2016!

새해 복 많이 받으세요! Saehae bok manhi padeuseyo!

That's the traditional Korean greeting for the new year, which is used for both the Gregorian new year (January 1st) as well as the Lunar new year (the Year the Monkey will begin on February 8th). It literally translates to, "May you receive lots of happiness/fortune in the new year!"

Unrelated to the new year, but related to Korean, is a heartwarming animated short I watched recently called 어머니 (Eomeoni), or "Mother". It's about a mother who is overwhelmed with household chores and how her family pitches in to help. Enjoy!

Mother from StephanieC on Vimeo.

Wow. I can't believe it's 2016. I started this blog in 2012... almost four years ago! I know I don't write much here anymore, but every once in a while I'll come back to it to look at old photos and old stories, and it never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Months, even years after you leave a place, the impression it leaves can really linger. I am so grateful that I have this blog to look back on my time in Korea. This coming year, I don't know if I will have any opportunity to go back. But I am very grateful for the time I did get to spend there and for the memories I can relieve whenever I want to.

Have a happy and prosperous 2016!

인자와 겸손

"사람아 주께서 선한 것이 무엇임을 네게 보이셨나니 여호와께서 네게 구하시는 것이 오직 공의를 행하며 인자를 사랑하며 겸손히 네 하나님과 함께 행하는 것이 아니냐?" - 미가 6:8

"He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." - Micah 6:8

This particular Bible verse has been on my mind a lot recently. In context, the book of Micah is a collection of sayings by its eponymous prophet that detail God's judgment against Israel and other nations but also provide glimpses of hope for a better future. In this chapter, God is telling Israel, through his prophet, that what they need to do in order to get back into his good graces is not more burnt sacrifices or physical offerings, but three simple (yet also extraordinarily difficult) actions: act justly, love mercy, walk humbly.

공의를 행하며, 인자를 사랑하며, 겸손히 행하는 것이다.

I can understand where a lot of Christians are coming from when they point out sin and moral corruption in our society and generation. To stop wrongdoing from occurring by publicly calling it out looks like an act of justice. This is, after all, what prophets are best known for doing.

But that is only one-third of what the Lord requires of us, isn't it? All the protest and castigation directed toward sinners sounds less like justice and more like direct hatred when it is delivered with mercy or humility. I think this must be because it's so easy to nest in one's own moral high ground, and because it feels so good to be "in the right".

Indeed, mercy and humility are not easy virtues to carry. It's not comfortable to identify our own privilege and admit that we might have an unfair advantage over people we'd rather dismiss as lazy or sinful. It's difficult to look at something we believe is wrong and consider that we ourselves might be wrong. And it's nearly impossible to judge ourselves by the same standard by which we judge others.

As hard as it is to carry out these three simple tasks God requires, I don't think it is actually beyond any of us. A sermon preached at church a few weeks ago highlighted something that I've heard hundreds of times before but only recently began to see in a fresh and relevant light: "Change is brought about by everyday people."

평범한 사람이 변화를 가지고 오다.

This applies to the prophets of ancient Israel, and to most of the major "heroes" of the Bible. They were ordinary people. Sinful people. People who probably wouldn't have chosen the adventures they are now known for had they had the choice. Sometimes, prophets came from great lineage, and sometimes they were plucked out of an orchard randomly to deliver an important message.

If ordinary people could, in the Bible and in history, become vessels of such great importance, why not now? God doesn't require us to be financially successful, famous, or socially influential. Actually, all he requires is justice, mercy, and humility. 공의, 인자, 겸손.

Anyway, I didn't think I'd be gaining any major spiritual insights while spending a short summer in Korea, but as it turns out, I don't get to decide when God wants to tell me something, so I thought I'd share. Hopefully it can be a bit of encouragement to anybody who is fighting for social justice, anybody who finds themselves targeted by overwhelmingly "justice-happy" Christians, or anybody who considers themselves ordinary but still wants to let God do cool things in their lives.

North Korean - South Korean translator app

It should surprise nobody by now that the languages spoken in North Korea and South Korea are not the same. The two countries have been geographically separated for decades, with no free communication allowed across the border between them. In addition to that, North Korea's government initiated purges of the language long ago to get rid of foreign words or borrowings (from English, Chinese, or Japanese) and replace them with pure Korean translations. As a result, while South Koreans might want to eat 아이스크림 ("ice cream", transliterated) on a hot summer day, a North Korean will dream instead of 얼음과자 ("ice snack").

When I visited North Korea last year, I found myself unable to understand much of the Korean that I heard being spoken. Of course, my Korean listening comprehension level is fairly low, but it wasn't just me -- even the Korean-Americans in my tour group who were fluent in (South) Korean had some difficulties. Most of it was due to the differences in vocabulary, but there was also the intonation of North Korean, which would have been considered a mere dialectal difference back when Korea was unified, but is now one of the markers of the two languages' divergence. (The line between "language" and "dialect" is a fairly blurry one, even for linguists.)

Anyway, when I came across this advertisement/PSA for a new app called 글동무 ("classmate"). I like the name -- the whole phrase means "classmate", which directly references the app's usefulness for North Korean students struggling to keep up in South Korean classrooms, and encourages a camaraderie among youth. Also, the first word (글) on its own means "writing" or "knowledge". The second part (동무) on its own can also mean "comrade", but I don't think that was intentional.

I have taught camps and tutored students from North Korea in South Korea before, and I can say that an app like this would be very helpful for most of them. (For others, especially younger students who basically grew up in China while their families were in hiding, it would perhaps be less useful than a Chinese-Korean dictionary, but those already exist.)

And in addition to the app's usefulness, its beautiful, simple design and hi-tech programming (it can use the phone's camera to identify unknown words automatically and offer translations immediately) are really compelling. This amazing app is the brainchild of linguists, computer programmers, and sociologists who saw a need in South Korea and came up with an elegant solution. I hope that the work I will do in the future can be as beneficial as this!

Korean Hip Hop Dance Crew Just Jerk

Hat tip to Glen for sending along this amazing hip hop dance piece by the Korean dance crew Just Jerk. 정말 대단한다고 생각합니다. I'm not usually a big fan of hip hop, but this performance is mesmerizing and, interestingly enough, not exactly immediately identifiable as hip hop. It's actually a fantastic tribute to more traditional Korean dance and music styles. How so?

First of all, three of the four songs come from the soundtracks to movies and dramas set during the Joseon Dynasty (the fourth is a hip hop piece by a Korean artist), and secondly, the costumes are obviously inspired by traditional Korean costumes. For the first half of the performance, the dancers are wearing masks, which makes me think of Korean masked dances, broadly known as 탈춤 (talchum). These kinds of dances always tell a dramatic tale, and similarly, I can see how this piece by Just Jerk has a musical arc and a sort of choreographed story.

