Korean Language Notes

Does Heaven repay those who bury 2-headed snakes?

2011-08-01T01:09:00.002+09:00

"The Tale of the Two-headed Snake"

When Son-suk Oh (孫叔敖) was a young child (為嬰兒), he went out to play (出遊), but when he returned (而還), he was upset (憂) and would not eat (而不食). His mother (其母) asked (問) the reason (其故).

While crying (泣而), he answered (對曰),"Today (今日), I saw (吾見) a 2-headed snake (兩頭蛇), so I fear (恐) I have no days left before going to death (去死無日矣).

His mother asked (母曰), "Now (今), where is the snake (蛇安在)?"

Answering (曰), "I heard (吾聞) a person who sees a 2-headed snake (見兩頭蛇者) dies (死). I feared (吾恐) others (他人) would also see (又見), so I have already (已) buried it (埋之矣).

His mother said (母曰), "Don't worry (無憂). You won't die (汝不死). I have heard that (吾聞之) if there are those who do good secretly (有陰德者), Heaven (天) repays them (報) with blessings (以福).
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孫叔敖為嬰兒出遊而還憂而不食其母問其故泣而對曰今日吾見兩頭蛇恐去死無日矣母曰今蛇安在曰吾聞見兩頭蛇者死吾恐他人又見已埋之矣母曰無憂汝不死吾聞之有陰德者天報以福

Is Puberty a Good Time to Start Learning Korean?

2011-07-23T08:24:00.003+09:00

A seventh grade girl is attracted to a Korean-American boy and starts learning Korean. Four years later, she becomes the first "non-Korean" to win second place in a Korean speech contest hosted by the U.S. National Association for Korean Schools. Then, after a phone interview with a Korean reporter, the girl is described by the reporter as being able to speak Korean as if it were her mother tongue.

Four years may seem like a long time to learn a language, but when learning Korean, it is not that long, especially if you are trying to learn it outside Korea.

Link to Article

And she is very good.

"If I were a leaf," by Gerry Bevers

2011-07-16T16:14:00.002+09:00

If I were a leaf, I'd want to be

One of a sprawling sycamore tree.
Then under my soulful, silent shade,
Young and old could drink pink lemonade.

Summer showers go splitter splatter,
But under me it would not matter.
My friends and I would be broad and green,
Stopping the raindrops while staying clean.

How do Koreans say "to pass the buck"?

2011-07-08T01:04:00.000+09:00

The American idiom "to pass the buck" is translated in Korean as 책임을 전가하다. 책임(責任) means "responsibility," and 전가(轉嫁) means "to impute" or "to attribute."

What I find interesting about the Korean expression is that 전가(轉嫁) also means "to remarry" on the part of a women. The Chinese characters literally mean "transfer the wife's marriage."

Unloading your wife onto the back of another man seems like a perfect example of "passing the buck."

Are you a Hypocrite or a Good Deed Doer?

2011-06-21T11:54:00.001+09:00

Confucius wrote:

Heaven repays a person who does good with blessings and a person who does bad with calamity.

爲善者天報之以福, 爲不善者天報之以禍 (위선자천보지이복, 위불선자천보지이화)

爲善者(a do good person) 天報之(Heaven repays him) 以福 (with blessings), 爲不善者(a do no good person) 天報之(Heaven repays him) 以禍 (with calamity).

Based on the above Confucian saying, 위선자(爲善者) can be translated as "a good deed doer," so why do modern day Koreans use 위선자(僞善者) to mean "hypocrite"?

The answer lies with the Chinese characters for 위. Notice that the Chinese character for the 위(爲) in "good deed doer" is slightly different than the 위(僞) in "hypocrite." 爲(위) means "do," but 僞(위) means "lie, pretend" The other two characters are exactly the same: 善 (선 - good), 者(자 - person). Therefore, the Korean word for "hyprocrite," 위선자(僞善者), literally means "a pretend good person."

The next time someone calls you a 위선자, you can reply, "Really? I guess that means I can expect blessings from Heaven."

The Cycle of Life

2011-06-20T06:32:00.002+09:00

At Seventy-two or fifty-three,
The Angel of Death is eyeing me.
I do not fear him for I know,
Like flowers and trees, we all must go.

Back to the earth from which we came,
Your dirt and my dirt will be the same.
Our lives as humans may come to an end,
But another awaits just ‘round the bend.

I may come back as a tomato plant,
Or if I’m lucky, a giant elephant.
Life eternal would be a bore,
Nature offers much, much more.

How would you translate 란/이란 in English?

2011-03-01T20:00:00.013+09:00

란/이란 is a topic marker similar to 은/는 that attaches to nouns, but is more emphatic than 은/는. It is an abbreviation of (이)라는 것은. The marker 란 attaches to nouns that end in a vowel (eg. 친구란), and the marker 이란 attaches to nouns that end in a consonant (eg. 가족이란).

The marker essentially announces that you are about to define or explain the noun to which it is attached, as the following example shows.

친구란 어려울 때 도와줄 수 있는 사람이에요.

A friend is someone who helps you in difficult times.

Dictionaries often show "as for" as an English equivalent of 란/이란, but normally we would not translate it in English. However, in spoken English, we usually show the emphatic nature of the marker by stressing the noun to which 란/이란 is attached and then pausing before continuing on with the definition or explanation of the noun, as demonstrated below:

A friend--is someone who helps you in difficult times.

In the above example, the boldface type is meant to indicate stress, and the hyphens (dash) are meant to indicate a pause.

Normally, Koreans also pause after the marker 란/이란 before continuing on with the definition or explanation of the word or phrase to which it is attached.

Raising Boys by Gerry Bevers

2011-02-27T05:17:00.003+09:00

Twelve year old boys can surprise,
Not as innocent as some surmise.
To a young boy in the spring,
Girls can be a curious thing.

Discarded magazines were the way,
We learned of girls back in my day.
Now the Internet is the teacher,
The female body, the main feature.

Don't trust your son with a computer,
For it can be a mind polluter.
The female body is quite beautiful,
But some sites are just not suitable.

"Genesis" -- by Gerry Bevers

2011-02-15T04:04:00.001+09:00

Our God is the Sun,
the creator of life,
the sustainer of life.

His essence is Hydrogen,
the smallest of seeds,
the source of all matter.

Hydrogen begets Helium,
and Helium begets Carbon,
with whom Hydrogen bonds
to give birth to all living things.

The God of our God is Gravity,
the unseen Force of the universe
that brings it all together.

"Snowy Night" by Gerry Bevers

2011-02-11T04:06:00.006+09:00

Just beyond my window pane,
Gently falls white winter rain.
Fluffy flakes floating down,
Softly landing without sound.

As my world waxes winter white
Reflecting stars and soft moonlight,
The silent sadness of the lonely night
Fades away into soft delight.

"Please" by Gerry Bevers

2011-01-28T15:37:00.002+09:00

I'm battening down the hatches.
And fastening all the sashes.
I just want to be left alone.

Please ask me no questions.
Please make no suggestions.
I just want to be left alone.

No need to worry,
Or to feel sorry.
I just want to be left alone.

I'm not at all bitter,
Just things to consider.
So, please just leave me alone.

"Safety First," by Gerry Bevers

2010-11-18T01:56:00.002+09:00

‎"Safety First"

Feel my groin,
Give it a squeeze.
Just don't snicker, please.

Feel her breasts,
And check the rest.
Please do not caress.

Let's fly safe;
Rather be late,
Then the news at eight.

by Gerry Bevers

"Young Heros," by Gerry Bevers

2010-11-12T06:09:00.004+09:00

.........."Young Heros"

Young, patriotic, and full of life,
They join to fight for what is right.
With a big smile, a hug and a kiss,
They say "Goodbye" and then say this:

"Don't worry about me. I'll take care."
"I'll return to you from over there."
When the sad news comes, it makes us cry.
Now with God, they never meant to lie.

by Gerry Bevers

A snake 40 to 50 feet long in Korea?

2010-10-13T00:49:00.002+09:00

Did you know the Japanese supposedly found and killed a snake between forty and fifty feet long (4, 5 jang – 丈) in Hamheung, Korea in 1906? One jang (丈) is supposed to be ten cheok (척 - 尺), and one cheok is supposed to be about one foot. In pure Korean, cheok (척 - 尺) is written as 자.

The Japanese supposedly burned the snake, which caused a stench so bad that seven Japanese soldiers died that night after vomiting up blood.

Do you always wear your seat belt?

2010-02-22T14:43:00.001+09:00

좌석(안전) 벨트를 항상 매세요?

Korean Phychologist Suggests Apolo Ohno "Abnormal" and "Immature"

2010-02-19T13:36:00.003+09:00

The Dong Ilbo, which is one of Korea's big three newspapers, has posted an article entitled, "Ohno's Spiteful Actions, Result of Immaturity and Lack of Love?," in which a Korean phychologist suggests that Ohno's "spiteful actions is a result of immature and excessive self devotion and a lack of love."

I will translate the article when I have more time.

Korean Media Distorts Apolo Ohno's Statements

2010-02-19T11:39:00.005+09:00

Ever since Apolo Ohno won the silver medal in men's 1,500 short-track on February 13 at the 2010 Vacouver Winter Olympics, the Korean media has been conducting a vicious, unfair smear campaign against Ohno. The Korean media is not only describing Ohno in hateful, unfair language, but they are misquoting and distorting his statements to the English media.

The following is a February 16, 2010 SBS News report on Ohno. It is typical of what is being said in much of the Korean media. SBS NEWS is one of the three big news organizations in Korea.
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Anchor: Apolo Ohno, who was the “undeserving” (implied – 어부지리) winner of a silver medal in Men’s 1,500-meter short-track, has made another ridiculous claim that has aggitated our athletes.
Even though he had clearly committed an illegal action, he has made the ridiculous claim that he lost the gold medal because of the interferrence of our athletes.
Reporter Jeong Gyu-jin covers it in Vancouver.
[Reporter]
This is a scene from the men’s 1,500 meter race.
A scene of Ohno grabbing and tugging on the left arm of Seong Si-Baek, as Ohno wedged his way in at the inside corner, has been clearly captured on camera by the SBS crew. The situation lasted close to three seconds.
During the semi-finals, he also used his arm to push Lee Jeong-su, which caused Lee Jeong-su to show an expression of surprise.
Even though these are the facts, in an interview with American media, he said if Korean athletes had not impeded my way, the results could have been a lot different. He also claimed that he had never once grabbed another competitor.
After having said immediately after the race that he had hoped Korean athletes would be disqualified, he is once again aggravating our team.
However, it has become known that he has acknowledged the thoughtlessness of the irratating hand gesture he made after winning the race as a result of our athletes crashing into each other.
[American Short-track Team Coach Jeon Jae-su: It was extremely unsportsmanlike behavior, so I angrily scolded him immediately after the race. And, actually, Ohno has been greatly reflecting on that part, and said he does not know why he did it.]
After causing waves with his statements, Ohno has refused interviews while showing a consistent, hardened expression throughout practice.
Analysts think Ohno’s statement shows that he intends to use scuffles during the remaining races to get favorable judgements.

Notice that SBS News did not use any quotation marks in their report, but other news outlets reporting on the SBS report did. For example, Newsway quoted Ohno as saying the following:

I have never interfered with another athlete by grabbing his arm or leg and holding on for so long.
“나는 한번도 어떤 선수의 팔이나 다리를 이처럼 오랫동안 붙잡아 방해한 적이 없다”

First, both news reports are misquoting Ohno. Ohno did not say he had never "held another athlete's arm or leg"; he said his arm or leg had never been held by another athlete for so long. HERE is what Ohno said:

I definitely don’t think it’s typical, not in my sport. I’ve never had anyone hold onto my leg or arm that long. If it weren’t for that, the outcome would have been much different.
I started to pass one of the Korean skaters on the inside, and he put his left hand over and blocked me. That’s when I lost a lot of my speed.
The (earlier) bump allowed the others to catch up. That’s short track. When I saw those two guys lining up to pass on the final lap, I knew something was going to happen. It was a mistake on their part, and worked in my favor.
Everyone wants to win, and gets caught up in the emotions. All three of those Korean skaters are tough and strong. It was one of the hardest races I’ve skated in.

I do not know what Ohno meant by his hand gesture, but I know it to mean “stop,” as in “stop doing something.”

I do not know why Ohno’s Korean coach said what he did to the Korean media, but since the Korean coach did not make a similar declaration to the English media, I am suspicious. Ohno’s Korean coach seemed to be feeding Korea’s hatred for Ohno, not appeasing it. I wonder if Ohno even knows what his coach told the Korean media?

SBS News was trying to make Koreans believe that Ohno had cheated by grabbing the Korean skater's arm, but it you watch the SBS VIDEO, you will see that it was the Korean who grabbed and held on to Ohno's knee until Ohno finally knocked his arm away. That allowed the Korean skater's teammate to skate around on the outside. Watch the video and judge for yourselves.

How do you say "Uh-oh" in Korean?

2010-02-15T11:30:00.002+09:00

Picture from Sports Illustrated site.

How do you say "elk" in Korean?

2010-02-04T00:03:00.010+09:00

My dictionary says elk is 말코손바닥사슴. A deer with a horse's nose and hoofs?

UPDATE: 말코손바닥사슴 is the Korean word for "moose," not elk. The word is descriptive since 말코 means "horse nose" and 손바닥 means "palm," which most likely refers to the palm-shaped antlers of the moose. 사슴 means "deer."

Photo of a moose from Wikipedia

The Korean word for elk seems to be 와피티사슴, which comes from the Korean transliteration of "wapiti" (와피티).

Photo of an elk from Wikipedia

By the way, can anyone count how many elk are in the following video?

When do Korean children learn to swear and hate Japan?

2009-12-12T21:15:00.005+09:00

I am not sure, but the kids using vulgar language to spew hate on Japan in the Gangneung (강릉) dialect in the video below are supposedly in the second grade at the Wansan Elementary School (왕산초등학교) in Gangneung.

민경:	오늘 여게 사람들이 이리 마니 모였으니 내가 가슴에 담아 도던 얘기를 한 마디 할게요. 내가 이 얘기를 안하면요 살아도 산기 아니고요. 내가 쌔가 빠져 죽어도요 눈을 못 감을 정도로 한이 될기래요.
성령:	이런 진생 같은 간나가 꼴깝하고 자빠졌네. 지 나이가 몇 살이라고, 뭔 놈의 한이 우째고 우쨌다고?
민경:	이런 씨 니처럼 맨재기중에서도 찰 맨재기 같은 인간이 우트게 내속을 알겠나? 시상이 우트 돌아 가는 지 알기나 하고 그래 찌꺼래 되나?
성령:	벨희얀한 소릴 다듣겠네야 내 참 그래 뭔 누무 한이 그래 맺혔는지 어디 한 번 니 힘 가지껀 찌꺼래 봐라.
민경:	이런 쿵하면 담 배락에서 호박 떨어지는 소리고 뽕하면 니 똥구영서 똥가루 날리는 소리는 소리라고, 어. 내가 지금부터 얘기해 줄 테니 귓구영을 후비고 똑띠기 들아. 알았싸어.
성령:	알았다.
민경:	저짜 바다 건너 일본놈들이 요새 독도가 지들 땅이라고 복날 개훌기 듯이 우겨된다는데 니는 테레비도 안 보나 이런 판진생 같은 인간아!
성령:	뭐이 우째.
민경:	우째긴 뭘 우째 가들이 그 날리를 치는 바람에 여게 저게서 열통이 터져서 복장을 치는 사람들이 울매나 많은데.
성령:	그 놈의 종자들이 날은 더와 죽겠는데 왜 그 지랄들겠나? 어, 그 전에도 그 난리를 볶아 때리더니 요새 또 그런다 말이야.
민경:	야 그럴 내가 이래 열을 내는게 아니나? 그것들이 아직 된변을 못 봐서 그렇치 내인데 한 번 걷아들리기만 하면 내가 아주 쌕딜가 뭐나 쌕딜을 잡아 빼놀 낄되, 뭐.
민경:	어니야라 뭔 간나가 말을 해도 억쎄 빠지기 시래 쌕딜가, 남사 시럽지도 안나. 여게 사람들이 이래 많은데 그래갔구 시집이나 겠나?
민경:	뭐이 이런 판진생 같은 인간아. 이 판국에 지금 시집이 문제야? 이거는 뭐 똥인지 된장지 천지를 모르고 찌꺼래 되네야. 아이 내가 여복 부애가 났음 거러겠나? 그런 인날 임진왜란 때 말이야. 그것들이 사람들을 마큰다 아주 씰몰살 시킬려고 쳐들어왔던 걸 뭐이 벌써 까먹었부랬나?
설령:	내가 그럴 우트 까먹겠나? 가들이 그 조총이란 걸 갔구 들이 쏴단 걸 내가 까먹을 리가 있나?
민경:	말도마라. 말도마 우리 할머어이가 그러는데 그 총알이란 게 날아가지고 대가빠리에 정통으로 들이 맞으면 뇌진탕으로 히떡가고, 또 그게 누까리에 들이 걸리면 눈까리가 다 박살이 나고 그 뭐나어 배때기에 들이 걸리면 창지가 마카 게 나와 가지고 하이고 뭣이 대뜨번에 쌔싸리가 빠진다더라.
성령:	야, 말이 싹다 마자요. 나도 우리 할아버한테 들었는데요 자들이요 생각하는 것까지도요 울매나 얍쌉한지요 우리들 같지 안타니까요.
민경:	마자요, 마자. 자들이 울매나 얍삽한지요. 뙈놈보다 더 하다니까요. 요새 이 독도문제도요 시시하게 대처해서는 되지도 않아요. 그저 순순히 우리가 대해 주시깐 저것들이 우릴 만만보고 저 지랄들이지 우리가 빡쎄게 나가면 찍소리도 못 할기래요. 아이 내 말이 맞으면 박수를 한 번 쳐주야.
성령:	뭔 간나가 참 억쌔게도 지꺼려 되네야 이 좋은 날 우째 그리서럽그리 둘어대나 여기 앉아 있는 사람들도 그놈의 독도 얘기만 나오면 복장이 터질낀데 왜 그다타나 아이 내 말일 맞아요 안 맞아요.
민경:	알았다 내가 이 얘기 한 마디만 더 하고 내겨갈 끼네.
설령:	뭐이? 여태 찌거려 놓고 뭘 또 지꺼린다고 알았다 알았다 정 그러면 지꺼려 봐 얼른 지끄리고 내려가자 내 배때기 고파 죽겠다.
민경:	아이 시끄루와 그놈의 배때기 고프단 소리는 몸썰나게 해 대내야. 여 앉아 있는 사람들요 내 말을 마저 들어봐요, 야. 그렇다고요. 그짝 나라 사람들이 다 그리 얍삽하다는 게 아니래요. 모르긴 몰라도요 여 강릉에 해마다을 사람들도 있다든데 그 양반들은 안 얍삽해요. 여기 강릉교육관 한마음 축제 오신 여러분들도 그 양반들 만나면 괘찮으니 그 사람들 만나면 반갑게 맞아줘요 알았지요.

