. I blame grad school applications, which are taking up all my spare time. The first is due in just three weeks, so I'm getting kind of nervous! I'll redouble my language study efforts in January.

베이킹을 사랑해! I Love Baking!

Fulbright Fall Conference was last weekend, and one of the events was a bake sale as part of a fundraising effort for various Fulbrighter-led initiatives. My contribution was a batch of persimmon cupcakes (with persimmon frosting!) and Oreo brownies! My friend Katelyn, who baked peanut butter-chocolate chip cookies, and I together raised about $70 for the North Korea Defector tutoring program in Daegu.

I documented my uber-baking process, which began at 6am the morning before I was to leave for Gyeongju. I got up before sunrise, baked for three hours straight, cleaned for one hour, packed, and was out the door by 10:30am.

The set-up: some new baking pans, a new muffin tin! And all the ingredients up top: peanut butter, persimmons, Oreos, chocolate... Dang, seeing this makes me excited to bake again.

Oreo brownies: one layer of cookie dough, one layer of Oreos, and one layer of brownies. Recipe from here.

The finished product! It was very sweet, but not as melty or moist as I'd have liked. Still, not bad for the first try.

Persimmon cupcakes, just out of the oven! I mostly followed this recipe from the Cupcake Project, but used cinnamon instead of pumpkin pie spice and also added crushed walnuts per a recipe I got from my aunt. (The idea was inspired by her own persimmon cake, so thanks, A-koh!)

Here's the first batch! Persimmon cupcakes, with persimmon. :) Cute, but a bit flat. Perhaps more baking powder next time to help them rise. Also, more flour to counteract too much juice from the fruit.

I also made persimmon frosting! Without powdered sugar (confectioner's sugar), I had to go with a recipe that used granulated sugar, but it turned out better than I could have imagined, anyway. Butter, sugar, milk, flour (?!), and one persimmon, whipped together like mad and refrigerated for a few hours. I frosted them just before the bake sale, so that it wouldn't melt. They were a hit. I even sold cups of extra frosting for a buck each; I'm not kidding.

Oh and here's another thing I did a few weeks ago: cinnamon sugar sweet potato fries. Yum!

I love baking and I will try to get better at it throughout the year. Fall is definitely here. How do I know? The weather is chillier and I've caught a cold. Time to try recipes with pumpkins (Korean pumpkins, 호박, are quite different from American ones) and Korean pears!

The Ginkgoes Away

Ginkgo trees near my apartment, blazing yellow in autumn. (I took this photo on my cell phone!)

For the past few weeks, up until now, I've been meaning to go around the city, maybe even check out the local mountains, in order to take photographs of the amazing display of autumn foliage here in Changwon. There were innumerable ginkgoes and Korean maples which made the tree-lined boulevards in this city look like long halls in a palace trimmed with crimson and gold. Alas, I never actually got around to those photo shoots, and with December just days away, I'm afraid that all the leaves have dropped to the ground by now. Most of the deciduous trees I see on my daily commute have been left naked, dark, and spindly, as if the fiery fall colors literally burned away, leaving charred skeletons behind. And along with the loss of fire comes the loss of heat and warmth. It has definitely gotten cold here. As much as I look forward to the changing of seasons (I'm hoping it'll snow at least once in Changwon), a part of me yearns for summer again, back when everything was so fresh and new. This city is still beautiful, though. I really ought to show you sometime.

The Vanguard

SY comes to find me as I finish lunch in the cafeteria. I'm always one of the last to finish; most of the other teachers have left, so I'm easy to spot.

"Hi, SY! What's up?"
"Um... nothing much! You?" He's catching on to the slang that I taught my students a few weeks ago.
"I'm good. Do you have any entrance exams this weekend?"
"Oh, no..." He grimaces, but I don't catch it.
"Well, that's great! Aren't you happy?"
"No, I'm very bad," he says, putting his head in his hands and sighing.

I get him to explain, with the help of my co-teacher, who is sitting with us. The majority of the second-years at my school have been stressed out about science university entrance examinations, which have been taking place on the weekends of September and October. They are short oral interviews that test applicants on anything ever covered in their science and math curricula. For students who want to get into the likes of KAIST, UNIST, and POSTECH, acceptance hinges on their results on these very difficult exams.

As it turns out, SY doesn't have any more exams, because he already sat for all those of the schools to which he'd applied. And he was not accepted to any of them.

My heart sinks at this news. I forget about my lunch and look across the table at the high school student sitting there, processing the fact that he will not be going to college next year.