It's pretty common knowledge by now that the South Korean 힙합 (hip hop) and 비보잉 (b-boying/breakdancing) scenes are huge, and that Korean b-boy crews win international competitions. There must be something in the water here... although one of my Korean instructors once tried to explain that this American genre's popularity in Korea was due in part to the fact that dance circles and community performance aspect of b-boying were similar to Korean folk dancing styles like 풍물 (pungmul) or 농악 (nongak). I don't quite buy it, but all the same, performances like the one I've shared above do in fact do a wonderful job in connecting the traditional with the young and modern.

Speaking of young, I checked out Just Jerk's Facebook page, and boy, they all look fresh out of college, or maybe even younger. 수준이 아주 높고 타고난 소질이 있는 듯! Also, as I scrolled down their wall, I was really surprised to see that they have toured internationally to do workshops, and one of their recent locations was UC Berkeley! How cool. Cal's huge dance community is always holding workshops, but I didn't know they brought people in from as far away as Korea. 미래에 JJㄴㄴ캘리포니아에 투어 하려고 다시 오고, 저는 공연을 볼 수 있으면 좋겠습니다!

Korean Snack Fix

Skatewing is 홍어, better known as "fish fermented in its own pee." They also have radish kimchi, which I really like! All of these side dishes are in a huge bar in the Han Kook Supermarket, but no tasting, please!

Welcome to the Bay Area, where those who are nostalgic about the great food they had in Asia never have to travel far to find it again. I helped my brother and sister-in-law move into their new place in the South Bay. Luckily for them, not ten minutes away there are a huge number of Asian markets and restaurants, including the enormous Han Kook Supermarket (한국슈퍼마켓) in Sunnyvale. I went to check it out with my aunt and uncle, who told me they like to get Korean side dishes (반찬) there.

The place is like a miniature E-Mart. Most of it is groceries with goods imported from Korea, Japan, and possibly Taiwan, but there are also small sections for accessories, beauty products, and electronics, just like in a typical department store. I amused myself by reading the English translations of snacks and foods that I'd learned only in Korean.

Everyone knows Choco Pie, right? It doesn't need an explanation in Korea. But in America, they have to make sure you know that the stuff in the middle is marshmallow filling, and also that "IT'S FLUFFY." 

My absolute favorite milk shake in a bag, 설레임, has been translated as "snow ice." Well, 설 does mean "snow," but I never really understood what "레임" meant. It certainly doesn't mean "ice," since that would be the more recognizable (and more delicious) 설빙 (Sulbing)! Anyway, I succeeded in getting my family hooked on 설레임.

My family also went to a Korean barbecue place for dinner last night, and it made me more than a bit nostalgic. I got to practice a bit of Korean with the waitstaff and explained what I knew about the different foods we ordered. I'm certainly going to look for my local Korean markets and restaurants in Berkeley; I'm very lucky indeed that I get to spend the next five years in Northern California.

On a related note, I thought this was really cute:

Home and Hair

When I returned home last week, it took a few days for everyone to get used to me, because I looked quite different from the last time they'd seen me. In particular, comments were made about my hair, which I'd had bleached to a sandy blond color. While I was expecting some adverse reactions, I didn't think my family's responses would make me laugh so much:

Said my grandfather, in Taiwanese, "Your hair is whiter than mine!"
Said my grandmother, "Andrew wants to look like a famous Korean singer!"
Said my mom's younger sister, "Wow, so cooool!" When she speaks in English, I can't tell if she is being sarcastic or not.
Said my 11-year-old cousin, visiting from overseas, in Chinese, "At first, I thought you were wearing a towel on your head. I thought you were grandma!"

My brother and sister-and-law and their dog are temporarily staying in the house, too, and Hoagie the 3-year-old beagle-basset hound mix wouldn't stop growling and barking at me when we met for the first time.

Said my father, "He doesn't like your hair."
Said my mother, "Why is your hair that color?"
Said my uncle, to my mother, in Chinese, "Wow, you have a 外國人 (foreigner) in your house now!"

Well, all I had to say to all of them was, essentially, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." Or, "입향순속(入鄉隨俗)."

I then went off to a family wedding in Southern California, where the rest of my extended family commented on my hair, then greeted me, then wondered if I would be mistaken for a member of my cousin's fiance's family, who are Korean. As it turns out, while I had plenty of opportunity to practice Korean with the Kim family, I stuck to my own for the evening. It was a wonderful family reunion, the first time that everyone had been together at the same time since our grandfather's funeral last September (and probably the last time for another year or longer).

All nine cousins, plus spouses, plus A-ma! Such a happy reunion! :) Congratulations to Johanna and the newest family addition, Daniel! Photo taken by Jen Lee.

Now, I'm home and apartment-hunting full-time until school begins in a week and a half. It's lovely being back in California. I get to enjoy home-cooked meals, sunny, dry weather every day (although there is a drought...), and the freedom of having no plans and no responsibilities. But it won't be long before this awesome vacation ends...

From Incheon Airport

On July 4th, 2012, I wrote:

"환영합니다! That means, 'Welcome!' I'm in Korea! That's all, bye!"

Lots of exclamation points.

It's August 7th, 2014.

잘 다녀오세요. That means, "Have a good trip." Literally, it means, "Go and come back well."

I'm leaving Korea! But I'll come back well.

Boarding now, bye!

Poké-Hanja!

Learn hanja with Pokémon daily!

I'm just going to leave this here for your enjoyment. I am so happy that this exists. (For those who need an explanation, it uses the Pokédex entries for Pokémon to explain certain Korean vocabulary words that can be written using hanja, or Chinese characters. In this case, 部分, or 부분, means "each part," as in, "Each part of the center of Acousta/Starmie's body, called the core, radiates a different colored light each time it is seen.")

Vocab!
Pokémon = 포켓몬 (Pocket Mon)
Hanja = 한자 (漢字)
Pikachu = 피카츄
Gotta catch 'em all! = 반드시 노려라 포켓몬! / 포켓몬 get 하겠어!

서래마을 - Seorae Maeul, Seoul's French Village

Pain au chocolat. I have not seen one in years. La France me manque...

My previous long-term experience abroad, a semester in France, is now three years in my past, but I still get nostalgic when I think about the amazing time I had. I wish I could go back! But since that's an impossibility at the moment, I suppose I could settle for Korea's only French enclave, the Seorae Village in Seoul!

I don't want to hype it up too much. It's a small neighborhood in Banpo-dong, south of the Han River, where several hundred French people live. The Lycée Français de Séoul is located here, and the cultural influence is pretty visible. Many of the cafes and shops have a French or European theme, and some signs are written in Korean and in French.

The awesome mural on the side of the French School in Seorae Maeul. Bonjour! 봉주르!

Quick vocab: 서래 is prononced "seo-rae". 마을 ("ma-eul") means "village" in Korean. France is transliterated into Korean as 프랑스, or "p^h-rang-ss".