I may translate it later.

Have you read "Outline of Classical Chinese Grammar"?

2009-11-01T15:14:00.005+09:00

It cost me an arm and a leg (72,000 won), but I bought Edwin G. Pulleyblank's book, "Outline of Classical Chinese Grammar." When it first arrived, I thought I had been ripped off because it was only a flimsy, little 206-page book, including Contents and Index pages. It did not look like it was worth 72,000 won, which is the most I have ever paid for any book, but after reading the first forty pages, I have changed my mind. It was a good investment.

Though the book is not that well written or organized, it is crammed full of short-and-sweet grammar rules with one or two example sentences for each rule. There is little or no fluff in the book. It seems like Mr. Pulleyblank just gathered up his teaching notes and made a book out of them, which might explain why it is only about 200 pages.

The book's 597 example sentences, which are numbered, have Chinese pronunciations and English translations, but, except for the grammar point being focused on, there are few if any detailed explanations of the sentences. The reader is pretty much expected to match, on his own, the English translation with the Chinese.

I wish the book were better organized and had Korean pronunciations instead of Chinese, and I wish that Mr. Pulleyblank had used more punctuation in his English explanations, but the book gives so much insight into classical Chinese grammar that such complaints seem trivial. I am a happy man.

What does 苟且偸安 mean?

2009-10-24T15:52:00.008+09:00

Yesterday, I bought a Korean book entitled "이이화의 한문 공부," which teaches the basics of classical Chinese writing. I bought the book not only because it was the only book in the store that taught the basics of classical Chinese, but also because it looked pretty good, at least in the store. However, after getting it home and reading more of it, I noticed a few problems.

One of the problems with the book is that it assumes the reader already knows the Korean pronunciations for the Chinese characters used in many of the book's example sentences. In other words, the book gives you the Chinese sentences and their Korean translations, but it does not give the Korean pronunciations for the Chinese characters. That is not a big problem for me since I know the pronunciations of most of the characters used in the book, but I would still like to have the pronunciations. Another problem is that some of the translations seem to be incorrect. Could such a thing be possible? Is it just because I am a beginner and do not know any better? Consider the following example:

苟且偸安(구차투안)

구차하게 눈앞의 안일함만을 취함

Clumsily take only the peace in front of our eyes.

The Korean is the author's translation of the Chinese, and the English is my translation of the author's Korean, but is it correct?

In Korean, 苟且 (구차) can mean "poverty" or "clumsiness," and 偸安 (투안) means "desire the peace in front of one's eyes" (눈앞의 안일을 탐냄), so the author seems to have just combined and then tweaked the two sentences for his translation, which seems awkward either way. Does "Clumsily take the peace in front of our eyes" make much sense?

Separately, 偸安 (투안) means only "steal" (偸) and "peace" (安), so where did "in front of our eyes" (눈앞의) come from? I think it came from the 且 (차) in the original sentence since 且 can mean "in the future" (장차). In other words, 苟且偸安 (구차투안) may have originally been translated as "[They] clumsily (苟), in the future (且), take (偸) the peace (安)," except that "in the future" was translated as "in front of our eyes" (눈앞의). Later, when 苟且 and 偸安 were separated and placed in the dictionary, the meaning "in front of our eyes" stayed with 偸安 portion. Anyway, that is just my theory.

I think the above Chinese sentence has been mistranslated by Koreans. Why not simply translate it as follows?

"Poverty (苟且) steals (偸) peace (安)."

My translation makes much more sense because, generally speaking, peace and prosperity go together, but poverty tends to lead to unrest, which can be paraphrased as, "Poverty steals peace."

Does 乳以 mean the same as 以乳?

2009-10-21T20:18:00.008+09:00

Today, I was reading the 四字小學(사자소학), which was a book that Korean children used to study in traditional Korean schools (書堂 - 서당), when I came across something I did not understand. Why does 以 come after the nouns in lines 3 and 4, but before the nouns in lines 5 and 6?

父生我身(부생아신)	[My] father (父) gave life (生) [to] my (我) body (身).
母(모)鞠(국)吾(오)身(신)	My] mother (母) raised (鞠) my (我) body (身).
腹以懷我(복이회아)	With [her] stomach (腹以) [she] sheltered (懷) me (我).
乳以哺我(유이포아)	With [her] milk (乳以) [she] fed (哺) me (我).
以衣溫我(이의온아)	With (以) clothes (衣) [they] warmed (溫) me (我).
以食飽我(이식포아)	With (以) food (食) [they] filled (飽) me (我).

From what little I know about classical Chinese, the order of the characters was important to determining the meaning of a sentence. Therefore, I suspect that 以 coming before the noun had a different meaning from 以 coming after the noun. However, the only difference I noticed between the two sets of sentences above was that the nouns in sentences 3 and 4 were either a part of the mother (her stomach) or originated from her (her breast milk), but the nouns in sentences 5 and 6 were just general references to food and clothing.

When 以 came after a noun, did it imply that the noun belonged to the subject of the sentence or originated from him or her? In other words, does 乳以 mean "with her milk," and 以乳 mean just "with milk"?

Was 之 (지) used to make causative verbs?

2009-10-15T00:55:00.007+09:00

According to THIS WEB PAGE, the Chinese character 來 (내) was used in classical Chinese to mean, "[He] comes," and 來之 (내지) was used to mean, "[He] makes him come." In other words, the 之 (지) seems to have made "to come" (來) into a causative verb. In classical Chinese, was 之 sometimes used to make causative verbs?

I am curious because I want to know if the following translation is correct:

一僧寺與餠茶粥醬以食之
A temple (一僧寺) gave (與) [us] rice cake (餠), tea (茶), rice gruel (粥) and soy sauce (醬) and had us eat them.

Does the 之 (지) change 食 (식) from "to eat" to "to have someone eat" ( 食之), or is 之 being used as a direct object pronoun to refer back to the food?

What's the problem with "뭐가 불만이냐"

2009-10-10T20:21:00.015+09:00

뭐가 불만이냐 means "What's your problem" or "What's your complaint." It is a low form that is usually used among friends. If you use it with someone who is not your friend, you are asking for a fight. The problem with the expression is that 뭐가, strickly speaking, is an incorrect construction since 뭐 is a contraction of 무엇, so it would be like saying 무엇가, which is incorrect. The correct contraction for 무엇이 is 뭬. However, since few Koreans say "뭬 불만이냐," you could just drop the subject marker and say, "뭐 불만이냐." I think I will try to use 뭬.

The following are the correct 1-syllable contractions for 무엇 and its subject and object markers:

무엇 = 무어 = 뭐
무엇 = 뭣
무엇이 = 뭬
무엇을 = 뭘

Unfortunately, it is probably too late to save the 뭬 contraction because 뭐가 and 머가 have become so ingrained in the Korean language that it would be difficult to get rid of them now. I think I remember reading that sometime in the past 가 used to be the only subject marker in Korean, which may help explain why 뭐가 is so ingrained.

By the way, if you do use 뭬, do not add the subject marker 가 to it since its meaning already includes the subject marker. Some Koreans even add the object marker 를 to 뭬, which, of course, is also wrong since it would be like saying 무엇이를.

A foreigner teaching Koreans how to teach Korean?

2009-10-09T11:18:00.020+09:00

According to a Chosun Ilbo article entitled "American Professor Prepares Korean Language Teachers," American Robert Fouser is teaching Seoul National University students how to teach the Korean language to foreigners, which makes me wonder what exactly he does. For example, does he teach them the English they will need to explain the Korean language or does he teach them language teaching techniques? Or does he teach them both with a focus on dealing with the special problems of teaching the Korean lanaguage?

Mr. Fouser says that Koreans lack a systematic approach to teaching Korean to foreign learners, which I think is true, but I wish he or the article would have given some examples of exactly what Koreans are doing wrong. More on Robert Fouser in ENGLISH and in KOREAN.

Here are some of my suggestions for teaching Korean.

The very first thing that should be taught to foreign learners of Korean is hangeul, which is the easiest thing about the Korean language. Why bother learning Romanized Korean when hangeul can be learned in just a couple of days?

Next, the teacher should give the students a brief summary of how the Korean language works while introducing simple vocabulary words to be used in examples of the language. In other words, the teacher should give a general description of such things as Korean word order and how markers are used to indicate such things as subjects, objects, and verb tense. Korean and English are so opposite each other that without such an explanation many English speakers may waste weeks wondering what the hell is going on. When I first started learning Korean, I wasted about thirty-two weeks wondering what was going on because no one bothered explaining to me the basic concepts of the Korean language. Therefore, I think having a native English speaker teaching a Korean linguistics course concurrently with a native Korean speaker teaching a conversation class would be a good idea. English would be used in the linguistics class, but not in the conversation class.

After teaching hangeul and explaining the basic concepts of the Korean language, I would start piling on the vocabulary while making sure students understand the differences among Korean adjectives and transitive and intransitive verbs. I would have students juggling active and passive voice with every new verb they learn instead of saving passive voice for some future date. If the students were studying in Korea, I would teach them the seven basic Korean sentence patterns from the get-go so that they could start listening for them out in Korean society and start filling in the blanks with the new vocabulary they learn. I also believe in teaching past, present, and future tenses together rather than separately because they will be hearing them all together when they walk outside the classroom if they are learning in Korea.

A Korean language classroom in Korea should just be the staging area for preparing students for the real learning experience outside the classroom. Instead of trying to teach all the language inside the classroom, teachers should focus on teaching the concepts and structure of the language and have the students learn the meaty parts on their own outside the classroom. A sample homework assignment might be to give the students ten questions or statements to ask or say to Koreans outside the classroom, and then have the students record the responses they get. The students could then compare and discuss the responses they get the next day in class. That is more interesting and effective than reading the responses in a book.

Korean language teachers need to start thinking outside the four walls of the classroom.

Why do many Koreans like to eat fish heads?

2009-10-08T07:29:00.010+09:00

When you buy a fish at a supermarket in Korea, it usually comes with the head. Moreover, when cooking the fish, Koreans usually cook the whole fish, including the head. My ex-wife, who was Korean, was no exception. She always cooked the whole fish and always ate the head.

I used to think my ex-wife ate the head of the fish so that I could have more of the juicy parts. In other words, I thought she was sacrificing her taste buds for me. I have since learned that many Koreans consider the fish head to be a delicacy, which suggests that my ex-wife's fish-head eating may have been more of a selfish act than a sacrifice.

Today, I came across an old Chinese saying, which suggests that the heads of fish have long been considered a delicacy in Asia:

魚頭一味 (어두일미)
A fish's head is the most delicious
魚(어) - fish
頭(두) - head
一味(일미) - the most delicious

Why not use 먹이 for human food, too?

2009-10-06T02:36:00.002+09:00

Koreans generally use 먹이 to refer to animal "food," "feed," or "prey," and 음식(飮食) or 먹거리 to refer to human food, but why can't 먹이 also be used to refer to human food? I am asking because 먹거리 seems to go against grammar rules since -거리 is usually added to nouns, not verb stems. Here are some acceptable -거리 nouns:

국거리........foodstuff for soup
김칫거리.....foodstuff for kimchi
반찬거리.....foodstuff for side dishes
저녁거리.....foodstuff for dinner

거리 is a noun meaning "material" or "makings," so if it is used with a verb like 먹다, then people should say 먹을 거리, not 먹거리. However, why not just say 먹이 for both animal and people food? If it is possible to say 쇠먹이 (cattle feed) and 말먹이 (horse feed), why not 사람먹이 (people food)?

On a completely different topic, while looking up one of the above words in my dictionary, I came across 사람 멀미, which means "sickness from being in a crowd." I had heard of 차멀미 (carsickness), 뱃멀미 (seasickness), and 비행기멀미 (airsickness), but had never heard of 사람 멀미 (crowd sickness).

Should Koreans say 세겹살 instead of 삼겹살?

2009-09-22T04:50:00.011+09:00

삼겹살 are cuts of pork from around the ribs, which is an area that includes layers of fat (비계). When cut into strips, the strips show what generally look to be three layers of fat and meat, which is why Koreans call it 삼겹살. The name 삼겹살 literally means "three layers of meat." It looks like bacon except that it is usually cut into thicker strips and is not cured or smoked.

Actually, the name 삼겹살 violates Korean language rules, which say that Sino-Korean numbers should not be used with pure Korean words. 삼(三) is the Sino-Korean number for "three," and 겹살 is a pure Korean word meaning "layers of meat"; therefore, the correct name should be 세겹살 since 세 is the pure Korean number for "three." In fact, up until the early eighties, Koreans commonly referred to it as 세겹살. (See this Korean ARTICLE.)

Korean dictionaries still list 세겹살 as a synonym for 삼겹살, so if you are a purist and want to mess with the minds of Korean restaurant employees, order 세겹살 the next time you visit a Korean meat restaurant.

Why do many people say 맞다?

2009-09-21T08:26:00.008+09:00

In Korea, when people are discussing an issue and one of them says something that hits the nail on the head, so to speak, you will often hear people respond to the comment by saying "맞다." However, 맞다 is the wrong response because it is an uninflected form.

맞다 is a verb meaning "to be right" or "to be correct," among other things, so when you use it in a sentence, you must use inflection because Korean verbs are inflected in speech. In other words, you cannot use the word straight out of the dictionary. You must say 맞는다 or 맞아 when talking with friends, or 맞습니다 or 맞아요 when talking with others. By not using inflection with 맞다, people are treating it as if it were an adjective, which it is not. In Korea, adjectives can be used in their blunt forms without inflection. For example, if you want to comment with an uninflected word, then you could use the adjective 옳다, which means "right" or "correct." Consider the following examples:

A: 문제는 그가 허락없이 한 거야.
B: 맞아 (맞는다).

A: The problem is that he did it without permission.
B: That's right.
-----------------

A: 문제는 그가 허락없이 한 거야.
B: 네 말이 옳다.

A: The problem is that he did it without permission.
B: What you say is correct.

Was a male slave or female slave more expensive?

2009-09-20T13:56:00.006+09:00

According to THIS WEB SITE, the poster below was in North Korea's Koryo Museum. The poster says that a female slave between fifteen and fifty years old once cost 120 pil (120필) while a male slave of the same age cost only 100 pil. Female slaves under fifteen and over fifty cost sixty pil while males slaves in the same age brackets cost only fifty pil. If you had the money, you could have gotten a cow for 400 pil.

Matt also has a link to a better picture on HIS SITE.

Is it really correct to say 몇 학년이냐?

2009-09-20T11:35:00.003+09:00

몇 essentially means "how many," "how much," or "how long," so if you say, 몇 학년이냐, you are really asking "how many grades." If you want to ask someone "which grade" they are in, it would make more sense to say, "어느 학년," rather than "몇 학년." Consider the following examples:

너는 어느 학년이냐?
Which grade are you in?
이 학교는 몇 학년 있어요?
How many grades are there in this school?
그 학교에서 몇 학년 다녔어요?
How many grades did you attend at that school?

Nevertheless, Koreans probably say 몇 학년이냐 more than they say 어느 학년이냐. I also say 몇 학년, but I may start using 어느 학년.

Why use (으)로서, (으)로써, & (으)로 이하여?

2009-09-20T09:20:00.010+09:00

The markers (으)로서, (으)로써, and (으)로 이하여 can all be replaced with (으)로 without any difference in meaning, so why not just use (으)로?

(으)로서 is an adverb marker used to establish status or authority:

학생으로서 = 학생으로
As a student....
자식으로서 할 일= 자식으로 할 일
Something one does as a child
학자로서 = 학자로
As a scholar....

(으)로써 is an adverb marker used to show the purpose, method, or tool used for doing something:

약으로써 낫게 할 수 없는 병 = 약으로....
A disease that cannot be cured with medicine
생각만으로써 되는 일이 아니다 = 생각만으로....
This is not something that can be solved by just thinking about it.
석유로써 재산을 모으다 = 석유로....
make one's fortune in oil

(으)로 인하여 is used to show cause or reason:

불결로 인하여 병이 생기는 경우도 있다 = 불결로....
Some diseases are attributable to lack of cleanliness.
그 사건으로 인해서 우리 회사가 유명해졌다. = 그 사건으로
Our company because famous from that incident.
올해 지진으로 인한 피해가 컸다. = 올해 지진으로 생긴....
The damage from this years earthquake was enormous.

Also, do not use the -으로해서 and -므로해서 makers.

Simplify your life by just using (으)로. Why make Korean more difficult than it already is?

Are you ready for the future--장래 or 장차?