But then I remember something: SY is a second-year. (He's only at the equivalence of junior year of high school.) I wonder to myself, did he really expect to be accepted into some of the most competitive institutions in the country one year ahead of the rest of his peers?

I guess SY's entire class of eighty had high hopes. They're the vanguard, after all. The first graduating class of Changwon Science High. They need to prove that this city's enormous investment into their education at this shiny new school was worth the millions. Everyone -- teachers, principals, parents, peers -- has been pushing them nonstop for two years, equipping them for the controversial early application process that many science high school students pursue. They cram as much physics, chemistry, and biology into their heads as humanly possible in two years and then take the entrance exams at the same time as the third-year students at other high schools. Are the odds stacked against them? Incredibly so. But the extremely confident -- and I would add starry-eyed -- faculty here project a minimum yield of thirty accepted students. This would catapult CSHS to a high spot in the science high school rankings. Everyone has high hopes.

But late October and November are times of anxiety and despair for many as they receive negative results. Some of my students have been accepted; I don't know who, because they seem to keep this information private. But the rest of them are now preparing for year three and a second chance.

"Hey, you know what? On the bright side, I can teach you for one more year now!"

Back to lunch, where I smile as hard as I can and try to steer the conversation away from the depressing topic of college rejection letters. Actually, SY remains optimistic despite his huge disappointment, because, he tells me with a small grin, his sore throat is finally getting better. He wants to begin practicing his gig for the school festival in December: lead vocals in the student band. He also wants to perform at Yongji Lake alongside the other buskers next summer. (Now that it's autumn, the weather is too cold.) But he's worried that I'll have already gone back to the U.S. by the time school lets out next July. He already knows that I have to go home for Christmas before the school festival takes place.

"Next year, can you go Yongji Lake?"

I tell SY to let me know whenever he goes downtown to jam at the lake. It doesn't matter if it's in the dead of winter. I'll be there.

Land's End

Today was the first rainy day of fall*. I expect more to come, so I'm going to have to buy some new shoes. The pair I've had since I began college has gaping holes in both heels and bleeds blue onto my socks when wet. Today was the first rainy day of fall, and I walked around in wet shoes and socks for hours in Jeollanam-do with a large group of tourists from a Korean Teachers' Union.

*Actually, it wasn't. I just thought that that would be a nice way to begin the entry.

Host mother and me

My host mother is a biology teacher and belongs to a union. She and half a dozen other teachers from her school joined a tour of Haenam County in South Jeolla Province. We went to Haenam (해남/海南), Daeheungsa (대흥사/大興寺), and Ttangkkeut (땅끝), which is the "Land's End" of Korea -- the southernmost point of the peninsula (this does not include the many islands just off the coast). Due to the language barrier, I did not understand the majority of anything that happened today from 7am until 10pm, neither what our schedule was or what our tour guide was ever talking about. However, I did get some opportunities to practice Korean, I made a new friend, and I took some photos of pretty things at a Buddhist temple. An opportunity to take photos of pretty things is always nice. (Can you tell that I'm really tired right now?)

A statue at Daeheungsa (대흥사), the main temple of the Jogye Order of Buddhism. The temple was large, spacious, and peaceful, I think in part because it was raining and there were no busy crowds.

단풍 (danpung) is the Korean maple tree, as well as the word for the changing of leaves' colors in autumn.

The main attraction at Ttangkkeut is a monorail that goes straight up a steep mountain to the Ttangkkeut observatory. We waited in line for nearly forty-five minutes for a chance to ride the monorail. It was fairly unexciting, save for a moment near the top when the car suddenly stopped and the lights when out, as if the power had been cut. And it was still raining. I suddenly wondered if we'd survive if the car were to freefall down the side of the mountain... But the power outage didn't last long, and soon we were at the top. We stayed up at the top for about five minutes, as the wind and the rain made it uncomfortable to stay up there, and the view was miserable, anyway. So... so much for that! At least I can now say that I've been to the southernmost point of the Korean peninsula. The next time I go farther south, I want to be on Jeju Island -- when it's not raining. The weather put a "damper" on things, if you will. (Damp: 축축하다/chukchukhada)

Ttangkkeut Monorail.

Following Ttangkkeut, we visited a small cabin complex in the woods in Gangjin where the great Joseon period thinker Dasan lived in exile and wrote five hundred books. He must have had a lot of time on his hands. I don't know much about Dasan (다산/茶山/Yes, that means "Tea Mountain"), but I will read his biography when I get the chance to, because his life seems to have been very interesting. (Unlike the photos I took at this tourist spot, since it was getting dark by then...)