So last Monday, I visited Seorae Maeul with Monica. I wasn't sure what to expect, maybe picturesque streets and some French people walking around? To be honest, we were slightly disappointed because there didn't seem to be that much to see or do. I took a lot of pictures, and we walked around the neighborhood and the local park, aptly named Montmartre, as it's on the top of a hill. We didn't see or hear any French! I'd really hoped that I'd run into somebody to chat with. And even though it's supposed to evoke Paris, there's more of an international village vibe than a "Little Paris" one: we passed lots of Japanese restaurants and a few American bars. Hélas... At least it was a nice day for walking.

Monica doing her modeling thang in the park.

There were quite a few wine shops in the neighborhood; this was a restaurant that kept all its empty bottles on display outside...

The highlight might have been the pain au chocolat and drinks we got at the local Paris Croissant. Paris Croissant is a Korean chain of bakeries. They are generally of a higher quality than the ubiquitous and related Paris Baguette chain; in fact, this Paris Croissant is said to import its flour directly from France. The breads and pastries were fantastic. I haven't had such good bread in ages! The basement of this Paris Croissant also sells French chocolates, macarons, wine, AND CHEESE. Du fromage français! En Corée! And not in a Costco! Of course, it was expensive, but it was still a delightful find. Monica and I bought some to take home with us, and we feasted later that evening.

The bakery section of this huge Paris Croissant. Une boulangerie français en Corée!

Des croissants! La patisserie était parfaitement friable!

Des petites tartines chocolates avec d'or?! Gold leaf on a chocolate tart?!

Macaron towers! Trop beaux, trop élégant!

Jus de kiwi et d'orange et du thé de pamplemousse et fruits rouges!

Gga-mang-be-reu Chi-jeu. Du camembert! J'en ai acheté une meule. :)

Et, bien sur, du pain! Une vrai baguette...!

So that's about it for Seorae Village: cute cafes, a park, and an amazing bakery! I don't know what I might have missed, but there just wasn't much there to begin with, I think. It's a nice place to spend an afternoon, but not really worth putting on your bucket list.

To get to Seorae Village, you can take the subway to the Express Bus Terminal Station (lines 3, 7, and 9), and go out of exit #5. Head down the tree-lined path by the stream for about ten minutes, until you reach a pedestrian walkway that crosses above the road on your left. Then follow the signs in English for Seorae Village. You'll know you're in it when you see the Paris Croissant or see signs written in French. You can also take 마을 bus #13 directly to the bottom of the street.

Amusez-vous bien à Seorae Maeul! A plus!

Au revoir! Merci pour avoir lu mon blog! Commentez, s'il vous plaît! Etes-vous allé à Seorae Maeul, ou les autres quartiers français dans les autres pays? Comment avez-vous les trouvé? Have you ever been to Seorae Maeul or other French neighborhoods in other countries? What'd you think?

Drim School English Camp

Teachers and volunteers for the Drim School's first English camp! Left to right: Debbie, Hannah, Carolyn, Leslie, Min, me, Alanna, Dianna, and Nikki.

Hello from Cheonan! I have spent the past two days teaching at an English camp for the Drim School (드림학교). This school is a 대안학교 (alternative school) for teenagers and young adults who are North Korean defectors (탈북청소년). They study in order to catch up on years of lost or insufficient education, become more adjusted to life in South Korea, and eventually take Korean primary and secondary school exit exams so that they can apply to university.

The Drim School, founded in 2003, is affiliated with the Korea Theological Seminary (고려신학대학원) in Cheonan and has been working with Fulbright Korea for about five years. Fulbright ETAs teach volunteer English classes there weekly. This English camp, however, was the first of its kind at the school. The volunteers wanted to provide something similar to the summer camps that the Drim School students can't normally afford. We prepared a program with English classes, cultural activities, games, and lots of time to make new friends and build strong relationships.

I was assigned to teach the lowest-level English students, which means lessons on recognizing letters and the basics of English phonics. This was surprising for me at first, since I teach fairly high-level students at my regular school. However, I learned that the reason I was given the low-level students was that I can speak and understand at least some Mandarin Chinese. The students who cannot speak English are mostly those who have only very recently arrived in South Korea, usually from China. Since they have spent years living in China (and may even consider themselves Chinese rather than Korean), they are completely fluent in Mandarin but have little to no grasp of English. A handful are not even conversational in Korean, so even the regular Drim School teachers have some trouble communicating or connecting with them.

Me with some "star"* students during the scavenger hunt!

One such student was OH. He arrived in South Korea no more than one month ago and speaks only Mandarin and very basic Korean. It wasn't hard to figure out why he looked so lost and lonely all the time; while he could talk to most of the other students in Mandarin, every other exchange in his life was conducted in rapid Korean. Even though he is Korean, he was just as confused as any non-Korean is when they first get here.

OH was in my class, and at our first meeting I told all my students straight off the bat, in Mandarin, that if they ever had any questions or problems and wanted to ask me, they could do so in whatever language they felt most comfortable with. Since I was the only volunteer in the camp who could speak it, many students chose to chat with me in Mandarin (or in a mix of Mandarin and Korean). Even though I'm well out of practice, not having studied it for three years, I welcomed the opportunity to practice and, more importantly, to connect with kids who may have gone months or even years without a teacher who can understand them in what they consider their native language. It was so wonderful to see how OH opened up, not just to me, but to his peers as well, over the course of the camp. I don't really know what his performance was like during the past semester, but he certainly proved to be a diligent student, taking notes in my class and asking me questions, volunteering for every game, and putting in a genuine effort to memorize the numbers from one to twenty.

Besides English classes, I also co-led an extracurricular class on guitar and songwriting with my friend Alanna. At first, we had no sign-ups, but eventually we had too many students in the classroom to keep the class under control! It was very loud and very fun; we just taught two simple chords and a strumming pattern and wrote a simple song about love. (It tastes like sweet chocolate and feels like the warm sun.) I think that more than anything, the students learned that learning how to play the guitar isn't easy! I'd forgotten how much it hurts your fingers when you first start out. But I think they all enjoyed it, anyway.

Hannah and me with the 동그라미 (circle) group!

There were other cultural activities, like t-shirt tie-dyeing, baking, and a Konglish photo scavenger hunt, that were quite enjoyable. I'm really impressed with how much effort the other volunteers put into their classes and activities. I myself was scrambling to throw together my lessons right up until the start of camp, because I literally moved out of my apartment the day before it opened and had been very busy and just a bit frazzled. Though like any camp, it had its hectic moments, unexpected snafus, and last-minute schedule changes, overall, I think it went splendidly. It was only two days, but that was enough for me to get close with my students and show them some love.


The vice principal of the school mentioned in her closing ceremony speech tonight that she was grateful that through our camp, the kids could experience some of God's love. And it hadn't occurred to me before, but I guess it's true. The Drim School, along with the majority of non-governmental South Korean-led initiatives to help North Korean defectors and achieve peninsular reunification, is an evangelical Christian mission. I have to admit I rather admire the passion that the Korean church has for reunification (this is despite my personal misgivings about its actual possibility in the near future), and I am grateful for the way their devotion to God has translated into tangible good works for those in need.