2009-09-19T06:28:00.014+09:00

장래 (將來) is a noun that means "the future," and 장차 (將次) is an adverb that means "in the future." Here are some examples of how they are used:

장래 (the future)

밝은 장래....................a bright future; bright prospects
어두운 장래.................a dark future; gloomy prospects
가까운 장래에..............in the near future
먼 장래에.....................in the distance future
장래의 계획을 세우다...make a plan for the future
장래를 점치다..............predict the future

장차 (in the future)

장차 어떤 일이 일어날지 아무도 모른다.
No one can tell what will happen in the future.
너는 장차 무엇이 되고 싶니?
What do you want to be in the future?
그렇게 돈을 함부로 쓰면 장차 무일푼이 된다.
If you spend money so freely, you'll wind up penniless.
장차 사용할 수 있도록 이것을 간수해 두어라.
Keep this for future use.

If you place an -에- after 장래 (i.e. 장래에), it will have the same meaning as 장차, which means "in the future." Never place an 에 after 장차 because it is not needed.

미래 (未來) is a noun that also means "the future," but, according to Mr. Nam Yeong-sin (남영신), there are some slight differences between 미래 and 장래. Mr. Nam says, for example, that 장래 is used to talk about your own future and the future that affects you, but 미래 is used to talk about a more distant future. The future (미래) is infinite, but your future (장래) ends when you die. Accordingly, there is more emotion attached to 장래 than to 미래. Therefore, maybe it would be better to say 먼 미래 rather than 먼 장래, and 장래의 계획 rather than 미래의 계획.

By the way, the American movie "Back to the Future" was translated into Korean as "백 투 더 퓨쳐," which is just a transliteration of the English title. However, if you were to translate it into Korean, I think it should be 장래로 돌아가다. I used 장래 in my translation because it was the future of one person rather than a distance future.

Do you understand "알았어, 알겠어"?

2009-09-18T09:37:00.051+09:00

Today, I came across the Korean pop song "알았어, 알겠어," which means, "I understand, I will understand." One of the meanings of 알다 is "to understand." I am posting the lyrics to the song at the bottom of this post because the songwriter seemed to understand the difference between 알았어 and 알겠어. I just hope other Koreans will finally understand it, too.

Even though 알다 has several meanings, including "to know," "to understand," and "to remember," when it is used in the past tense, Koreans usually mean, "I understand." However, when 알다 is used with the future tense (-겠-), the meaning is not as clear, so you have to consider the context in which it is used. Consider the following examples:

(보면) 알겠습니다.
(When I see it,) I will know it.
(앞으로 당신 마음을,) 알겠습니다.
I will understand (your feelings in the future).
(하신 말씀을) 알겠습니다.
I will remember (what you said).

It would be easier to distinguish the meanings of 알다 if Koreans used only 기억하다 for "to remember" and 이해하다 for "to understand," but 기억하다 and 이해하다 are Sino-Korean words that most likely do not have the same traditions and warm feelings as 알다, which is a pure Korean word that has probably been spoken by Koreans for as long as there have been Koreans, so I do not think the meanings of 기억하다 and 이해하다 will completely disappear from 알다 anytime soon. However, with 기억하다 and 이해하다 as options, Koreans, especially younger Koreans, seem to be forgetting about and confusing the different meanings of 알다, especially when it is used with the future tense form -겠.

When Koreans use -겠- with 알다, or any verb, they should try to avoid using it in situations that go against the dictionary definitions of -겠. Consider the following dialog:

A: 오늘 만나자.
B: 오늘 안 돼. 약속 있어.
A: (그래, 알았어.) or (그래, 알겠어.)

A: Let's meet today.
B: I can't today. I have an appointment.
A: (Ok, I understand.) or (Ok, I will understand.)

In a dialog similar to the above, Koreans respond with both 알았어 and 알겠어, but 알겠어 does not make sense because it literally means "I will understand," not "I understand." When you ask the Koreans who respond with 알겠어 why they do it, they often say it sounds more polite, but such "polite" usage is not explained in the Korean dictionaries that I have, which suggests that it is just a misusage of the language.

It seems that 알겠어 has become a trendy, catch-all response for Koreans who do not want to be bothered with Korean grammar. However, since Koreans have a habit of reducing sentences down to just their verbs, I think it is important for them to pay more attention to the tenses used with those verbs and the context in which they are used.

Here is my translation of the lyrics to the Korean pop song "I understand, I will understand" (알았어, 알겠어), which can be heard HERE. Notice that the songwriter used 알겠어 and 이해하겠어 interchangebly:

"알았어 알겠어"
.
알았어 알겠어 이제야 너를 알겠어
수많은 꿈들은 너를 고민하게 했겠지
알았어 알겠어 너를 이해하겠어
수많은 꿈들이 나를 포기하게 했단 걸
.
사랑이란 언젠간 식어가는 거라고
젊은 날의 주체못할 열기일 뿐이라고
늘 넌 말해왔었지 하지만 바보 같은 난
그게 오늘이 될 줄은 몰랐던거야
.
알았어 알겠어 이제야 너를 알겠어
수많은 꿈들은 너를 고민하게 했겠지
알았어 알겠어 너를 이해하겠어
수많은 꿈들이 나를 포기하게 했단 걸
.
추억이란 잊어도 잊혀지지 않는 것
사랑은 떠나도 곪아버린 옛상처처럼
너는 나를 잊어도 추억은 잊지 못 할 걸
우리의 추억에 때론 잠도 못 이루겠지
.
알아 나도 너의 마음을 이해해
사랑과 꿈 사이 많이 망설였단 걸 알아
너에게도 사랑은 단순한 열기가 아닌
죽어서도 잊혀지지 않는 추억이었다는 걸
.
알았어 알겠어 이제야 너를 알겠어
수많은 꾸들은 너를 고민하게 했겠지
알았어 알겠어 너를 이해하겠어
수많은 꿈들이 나를 포기하게 했단 걸
.

"I understand, I will understand"

I understand, I will understand. Now, I will understand you.
Many dreams likely caused you to agonize.
I understand, I will understand. Now, I will understand you.
The many dreams that caused you to leave me.

Love dies over time, you always said,
It's just wild, youthful passion,
But like a fool I never knew
Today it would really happen.

I understand, I will understand. Now, I will understand you.

Many dreams likely caused you to agonize.

I understand, I will understand. Now, I will understand you.

The many dreams that caused you to leave me.

It's said memories can be ignored, but not forgotten.

Though the love is gone, and I'm no longer on your mind,

like festering old wounds, memories cannot be forgotten.

Sometimes our memories may even keep us awake.

I know. Your heart I also understand.

Much you wavered between love and dreams.

Love to you, too, is more than simple passion,

A memory not forgotten, even after death.

I understand, I will understand. Now, I will understand you.

Many dreams likely caused you to agonize.

I understand, I will understand. Now, I will understand you

The many dreams that caused you to leave me.

Why do Koreans say 모르겠습니다?

2009-09-14T18:23:00.018+09:00

When Koreans do not know the answer to a question, they often reply with 모르겠습니다, but why do they say 모르겠습니다 instead of 모릅니다?

Besides being used to refer to the future, -겠 can also be used to guess at something or to speculate. When the subject of a sentence is first person (I), the reply 모르겠습니다 (I guess I don't know) does not make sense because there is no reason to guess about your own lack of knowledge. You either know it or not, so instead of 모르겠습니다, it would be more logical to say 모릅니다 (I don't know) when referring to your own lack of knowledge.

However, you can speculate on someone else's lack of knowledge, so you could use 모르겠습니다 when the subject of a sentence is a third person. Consider the following dialog:

A: 그 사람 6시에 시작하는 걸 알아?
B: 그 사람은 (아마) 모르겠습니다. (그 사람은 모를 겁니다.)

A: Does he know it starts at 6?
B: He probably doesn't know.

In the above conversation, Koreans would normally say 모를 겁니다 when the subject is a third person, but 모르겠습니다 means the same thing and, therefore, should be able to substitute.

I think what has happened is that Koreans used to use 모르겠습니다 only with a third-person subject, but, over time, they started misusing it with the first person (나) until it has now become pretty much standard. However, I would still recommend using 모릅니다 instead of 모르겠습니다 when the subject is first person (I) since 모릅니다 is more logical and works just fine. In other words, when someone asks you a question to which you do not know the answer, it would be better if you said 모릅니다 instead of 모르겠습니다.

How fast do Korean telecasters speak?

2009-09-13T20:46:00.006+09:00

According to THIS DOCUMENT, Korean telecasters speak between 330 and 350 syllables per minute (SPM) when reading the news, while THIS PDF DOCUMENT timed six American newscasters speaking at an average rate of 300 SPM. It also said that the normal rate of English speech was 265 SPM.

Also, according to THIS PDF DOCUMENT, people tend to speak faster the more informal the conversation, which might explain why Koreans seem to speak faster when talking with their friends.

Have you heard these homework excuses before?

2009-09-13T19:17:00.004+09:00

These videos are fairly entertaining, especially the first one, but there are parts I do not understand. Maybe they are using some expressions I do not recognize, or maybe it is because they are speaking so fast, especially the guy who is dressed up like Superman. I wonder where Koreans rank on the international scale for fast talkers?

What is a problem with many people these days?

2009-09-13T18:28:00.010+09:00

모르면서 아는 체하거나 알면서 모르는 체한다.
They pretend to know when they do not, or NOT to know when they do.

I think the above expression describes the source of many of the problems in societies today. I also think the Korean sounds better than the English.

Are Japanese interested in learning Korean?

2009-09-13T13:03:00.005+09:00

I found the following video on Matt's blog, Occidentalism. It appears to be a comedy skit of a Japanese man learning Korean. I could get some of the jokes by just listening to the Korean, such as, 코를 성형해주세요 (Please do plastic surgery on my nose), but most I could not understand. I wish I knew Japanese.

Is "너무 출출해서 밥을 먹는다" correct?

2009-09-13T12:11:00.005+09:00

출출하다 means "to feel 'somewhat' hungry" (but not really hungry), so it would not make sense to use with it the adverb 너무, which means "excessively." If you want to use an adverb with 출출하다, you should use 좀 or 조금, which mean "a little." Therefore, you could say the following sentence:

좀 출출해서 밥을 먹는다.
I am eating because I was feeling a little hungry.

If you do a Google search on "너무 출출해서," you will get an idea of how common the mistake is.

Why do Koreans say 알겠습니다?

2009-09-12T20:50:00.004+09:00

After being admonished by a parent, teacher, or boss, Koreans often respond to the admonishment by saying, 알겠습니다, which always seemed a little strange to me. Why would Koreans use the future tense (겠) with 알다 (to know)?

Well, today I looked up 알다 and found that it has many meanings, including the meaning of "to remember." Therefore, I am guessing that 알겠습니다 means, "I will remember" (what you said). Instead of 알겠습니다, you can also say, "명심하겠습니다," which means, "I will take (your words) to heart."

Mr. Lee Su-yeol (이수열) does not like 알겠습니다, but I do not see any problem with it, at least, not after learning that 알다 can mean "to remember."

Mind if I get off topic?

2009-09-12T11:25:00.002+09:00

I have just looked at a Web site entitled "Smartest Detective in the Room," which belongs to one of our commenters, Lance Sleuthe, and was quite impressed. The only problem is that he does not seem to write very often.

Lance,

If you wrote the stuff on your blog, I think you should be writing much more of it because that is good stuff. Are you writing a book or have you already written one? If not, you should consider it. I am not literary, but it seems more than good enough to publish.

By the way, have you tried writing anything in Korean?

Who created "hangeul" (한글)?

2009-09-12T10:34:00.011+09:00

In his book, Lee Su-yeol (이수열) wrote that the following sentence was incorrect:

한글을 창제하신 분은 세종대왕이시었습니다.
King Sejong was the person who created hangeul.

Mr. Lee said the sentence was incorrect because the portion I have shown in red should be changed to "이십니다." In other words, he was saying that the ~이었습니다 pattern should not be used in such situations. He explained that since the person who created hangeul could not have changed over time, the 었 in 이었습니다 should be dropped.

To give you an idea of what Mr. Lee was trying to say consider the following English sentences.

Thomas Edison is the man who invented the light bulb.
Thomas Edison was the man who invented the light bulb.
Bill is the man who passed out at the party.
Bill was the man who passed out at the party.

Mr. Lee was essentially saying that among examples 1 and 2, example 1 would be the more correct choice since the act of inventing the light bulb could only be applied to Thomas Edison. However, among examples 3 and 4, example 4 would be the correct choice since Bill would not be the only person capable of passing out at a party.

Does Korean need ~고 있다 and ~어 있다?

2009-09-12T09:07:00.013+09:00

Korean verbs inherently have a continuous aspect about them, so the ~고 있다 and ~어 있다 patterns do not seem to be needed. Consider the following examples:

아이가 울고 있다 = 아이가 운다
The baby is crying.
학생들이 공부하고 있다 = 학생들이 공부한다
The students are studying.
비가 오고 있다 = 비가 온다
It is raining.
내 아들은 학교에 가있다 = 내 아들은 학교에 갔다.
My son is at school.
교실에 난로를 설치해 있다 = 교실에 난로을 설치했다.
A heater is installed in the classroom.

As you can see from the above examples, the ~고 있다 and ~어 있다 patterns seem to be unnecessary.

Another interesting thing about the Korean language is that adverbs play an important role. For example, a simple adverb can change a sentence from present continuous to simple present tense. Consider the following examples:

아이가 운다.......................The baby is crying.
아이가 자주 운다................The baby frequently cries.
학생들이 공부한다..............The students are studying.
학생들이 매일 공부한다.......The students study daily.
비가 온다...........................It is raining.
비가 자주 온다....................It frequently rains.

Can anyone think of a situation where ~고 있다 or ~어 있다 is necessary? Couldn't 산다 even replace a phrase like 살아 있다 (to be alive)?

Which is correct: 결혼식 때 입던 옷 or 결혼식 때 입은 옷?

2009-09-11T08:47:00.018+09:00

I think one could say either 결혼식 때 입던 옷 or 결혼식 때 입은 옷, depending on the circumstances.

In regard to clothes, we wear them, take them off, and then wear them again later, so 어제 입던 옷 (the clothes I wore yesterday) seems more appropriate than 어제 입은 옷 since 입던 would imply a interruption in wearing the clothes, in other words, a change of clothes. Then, what would 어제 입은 옷 imply? It might imply one wore the clothes yesterday, but no longer has the clothes to wear again today.

In regard to a wedding gown, many women in the West wear them just once, but still keep them for sentimental reasons, and some mothers may even allow their daughters to wear their old wedding gowns when they get married, so, in the West, I think a wedding gown could be treated like any other piece of clothing by saying 결혼식 때 입던 옷.

In Korea, however, Koreans normally do not buy their wedding gowns, but rent them, so in Korea, it might be more appropriate to say 결혼식 때 입은 옷 since Koreans would no longer have the wedding gowns to wear again.

Koreans also seem to use 입던 옷 to refer to clothes they no longer wear because they are either out of style or because they no longer fit. Therefore, 입던 옷 seems to refer not only to clothes that we wear on a regular basis, but also to clothes we no longer wear but still have. The common denominator seems to be that one still has the clothes, whether they are worn or not.

The above is just a theory. I do not know for sure if 입은 옷 really implies one no longer has the clothes.

Any opinions?

What looks like a dog house and is called 방활사?

2009-09-08T08:25:00.012+09:00

UPDATE:

The explanation I had given below for 방활사 was completely wrong. The same reader who first asked me about the word has sent me another email saying that he found that the Chinese characters for 방활사 were 防滑沙, which literally mean "Prevent (防) Slipperiness (滑) Sand (沙)." In other words, it is sand that is spread on slippery roads in the winter to give vehicles traction.

However, the word 방활사 (防滑沙) is a non-standard word and does not appear in any dictionary that I have. The word has confused not only me, but others, as well. In a Korean article HERE, the word was used as an example of how Korean government officials and others are creating new words from Chinese characters that that few can figure out without also seeing the Chinese characters. The article asks what good are government information and warning signs when people cannot understand what they mean.

By the way, Korean government officials are not the only ones who invent language. When I was in the US navy, I was exposed to a bewildering set of acronyms and initialisms that seemed to grow day by day. The US navy loved acronyms, but I hated them and finally gave up trying to learn them all. However, many of my fellow sailors loved using them because, I suspect, it showed that they had special knowledge that many others did not have. Maybe that is why Korean officials also like using them.

I agree with the Korean article I linked to above: What good is a public sign if the general public cannot understand what it says?

Below is my original post.

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A reader sent me the following photos of what looks like a dog house and asked me what they were. He said he saw them spaced at different intervals along a road in Gangwon Province.

The sign on the second photo reads 방활사, which is meant to mean "sand for preventing fires," so the structures are for storing sand to be used for smothering fires that may occur along the highway. The ㄹ at the end of 화 is a future tense marker that can be translated here as "for."
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"Fire prevention sand" is written as 방화사, so 방활사 is a misspelling. If they had intended it to be read as the phrase, "Sand for Preventing Fires," then they should have written it as "방화할 사" or "방화할 모래." It looks like Inje County (인제군) officials need to not only work on their spelling, but also need to refill their sandboxes.

By the way, that is a pretty nice road.

Is 서로가 서로를 좋아했다 a good sentence?

2009-09-07T07:12:00.009+09:00

My English-Korean dictionary defines 서로 as "mutually," "reciprocally," "with each other," and "with one another," which implies that it considers 서로 to be an adverb. However, my Korean-Korean dictionary describes 서로 as being both a noun and an adverb and gives the following sentence as an example of it being used as a noun.

서로가 서로를 좋아했다
They (each other) liked each other.

Notice that the Korean literally says "Each other liked each other," which reads and sounds pretty silly and suggests that 서로 was probably not meant to be used as a noun. A better sentence would be the following:

그들이 서로 좋아했다.
They liked each other.

In the above Korean sentence, 서로 is being used as an adverb and sounds more natural than when it was used as a noun, but the English translation of the sentence confuses things because "each other" is considered a pronoun in English, which is probably why some Koreans feel inclined to write 서로 as 서로를.