After a Korean beef (한우) barbecue dinner, it was time to go home. A few scattered notes: I spent a lot of time today adding vocabulary words to my flashcard deck on Anki, and it's great to see how I'm actually progressing. I'm happy that I got to spend a lot of time with my host mother today. Usually all the members of my host family are so busy, especially in recent weeks, so this was nice. Teachers' unions (교원 노동 조합(노조)/kyowon nodong johap) are an interesting thing in Korea -- as I'm sure they are in the US, too. They haven't been legal for more than a few decades, though. I'll have more thoughts on them according to what I know, later. But it's time to sleep, now. Good night!

Beautiful Gyeongju (Conference pt. 3)

"Beautiful Gyeongju" is the cheesy English moniker adopted by the historic city of Korea. (See related: "Colorful Daegu", "Dynamic Busan", and... "Changwon: Environmental Capital". Yeah.)

There's no denying, however, that Gyeongju lives up to this name. It's a small city but its boundaries are wide; the best word that I can think of right now to describe it is uncompressed. Unlike Seoul, Daegu, and Busan, there's so much room to breathe. And there are trees everywhere, all on the verge of changing colors -- the phenomenon known as 단풍 (dampung) in Korean. On a sunny, crisp, almost-autumn day, the tour we took around the city's historic monuments from the Silla Dynasty was more calming and relaxing than I could have imagined, thanks to our slow pace and the gorgeous sights at every stop.

A small hut selling memorial tiles; you can buy one to write an inspirational message on. I was most interested in the wooden rooftop, though; there's not only moss but small trees growing on it!

The first stop was Seokguram (석굴암/石窟庵), a Buddhist shrine located on the top of a tall mountain. Fortunately, our bus drove to the top, and we didn't have to hike for more than five minutes to arrive at our secluded, peaceful destination. Although there were tons of tourists, they didn't seem to bother the worshipers inside the shrine, who were also separated by a thick glass wall that said "No Cameras". Inside was an enormous ten-foot-tall statue of the seated Buddha, imposing yet peaceful. From the outside, you could see the beautiful farms and fields far below us in the valley, although the morning mist obscured it some. Seokguram is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

A very awake Ginger and Nina jump up in front of Seokguram Grotto (built into an artificial cave!).

Down by the parking lot, we passed by a long row of ajummas (아줌마) selling fruits and roasted chestnuts. Mmm, chestnuts. It was a nice surprise for me that chestnuts (밤, bam) are a common autumnal snack in Korea. They remind me of France (where they're called châtaigne).

This is literally a dozen sellers of the exact same product. You have to wonder what the market competition is like.

After Seokguram, we hopped back on the bus to go to Bulguksa Temple (불국사/佛國寺), Korea's "Historic and Scenic Spot No. 1" and also a UNESCO World Heritage site. Some of the historic treasures located within the temple complex included stone pagodas (탑), famous bridges, and, of course, statues of the Buddha. While we were at the temple, we were supposed to follow a tour in English, but the tour guide mysteriously never showed up (I found out later that she was just very late), so most of us just grabbed a map and wandered around the huge grounds on our own.

Me in front of Dabotap (다보탑/多寶塔), the pagoda of many treasures, built in AD 751. Its partner pagoda just a few meters away, Seokgatap, was under heavy construction at the time. (Photo taken by Susie)

For the average tourist (aka, me), it seems as if once you've seen one Korean Buddhist temple, you've seen them all. I wish I knew more about Buddhism (불교; bulgyo), though; I took only one course in college that covered Eastern traditions, and it only skimmed the surface of what there was to see and learn at Bulguksa. One neat little corner of the temple was covered with hundreds of small cairns -- piles of flat stones stacked neatly atop one another -- that made me feel like a giant in a Suessian wonderland, sans the vivid colors. I wasn't sure what their function was, having been told, when I saw similar structures at Muryeung Valley, that they were used to mark hiking trails. I found out later that they were for making prayers or wishes.

Build a cairn, make a wish! This one is about as tall as a soda can.

All around and behind me are hundreds of small cairns, carefully constructed by thousands of the faithful. (taken by Brittany)

And that's about it for Seokguram and Bulguksa! Two of Korea's most famous historical sites and tourist attractions, check! Then, it was lunchtime (맛있는 불고기!) and off to more beautiful places plus a museum, which I'll get to in a later post. Stay tuned!

The main gate of Tohamsan (토함산/吐含山), the mountain where Bulguksa is located. I spy thirteen -- no, fourteen! Fifteen? -- Fulbrighters!