My father, who just finished a missionary English camp of his own in Taiwan, asked me recently if I had used my time in South Korea to share the Gospel with my students or others in my community. The simple answer is no, unfortunately, but now I wonder if there can be such a thing as "passive witnessing," wherein my students know that I am a Christian and can observe how I live and act in light of this information, or else I volunteer with the Drim School and reinforce the school's teaching that all good things are a blessing from God, including fun foreign teachers who speak Chinese.

I also admitted to a friend a while back that I'd sort of marked the last two years in South Korea as a spiritual lost cause -- this was mostly in reference to my frustration with church before I started attending Redeemer -- but on the other hand, I might be looking at things overly pessimistically. No one is a lost cause to God. He isn't in the habit of giving up on people, so I won't give up, either.

Okay, sorry for the tangent. Anyway, I am very happy and grateful to have had the opportunity to help with the Drim School's very first English camp, and I wish my students all the best in the years to come. I'll surely visit them when I return to Korea in the future.

- - -
* I'm covering my North Korean defector students' faces with stickers in my photos, because I am not allowed to show them anywhere online for security reasons.

지리산에 비가 오는 날 - Rainy Day at Jirisan

Ghosts hiking Jirisan...

Jirisan (지리산/智異山(1)) is one of South Korea's most famous mountain ranges. It spans three provinces in the south of the peninsula and attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors a year. About one hundred of these visitors are students from my school! The second-years have an annual trip to Jirisan, and this time, I went along.

The plan was to walk part of the way up to the mountain -- the peak, being 1915 meters/6283 feet, was definitely not doable -- and visit a temple famous for its 비구니, or Buddhist nuns, a nature/culture educational park, and a museum dedicated to a 16th-century Confucian scholar named 남명 who apparently built a school on the mountain.

Unfortunately, the weather was pretty awful all day. It rained on and off, and everyone was given thin rain coats to wear during the hike. It was like wearing a garbage bag, actually. I got wet from the rain and from the sweat produced because the plastic poncho wasn't breathable. Despite this, I enjoyed the time I got to spend with my students. During the nature walk, I chatted with them and mostly ignored the tour guide, admitting to my students that although I can understand some Korean, a full-on lecture was beyond me. But he talked about some of the special flora and fauna of the mountain, including Korean kiwis and some kind of tiger, and also showed us a mud house that was built decades ago when people still lived deep in the forest.

After the hike and a lunch of mountain herbs bibimbap, a bunch of students jumped into the river and had a massive water fight -- in the rain, no less! That was a lot of fun to watch; I would have joined in, too, but I hadn't brought a change of clothes...

Water fight!

The museum was boring, not gonna lie. And after that, we visited Jirisan High School, Korea's only completely free private school, for a short (and somewhat awkward) educational exchange. Their school is very interesting: it's extremely small, with a student body of about 50, and their educational focus is on service and building citizenship. The students are extremely well-mannered! I'll admit it: when they did their 인사, or bowing greeting, in perfect unison, our students seemed pretty 촌스럽다(2) in comparison... On the other hand, this school's shoestring budget is funded only by monthly private donations and receives very little support from the Gyeongnam Provincial Office of Education, whereas CSHS is like this giant magnet for scholarships and corporate sponsorship and all that. I felt awkward when I watched our school's introduction video because it flaunted just how well-funded we are and made Jirisan High School look, well, pretty 촌스럽다 in comparison.

And that was that! I had a good day, despite not being able to see the full beauty of Jirisan and not really learning too much from what was supposed to be an educational field trip. The good thing was that I got some photos with my students. I'll try to take more tomorrow, which is the last day of school!

Me with one of the second-year classes. They are all 찝찝해(3) and kind of miserable, but somehow look somewhat happy!

- - -

(1) 지리산 means something along the lines of "Mountain of Strange/Secret/Alternative Wisdom". The vice principal tried to explain to me exactly what it meant, but I never really understand what he is saying to me. I figured out, though, that the students go on this trip annually so that they can find some sort of wisdom and build character. Haha.

(2) 촌스럽다 describes things that are humble and perhaps uncivilized because they're out in the countryside; rustic, unsophisticated, provincial.

(3) 찝찝해 -- I don't know if I spelled that right -- means drenched or uncomfortably wet.

P.S. Today was my last day of taekgyeon training... I think 사범님 was actually tearing up as we finished. I kept thinking, "This is the last time I'll do X," X being whatever stretching, kicking, or sparring skill we went through. And when we ended with 명상, or meditation, I let my mind wander back to the very first day of taekgyeon, sixteen months ago... And the very last day will be tomorrow, when instead of training, we're just going out for drinks and stuff.

작별 인사 스피치 - Farewell Speech

Today, I went to the community center Korean class for the last time, sat down to write a short essay for the last time, asked the Korean tutors to check my work for the last time... and gave a speech for the last time. I haven't been going to the class regularly this semester due to busyness, but it was an integral part of my life in Changwon for my first year and a half. I'm very thankful for the 창원한글학당 (Changwon Korean Class) because it helped keep me motivated to study Korean. Anyway, here's the speech I wrote, with the translations beneath.

시간이 너무 빨리 지나갔죠? 다음 주 월요일에 저는 창원을 떠날겁니다. 그 때 이 주일 반 후에 한국을 떠날겁니다. 저는 달력을 보다가 걱정하거나 멘붕 와야 한다고 생각하는데, 실제로는 아주 침착합니다. 대개 저는 감정적인 성격이 아니거든요. 제 친구들중에도 한국을 떠나는 선생님들이 많습니다. 그들은 마지막 수업 할 때 많이 웁니다. 그러나 저는 오늘 학교에서 작별 인사 스피치를 했을 때도 눈물 하나도 없었습니다.

Time's really flown, hasn't it? Next Monday, I'm going to leave Changwon. Two and a half weeks after that, I'm going to leave Korea. I ought to be looking at my calendar and worrying or freaking out, but actually, I'm calm. I'm usually not a very emotional person, you see. Many of my friends are also teachers who are about to leave Korea. They've been doing a lot of crying in their last classes lately. But as for me, even though I gave a farewell speech at school* today, I didn't shed a tear.

제가 안 울고 있는데, 그 이유가 떠나는게 안 섭섭해서가 아닙니다. 저는 진짜 아쉽습니다. 약간 가고 싶지 않습니다. 그렇지만, 이제 저는 앞으로 나가기 위해 준비되었습니다. 이년 동안 한국에서 굉장히 즐거웠습니다. 매우 축복받은 사람이라고 생각합니다.

So I'm not crying. But it's not because I'm not sad about leaving. In fact, I feel really sorry to go! I kind of don't want to leave. But I think I'm ready to move on now. I have really, really enjoyed my two years in Korea. I feel very blessed.