In his book "우리가 정말 알아야 할 우리말 바로 쓰기," the author 이수열 argues that 서로 was only meant to be used as an adverb and says that using it as a noun or pronoun is a distortion of Korean grammar. He makes a good argument and gives several real-world examples of how sentences using 서로 as a noun can be corrected by simply using it as an adverb. Here are some of the examples.

한, 일 요트 경기를 벌여 서로 상호간의 친선을 과시했습니다.
* Replace the phrase in red with just 서로 or 상호.
우리는 서로가 서로를 위하고 도와야 한다.
* Replace the phrase in red with just 서로.
친구와 가족은 이미 상대자를 잘 알고 있으므로, 서로의 관계가 우호적일 뿐 아니라.
* Replace the phrase in red with 관계가 서로.
학습 활동을 중심으로 서로의 의견을 주고 받는 것이 좋은 방법이다.
* Replace the phrase in red with 의견을 서로.

Notice that the Korean in Examples 1 and 2 was made more complicated than it needed to be, and that in Examples 3 and 4, the nouns were placed after 서로 instead of before it.

In Korean, there is no need to use 서로 as a noun or pronoun, so why do some Koreans use it as a noun? I think it is because they have been influenced by the English translation "each other," which is a pronoun.

In Korean, the meaning of "each other" is achieved by using the adverb 서로 in combination with a noun that precedes it. Even the English pronoun "each other" is not a normal pronoun because it is dependent on a noun being in the same sentence. For example, you cannot say, "Each other liked." Therefore, I think using 서로 as a noun is unnecessary and is just another example of Korean being polluted by the English language.

By the way, I have written about 서로 before: "How should we use 서로?"

Does 빈정거리다 confuse you, too?

2009-09-06T21:29:00.016+09:00

빈정거리다 is one of those words that I have looked up a hundred times, yet still have trouble remembering. So, I have decided to write something about it with the hope that it may help me remember the word in the future.

빈정거리다 can mean "to poke fun at," "to ridicule," or "to make sarcastic remarks." I think one reason I always forget the meaning is that 빈정 and 거리다 do not seem a good match for each other. If the word were just 빈정하다, then maybe I could remember it, but the 거리다 suffix confuses me.

The "-거리다" suffix is added to words to give them a sense of repetitiveness. For example, 중얼거리다 means "to murmur," which is "to make a low, continuous, indistinct sound." 두근거리다 means "to pulsate," which is "to expand and contract rhythmically." 비틀거리다 means "to stagger," which is "to move or stand unsteadily." There is repeated sound or movement clearly inherent in the meanings of such words, which makes them good "-거리다" words. However, the repetitiveness in the meaning of 빈정거리다 is not as clear to me.

You can "ridicule" someone repeatedly, or you can do it just one time. You can make two "sacastic remarks," or you can make just one. 비꼬다 is a synonym for 빈정거리다, yet it does not have any 거리다 attached to it. Why? Even if the word "ridicule" has some kind of implied repetitiveness in it, it is not as clear "to me" as it is in many other 거리다 verbs, which may be why it is harder for me to accept and remember it.

Another reason I may be having trouble with 빈정거리다 is that it can be used as both a transitive and an intransitive verb. See the following examples:

그 남자가 나를 빈정거렸다. (transitive)
He ridiculed me.
그 남자가 빈정거렸다.
He made sarcastic remarks.

According to the definition, the two sentences above should be correct, but they still seem strange to me, and I think it is because of the 거리다 ending.

Also, it seems like 빈정하다 should be an adjective, but there is no such word. However, there is a 빈정빈정하다, which is a verb that means the same thing as 빈정거리다.

Which is correct: "값이 내린다" or "값을 내린다"?

2009-09-04T09:04:00.002+09:00

Both 값이 내린다 and 값을 내린다 are correct because 내리다 can function as both an intransitive and a transitive verb.

값이 내린다 (intransitive)
Prices are falling.
그 가게에서 값을 내린다. (transitive)
That store is lowering prices.

Notice that the intransitive 내리다 can be translated as "to fall," and the transitive 내리다 can be translated as "to lower." Since 내리다 can function as both an intransitive and a transitive verb, there is no real need for a passive form. For example, there is no need to say 값이 내려진다 (Prices are being lowered) since 값이 내린다 (Prices are falling) essentially conveys the same meaning. Besides, 값이 내린다 is more Koreanese.

Do we really need to use 했던?

2009-09-02T23:30:00.017+09:00

My grammar book (외국인을 위한 한국어 문법2) defines 던 and 했던 the same way:

명사를 수식하게 하고 과거 상황을 회상하거나 그 상황이 완료되지 않고 중단되었음을 나타내는 표현.

It modifies nouns and is used in expressions to show reflection on the past or to show a situation that was uncompleted or discontinued in the past.

Since 던 and 했던 mean the same thing, there is no reason to use 했던. All the example sentences using 했던 in my grammar book can be written with 던. (The English is my translation.)

어릴 때 한 동네에서 살았던 민수를 어제 만났다.
어릴 때 한 동네에서 살던 민수를 어제 만났다.
Yesterday, I met Min-su, who had lived in the same village as me when we were children.
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작년에 읽었던 책은 어제 다시 읽었는데 여전히 재미있더라.
작년에 읽던 책은 어제 다시 읽었는데 여전히 재미있더라.
Yesterday, I read a book I had started reading last year and found it still interesting.
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내가 전에 근무했던 회사가 아주 많이 발전했더라.
내가 전에 근무하던 회사가 아주 많이 발전했더라.
The company I used to work at has grown a great deal.
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고등하교 때는 키가 작었던 영수가 지금은 몰라 볼 정도로 키가 컸더라.
고등하교 때는 키가 작던 영수가 지금은 몰라 볼 정도로 키가 컸더라.
Yeong-su was short in high school, but he has now grown so much that I didn't recognize him.
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어렸을 때 예뻤던 순이가 지금은 아줌마가 다 되었다.
어렸을 때 예쁘던 순이가 지금은 아줌마가 다 되었다.
Sun-i, who was pretty when she was young, has now become an average-looking housewife.
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10년 전 초등학생이었던 순이가 벌써 결혼을 한대.
10년 전 초등학생이던 순이가 벌써 결혼을 한대.
Sun-i, who was an elementary school student ten years ago, says she is already getting married.

Notice that 던 replaced 었던 in the above sentences without any change in meaning; therefore, why bother learning the 었/았/였던 pattern?

As mentioned above, 던 can be used to show not only reflection on the past, but also to show that an action was uncompleted or interrupted in the past. In Example 2, 읽던 책 means the person started reading the book in the past, but did not finish it. It would be translated as "a book I had started reading (last year)." If he had wanted to say he had already completed reading the book (last year), he would have said 읽은 책, which translates as "a book I had read (last year)."

See the following examples:

어제 마시던 우유가 어디에 갔지?
Where is the milk I was drinking yesterday?
어제 마신 우유가 무엇이었지?
What was the milk I drank yesterday?

In Example 1, the person did not finish drinking all the milk yesterday and wanted to drink some more today. In Example 2, the person had drank all the milk yesterday and is curious what brand it was.

Another Reference: "Is 던 better than 한?"

What are the ten usages of 에게 (한테)?

2009-09-01T04:25:00.015+09:00

My grammar book lists ten different usages of 에게, which is a grammar marker that acts like a preposition and attaches to the ends of nouns that indicate people and animals. It is most commonly translated as "to" and "by." In most cases, 한테 can substitute for 에게.

The reason that 에게 has so many different usages is that its function and meaning change with different kinds of verbs, which is why foreign learners of Korean are often confused by some of its usages. In fact, even some Koreans are confused.

Here are the ten usages that my grammar book ("외국인을 위한 한국어 문법2") lists for 에게. I have translated the explanations and the example sentences from the book into English.

에게 is used to indication the person or animal that will be influenced by the action.
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* 제가 친구에게 책을 주었어요.
...I gave a book to my friend.
* 선생님은 학생들에게 노래와 춤을 가르쳤다.
...The teacher taught song and dance to the students.
* 어른에게는 존댓말을 써야 합니다.
...You should use polite speech with adults.
* 그 남자는 나에게 취미가 뭐냐고 물었어요.
...That man asked [to] me what my hobbies were.
* 동생이 친구에게 전화를 겁니다.
...My younger sister is calling [to] her friend.
* 닭에게 모이를 주었나?
...Have you given feed to the chickens?
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When used with such verbs as 가다, 오다, or their derivatives, 에게 indicates the direction or destination of the subject.
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* 미영 씨는 왜 재훈 씨에게 왔습니까?
...Why did Mi-yeong come to see Jae-hun?
* 나는 머뭇머뭇 그에게 다가갔다.
...I approached [to] him hesitantly.
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When used with such verbs or adjectives as 있다, 없다, 남다, 많다, 적다, and 생기다, the marker 에게 indicates who is in possession of something that could be material or immaterial.
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* 동생에게 급한 일이 생긴 것 같아요.
...It seems my sister is faced with an urgent matter.
* 여전히 저에게는 큰 문제가 남아 있습니다.
...I still have a difficult problem.
* 김 선생에게 그만한 돈이 있을까?
...Do you think Mr. Kim has that much money?
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When used with such verbs and adjectives as 맞다, 알맞다, 어울리다, 비하다, and 뒤지다, the marker 에게 is used to indicate the object to which something is being compared or measured.
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* 그 옷은 저에게 너무 큽니다.
...Those clothes are to big for me.
*이 옷이 학생에게 어울린다고 생각하니?
...Do you think these clothes are suitable for a student?
* 이 사전이 학생들에게 알맞을 거예요.
...This dictionary is suitable for a student
* 동생은 키는 작지만 공부는 친구에게 뒤지지 않았지요.
...My younger sister is short, but in her studies, she keeps up with her friends.
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When used with such verbs as 잡히다, 빼앗기다, and 발견되다, the marker 에게 indicates who performs the action. (Notice that the verbs are passive verbs, so 에게 would normally be translated as "by.")
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* 숨어 있던 도둑이 경찰에게 잡혔다.
...The thief that was in hiding has been caught by the police.
* 땅 속의 보물이 100년 만에 집주인에게 발견되었다.
...After being buried for 100 years, the teasure was discovered by the house owner.
* 친구에게 깜빡 속아서 일요일에 학교에 갔다.
...I was completely fooled by my friend and went to school on Sunday.
* 호랑이에게 물려 가도 정신만 차리면 살 수 있어.
...Even if you are being carried off by a tiger, you can survive if you keep your wits about you.
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When used with such verbs as 받다, 당하다, 얻다, and 배우다, the marker 에게 indicates the person who causes the action. 에게서 can also be used with these kinds of verbs. (I think 듣다 can also be included among these verbs.)
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*아직 부모님에게 용돈을 받아요.
...I still get pocket money from my parents.
* 이 선생에게 한국말을 배웠지요.
Yes, I learned Korean from instructor Lee.
* 이 책을 친구에게 얻었다.
...I got this book from a friend.
* 저는 동료들에게 놀림을 받고 많이 울었어요.
...I cried a lot after being teased by my colleagues.
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에게 is used to indicate the person who is instructed or made to do something.
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* 엄마가 아이에게 제시간에 숙제를 마치게 했어.
...The mom made the child finish his homework on time.
* 여자는 누워 있는 남자에게 시원한 물을 마시게 했다.
...The woman had the reclining man drink some cool water.
* 선생님께서 내 짝에게 책을 읽히셨어요.
The teacher had my partner read the book.
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When used with verbs and adjectives that express feelings and evaluations, 에게 is used to indicate the person who is the subject of that feeling or is in the situation.
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* 지금 딸에게 필요한 것은 아버지의 사랑입니다.
...What the daughter needs now is her father's love.
* 우리에게 참으로 귀한 것은 무엇일까?
...What is really precious to us?
*그 일이 너에게는 쉬울지 모르지만 그 아이에게는 매우 어렵다.
...It may be easy for you, but it is very difficult for that child.
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When used with verbs and adjectives that show emotion, 에게 is used to indicate the person who causes the emotion.
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* 아주, 이제는 나 자신에게 실망했다.
...Damn it! Now I have disappointed myself.
* 여자는 상대방에게 호감을 느낀 듯했다.
...The woman seemed to show interest in the other person.
* 그에게 느끼는 감정이 사랑이야.
...The feeling I have for him is love.
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In the salutation of a letter, 에게 is used to indicate the receiver of the letter. (한테 is not used because 한테 is usually used in spoken Korean, not written Korean.)
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* 사랑하는 벗에게
...To my loving friend
* 보고 싶은 동생에게
...To the younger brother I miss
* 친구에게
...To my friend

Among the ten usages, using 에게 with the Number 6 usage seems the most strange to me, but since it says that 에게서 can also be used, I can learn to live with it. Also, I have not been using 에게 in the way shown in the Number 7 usage, but I will try to remember to do so in the future. As for the other usages, I do not seem to have much of a problem with them.

My grammar book says that 한테 can replace 에게 in all the different usages, except for Number 10. 한테 is usually used with spoken Korean, not written, so it would not normally be used in a letter. It also says that 에게 can be used with both spoken and written Korean.

My book also says that 더러 and 보고 can replace 에게 in usages Number 1 and Number 7. It also says that 에게로 can also be used with the Number 2 usage, but I do not like 에게로, for some reason, so will probably just be using 에게 in the case of usage Number 2.

Also, 나에게, 저에게, and 너에게 can be abbreviated to 내게, 제게, and 네게, respectively.

What was Seoul like at the turn of the century?

2009-08-30T13:22:00.005+09:00

Part of the following video is supposedly film footage made by Burton Holmes, who was an American explorer and writer who visited Korea in 1901 (and 1912). I found it quite interesting.

The funeral of the former Korean ruler, Sunjong, in 1926

Also, here is an interesting video from 1931

Doesn't 선생님한테 꾸지람을 들었다 seem strange?

2009-08-30T11:58:00.016+09:00

선생님한테 꾸지람을 들었다 means "I was scolded by my teacher." The sentence is composed of the following parts:

선생님께 -- by my teacher
꾸지람을 -- a scolding
들었다 (past participle of 듣다) -- heard

I used to think the above sentence was strange, and still do, because I had learned that 한테 meant "to," not "by." I had always thought that instead of saying 선생님한테, people should say 선생님한테서, which would mean "from my teacher." If you "hear" something, shouldn't you hear it "from someone" instead of "to someone"? I have often wondered if it was not originally 선생님한테서.

Anyway, if you look up 한테 or 에게 in the dictionary, you will find that it has, at least, two meanings. One meaning is "to," and the other is "by." Here are the examples from my dictionary with the meaning of "by."

나는 그에게 속았다.
I was fooled by him.
범에게 물려 가도 정신만 차리면 산다고 했다.
It is said that even if you are being carried off in the mouth of a tiger, you can survive if you keep your presence of mind.
그것을 누구에게 들었습니까?
From whom did you hear that?

Actually, I can understand and accept the first two examples because you are fooled "by someone," not "from someone," and you are carried off "by a tiger," not "from a tiger," but there is something about the verb "hear" (듣다) that makes me want to say 한테서 or 에게서 instead of 한테 or 에게. For example, notice that the second example was translated with "from," not "by." So, is it wrong to say 그것을 누구에게서 들었습니까? I don't know, but Koreans say it.

Here are some other examples:

어린이에게도 배울 것이 있다.
We can also learn from children.
친구에게 돈을 빌렸다.
I borrowed money from my friend.
스승께 글을 배운다.
I was taught to write by my teacher.
강도에게 돈을 빼앗았다.
I was robbed of my money by a thief.

Supposedly, 에게 or 한테 are attached to an animate object when the object causes the action. In the case of 그것을 누구에게 들었습니까, the object 누구 apparently causes you to hear 그것을, so 에게, not 에게서, should be used. If that is true, then it should also apply to the following sentence.

I received a letter from my friend?
친구한테 편지를 받았다.

You would not have received the letter if your friend had not sent it, so I guess that would mean that 한테 is used instead of 한테서, right? However, how would the following sentence be translated?

A letter came from my friend.
a) 친구한테 편지가 왔다.
b) 친구한테서 편지가 왔다.

The letter came because my friend sent it, so why doesn't the 에게 and 한테 "by" rule also apply? Does the "to" meaning override the "by" meaning in the about example? In English, we use "by" a lot in passive sentences, but I have still not worked it all out.

Many Koreans are confused by 에게 and 에게서, so I think I have a right to be confused, too.

Aren't there worse places?

2009-08-30T10:41:00.005+09:00

Today I visited a blog entitled "Caveat DVMPTRVCK" and came across the following video clips. It seems the blogger has been working in Korea as an English teacher and has recently bought a video camera. Anyway, while watching the first video, which is just a video of the blogger travelling from his apartment to the Kyobo Bookstore in Gangnam, I realized, again, just how nice it is to live in a big city in Korea. Korean cities are very safe and generally clean.

If I had to live in a large city and I could choose among all the large cities in the world, I think I would choose Seoul. Being able to walk the streets safely at any time of day or night is a big plus for me.

I also liked the following video. I think it is an example of why it can be fun teaching English in Korea. Apparently, the girls are some of the blogger's students.

The following video is of a boy named Peter, alias "Skywalker." I think this video is another example of how teaching English in Korea can be a fun job.

How do Koreans quote Lincoln?

2009-08-29T08:46:00.024+09:00

In his Gettyburg Address, President Abraham Lincoln used the now famous phrase "that government: of the people, by the people, for the people" to describe the kind of government they were fighting for. In Korean, the phrase is usually translated as follows:

"... that government: of the people, by the people, for the people, ..."
"... 인민의, 인민에 의한, 인민을 위한 정치, ..."

In his book, "우리가 정말 알아야 할 '우리말 바로 쓰기,'" Lee Su-yeol (이수열) took issue with the translation and suggested the following, instead:

"... that government: of the people, by the people, for the people, ..."
"... 인민을 위해, 인민이 하는, 인민의 정치, ..."