저는 미국에 돌아가서 캘리포니아 버클리 대학교에서 언어학 박사학위를 시작합니다. 저는 진짜 신나고 여기서 받은 경험이 저를 도와 줄 것 같습니다. 특히 여기 창원 한글학당의 선생님들에게 감사 드립니다. 선생님들은 저를 격려하셨고 한국어를 잘 가르쳐주셨고... 창원에서 살고 있는 외국인들에게 매우 귀중한 단체입니다. 써니 쌤 열심히 지도하셔서, 또 나미 쌤 참을성있게 가르쳐주셔거, 그리고 여러분 모두 사심없이 도와주셔서 감사 드립니다.

When I go back to the United States, I'm going to start working on a PhD in Linguistics at UC Berkeley. I'm really excited, and I think my experiences here will help me. I especially want to thank the teachers at the Changwon Korean Class. You teachers have encouraged me and taught me well. The foreigners who live in Changwon have such a valuable resource in you. Sunny, thanks for enthusiastically leading the class; Nami, thanks for patiently teaching me, and to everyone, thank you for all of your self-sacrificial help.

미래에 한국에 돌아오면 다시 뵐 수 있기를 바랍니다.

In the future, I hope that I can come back to Korea and that we can see each other again.

창원한글학당 - Changwon Korean Class. Nami is in yellow, and Sunny is in white on the far right.

- - -

There were not too many people at Korean class today, but the few that I really wanted to thank were there, so that was enough. Nami gave me a small farewell gift, a beautiful keychain. Man, I really am sorry to go!

*Yes, I also gave a goodbye speech at school today. It was before the end-of-the-year teachers' sports competition, which took the form of a ring-toss tournament this time. Anyway, the speech I wrote (and my co-teacher expertly translated) was a heck of a lot longer than this one. I awkwardly stumbled through it for like five minutes because the level of Korean that I was reading was way beyond me. But my principal really appreciated it, I guess. He kept saying, "아쉽다! 아쉽다!" That means, "It's too bad! It's too bad [that you're leaving]!" Perhaps I will post that speech in its entirety later.

South Carnival (사우스 카니발) - 몬딱 도르라

This is too good not to share! My friend who teaches in Seogwipo on Jeju Island showed me this music video by a Korean ska band called South Carnival. The song is called "몬딱 도르라"*. Not only is this video cute and vibrant, the song is sung in Jeju-eo! The subtitles are written in Standard Korean, but if you listen closely (and can read/understand Hangul), then you can tell that what they're saying doesn't match up with the lyrics. And this is because Jeju-eo is quite different from Standard Korean.

I don't know enough about ska to consider myself a fan of the genre, but this song is currently stuck in my head for sure. Music is such a wonderful way to preserve language and culture!

*몬딱 도르라" (monddak doreura) is Jeju-eo for "함께 달리자" (hamkke dallija), which means "run together". Unfortunately, 도르다 in Standard Korean can also mean "to vomit," so maybe Koreans who are unfamiliar with Jeju-eo will be confused by the song title.

Schadenfreude (and the World Cup)

I haven't written much about the World Cup -- nothing since the time my entire school gathered in the auditorium to watch Korea vs. Russia -- and this is because I'm not really following the games. Facebook and a few blogs I follow have kept me in the loop enough to satisfy my curiosity. This morning, though, when my news feed exploded with status updates and funny pictures related to the Brazil vs. Germany game, I thought it would be worth checking out in more detail.

That's how I found out that the gods of international soccer, Brazil, sustained a record-breaking, mind-blowing 7-1 loss to Germany in the semi-final match. This game was on their home turf, and there were tens of thousands of fans present, hundreds of thousands more watching on television, as the team failed spectacularly again and again and again.

Photos of Brazil's soccer team looking agonized and desolate, as well as photos of angry, crying, screaming fans have gone viral. In a moment of inspiration, I made a last-minute addition to my afternoon lesson and taught my third years about schadenfreude.

"It's a German word," I said, "so it's appropriate that we are learning it today."

I looked up the Korean definition; there's no translation, just an explanation. "남의 불행에 대해 갖는 쾌감": "pleasure derived from other people's misfortune."

HS was very pleased to learn this. He said that he experiences schadenfreude quite often. We then took a break to watch some "epic fail" videos.

The actual point of bringing up the World Cup game was to remind the students how to correctly talk about winning and losing. It's kind of complex in English (why "A lost to B" but not "B won to A"?), and then there's all the slang we use to refer to victory and defeat. "What happened at the World Cup today?" I asked my students. Their using-what-they'd-just-learned-replies:

"Germany kicked Brazil's butt."

"Germany schooled Brazil."

"Brazil blew it."

"Germany steamrollered Brazil."

"Germany owned Brazil."

"Brazil was a hot mess."

"Brazil got creamed."

"Germany won."

And because we all had a good laugh at this, well... schadenfreude!

This is me capitalizing on a trending topic and in-group humor to gain approval on social media. Also, I wanted to show the link to the Avenue Q song without actually linking to it, because it is rather inappropriate! I did not play it for my students. But we did listen to Sam Smith, Pentatonix, The Piano Guys, and Sam Tsui as part of a lesson on music!

P.S. I also learned a bit of Korean from discussing the game with other teachers at my school. To lose is 지다 (jida), but to lose humiliatingly, as Brazil did, is 깨지다 (ggaejida), which can also mean to break or shatter. 실패하다 (silpaehada) means to fail, but it was explained that this is a failure of something you prepared for, such as an exam. The other two verbs are for failing in a competition. And the Korean equivalent of "Brazil was crushed by Germany"? 브라질이 독일한테 떡 됬다. Brazil became rice cake against Germany. Why rice cake? Beacuse this is how it's made:

Let the Countdown Begin

Actually, I meant to start my countdown a while ago, but I never got around to it. Today, however, is special. From today, I have only thirty days left in Korea! In just one month, on August 7th, I will board a plane at Incheon Airport and fly home to California.

Here's an even smaller and scarier number: I have eight days left with my students, and on two of those days, they will be taking exams! I was surprised by quirks in the schedule (although after two years of this nonsense, you'd think I'd stop getting blindsided) that left me with just one more meeting with some of my favorite classes.

So today, I had to rush my goodbyes. I passed back tests, gave out class awards, and then played one last game with the second-years. This game was an elaborate puzzle that I put together from bits and pieces of things they've learned (or should have learned) over the past year, like Greek and Latin roots, high school cliques, and US geography. There were eight parts to the puzzle, and each part, when unscrambled and put together, spelled out the answer to the Big Question: Where is Andrew going?

The answer: "University of California at Berkeley."

My nerdy students had a lot of fun with the riddles, but I underestimated the difficulty of some parts, unfortunately. The classes thus took so long to figure out the puzzle that by the time I actually gave my announcement, breaking the news -- just a week before the end of the semester -- that I would not be returning in the fall, the bell was already ringing. So there actually wasn't much time at all for goodbyes.

I think it would have been more difficult to prolong it, anyway.

Fortunately, I've already had some students promise to visit me!

- - -

Unrelated: tonight, I went to 한글학당 (hangeul hakdang), the weekly Korean tutoring sessions offered for free at a local community center, for the first time in months. I felt bad because I have only two more opportunities to go, and I made a promise to the Korean teachers there that I'd be more diligent about going this year. Well, I totally broke that promise (약속을 지키지 못했다). Actually, it turns out they'd all assumed that I'd gone home to the US already. Nope! I just went to chat with the teachers and learn a thing or two. A lot of my time was unexpectedly taken up by a local reporter who was doing a news story on the Korean class. So, instead of studying Korean, I got to practice Korean by being interviewed for a newspaper! That's pretty exciting. If I get ahold of the article (기사/kisa) when it comes out, I will certainly share it here.

Also unrelated: there was a crazy thunder-and-lightning storm (뇌우/nwe-u) today! A lot of people assumed that it was Typhoon Racoon*, which has sliced through Okinawa and is about to travel up Korea's east coast, but it was actually just a typical monsoon season (장마/jangma) storm. The typhoon is supposed to arrive tomorrow, which will mean high winds and heavy rain, but there's no real danger, at least where I'm living.

*Neoguri (pronounced nuh-goo-ree), means "racoon" in Korean. I don't know why they named a typhoon thus.

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Lastly, watch this. It is, in fact, thematically appropriate.

You're welcome.

Haeinsa Cafe / Wordplay

A bit of cute wordplay at the Haein Cafe: 해맑게 인사하는 사람들...

A multi-orthographic linguistic puzzle! What does "海맑게 印寺하는 사람들" mean?

If you look carefully, you can see that this phrase uses two scripts: hanja, or Chinese characters, and hangul, the Korean writing system invented in the mid-fifteenth century. In ancient times, Korean was written entirely in hanja, but after Hangul was promulgated, it began to replace hanja. Today, few hanja are used, and then only in specific contexts; you might come across a few characters in newspaper headlines and official documents, but it's slowly falling out of common use.

Now let's examine these hanja. First, you have 海, which means "sea". It is pronounced 해 (hae). Then, you have 印 and 寺, which mean "stamp" or "mudra, a symbolic Buddhist gesture" and "temple", respectively. They are pronounced 인 (in) and 사 (sa).

Anyone familiar with Korean Buddhism will recognize these three hanja as the name of one of Korea's famous temples, 海印寺 (해인사/Haeinsa). What do they mean in the context of this phrase, however?

In fact, there's a bit of wordplay involved. As the Chinese characters are read with the Korean pronunciation, they are not intended to retain their written meaning. Instead of meaning "sea", 海 (hae) is simply part of the word 해맑게 (haemalkge), which means "brightly, purely". This 해 (hae) actually means "sun" in native Korean.

As for 印寺 (insa), the two words are essentially a homophone of 人事, or 인사 (insa). 인사하는 (insahaneun) means "greeting, bowing politely". And 사람들 (salamdeul) means "people", so...

Altogether, the phrase means something like, "People who greet brightly and purely." Maybe it makes more sense like this: "People who say hello with a warm smile (and a bow, because Korea)."

So as it turns out, the phrase has nothing to do with the sea or temples, but the clever part is that this was found printed on the menu for the cafe at Haeinsa. Thus, the cafe used the name of the temple as homophones to welcome its patrons. I love the ingenuity!

- - -
Stray observations:
1. The menu is printed on beautiful hanji (한지/韓紙), a thick, coarse paper that has dried leaves and flowers embedded in it.

2. The spelling of "cafe" in Korean (까페/ggape), is a little unusual. Usually, it's 카페 (kape), with an aspirated [k] from the American English pronunciation. Instead of that, ㄲ represents a tense, unaspirated [g]. Perhaps this came from an attempt to transliterate the French pronunciation instead of the English one.

3. More hanja (한자/漢字) in the top right corner: 茶來軒, or 다래헌 (daraeheon). I've never encountered this word before, but it means a traditional teahouse. Literally, "a house or high pavilion where you can order tea." NB: don't think Korean words written with hanja are just borrowed from Chinese. 茶來軒 means nothing in Mandarin, as far as I'm aware. Also, the more common words for "teahouse" are 찻집 (chatjip) and 다방 (dabang/茶房).

4. Unrelated to linguistics: why does Haeinsa have its own cafe, anyway? Is it so that after you worship and commune with nature, you can get an iced caramel macchiato to keep you tethered to modern society? I enjoyed my seven-dollar (?!) iced 유자차 (citron tea), but the very existence of the cafe seemed incongruous to me, like the Starbucks located inside the Louvre or the stuffed animals sold in the 9/11 museum gift shop. I guess cafes are now just as integral to Korean culture as thousand-year-old temples, so this is an unsurprising mix of new and old.

Haeinsa, a Jewel Temple of Korea

伽倻山海印寺, 가야산해인사, Gayasan Haeinsa

Korea has three famous Buddhist temples called the "Three Jewel Temples". One, called Songgwangsa (송광사), is near Suncheon, and I visited it on Buddha's birthday last year. Another, called Tongdosa (통도사), is located in Yangsan. The third is called Haeinsa (해인사/海印寺), and it is located deep in the Gaya mountains, west of Daegu.

The Three Jewels of Buddhism (삼보/三寶) are its three principle objects of guidance:

1. Buddha himself (불/佛), which usually refers to sarira, or holy relics

2. Dharma (법/法), or the teachings of Buddhism

3. Sangha (승/僧), the Buddhist community, which usually refers to monks and nuns

Each of these Jewels is represented by one of the Jewel Temples. Songgwangsa has a famous monk training center, so it represents 승. Tongdosa has a famous pagoda that supposedly houses some of the Buddha's remains; it represents 불. Haeinsa, then, is the symbol of 법. What Haeinsa is renowned for is the Tripitaka Koreana (팔만 대장경), an ancient collection of 80,000 wooden printing blocks that contains the complete Buddhist scriptures.

My co-teachers and me at Haeinsa. No photos allowed of the real Tripitaka Koreana, so this poster had to suffice!

Today, I went on a field trip to Haeinsa with the English department faculty. It's the middle of finals week, so we don't have much work to do. The school sponsored our trip, partly as a way to thank me for my two years at the school, and partly because they probably realized that I have never done anything "just for fun" with my co-teachers. I mean, we attended a TOEFL conference last fall, and we go to the all-faculty outings, but this was actually the first time that just the four of us did something together that was unrelated to work!

I really enjoyed it as a change of pace. I've been constantly busy for months now, and to be able to take a break in the middle of the week for the first time since April was delightful. It helped that today was a gorgeous day, humid but not overwhelmingly hot. Also, since it was a weekday, the temple had very few visitors. I'm sure that on weekends, the grounds are buzzing with tourists, but it was peaceful and serene today. Like all Korean temples, it was gorgeous, and the natural environment was refreshing. The air somehow tasted better than it does in factory-clogged Changwon.