Instead of using 인민의 to translate "of the people," Mr. Lee used it to translate "for the people." To translate "of the people," he used 인민을 위해. Also, one of Mr. Lee's pet peeves is that Koreans frequently misuse 에 의하여 to mean "by," so he replaced 인민에 의한 with 인민이 하는.

Personally, I would translate the Lincoln phrase as follows:

"... that government: of the people, by the people, for the people, ..."
"... 인민에서, 인민으로, 인민을 위하여 하는 정치, ..."

I like Mr. Lee, but I think he misunderstood some of the English. However, he was correct to point out the misuse of 에 의하여 for "by."

의하다 is a shortened form of 의거하다, which means "to be based on," "to be founded on," or "to be predicated on." The Korean definition is "어떤 사실에 근거하다." However, if you look at an English definition of 의하다, you will see one listed under "Other" (기타) that defines it as "by." The example in my dictionary is as follows:

브람스에 의한 교향곡
a symphony (composed) by Brahms

My Korean-Korean dictionary (국어사전) does not define 의하다 as "by," so I think this is a case of my Korean-English dictionary defining a popular misuse of the word without explaining that it is a misuse. If I had to choose between an English definition and a Korean definition, I would usually choose the Korean.

UPDATE:

On second thought, I think the original translation of the phrase was basically correct. I think Lincoln's "by the people" essentially meant "based on the people's will or authority." Nevertheless, I would prefer the following translation:

"... that government: of the people, by the people, and for the people ..."
"... 인민 자신으로, 인민 권한으로, 인민 이익 위해 하는 정치 ..."

Also, consider this translation:

"... 인민에서, 인민으로, 인민에게 하는 정치..."

Do you think 잘 부탁합니다 is silly, too?

2009-08-27T19:30:00.008+09:00

These days you can frequently hear Koreans say "잘 부탁합니다" after their asking someone for a favor. What they want to say is, "Please do your best for me," but that is not what 잘 부탁합니다 means.

부탁하다 means "ask," "beg," or "request," and 잘 means "well," so 잘 부탁합니다 literally means, "I beg well," which sounds as if the person is bragging about his begging abilities. Instead, when you want to ask someone to do their best for you, the "traditional" Korean way is to say one of the following:

청을 잘 들어주십시오. - Please grant my request.
잘 돌봐 주십시오. - Please do your best for me.
많이 도와 주십시오. - Please do everything you can for me.

잘 부탁합니다 supposedly comes from a Japanese expression, but it does not translate well into Korean.

What is a 항아리손님?

2009-08-27T07:30:00.011+09:00

항아리 is a kind of "jar," and 손님 means "guest," so together they mean "jar guest," which is one name for the infectious disease, "mumps." Koreans also refer to the mumps as 볼거리, and Korean doctors refer to it as 유행성 이하선염. Supposedly, the word 항아리 (jar) is used in the name because mumps causes one's cheeks to swell up like a 항아리, which is a jar that has a mouth smaller than its belly.

손님 (guest) is also used in the names of other infectious diseases. Small pox is referred to not only as 천연두, but also as 마마, 손님, 손님마마 and 큰손님 (big visitor). Chicken pox (수두) and measles (홍역) are also referred to as 작은마마 and 작은손님 (small visitor). The names show respect for the diseases, as if they were honored guests.

Koreans used to believe the diseases were actually gods or spirts who were offended with them, so it seems the honored names were an attempt to appease the spirits or to avoid offending them in the first place. Since small pox was referred to as the "big visitor" (큰손님), it seems it was feared more than the other diseases.

What does 새벽 오줌 섞인 사람 mean?

2009-08-26T18:17:00.006+09:00

It translates as "a person mixed up with morning urine" and is used to refer to a "simpleton" or "moron" (바보, 천치, 백치, 팔푼이, etc.).

I had never seen nor heard this expression until I came across it today among a list of proverbs. I am posting it because it seems it may have been based on an old Korean superstition. Did Koreans use to believe that mentally handicapped children were the result of their being born before the mother had a chance to take her morning pee?

What's the difference between 먹냐 and 먹느냐?

2009-08-25T03:32:00.039+09:00

Korean dictionaries and grammar books say that 냐/으냐 and 느냐 are "low form" question endings that are usually used among close friends. 냐/으냐 attach to adjectives and to 이다. If the adjective ends in a vowel, 냐 is attached; if it ends in a consonant, 으냐 is attached. 느냐 attaches to verbs, including 있다 and 없다, and to 었/았 and 겠. (없다 is actually an adjective.) The "느" in 느냐 supposedly signals "present tense" when it occurs without other tense markers. See the following examples:

먹느냐? -- Do you eat? / Are you eating?
먹었느냐? -- Did you eat?
먹겠느냐? -- Are you going to eat?
연필이 있느냐? -- Do you have a pencil?
연필이 없느냐? -- Don't you have a pencil?
크냐? -- Is it big?
작으냐? -- Is it small?
책이냐? -- Is it a book?
모자냐? -- Is it a hat?

Notice that in the case of 이냐, the 이 is dropped when the preceding noun ends in a vowel (e.g. 모자냐).

There is also the reflective past tense ending 더냐, which is used when the listener is asked about a personal experience or observation he had in the past . It can be used with both adjectives and verbs. See the following examples:

잘 있더냐? -- Have you been well?
그 어떻더냐? -- How was it?
둥글더냐? -- Was it round?
모나더냐? -- Was it angular?
무엇이더냐? -- What was it?

I think it used to be possible to abbreviate 더냐 to 냐, but that no longer seems to be the case.

Today, many younger Koreans are using 냐 as an abbreviation for 느냐, but such an abbreviation is not recognized by Korean dictionaries. Therefore, 먹냐 and 먹느냐 are both being used to mean, "Are you eating" or "Do you eat," but 먹냐 is considered an incorrect form since 냐 is supposed to be attached only to adjectives.

UPDATE:

HERE is more on 느냐/냐 from 남영신, who is another guy I respect and enjoy reading. He mentions that the 느냐/냐 ending is used a lot in the Jeolla region while the 나 ending is used in the Gyeongsang region. However, according to 이수열, the 느냐/냐 ending and the 나 ending are not really equivalent since 느냐/냐 is considered 낮춤 말 while 나 is considered 반말. In other words, you cannot make the 느냐/냐 ending polite by adding anything, but you can make the 나 ending polite by simply adding "요" (e.g. 벌써 집에 가나요?). 반말 (half speech) is just polite speech with the polite half (i.e. "요") removed. 남영신 also says the 니 ending is used in the Seoul/Gyeonggi region and that it is one of the first things about the Seoul dialect that Koreans learn when they migrate to Seoul.

Why is the "Korean Lab" Web site so great?

2009-08-23T12:41:00.018+09:00

I have written about the "Korean Lab" Web site before, but I was reminded of it again today, so I thought I would write about it, again.

Korean Lab is a Web site that has Korean language textbooks from grades one through twelve. These are the same kinds of textbooks that Korean children, themselves, learn from, so if you start with grade one and work your way through the books, you will be exposed to the same vocabulary and cultural associations that almost every Korean knows. If you go through these books, you can be assured that the words and cultural associations are known and used. The books for grades one and two even have audio, so you can work on building your listening skills and practicing your pronunciation.

I think children's books are a great way to build vocabulary and word association because they use pictures and stess word associations. Associations are important because they help us remember. If you read a picture book, the pictures will help you remember the words on the page. If you learn a song, the music will help you remember the lyrics. If you watch a scene from a tv soap opera, the image left in your mind will help you remember the lines that were spoken. If you touch or smell something, that will also help you remember the thing you touched or smelled.

Here is a sample lesson from the Grade One book, except that I have added the English translations and notes:

"눈에 눈이 들어가면"

눈에 눈이 들어가면 눈물일까요, 눈 물일까요?

If snow gets in your eye, will it be tears or snow water?

Note: One of the interesting things about the Korean language is that its distinugishes many words by the length of the vowel sound. For example, "eye" and "snow" are both written as 눈, but the 눈 for snow is pronounced with a longer vowel sound to distinguish it from eye. If you ask a Korean which word has the longer vowel sound, he or she will probably not be able to tell you or will have to think about it, but when speaking, he or she will probably say it correctly, just out of habit.

One of the reasons that foreigners may not be easily understood when they speak Korean, is that they may have failed to lengthen their vowel sounds, so it is good to learn which words are pronounced with long vowel sounds and which are not. If a Korean friend tells you that you do not need to learn it, ignore him because you will never sound like a Korean until you learn them. A good Korean-Korean dictionary (국어사전) will show you which words are pronounced with a long vowel sound by putting ":" after the syllable (ex. 눈: = snow).

The syllables shown in blue are the ones with the long vowel sounds.

말을 잘하는 사람이 있습니다.

There are people who speak well.

말을 잘 타는 사람도 있습니다.

There are also people who ride horses well.

Note: The Korean words for "speech" and "horse" are both written as 말, but the word for speech is pronounced with the long vowel sound.

낮에도 밤나무.................... 밤에도 밤나무

in day a chestnut tree.........at night a chestnut tree

Note: The Korean words for "chestnut" and "night" are both 밤, but the one for "chestnut" is pronounced with the long vowel sound.

길을 걷습니다....................소매를 걷습니다.
Walk on the road................Roll up one's sleeve.

Note: The verbs "to walk" and "to roll up (one's sleeves or skirt)" are both written as 걷다, but the 걷 for walk is pronounced with the long vowel sound.

길을 묻다.
Ask directions.

땅 속에 묻다.
Bury in the ground
.

새집
bird house

새집

new house

어린이
a child

어른
an adult

적어요

a small amount

적어요
to write down

벌...........벌

bee.........punishment

섬............섬

island..... a straw bag (of rice)

.As you can see from the above examples, long vowel sounds are used throughout the Korean language even if the average Korean does not realize it.

When I was working at Asiana Airlines, I worked with a man from Kwangju (광주) who had a heavy accent. When I asked where he was from, it sounded like he say, 강주 instead of 광주. The reason his 광 sounded like 강 was that he was pronouncing it with a very short vowel sound.

In Korea, there are two Kwangju's. One is in Jolla Province, and the other is in Gyeonggi Province. The Chinese characters for the Kwangju in Jolla Province are 光州 (광주). 光 (광) is the Chinese character meaning "light" and is pronounced with a short vowel sound. However, the Kwangju in Gyeonggi Province is written with the Chinese character 廣 (광), which means "wide" and is pronounced with a long vowel sound. So if someone tells you he is from Kwangju, be sure to ask him if he is from Kwangju (광주) or from Kwaaaangju (광:주).

Don't forget to check out Korea Lab.

What is the Korean Wiki Project?

2009-08-22T11:01:00.014+09:00

On the Web site, the Korean Wiki Project is described as follows:

The Korean Wiki Project is a collaborative effort to unify knowledge on the Korean language and to make the information easily accessible and relevant to anyone.

People have mentioned the Korean Wiki Project to me a couple of times in the Comments section, but I just I kind of ignored them because the idea of discussing and writing about the Korean language sounded so good to me that I was afraid I would get too involved and not have time to do another project I want to finish first. The problem is that if I get focused on one thing, it is hard for me to think about other things, and the Korean language is something I can easily get lost in. I write on my blog here when I am bored and have time, but if I get involved in the Korean Wiki Project, I might feel obligated to write even when I do not have time for it. By the way, the fall semester at my school starts on Monday, so I will probably not be writing as much here as I have been.

Anyway, today I clicked on the name of a commenter named Shanna to see if it would lead to a Web site. It lead me to HangukDrama, which looks quite interesting, though I have not had time to look through it all. However, on the site was a video of a guy named Matt talking about his "Korean Learning Journey." The video impressed me not only because Matt seems like a really a nice guy, but also because the start of his Korean Learning Journey reminded me of the start of mine. When I first started learning Korean, I did not know anything about Korea, either, except that it was in Asia and that we had fought a war there. Also, I joined the navy expecting to learn Spanish and was told I would be learning Korean, instead.

I just want to share Matt's video and say that I will be checking out the Korean Wiki Project. Mike is a cofounder of the Web site. I apologize for not really responding to previous comments about the project.

The meaning of "갑돌이가 울면서 떠나는 갑순이를 배웅했다"?

2009-08-21T23:24:00.003+09:00

Without commas there are two possible meanings to the sentence. Here is the sentence with the meanings clarified by commas:

갑돌이가 울면서, 떠나는 갑순이를 배웅했다.
A weeping Kap Doli saw off Kap Suni, who was leaving.
갑돌이가, 울면서 떠나는 갑순이를 배웅했다.
Kap Doli saw off a weeping Kap Suni, who was leaving.

Of course, in spoken Korean, there would be pauses in place of the commas.

Know any old slang using 똥?

2009-08-21T09:48:00.004+09:00

똥 means excrement, feces, poop, or whatever you want to call it. Koreans do not seem to have much of a hangup when it comes to 똥 because it is used in all kinds of expressions. It generally includes the meaning of "being inferior," such as in 똥차, which refers to a car that is always breaking down. Here are a few examples of some old slang and vulgar expressions using 똥. Not every Korean will know these expressions.

똥 -- gold (금)
똥가아지 -- a bargirl
똥같이 노네 -- You are acting childish.
똥개스 -- a fart (방귀)
똥기계 -- a dummy (바보)
똥까스 -- a fart (plays off 돈가스, which means "port cutlet")
똥꿈 -- a lucky dream; a good omen
똥바가지 연애 -- romance with an agricultural major
똥 밟았니 -- Am I crazy?
똥 밟았다 -- "I chose the wrong partner" (in a group date).
똥방위 -- civilian defense soldier (방위병)
똥방 -- one's back pocket
똥배 -- stomach
똥빼다 -- work hard; take pains (애쓰다)
똥보 -- you (너)
똥사다 -- have a hard time (고생하다)
똥 싼 바지 -- loose fitting pants popular with the hip-hop generation
똥찌그리 하다 -- dirty and disgraceful
똥찡기다 -- 1) to dislike something 2) to lose one's nerve (기죽다)
똥차 -- an old, junky car
똥차 옆에서 방귀 뀐다 -- pretend to know something
똥치 -- a prostitute
똥치다 -- to steal
똥치 앞재비 -- a pimp
똥탈 -- an accident; a big problem
똥통 -- you (너); a farmer; an aggricultural college
똥통과 -- Aggriculture Department (in college)
똥통학교 -- an inferior school
똥파리 -- 1) a reporter, 2) a police patrol officer, 3) Wangsipri (왕십리 - a neighborhood in Seoul)

What is this baby thinking?

2009-08-20T23:24:00.006+09:00

I think she is thinking, "If I were bigger, I would take that rattle and hit you over the head with it."

What is the Korean word for "baby rattle"? Is it 딸랑딸랑 상자?

Who are 갑돌이 and 갑순이?

2009-08-20T13:32:00.025+09:00

"갑돌이와 갑순이" is an old Korean folk song made famous by Serena Kim (김세레나) in 1968. The song was, apparently, a favorite of former Korean President Park Cheong-hee (See HERE). I like the song because it is simple, light-hearted, and gives me a glimpse into the Korean heart. It is as Korean as you could ask for.

If you are interested in Korean culture, I think you need to know this song because 갑돌이 and 갑순이 are names that are used in a lot of jokes, including dirty jokes. Besides, 돌이 and 순이 are suffixes that refer to a man and woman, respectively, and are used in a lot of slang expressions. For example, 공순이 is a slang expression used to refer to "female factory workers," with 공 being an abbreviation of 공장 (factory).

Below are two videos. The first is of Serena Kim singing the song, and the second is of Yu Ji-na (유지나) singing it. I posted the second video because it also shows the lyrics.

"갑돌이와 갑순이"

갑돌이와 갑순이는 한 마을에 살았더래요
둘이는 서로 서로 사랑을 했더래요
그러나 둘이는 마음뿐이래요
겉으로는 음~ 모르는 척 했더래요
오~ 모르는 척 했더래요.

그러다가 갑순이는 시집을 갔더래요
시집간 날 첫날밤에 한없이 울었더래요
갑순이 마음은 갑돌이뿐이래요
겉으로는 음~ 안 그런 척 했더래요
오~ 안그런 척 했더래요.

갑돌이도 화가 나서 장가를 갔더래요
장가간 날 첫날밤에 달 보고 울었더래요
갑돌이 마음도 갑순이 뿐이래요
겉으로는 음~ 고까짓 것 했더래요
오~ 고까짓 것 했더래요.
--------------------
"Kap Doli and Kap Suni"
It is said that Kap Doli and Kap Suni lived in the same village.
It is said that they both loved each other.
But it is said that they kept it only in their hearts.
It is said that outwardly, mmmmmm, they pretended ignorance.
It is said that Kap Suni eventually got married.
It is said that on her wedding night she cried endlessly.
It is said that in Kap Suni's heart, Kap Doli was the only one .
It is said that outwardly, mmmmmm, she pretended he wasn't.
It is said that Kap Doli got angry and also got married.
It is said that on his wedding night he looked at the moon and cried.
It is said that in Kap Doli's heart, Kap Suni was also the only one.
It is said that outwardly, mmmmmm, he (still) did the (sex) thing.

NOTES:

더래(요) is an verb ending that is used to report something that another person has seen or heard in the past.
고까짓 것 essentially means "그 것," which is an indirect way of saying he had sex. When you add 까짓 to such pronouns as 이, 고, 그, 요, 저, and 조, it trivializes them and can make them sound cutesy.
I think the last line of the song is supposed to be funny.

POSTSCRIPT: There is an interesting and funny post HERE from someone who does not like the ending to the song and offers several suggestions for improving it. Also, he remembers hearing a fourth verse to the song, but he cannot remember what it was. Maybe, he was talking about the following version of the song, which has added another verse to the original.

Do you understand the poem "문둥이"?