One of the smaller buildings in the Haeinsa temple complex. The colors are amazing!

Our vice principal wanted to make sure that I got a bit of cultural education out of the excursion, so here's what I learned: Haeinsa is located near Mt. Gaya (in Gayasan National Park). Mt. Gaya is a spiritual place important to Buddhism; the name may refer to the place in India where Buddha achieved enlightenment or to the ancient Korean Gaya Confederacy, which was annexed by the Silla kingdom in the 6th century. Haeinsa was founded in the year 802 during the Silla period. It has been renovated many times due to damage from fire and war, most recently in 1964, I believe. This was two years after Korea added the Tripitaka Koreana to its list of national treasures. In 1995, the temple and the scriptures were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list.

The name Haeinsa is a bit odd, because, according to the plaque I read, it refers to a Buddhist philosophical state of consciousness during which "a reflection on a calm sea after struggling against wind and waves enables everything to be conscious of its true nature." It's a nice concept, of course, but I don't understand why this temple located nowhere near the ocean has such a name.

The lantern-lined labyrinth of the temple grounds. Once you enter, you have no choice to walk the entire thing!

This temple came to house the famous Buddhist scriptures in 1398. The Tripitaka Koreana is the world's oldest and most complete version of the Buddhist scriptures in Chinese script (한자). There are 81,350 wooden printing blocks into which are carved over 52 million Chinese characters! The entire thing took 16 years to complete.

All of these blocks are currently housed in a special building at the top of a hill overlooking the rest of the complex. We were not allowed inside the building or even to take photos, but it honestly didn't look so impressive. It reminded me of the basement stacks of a library: rows and rows of heavy old books that nobody ever touches. Still, I was in awe, just knowing what was inside the room as we peered through the windows. Although the building is plain, it is said to have been designed in such a way that the wooden blocks can stay in their preserved state for centuries -- and they certainly have!

A gorgeous panel painting inside the main hall, 대적광전 (Daejeokkwangjeon).

Besides the temple, which was nice enough to walk around (but, in the end, still looked like every other temple I've visited, and the same goes for cathedrals and shrines), there was a kind of art exhibition going on. I don't know if the sculptures we saw were permanent or temporary, but I really enjoyed looking at them. This is in part because seeing the sculptures was so incongruous with what I've come to expect from a Korean temple. But they were also beautiful and profound.

The one below is a bronze sculpture of a Sitting Buddha that has been split cleanly in half. Its title was something like, "The Sound of Buddha"; I can't recall correctly. But it was quite mesmerizing.

What's in the space between?

And the other sculpture that really held my attention was this giant bamboo thing right by the main gate. It was called "Third Eye Within" or something along those lines. If you look carefully, you can see a smaller figure nested within the larger figure.

It reminds me a bit of Burning Man...

My day looked like this: my co-teachers and I had a late lunch at one of the tourist restaurants that served typical Korean Buddhist cuisine (think lots of mountain herbs, mushrooms, and 반찬, and no red meat), walked around the temple grounds for an hour, chilled at the temple's cafe (?!), and popped into the museum to see some more Buddhist art and more reproductions of the wooden printing blocks. The museum also had a Lego miniature of the temple grounds, I kid you not. I have no idea why. Anyway, by 5pm, we were ready to go home, and I slept almost all the way back.

I'm still feeling quite relaxed from our trip, and I am so very glad we were given this opportunity. Now that I have two of the Three Jewel Temples down, why shouldn't I try for the third? Yangsan is only an hour away!

- - -

If you want to visit Haeinsa, the Korea tourism website can help you! If you don't have a car, you'll have to go via bus from Daegu Seobu Terminal, which takes an hour and a half. Temple stays are offered and weekends.

Good Words

My taekgyeon master is already a very hardworking man, but lately his schedule has veered toward slightly insane territory. Since he began working toward his doctorate in sports psychology, he's had to drive to Daegu, one and a half hours away, each week to attend classes. But now he has to complete the English language requirement, which has taken the form of a three-week long intensive English course that meets Monday through Friday. So now, every morning, he drives to Daegu, listens to a lecture he barely understands and takes notes in a language he barely knows how to write, and then returns to Changwon for the start of afternoon taekgyeon classes that run until 11pm. It's an insane schedule, and after just one week, I can already see how fatigue is taking its toll.

At 11pm each night, after my taekgyeon class, I tutor him for an hour on whatever the day's lecture covered. And I'm almost appalled by the difficulty of the content of this English class. It's a crash course on formal grammar that covers things like SVO word order, past perfect versus past participle, and the different varieties of subject complements. Today, I had to explain the six forms of the English subjunctive to him... in Korean.

I'm not surprised so many people have an aversion to English. If this is the way it's taught, if this is the English that aspiring academics are required to master before even knowing how to ask for the time, then how can we honestly expect anyone to enjoy learning a second language?

What's worse than the fact that my taekgyeon master is being forced to sit through this no-holds-barred, all-or-nothing course for three weeks is that his English level is very low to begin with. Imagine that you have a basic grasp of the American Sign Language alphabet and knew a few popular stock phrases, like "I love you" or "Thank you." Now learn the structure of ASL in three weeks in a class conducted only in ASL. There are two exams. If you don't pass them, you fail the course and can't get your doctoral degree. Capiche?

My taekgyeon master is visibly stressed and probably feels a little bit hopeless. I've realized over the past week that not only is he a complete novice at English grammar, he doesn't have a firm grasp on Korean grammar, either. I find myself explaining why a word can be both a noun and also a subject at the same time -- or at least, trying to explain in my very limited Korean. It's a struggle for both of us.

On the bright side, he's making measurable improvements. Sometimes he comes across something that he knows he's studied before, and it clicks perfectly. Also, his reading fluency is progressing nicely. It's sheer desperation that's doing it, I think.

And as for me, well, my Korean is getting lots of practice, and I'm learning useful terms for grammatical concepts, like verb infinitive (원형) or prepositional idiomatic expressions (전치사 숙어). Of course I'm glad to be helping my taekgyeon master, but it's nice for me to learn from this, as well.

At the end of our tutoring session tonight, as the clock struck midnight, my taekgyeon master sighed and expressed his concern about his first exam on Wednesday. "힘들어요," he said. "It's hard."

"Right," I replied. I then paused as I searched for the right grammatical form to use, one I'd just picked up fifteen minutes prior as we reviewed the subjunctive. "하지만, 쉽더라면 할 가치 없을텐데요?" I said. "But if it were easy, it wouldn't be worth doing, would it?"

I probably made some errors in that statement. (Correct me if that's the case.) But my taekgyeon master nodded his head thoughtfully. "고마워요. 좋은 말이예요," he said. "Thanks. Those are good words."

제 생각에는, 사람이 예전에 할 가능 없다고 믿었는 것에서 성공하면 가장 좋은 성취감을 들 수가 있습니다. I think our greatest sense of achievement as human beings comes when we accomplish that which we were once certain we could not do.