2009-08-19T08:32:00.010+09:00

The following short poem is entitled "문둥이," which means "Leper." It was written in 1936 by Seo Jeong-ju (서정주).

"문둥이"
-서정주-

해와 하늘빛이
문둥이는 서러워

보리밭에 달 뜨면
애기 하나 먹고

꽃처럼 붉은 울음을
밤새 울었다.
---------
"Leper" - by Seo Jeong-ju
The sun and blue sky
sadden the leper.
A barley field moon,
then he eats a child.
Red cries like flowers,
he weeps through the night.

Korean lepers supposedly used to believe they could cure their illness by eating the flesh of children. It is said that lepers would kidnap children and take them into barley fields to eat them. Whether parents told their children such stories to keep them away from lepers, or farmers told such stories to keep children out of their barley fields, or lepers really did eat children in barley fields, I do not know, but such stories were told.

I have read that "red cries" (붉은 울음) means "sad cries," but I do not know exactly why "red" suggests sadness, and I do not know why it was compared to a flower. Do you know?

By the way, in 1685, a Korean man was executed because he cremated his father, who had died from leprosy. Apparently, cremation was illegal in Joseon Korea at the time. The man said he cremated his father because he had heard it would stop the disease from passing on to the man's descendants. LINK

What does 빌린 것이 없다 mean?

2009-08-18T09:57:00.005+09:00

빌리다 can mean both "to borrow" and "to loan," so Koreans frequently distinguish the two by saying 빌려 오다 or 빌려 받다 for "to borrow" and 빌려 주다 for "to loan." However, in the case of 빌린 것이 없다, one would have to look for other clues in a sentence to figure out its meaning. See the following examples:

나한테 빌린 것이 없다.
(You) have loaned nothing to me.
나한테서 빌린 것이 없다.
(You) have borrowed nothing from me.
너한테 빌린 것이 없다.
(I) have loaned nothing to you.
너한테서 빌린 것이 없다.
(I) have borrowed nothing from you.

The fact that Koreans use the same word for both "to loan" and "to borrow" is the most likely reason they frequently misuse "loan" and "borrow" when they speak English.

What does "우리 부부" mean?

2009-08-15T22:05:00.010+09:00

In Korea, it is quite common to hear a Korean men refer to his wife as "우리 마누라," which literally means "our wife." It does not mean he shares his wife with anyone; it is just his way of referring to his wife. In fact, Koreans are known for using 우리 (our) with a great number of words. They even refer to their language as "우리말," which literally means "our language."

A few days ago I came across the following sentence in a book I am reading:

우리 부부가 그동안 땀을 흘린 보람으로 마침내 내 집을 마련하게 되었습니다.
During that time, after much sweat, my wife and I finally got our own house.

우리 부부 literally means "our husband and wife," but I translated it as "my wife and I" since "our husband and wife" does not make sense in English. Of course, if it were the wife speaking, I would have had to translate it as "my husband and I." Using 우리 부부 as it was used in the above sentence may be common in Korea, but I think it was used incorrectly. Also, notice that the writer wrote 내 집 (my house) instead of 우리 집 (our house). Why did it change from 우리 to 내? Was the writer using 우리 부부 to refer to her husband or to his wife?

I think the writer should have written 남편과 (my husband and I) or 아내와 (my wife and I) in the above sentence instead of 우리 부부가, which should be used only when referring to a group of married people. For example, if you went on a trip with other married couples, you could refer to your group as "우리 부부."

Likewise, I think 우리 마누라 should be used only when a group of friends refer to their wives as a group, not to one individual wife. For example, wouldn't the following sentence make sense?

우리 늦으면 우리 마누라가 혼내겠다.
If we are late, our wives will give us a hard time.

Koreans may not say the above sentence with the meaning I wrote, but why not?

I think it is possible that sometime in the past Koreans confused the meanings of 우리 마누라 and 우리 부부 and have been confusing them ever since.

UPDATE:

I looked up "우리" in my Korean-Korean dictionary and one of the definitions was as follows:

2 [관형사적 용법] '나의'의 뜻으로 쓰는 말. ¶ -- 나라. / -- 어머니. / -- 마누라.

Notice that it said that one meaning of 우리 was "나의," which means "my." Nothing was said about it meaning "our," which is the plural of "my." So, does that mean that when Koreans say "우리 나라" and "우리 학교," they are actually saying "my country" and "my school," not "our country" and "our school"? According to the dictionary, 우리 can mean either "we" or "my," but not "our." Does that make sense?

So, if 우리 means "my" in Korean, what is the Korean for "our"?

The definition for "our" in my Korean dictionary is "우리들의" or "우리의." Therefore, here is a summary of what my dictionaries say:

my country - 우리 나라
our country - 우리의 나라
my mother - 우리 어머니
our mother - 우리의 어머니
my wife - 우리 마누라
our wives - 우리의 마누라

Korea's dictionaries may be describing the current reality of the language, but it seems clear to me that the original meaning of 우리 has been corrupted. I think it is ridiculous to have to put 의 after 우리 to clarify the meaning of "our." If 내 can mean both "I" and "my," then "우리" should also be able to mean both "we" and "our," not "we" and "my."

Koreans need to admit that the word 우리 has been corrupted and start a nationwide campaign to use the correct meaning. The first step should be to remove the "my" definition of 우리 from Korean dictionaries.

By the way, according to the dictionary definition of 우리, the translation of 우리 부부 should, therefore, be "my husband and wife." It sounds like some kind of weird threesome.

Who is Pierre Deporte?

2009-08-15T12:20:00.005+09:00

Today, I read in the Chosun Ilbo that a 24-year-old Frenchman named Pierre Deporte would be playing a lead in a new Korean soap opera entitled "Tamra, the Island," which is about a young Englishman who drifts to the Korean island of Jeju sometime in the past. The story was inspired by the story of Dutch explorer Hendrik Hamel, who was shipwrecked on Jeju in the mid 17th century. The old name for Jeju Island was "Tamra" (탐라).

Pierre Deporte, whose Korean name is Hwang Chan-bin (황찬빈), is supposed to be fluent in Korean since he started learning the language at the age of five, when his father married his stepmother, a Korean woman who started teaching him the language. He also came to Korea at a young age and lived for a time.

I was curious to hear how well he spoke Korean and found the following video clip of his speaking on a Chuseok TV special in September 2007. As you will hear in the video, his Korean is very good, but so is the Korean of other foreign men on the show, including a couple of guys from Iran and Turkey.

Ever been told you were the first customer of the day?

2009-08-11T15:55:00.009+09:00

When I first came to Korea in 1977, I was fascinated by the new culture and all the culturally related articles in Korean shops. I would often go into the souvenir, antique, and clothing shops in front of Camp Humphrey just to browse. If I went in the morning, Korean shopkeepers would often tell me that I was their first customer of the day and could, therefore, get a good deal from them. I did not really really expect much of a deal by just being their first customer and would often leave the shops without buying anything. At the time, I did not know that my leaving the store without buying anything portended a bad day of business for the shopkeeper, which was probably one reason that they rarely wished me a good day on my leaving.

Many Koreans used to believe that if they could sell to the first customer to come into their shops, they would have a good business day. If the first customer left without buying anything, they would have a bad day. The Korean expression used to refer to this first sale of the day is 마수를 걸다, which means "to make the first sale of the day." You can also say 마수걸이하다.

Supposedly, the first customer of the day could get the best deal because shopkeepers would be more willing to sacrifice their profit on the first sale to ensure good sales for the rest of the day.

엉겨붙는 것 or 엉겨붙은 것?

2009-08-10T09:58:00.010+09:00

Today, I read about the Korean expression 때가 묻다 in the book I have been reading. 때 means "dirt" "filth," or "grime," and 묻다 means "to stick," "to stain," or "to be covered (with)." Therefore, 때가 묻다 means "to be covered or stained with dirt." The expression can also be used figuratively to refer to a person who is no longer pure or has been corrupted in some way.

The book said that you could substitute 묻다 with 끼다 to give a more grime-encrusted impression. Here is how the book explained it in Korean:

'때가 끼다'라고 하면 '묻다' 보다 더 오랫동안 오물이 계속 쌓여서 잘 떨어지지 않을 정도로 엉겨붙는 것을 말하다.

If you say 때가 끼다, you are saying that the grime has collected over a longer period of time than 때가 묵다 and is so solidified that it does not come off easily.

Notice that the writer wrote 엉겨붙는 것을, which means "solidifying" rather than "solidified" (엉겨붙은 것을). In other words, the writer wrote that the grime was still in the process of solidifying rather than already in a state of solidification. Is that what the writer meant to say? I do not think so.

I think the writer meant to say "solidified," which means he should have written it either as 엉겨붙은 것을 or 엉겨붙어 있는 것을.

"동티란...받게 된다는 재앙을"?

2009-08-07T15:43:00.008+09:00

Today I read about the Korean expression 동티가 나다, which originally meant "to suffer the wraft of the earth gods" for digging in sacred ground or harming the rocks, trees, or other parts of the land in some way. 동티 referred to the punishment you would incur from the gods. Though some Koreans may still fear the earth gods, the expression can also be used to refer to incurring trouble in general.

Anyway, the Korean explanation was as follows:

'동티'란 건드려서는 안 될 땅을 파거나 돌을 다치거나 나무를 베었을 때 지신이 성을 내어 받게 된다는 재앙을 가리키는 말이다.

The portion of the expression I have highlighted in red caught my eye because nothing was mentioned about what was received (받게 된다). For example, shouldn't it have been written as either "지신이 성을 내어 받게 된 재앙을" or "지신이 성을 내어 벌이 받게 된다는 재앙을"?

If you use 받게 된다, then there should be a full sentence in front of it, shouldn't there? However, since nothing was mentioned about what was received, it is an incomplete sentence, isn't it?

I assume that the writer wanted to say that a "disaster" (재앙) would "be received" (받게 된다는 재앙을), but is such a construction grammatically correct? It doesn't seem right to me, but both my dictionary and the book I am reading wrote it that way.

듣는 것이 많았다 or 들은 것이 많다?

2009-08-06T08:49:00.009+09:00

I am currently reading the Korean idiom book on the left each morning while drinking my morning cup of coffee. It averages a little less than two idiom explanations per page, so it is the kind of book you can pick up and read for only five minutes a day and still benefit from. I usually spend about thirty minutes or more on it each morning.

I like the book, but I often get the feeling that the person explaining the Korean idioms has tried to write the explanations in an English style of Korean rather than a traditional Korean style. Several of the explanations seem awkward, at best. I am confused because the three people who collaborated on the book seem to be qualified, except that the person who actually wrote the explanations was an English Literature major rather than a Korean language major, which might explain the awkwardness.

Anyway, today I came across the following example sentence in the book that made me stop short:

견문이 넓은 그와 동무해서 일을 하다보니 듣는 것이 많았다.

Is 듣는 것이 많았다 correct? Shouldn't it be 들은 것이 많다? Doesn't it look like the writer was trying to write the Korean version of the English present perfect continuous or something?

Anyway, if I had written the sentence, I would have done it as follows:

견문이 넓은 그와 동무해서 일을 하다보니 들은 것이 많다.
He is well-informed, and I have heard many things after becoming acquainted and working with him.

Does 빠지다 mean "to fall into a trap" or "to escape"?

2009-08-05T11:52:00.011+09:00

It think it can mean both. Consider the following examples.

함정에 빠지다.
Fall into a trap.
함정에서 빠지다.
Escape from a trap.

Koreans may not actually say 함정에서 빠지다, but they do say 함정에서 빠져나오다 and 함정에서 빠져나가다, which suggests that 함정에서 빠지다 should also be possible. Besides, my dictionary says that 빠지다 also means "escape" (탈출하다). The only difference between "falling into a trap" and "escaping from a trap" would, therefore, be whether one uses the preposition 에 (in) for "falling into a trap" or the preposition 에서 (from) for "escaping from a trap."

I started thinking about this question after reading an explanation for the Korean expression 독 안에 들다.

'독'은 입구가 바닥보다 넓고 배가 볼록하며 양옆에 손잡이가 달린 오지그릇이나 질그릇을 말한다. 주로 장을 담그는 데 쓰인다. '독 안에 든 쥐'라는 말이 있다. 쥐가 실수로 독 안에 빠지면 그곳에서 빠져나올 수 없다. 이와 마찬가지로 '어떤 포위망이나 함정 따위에서 아무리 벗어나려 해도 벗어날 수 없는, 영락없이 붙잡히게 된 처지'를 일컬을 때 이 말을 한다.

As you can see in the above Korean explanation, 빠져나올 수 없다 was used with the meaning of being "unable to escape," which means 빠져나오다 was used with the meaning of "to escape." Moreover, notice that 벗어나다 was also used to mean "escape."

What is the difference between 빠져나오다 and 벗어나다? My guess is that 빠져나오다 is used when one has a "narrow escape" from a near capture while 벗어나다 is used when one escapes after having already been captured. Or is it the other way around or neither? I do not know, so I hope that some of the native Koreans that read this blog will give me their opinions.

빠지다 is a verb that deserves more explanation, but my 10-year-old son is bugging me to take him out to lunch, so I have to stop here.

Is this baby cying 닭똥 같은 눈물?

2009-08-04T15:36:00.005+09:00

In the caption of the video, the mother describes her baby's crying as pretty, but then goes on to describe her tears as 닭똥 같은 눈물, which means "tears like chicken shit." Some people may think "chicken-shit tears" are pretty, but is that baby really crying chicken-shit tears?

닭똥 같은 눈물 are tears that form around the edges of the eyes into big teardrops that eventually succumb to gravity and fall to the ground, supposedly like droppings from a chicken's butt. However, as anyone who has ever watched a chicken poop knows, a person crying chicken-shit tears would need to have his or her head bowed so that the tears drop directly from the eyes to the ground rather than run down the face. Therefore, since the baby in the video is crying while lying on her back, those tears cannot be "chicken-shit tears."

What does 눈이 보이지 않다 mean?

2009-08-03T11:28:00.013+09:00

보다 means "to see," and its passive is, 보이다, which means "to be visible." The negative form of 보이다 is 보이지 않다, which means "is not visible." If you wanted to say, "The mountain is not visible," you would say, 산이 보이지 않다." Therefore, wouldn't 눈이 보이지 않다 mean "(Someone's) eyes are not visible"?

My dictionary says that 눈이 보이지 않다 means "to be blind," but if that is the case, then how do you say, "(Someone's) eyes are not visible" because of long hair, a veil, sunglasses or whatever? What's the deal?

My theory is as follows:

눈이 보이지 않다" can mean both "eyes are not visible" and "blind," depending on which 보이다 is used.

There are actually two 보이다s. One is the passive 보이다, which means "to be visible," and the other is the causative 보이다, which means "to show." The passive 보이다 is used when you want to say someone's "eyes are not visible," and the causative 보이다 is used when you want to say someone "is blind."

The causative 보이다 is a transitive verb. That means it can be used with an object. When Koreans say 눈이 보이지 않다 to mean "blind," however, they have omitted the object and are literally just saying, "Eyes do not show." However, the implied meaning is, "The eyes do not show anything," which would be "눈이 아무것도 보이지 않다." A blind person's eyes do not show anything.

Since the sentences for "eyes are not visible" and "blind" are written the same, the only way to distinguish between them would be to look at the surrounding sentences. However, since 눈이 멀다 also means "to be blind," why not use it to mean "blind," and save 눈이 보이지 않다 to mean "eyes are not visible"?

Words and expressions related to "eyesight"

What does 넉살이 좋다 mean?

2009-07-30T10:03:00.009+09:00

My dictionary defines 넉살 as follows:

shamlessness; impudence; cheekiness; brazen-facedness; sauciness; sassiness

It defines 넉살이 좋다 as follows:

behave shamelessly [saucily]; act brazenly [audaciously]

If a foreign student of Korean were to look at just the above definitions, he might assume that 넉살이 좋다 could substitute for 뻔뻔하다, but he would be wrong because 넉살이 좋다 has a positive connotation while 뻔뻔하다 has a negative one.

넉살이 좋다 is used to refer to thick-skinned people who are not easily embarrassed or offended. Such people would probably laugh off an insult and ask questions that some may consider to be too bold or too personal.

Based on my understanding of the expression, I think I have met many Koreans who I would describe as 넉살이 좋다. For example, I would use it to describe the curious Korean taxi driver who asks questions that some might consider to be too bold or too personal. I would also use it to describe the Korean student who comes up to me on the street and asks if he or she can practice English with me. Some foreigners may be annoyed by such people and consider them to be 뻔뻔하다, but I am somewhat impressed by the boldness and straightforwardness of such people and would, therefore, probably consider them to be only 넉살이 좋다.

I am not sure of the orgin of 넉살, but I remember it by translating it as "four skins," which implies "thick skin." A thick-skinned person is someone who is "not easily offended."

Here is a Korean explanation: '넉살'과 '언죽전죽'

같지않다 is not the opposite of 같다?

2009-07-28T13:38:00.004+09:00

같다 is an adjective that has several meanings, including the following:

the same; identical (with)
equal (to); uniform; equivalent (to)
like; alike; as
seem; appear
worthy of; becoming

One might expect that 같지않다, abbreviated to 같잖다, would be the negative of 같다 and mean something like "not the same," but 같잖다 is defined as follows:

foolish; silly; absurd; improper; bothersome
trifle; trivial; small; slight; insignificant

Here are some example sentences using 같잖다:

같잖은 물건
a worthless object
같잖은 녀석
a good-for-nothing fellow
같잖은 일로 화를 내다
get angry at trifles
같잖은 소리를 하다
talk impudently (to); give (a person) cheek (some lip)

So, my question is this: If I were to say, 이것과 그것이 같잖다, would I be saying, "This and that are worthless," or "This and that are not the same"?

Why do Koreans say 같은 양의 물 instead of 같은 양인 물?

2009-07-28T09:44:00.009+09:00

I was doing some research and came across the expression 같은 양의 물, which means "the same amount of water." For some reason, it got me wondering why Koreans say 같은 양의 물 instead of 같은 양인 물. They say 같은 양이다 (the same amount), so why not 같은 양인 물? I searched Google for "같은 양인 물," but got not even one hit. Even when I tried searching on 양이 같은 물, I got only one hit. What's the deal?

Whenever I see the possessive marker 의 in a phrase, it makes me think it might be a Koreanized form of a Japanese or English phrase, and I try to change it into what I think would be a more traditional style of Korean by removing the 의. For example, if I saw the phrase 같은 나이의 사람, I would want to change it to 같은 나이인 사람 or 나이 같은 사람, but according to Google, 같은 나이의 사람 is more popular with Koreans. What's the deal?

I think more and more Koreans are using 의 phrases because more and more Koreans are studying English, and 의 phrases seem to be a more direct translation of English "of" phrases. For example, 같은 양의 물 is a word-for-word translation of the English phrase," the same amount of water": 같은(the same) 양(amount) 의(of) 물(water).

I am not sure, but it seems like 의 is killing off traditional Korean expressions, like a weed kills off flowers in a garden. Maybe phrases like 같은 양의 물 (the same amount of water) and 같은 수의 물건 (the same number of items) are correct, but there is something about 의 that makes me dislike them.

The difference between 벗어지다 & 벗겨지다?

2009-07-26T09:03:00.016+09:00

벗다 and 벗기다 can both mean "to take off" or "remove" articles of clothing, but the difference is that 벗다 is used to refer to taking off "one's own clothing" while 벗기다 is used to refer to taking off "another person's clothing." See the examples:

여자가 외투을 벗었다.
She took off her overcoat.

남자가 그 여자 외투을 벗겼다.
He helped her take off her overcoat.

벗기다 can also be used to refer to removing a covering from an object. See the examples:

감자 껍질을 벗기다.
Peel potatoes.

오란지 껍질을 벗기다.
Peel oranges.

콩깍지를 벗기다.
Shell beans.

담요를 벗기다.
Remove a blanket.

녹을 벗기다.
Remove rust.

인디언들이 개척자 머리 껍질을 벗겼다.
Indians scalped the settlers.

벗다 and 벗기다 were used as transitive verbs above since they referred to someone removing "an object." However, if you add the passive ending "~어지다" to 벗다 and 벗기다, they become the intransitive verbs 벗어지다 and 벗겨지다.

벗어지다 is used when objects fall off without outside force while 벗겨지다 is used when objects fall out with outside force. See the examples:

치마가 느슨해서 자꾸 벗어진다.
My skirt is loose, so it keeps slipping off.
치마가 못에 걸려서 벗겨졌다.
My skirt caught on a nail and was pulled off.
이른 나이에 머리가 벗어졌다.
I have gone bald prematurely.
교통 사고로 머리 가죽이 벗겨졌다.
His scalp was peeled off in the car accident.

Some Koreans mistakenly say 머리가 벗겨진다 to refer to balding, but the correct way to say it is 머리가 벗어진다 since balding refers to hair falling out without outside force. Maybe the reason that Koreans mistakenly say 머리가 벗겨진다 is that 벗기다 is also the passive of 벗다. Therefore, 머리가 벗긴다, without the ~어지다 ending, should also mean "to go bald," but my Google search could not find any examples of it.

What does 깡통(을) 차다 mean?

2009-07-25T09:21:00.004+09:00

깡통 refers to an "empty can." 차다 can mean either "to kick" or "to attach." If you use 차다 with the meaning "to kick," then 깡통을 차다 means "to kick a can," but if you use 차다 to mean "to attach," then it refers to "begging with a tin can." To avoid confusion, it would probably be better to say "발로 깡통을 차다" when you want to say "kick a can" since 발로 means "with one's foot."

Korean beggars used to beg with dried, hollowed out goard halves, but during the Korean War and for somethime afterwards, beggers used empty tin cans (깡통) that were apparently attached (차다) to themselves in some way. Therefore, the expression 깡통을 차다 triggers images of a time during and after the Korean war rather than a time before the war.

Today, 깡통(을) 차다 is used idiomatically to mean the following:

to be reduced to begging
to go bankrupt
to go bust
to go to pot

By the way, if 깡통 means "empty can," why do Koreans call a "can opener" a 깡통 따개? Wouldn't an "empty can" already be opened? Likewise, 깡통 맥주 (can beer) does not make sense, either, since it literally means, "empty can beer."

Who is John Frankl?

2009-07-22T11:46:00.005+09:00

Do not believe THE CLAIM that foreign adults cannot master the Korean language. The video link below is evidence that they can.

The video is an interview with 42-year-old, American John Frankl, who is an Associate Professor of Asian Literature at the Underwood International College (UIC) at Yonsei University. He started studying Korean in 1987 while majoring in English Literature at UC Berkley. He came to Korea as an exchange student in 1988 and studied for one year at Yonsei University. When he finished his undergraduate program at Berkley, he came back to Yonsei and started a Master's course in Korean Literature. He got his Master's in 1993 and then went to Harvard University, where he got his Ph.D. in 2003. He became a professor at UIC in 2005. He is not only fluent in Korean, he also has a black belt in Jiu Jitsu. Information on John Frankl

Video of Korean Interview with John Frankl

"Is the Korean Language Scientific?"

2009-07-20T13:51:00.015+09:00

It is often said that Hangeul (한글) is one of the most scientific alphabets in the world, but I do not think I have ever heard that the Korean language, itself, is one of the world's most scientific languages. Nevertheless, in a Korea Times article, columnist Jon Huer asked the question, "Is the Korean language scientific?" His conclusion was essentially "No." Read the article HERE.

Jon Huer wrote the following:

In truly scientific systems, there are no inner and outer circles. But the Korean language is generally considered the most secretly-guarded code system among the world's major languages. There is no way an "outsider," who is not born into this circle, can crack the code of the Korean language, no matter how long one devotes oneself to its mastery. Its grammar and syntax are capable of so much situational variation and impromptu adaptation that only the native can get the feel of the language. Anyone who is encouraged by the scientific claim and tries to learn the language soon finds that he is merely scratching the surface after years of devoted study.

Koreans used to say quite often that the Korean language was too difficult for "foreigners" (outsiders) to learn, much less master, just as Mr. Huer has said in the above quote, but I never believed that and still do not believe it. Yes, the Korean language has been difficult for me to learn, but I think the main reason for that was that most of my Korean teachers did not know how to teach the language to foreigners and did not really expect me to learn it, anyway. Plus, I was a slow learner.

You cannot expect foreigners to "crack the (Korean) code" when Koreans, themselves, are still trying to crack it. When I started learning Korean, there were not many good books explaining the language to foreigners, teaching techniques were poor, and Korean teachers, themselves, did not really seem to know enough about their language to explain the problems foreigners were having. Moreover, it seemed that Korean teachers had low expectations for foreigners' learning Korean and seemed to teach accordingly. I often got the feeling that I was being taught as if I were a young child.

My very first Korean language lesson started with the Korean instructor pointing a pointer at animals on a chart and pronouncing their names in Korean. I do not remember their being anything written under the pictures, and even if there was Korean written under the pictures, we had not yet learned to read it. We were just supposed to memorize the names of the animals by repeating them one or two times after he pronounced them. The teacher taught with little or no enthusiasm, and discouraged questions. We were just supposed to follow his instructions. Children may be able to learn that way, but not me, nor many other adults, I would think.

When I first started speaking Korean, Koreans tended not to correct me. They would just smile, nod their head, and say in English, "You speak Korean very well," even if I had only said, "Annyeonghaseyo?" With such low expectations for foreigners, is it any wonder that so few of us ever became fluent in Korean?

These days things have changed a lot. Good books are starting to come out, Koreans are learning how to teach Korean to foreigners, and Koreans are expecting more from non-native Korean speakers and are correcting them when they make mistakes.

There is nothing especially difficult about the Korean language. Foreigners can learn the language if they and their teachers are motivated and have the right teaching and learning materials. In regard to Jon Huer's claim that foreigners are incapable of mastering the Korean language, I think Mr. Huer will be eating his words in a few years.

What does 궤도(軌道) mean?

2009-07-17T13:14:00.007+09:00

Here are the meanings of 궤도 (軌道) in my dictionary:

an orbit; a circle
a (railroad) track
a track (in the figurative sense)

The Chinese character 軌(궤) originally referred to the distance between the wheels of a cart, which could have been determined by measuring the distance between the tracks it left on a road. The character 軌(궤) is made up of the characters 車(cart) and 九(nine). Nine was a number that the Chinese also used to mean "many." The combination of the two characters, therefore, literally meant "many carts." Many carts following the same tracks would have left a fixed set of tracks on a road, which would have been hard to deviate from, especially if they were deep tracks. Since the character 道 (도) means "road," 궤도 essentially means a "tracked road."

I assume that the idea of "orbit" developed from the fact that the tracks on a road are equal distance from each other, just as an orbiting object in space would be from the surface of the earth.

Here are the expressions my dictionary gave for 궤도.

궤도 기중기 -- a gantry (crane)
궤도면 -- a plane of orbit
궤도를 벗어나다 -- go out of orbit
궤도 부설 -- track construction
궤도 비행 -- an orbital flight
궤도 속도 -- an orbital velocity
궤도 운동 -- an orbital motion
궤도에 오르다 -- be started along the right lines
궤도에 올라 있다 -- be well under way
궤도에 올리다 -- set (a business corporation) on its way
궤도 체류 연수 -- orbital life
궤도축 -- the axis of an orbit
궤도 표시기 -- a track indicator
극궤도 -- a polar orbit
단선 궤도 -- a single track
달 궤도 -- a lunar orbit
대기 궤도 -- a parking orbit
복선 궤도 -- a double railroad track
위성을 궤도에 올려놓다 -- put a satellite into orbit
위성의 궤도를 수정하다 -- adjust the orbit of a satellite
원궤도 -- circular orbit
인공 위성이 궤도에 올랐다 -- The satellite has gone into orbit.
전기 궤도 -- an electric tramway
전위 궤도 -- transfer orbit
정지 궤도 -- a geostationary orbit
주기 궤도 -- a synchronous orbit
지구 궤도 -- the earth's orbit
타원 궤도 -- the elliptic orbit
편심 궤도 -- an eccentric orbit

값없다 -- Priceless or worthless?

2009-07-16T08:48:00.011+09:00

"Priceless" refers to something that is so rare or unique that people would not sell it for any price. "Worthless," on the other hand, refers to something so common or something of so poor quality that people would not pay anything for it. Therefore, priceless and worthless have completely opposite meanings. However, in Korean, the adjective 값없다 is used for both words, so to figure out which meaning is being used, you have to look at the rest of the sentence.

너무 귀해서 값없다.
It is so rare that it is priceless.
너무 흔해서 값없다.
It is so common that it is worthless.

Also, 값없다 is an adjective, not a verb, so when you use it in front of a noun, shouldn't it be written as 값없은 instead of 값없는? If you do a Google search on 값없은 and 값없는, you will find that both forms are being used. Which is the correct form? The example sentence in my Korean dictionary is 값없는 물건 (a worthless object), but shouldn't it be 값없은 물건 since 값없다 is an adjective?

The opposite of 없다 (to not exist) is 있다 (to exist), but 있다 is a verb while 없다 is an adjective. Why? Even though 없다 is an adjective, my dictionary and many Koreans write 없는 instead of 없은. Again, why?

Why? Why? Why? Why is Korean so inscrutable, sometimes?

By the way, 값없다 is pronounced as /갑업따/, which is actually pronounced as /가법따/.

What's the difference between 할 때 & 했을 때?

2009-07-15T16:07:00.004+09:00

I was reading an explanation of the Korean expression "끽 소리도 못하다" and came across the following sentence:

"끽"은 놀라거나 당황했을 때 힘을 다하여 내지르는 외마디소리를 나타내는 부사이다.

The adverb "ggik" is a short scream that is made when one is surprised or in a panic.

Notice that the Korean says 당황했을 때 instead of 당황할 때. Why?

Shouldn't it be 당황할 때 since 나타내는 implies that Koreans still use the scream? If 끽 were a scream that Koreans used in the past but no longer use, then 당황했을 때 would make sense to me, but since Koreans still scream 끽 when they are surprised, I think 당황할 때 would be more appropriate. Am I missing something here?

The expression came from a book entitled "우리말 숙어 1000 가지."

Is 살다 a verb or an adjective?

2009-07-14T06:54:00.013+09:00

살다 means "to live," in both the sense of "to be alive" and in the sense of "to reside (somewhere)." It is an intransitive verb (자동사), not an adjective, so why do Koreans seem to use it as if it were an adjective (형용사)? Even my dictionary does it. What is the deal?

My dictionary gives the following example for the verb 살다 (to be alive).

산 짐승을 함부로 죽이면 안 된다.
You should not indiscriminately kill live animals

In the sentence, 산 짐승 is used to mean "live animals," but this is not following the rules for using verbs to modify nouns.

In Korean, there are 동작동사 (action verbs) and 상태동사 (static verbs). Even though both names use the word "verb," 상태동사 (static verbs) are referring to what we would generally call "adjectives" in English. Therefore, 가다 (to go) would be a 동작동사, and 예쁘다 (pretty) would be a 상태동사.

In Korean, 동작동사 (action verbs) and 상태동사 (static verbs) can both be used to modify nouns, but the forms are different. The forms for action verbs are more complicated, so let's start with the forms for static verbs, which are simpler.

To modify a noun with a 상태동사 (static verb), just add ㄴ or 은 to the static verb stem. If the verb ends in a vowel, add ㄴ; and if it ends in a consonant, add 은:

예쁜 여자
pretty girl
.
작은 집
small house

Static verbs (상태동사) generally do not change with time. Though a pretty girl may age, in the short term, her beauty does not change. For example, if she was pretty yesterday, she will be pretty now, and she will be pretty tomorrow. Also, if a house was small yesterday, it will be small now, and it will be small tomorrow. Therefore, when using static verbs, there is usually no need to use different forms to distinguish verb tense. However, when using action verbs to modify nouns, there is a time distinction.

When using action verbs (동작동사) to modify nouns, Koreans add 는 to the verb stem when the action is ongoing, ㄴ/은 when the action is completed, and ㄹ/을 when the action is in the future.

가는 사람
the man that is going
.
간 사람
the man that went
.
갈 사람
the man that will go

Now, since 살다 (to live) is an action verb, it should follow the same rules as 가다 (to go) and distinguish verb tenses. Therefore, 살다 examples should be as follows:

사는 동물
an animal that is living
.
산 동물
an animal that lived (in the past)
.
살 동물
an animal that will live (in the future)

Now, let's look again at my dictionary's example sentence for 살다:

산 짐승을 함부로 죽이면 안 된다.
You should not indiscriminately kill live animals

If we consider the rules for using action verbs to modify nouns, then wouldn't 산 동물 be referring to animals that used to live but are no longer alive? How can someone kill an animal that is no longer living?

Why are Korean dictionaries using 살다 as an adjective when it is listed as a verb?

Likewise, why do Koreans say "산오징어" instead of "사는 오징어" to refer to "live squid"?

Is this what "머리에 쥐가 나다" means?

2009-07-10T15:03:00.003+09:00

How is it different from a headache?

머리에 쥐가 나다 is used when one has a problem that weighs on one's mind. It does not refer to physical head pain. I think it could be translated as, "I have a problem that is bothering me."

How many different ways can rice be described?

2009-07-09T16:08:00.006+09:00

Can you fill in the blank?

밥이 _______________.

Can you read handwritten Hangeul?

2009-07-09T15:51:00.003+09:00

Do Koreans really say things like this?

2009-07-09T15:28:00.009+09:00

This is the beginning of a list of expressions I come across that seem a little strange to me and that I am a little suspicious of. As I get answers, I will write "Solved" and what I have learned under each expression. Please feel free to comment.

발에 땀이 나도록 뛰다 -- Run until your feet sweat.
.
SOLVED: I thought this expression was strange because we do not have to run very far for our feet to start sweating. I have learned that this expression probably came from 개발에 땀나다, which means "sweat on a dog's foot." Dogs do not really sweat except for places like around their ears and on the pads of their paws, but a dog would have to run pretty hard before one would notice the pads of its paws sweating, so Koreans use 개발에 땀나다 to emphasize that someone is doing something, such as working or running, especially hard. The following is an example of how it can be used:

* 개발에 땀나겠다. 좀 쉬어가면서 해라.
A dog's paw would sweat. Do it while taking some breaks.
..
머리에 쥐가 나도록 뛰다 -- Run until your head cramps.

SOLVED: 쥐 means "cramp" or "charley horse," so the above expression seemed strange since I had never heard of someone getting a cramp in their head. However, I have been told, and one of our commenters has confirmed, that 머리에 쥐가 나다 does not refer to a physcial cramp, but to a mental cramp. In other words, it is used when someone has a perplexing problem weighing on his or her mind. Therefore, I think 머리에 쥐가 나다 could be translated as, "I have a problem that is bothering me," which suggests that it was used inappropriately in the above sentence.

Apparently, even some Koreans are confused by the expression, judging from comments HERE, HERE, and HERE.

Are you a Super Expatriate Man?

2009-07-08T20:11:00.003+09:00

This is a little off topic, but I love it.

By the way, in Texas, we also use the Canadian spelling.

Ever heard "Hey, Jude" played like this?

2009-07-08T13:59:00.003+09:00

I love the way they did this music. It's beautiful.