Now if only all my English lessons could double as character-building lessons...

Taekgyeon Black Belt Test

Today, 저는 목표를 달성했습니다. I achieved a goal.

When I came to Korea two years ago, I wanted to learn a martial art. My first semester of teaching was busy, so I couldn't do many extracurricular activities, but by March 2013, I had made up my mind to pursue taekwondo. However, on the day I looked for martial arts gyms in my neighborhood, the only one I could find with adult classes was a taekgyeon gym. That's how I ended up training in taekgyeon every weekday night for over a year.

It's been mostly fun. Sometimes I was really pathetically confused, and at other times I became very frustrated, but I'm glad that I stuck through with it during the rough times. Even after a long day at school, when I arrive home at 8pm, exhausted, and have only an hour before I've got to trudge to the gym, once I arrive I shake off my fatigue and try to give it my all. I've grown to love taekgyeon: the graceful yet powerful movements, the useful techniques for self-defense, the way it has improved my physique. I'm fiercely proud of being a part of a relatively unknown Korean tradition and have eagerly talked about it with anyone. And after fifteen months of training, it all culminated in a short, ten-minute evaluation (심사) this morning for my first-degree black belt (한동).

For the test, I had to demonstrate the 본때뵈기 (bonddaebwegi) routine that we practice literally every single day. It's a choreographed solo routine that incorporates all the kicks, trips, and steps used in taekgyeon sparring, and even though I've done it nearly a thousand times now, I still mess up sometimes. In fact, I kind of messed up this morning because I was demonstrating it at the same time as some very young kids who were also testing for their black belts, and their rhythm was not the same as mine. Also, I was pretty nervous.

After the 본때뵈기, my sparring partner, a guy in his forties, and I demonstrated kicks (마주차기), trips (마주거리), wrestling (대거리), and sparring (맞서기). For each demonstration, I could tell that I wasn't doing as well as I had done during last week's training. Nerves really can get to me, I guess! But it wasn't so terrible that I made a fool of myself. In fact, I actually rather enjoyed it.

And that was that. I finished my test, and then I sat down to watch the kids do their evaluations. These are elementary school-aged children who are already testing for their second-degree black belts! They're years ahead of me in taekgyeon, but still so cute when they do it!

The older kids also did some demonstrations of higher-level routines and also jump rope routines, which my taekgyeon master incorporates into his training. (I suck at jump rope...) Anyway, I took some videos on my phone of the kids' portion of the test, and you can watch it below.

When the evaluation was over (all in all, it took just over one hour), the kids began running around acting like kids, and we snacked on watermelon and rice cakes before having take-out "Chinese" for lunch. I really enjoy spending time with the taekgyeon kids! They're always inexplicably excited to see me, and they're fun to play with. I'm a little concerned at how much they enjoy tackling and tripping each other, but I guess that's the only way a group of kids that trains in martial arts together know how to bond. That, and playing video games on their phones.

I then went home, took a nap, and went to church. The rest of the day felt as normal as any other quiet Sunday. But I feel... I don't know, 마음이 가볍다? A bit lighter? It's not like I've finished taekgyeon. I'm still going to go to training tomorrow (where we'll play soccer... ugh...) and probably continue right up until I leave. From now on, though, since I've reached my goal of obtaining a black belt, I guess my outlook has changed a bit. I've logged a few hundred hours developing a skill that I came to with absolutely zero experience, and now I'm proud to have passed a major milestone.

Another way in which this marks a sort of climactic point in my grant year is that my schedule for the rest of this semester is now free of anything major. I had my research report due last Sunday and just finished a week of endless speech tests for my students; now, my last big hurdle of the semester is out of the way. There's nothing big left between me and August 7th: D-Day. Departure Day. No more big projects. No more deadlines. Just wrapping up and getting ready to go. The emptiness of my calendar is a bit scary.

So I took my black belt test today. Because I want to continue training in martial arts, I hope that this was just the beginning, but when it comes to my time in Korea, I realize that it actually marks the beginning of the end.

tl;dr: I passed!

Watching the World Cup at school: Korea vs. Russia

Lee Keun-ho from the South Korean soccer team. Image from the Guardian.

Although I'm not closely following this year's World Cup, I was still excited when it was announced that instead of going to zero period classes today, students and teachers would be treated to a live streaming of the Korea-versus-Russia World Cup game. Because of the time zone difference, games taking place in Brazil are shown at 1am, 4am, and 7am in Korea. This has definitely dampened enthusiasm for the World Cup in Korea this year, but really, nothing will stop them from supporting the "Red Devils" when they can.

I arrived at school a little after half-time, when the score was tied 0-0. It was exciting being in the auditorium with all my students and fellow teachers. The game was being played on a live stream on the big screen, and it was really exciting! I took some videos. The first clip is of the crowd's reaction when Korea took a shot at the goal, but it was saved by the Russian goalie. The second is just after Korea scored its goal, as the crowd responds to the slow-motion replay. It was amusing how the teachers around me hooted in laughter at the Russian goalie for screwing up. The last clip is the crowd's reaction after Russia scored: pure dismay!

Russia's goal was doubly disappointing because, in fact, we didn't see it happen! Toward the end of the game, so many people were online to watch it that the servers hosting the livestream on Naver and Daum crashed or malfunctioned in some way. Our screen began to freeze again and again, buffering, and then blanking out altogether. So when the Russian forward started toward Korea's goal, we got really excited -- and then the screen froze. Imagine the frustration! And when it started playing again, we saw that the score had changed to 1-1. 아~ 아타깝다! (What a shame!)

By that time, it was almost time to begin the first period classes, but of course nobody had any intention of leaving the auditorium. The game ended in a tie, and students were disappointed because the technical difficulties persisted (I'd have expected more from a science high school, haha) and because we didn't win. But given the low confidence Korea has in its own team, I'd say a tie with Russia is not a bad thing at all.

While I don't know any more about soccer now than I did before this morning, one good thing that comes from the World Cup is that I can use it as a springboard for conversation with my students and connect with them on another level, especially the shier students who like sports but not English.

Anyway, I probably won't watch any more World Cup games until the semifinals and finals, but I'm still hoping for the best for South Korea! 대한민국 화이팅! 

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P.S. Konglish time: 화이팅 (sometimes 파이팅, romanized as hwa/pa-i-ting) is the Korean version of jia you (加油) and ganbatte (がんばって), a common sports cheer and all-around picker-upper. It comes from the English word "fighting" and is equivalent to "Let's go!" and "You can do it!" or "BEAT THEM." If I had my way with Konglish and couldn't do away with it altogether, I'd at least change 화이팅 to something that makes a bit more grammatical sense. "Korea fighting!" still sounds odd to me... even though I use it all the time now. I can say 화이팅 to a struggling student, to my taekgyeon teammates as they spar, or to my friend who's had a bad day. It's a very useful word to know!