Today, I came across an interesting Web site named http://practicalkorean.com/, which describes itself as follows:

안녕하세요. Hello, and welcome to PracticalKorean.com. On this website you will find videos introducing very useful everyday Korean expressions that you might not find in typical Korean “lessons”. This website is brought to you through a collaborative effort of many people who are passionate about making it easier to learn Korean. Please feel free to ask any questions in the comments, and if you’re in for some more serious Korean studying please check out KoreanClass101.com! Thank you. 감사합니다.
- Hyunwoo Sun

I think Hyunwoo has come up with a great way for learning Korean, whether he knows it or not. There are not many videos on the site, but can you imagine if YouTube were used to present 100s of mini video lessons on Korean, supplied by hundreds of different Koreans interested in helping foreigners learn the language? The videos are simple and to the point and without long-winded explanation. I like that. For example, look at the following video by Yoonhee, who teaches in a cute, simple way the Korean adverb to describe walking "with toddling steps."

You can also learn the vocabulary associated with the "rock, scissors, paper" game, and how to use 개뿔 in a sentence.

However, it looks like they will be moving their site to http://sendmetokorea.com/, which also looks interesting. I just hope they expand on the idea and make hundreds more videos because I am almost positive foreign learners of Korean will appreciate them. This is a great way to learn Korean.

List of Other Videos

What's the difference between 끄다 & 꺼뜨리다?

2009-07-08T10:39:00.013+09:00

끄다 means "put out a fire" or "extinguish." Here are some examples:

불을 밟아서 끄다 -- stamp out a fire
촛불을 불어 끄다 -- blow out a candle
물을 끼얹어 불을 끄다 -- put out a fire with water
담요로 덮어 불을 끄다 -- smother a fire with a blanket
두들겨서 불을 끄다 -- beat out a fire

끄다 can also mean to "switch off (a light or an electrical appliance)" or "turn off (an engine)"

불을 끄다 -- turn off the light
텔레비전을 끄다 -- turn off the TV
시동을 끄다 -- stop [kill] the engine

When you say 불을 끄다 (put out the fire), you are saying that a fire or light is put out or turned off intentionally, but when you say 불을 꺼뜨리다, you are saying that a fire goes out by mistake. Here is the definition of 꺼뜨리다.

꺼뜨리다 -- put out a fire [light] by mistake; let the fire [candle light] go out (by mistake)

불을 꺼뜨리지 않다 -- keep the fire from going out
불씨를 꺼뜨려 버렸다 -- Now there is no live coal to start the fire.

Since 꺼뜨리다 implies a mistake, it is usually used in the negative form to warn against making that mistake, so 꺼뜨리지 마세요 (Don't let the fire go out) makes sense, but 꺼뜨리세요 (Let the fire go out by accident) does not. Therefore, if you want to tell someone to put out a fire, you would say "불을 꺼주세요," not "불을 꺼뜨리세요."

Here are the sentences to remember:

불을 꺼주세요 -- Put the fire out (intentionally).
불을 끄지 마세요 -- Don't put the fire out.
불을 꺼뜨리지 마세요 -- Don't let the fire go out (by accident).
불을 꺼뜨리지 않다 -- [I] won't let the fire go out.

The difference between 꺼뜨리지 않다 and 꺼뜨리지 말다, I assume, is that you use 꺼뜨리지 않다 when you are promising that you or someone else will not let the fire go out, and you use 꺼뜨리지 말다 when you are telling someone not to let the fire go out. 말다 is used for commands, and you would not give yourself a command.

Also, for me, 꺼뜨리다 is somewhat confusing because of such words as 떨어뜨리다, which means "to drop (something)," either intentionally or unintentionally.

Will talking like a baby make me more fluent?

2009-07-05T23:00:00.014+09:00

I used to think the Korean language was one of the most difficult languages in the world, but I have recently had a revelation. The key to learning Korean is remembering how to talk like a child.

One of the great things about the Korean language is its thriftiness. The language allows you to drop unnecessary words, and, in fact, the more frugal you are with your words, the more fluent you will likely sound. If the listener already knows the subject of the sentence, don't bother saying it. If the listener already knows the object of the sentence, skip that part. If you use an adverb that is normally associated with a particular verb, don't waste your breath saying the verb.

If a young American child wants something, he or she points and says, "Give," and we understand, so why must an American adult say, "Give it to me"?

In Korean, it is perfectly acceptable for a Korean adult to say, "Give," which in Korean is 주세요. Actually, it means "Please give," but I will leave off the "please" for simplicity sake. It is so simple that it is elegant.

Now, work on your fluency by doing some baby talk with "Give."

하나 주세요 -- One give.
물 주세요 -- Water give
지금 주세요 -- Now give.
내일 주세요 -- Tomorrow give.
빨리 주세요 -- Fast give.
싸게 주세요 -- Cheaply give.

You generally do not need to clarify to whom to give something, but if you do, that it easy, too. Just add 한테 to a noun or pronoun to show who will be the receiver.

나한테 주세요 -- To me give.
그 여자한테 주세요 -- To her give.
아버지한테 주세요 -- To father give.
우리한테 주세요. To us give.
그들한테 주세요. To them give.

Also, if you want to add a direct object (the object to be given) to the above sentences, that is also easy because you just attach the direct object marker 을 or 를 to the noun to show it is the direct object of the sentence. If the Korean noun ends in a consonant, use 을 (e.g. 물을 - water), and if it ends in a vowel, use 를 (e.g. 차를 - tea). However, you would sound more fluent by not using 을/를 in the above sentences since Koreans would recognize the direct object without the marker, especially since the indirect object is already marked with 한테. Remember to always try to be frugal with your words.

Also, a direct object can go almost anyway in a Korean sentence, depending on what you want to stress. See the following:

나한테 물 주세요. -- To me water give.
물 나한테 주세요. -- Water to me give
나한테 주세요, 물. -- To me give, water.

주세요 can also be used with other verbs to ask favors and make requests. For example, 해주세요 is a combination of the verbs 하다 (to do) and 주다 (to give), but together they mean "Do it for me" or "Do it (for mother or some other implied beneficiary of the request.)" The pattern is [-어/아/여] 주세요.

해주세요 -- Do (it for me).
써주세요 -- Write (it for me).
읽어 주세요 -- Read (it for me).
도와주세요 -- Help (me).
서주세요 -- Stop (the car or taxi and let me off here).
내려주세요 -- Let (me) down; Let (me) get off (the bus here).

Doesn't the Korean look easier than the English? 주세요 is just one of many baby talk words in Korean. 있어요 is another, but I will save that for another day.

My advice is that if you want to be fluent in Korean, stop thinking like an adult and start talking like a baby. In general, the more thrifty your Korean sentences, the more fluent you will sound.

Don't we all like free 반찬?

2009-07-05T22:10:00.003+09:00

It is nice to see evidence of people enjoying their stay in Korea. A note on the video asks that it not be posted on the Internet, but then adds, "especially not on Pandora," which is a Korean video posting site the singer apparently feels discriminates against foreigners. I will assume that the singer has changed his mind about posting the video on the Internet since I found it on YouTube, and I will also assume he does not consider my blog to discrimate against foreigners.

What does 驢不勝怒蹄之 mean?

2009-07-05T10:10:00.023+09:00

As people who read this blog probably already know, I am a novice, at best, when it comes to reading classical Chinese, but I am still fascinated by what little I do know because it gives me new insight into the Korean language. The following Chinese sentence is a good example:

驢不勝怒蹄之 (려불승노제지)
The donkey was so angry that it kicked it.

驢 (려) -- donkey
不 (불) -- not
勝 (승) -- win
怒 (노) -- anger
蹄 (제) -- hoof; kick with a hoof
之 (지) -- it

One thing about the above sentence that interests me is that it used the noun "hoof" (蹄) as a verb meaning "to kick with a hoof." From what I have read HERE, one of the common features of classical Chinese was that some nouns could be used as both nouns and verbs and even other parts of speech. The position of the character in the sentence would clue you as to what part of speech it was being used.

Yes, it is interesting that nouns could be used as verbs in classical Chinese, but what really interested me about the above sentence was the phrase 不勝怒 (불승노), which means "unable to defeat anger." That interesed me because the Korean language has a similar expression: 분노를 이기지 못해. Did the Koreans learn the phrase from the Chinese?

In Korean, the above Chinese sentence would be translated as follows:

당나귀가 분노를 이기지 못해 발굽으로 찼다.

The general meaning is that the donkey was unable to control an emotion that caused it to do something that it would not normally do. Other feelings and emotions that sometimes cannot be controlled or overcome (defeated) are as follows:

감정을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the emotions
고통을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the pain
괴로움을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the distress
궁금증을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the curiosity
그리움을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the longing (yearning)
부담을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the burden
불안감을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the sense of unease
수치심을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the sense of shame
스트레스를 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the stress
슬픔을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the sadness
외로움을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the loneliness
욕망을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the greed
우울증을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the depression
유혹을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the temptation
절망감을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the despair
정욕을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the passion (lust)
질투를 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the jealousy
충격을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the shock
충동을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the impulse
호기심을 이기지 못해 -- unable to overcome the curiosity

By the way, in the United States, "hoof it" means "to walk," not to kick with a hoof.

Do you know Dokdo "humor"?

2009-06-28T03:42:00.029+09:00

독도가슴 (Dokdo breasts) – jagged, uneven breasts covered with bird droppings
새똥으로 덮인 들죽날죽하고 울퉁불퉁한 가슴
.

독도광대 (Dokdo clowns) - clowns who use the stage name "Steve"
"Steve"이라는 예명을 쓰는 광대들
.

독도교육 (Dokdo education) - studying the lyrics to a 1982 Bak In-ho song
1982년에 나온 박인호 노래 가사를 공부하는 것
.

독도구이 (Dokdo roasted meat) – meat roasted while chanting “It’s our meat,” It’s our meat,” “It’s our meat”
"우리 고기," "우리 고기," 우리 고기"라고 염불처럼 계속 말하면서 구운 고기
.

독도논리 (Dokdo reasoning) – reasoning that begins with a false premise, proceeds with wild assumptions, and ends with “Therefore, it’s our land”
잘못된 전제로 시작하고 터무니없는 가정을 하는 끝에 "그러니까 우리 땅이다"라는 결론을 하는 논리
.

독도놀이 (Dokdo outing) – an outing that causes a lot of puking
구토 많이 하게 하는 여행
.

독도두통 (Dokdo headache) – intense head pain caused by a fruitless search for a small group of rock islets on old Korean maps
옛 한국지도에서 작은 돌섬 군도을 성과없이 찾느라고 난 심한 두통
.

독도망신 (Dokdo shame) – the shame felt from learning that one’s real parents are Japanese
진짜 부모가 일본 사람인 것을 알게 될때 나는 망신
.

독도망언 (Dokdo abusive language) – a truth charm that causes Koreans to go red in the face
한국 사람을 붉히는 사실의 마술주문
.

독도미인 (a Dokdo beauty) – an ugly girl whom people imagine to be beautiful
상상속 미인이 된 못생긴 여자
.

독도복시 (Dokdo double vision) - a disorder of vision that causes people to see one island on old Korean maps as two. The disorder is believed to be caused by reading too much historical fiction.
옛 한국지도에서 나온 섬이 하나인데 두 개로 보이게 하는 시각 기관이 혼란하게 하는 눈병. 그 원인는 역사 소설을 너무 많이 봤나는 추측이 있다.
..

독도 상대성 원리 (Dokdo Theory of Relativity) - a theory that states when a group of people are subjected to a constant barrage of propaganda, their ability to reason will appear to decrease relative to that of the rest of the world
어떤 사람들이 흑색 선전을 빗발 같이 겪으면 그들은 조리있게 생각할 수 있는 능력이 남들의 거에 비해서 떨어지게 된다는 원리
.

독도섹스 (Dokdo sex) – four and a half hours of foreplay followed by 15 minutes of boring sex
네 시간 반 동안 한 애무 끝에 15분 동안 지루한 성교 (독도 여행을)
.

독도역사 – (Dokdo history) a form of creative writing
창작의 한 종류
.

독도외교 (Dokdo diplomacy) - diplomacy designed to discredit one's own country
자기가 자기 나라 신용을 손상하는 외교
.

독도작업 (Dokdo seduction) – seduction that begins by stating support for your partner’s territorial claims
상대의 영토 주장에 동의한다고 일단 발표하는 유혹
.

독도주장 (Dokdo claim) – a hamburger that Americans call “a whopper”
"A whopper"라고 미국 사람들이 부르는 햄버거 (사전에서 "whopper"를)
.

독도학 (Dokdo Studies) – the study of promoting territorial claims through song, dance, and animal sacrifice
노래, 춤, 동물 제물로 영토 주장을 선전하는 학술
.

독도학자 (Dokdo scholar) – a scholar who can look at old maps and documents and see things that are not there
옛 지도, 문서에 없는 것을 볼 수 있는 학자

What ever happened to Peter H. Lee?

2009-06-20T12:52:00.010+09:00

Peter H. Lee was my Korean Literature professor at the University of Hawaii in 1981-2. I think I had two classes with him. Including me, there were only about four students in each of the classes. We just sat around a small table and talked about the Korean short stories we had read.

[A portrait of the scholar as a young man-the year Peter H. Lee completed his M.A. at Yale University. (Summer 1953 in New Haven, CT)]

The class was very informal and not very instructive. Professor Lee just seemed to be there to listen to us talk without offering much of his own insight. Quite honestly I was disappointed with the classes because I had expected more insight and instruction from the professor, who was supposedly a leading scholar in his field. However, maybe his style was to wait for us to ask the questions. The problem with that style, however, was that we did not know enough to ask questions.

Maybe he just sat there listening because he did not see much reason explaining Korean literature to students who needed, at least, a full afternoon to read one Korean short story. Anyway, besides reading a few Korean short stories, the only thing I really learned in those classes was how to quickly flip back and forth through a Korean-English dictionary.

Even though I do not remember learning much in his classes, I still liked Professor Lee. He was a quiet, dignified man who seemed old and grandfather-like even back in 1981. I remember his speech being slow and deliberate and his voice being kind of squeaky and high pitched, but there was usually a smile in front of it. I also remember his telling us that he learned English by memorizing a dictionary. He said that after he had memorized a page in the dictionary, he tore it out. I do not remember if he said he threw it away of if he said he put it on the wall and ceiling over his bed, but he did say that he tore the pages out.

So, why am I writing about Peter H. Lee? Because I suddenly started thinking about him this morning and wondering what happened to him. I went to Wikipedia expecting to find an article on him, but there was nothing there, which bothered me since I feel he deserves to be recognized and remembered. Then, I did a Google search and found an article in the 2007 edition (Vol. 1) of the journal, "Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature." I was happy to read that he is alive and well.

Curriculum Vitae of Peter H. Lee
Books by Peter H. Lee

Even though you can read the article in the link I provided, I am going to post the entire article here as a tribute to Professor Lee, in case the journal decides to remove the article for some reason. I will keep it posted until I get an email from the journal or the author telling me to take it down, but I hope they do not mind. In my opinion, the more places and opportunities there are for people to read Peter H. Lee's story, the better.

"Peter H. Lee: Fifty Years with Korea Literature in America" by Mickey Hong

[End Page 370]

This interview was conducted on March 6, 2007, and took several hours from late morning to mid-afternoon at the Faculty Center at the University of California, Los Angeles. Prof. Peter H. Lee has been a faculty member at the university since 1987. Academics in Korean studies outside Korea know Peter H. Lee as the resilient, meticulous scholar who is mostly responsible for establishing the field of Korean literature in the English-speaking world. However, in this interview he reveals a glimpse of his personal life, rich with encounters and experiences.

Mickey Hong: What were your memories of childhood? What colors, smells, and sounds do you remember? What did people wear? What did you wear? What kinds of food and drink were popular?

Peter H. Lee: I don't really remember colors, except those of girls' dresses. Smells and sounds, I think, are quite important because smells can be good or bad, and some are exotic. When I was about five, my grandfather took me to Mitsukoshi department store to buy me a school uniform. Back then you had two uniforms: one for winter and spring, and another for summer and maybe early [End Page 371] autumn. So that was the first time I set foot in Mitsukoshi, which was across the street from the Bank of Korea, Chōsen Ginkō. When I entered the building, I smelled a strange but pleasant odor, unlike any I was used to. It was a combination of perfume, naphthalene, and other scents. From then on I always associated that odor with Japanese stores. It struck me as strange because I had never smelled anything like it. But when I went to Hwasin later on, there was a similar smell, though not as strong.

When my father took me to a Japanese restaurant, again I encountered an odor different from what I was used to at home-maybe a combination of Kikkoman shōyu and other Japanese condiments. We never used shōyu. We used homemade Korean-style soy sauce. Also you could tell the difference because if you add Japanese shōyu, the soup becomes dark. I didn't like that. In the restaurant I encountered a second unusual odor, very different from the Korean odors at home. Although I wasn't allowed into the kitchen, the aromas wafted out and I could tell what they were cooking-beef soup, roast fish. But the smells from Mitsukoshi and the Japanese restaurant were different.

Our family occasionally went to a restaurant on the third or fourth floor of Hwashin department store where I experienced other smells-of curry rice, omelet rice, and some Western dishes. I think I first ate a Western-style sandwich in August 1945 in a Chongno restaurant. Other sounds and smells struck me as a child at the Chongno night market (yasi before 1945) with its many brightly lit stalls and ocean of people. Some fruit stalls sold exotic items like bananas and pineapples!

In Honmachi (Ponjŏng, what is now Myŏngdong), the Japanese area, there was a small store owned by a White Russian that sold butter, cheese, and bread. I was ten or eleven when I was sent there by my father or aunt to buy some bread and butter. When I walked into that store I encountered an entirely different odor. A very different odor. And I met the White Russian, who had a lot of hair.

Out in the street, different smells mingled, of food, people [End Page 372] passing by, tram cars, buses. Tram cars had a distinctive smell, as did buses. When I rode in a taxi (an old Volvo, as I recall), there was yet another smell.

On the top floor, the fourth or fifth, of Hwasin department store, there was a small cinema that showed films primary and secondary school students could watch. I went there occasionally to see Japanese films, which always began with newsreels. Some of these films were quite good. Inside the movie house there was another odor, one that I cannot begin to describe.

Back then, educated persons, the intelligentsia, all wore Western suits. Old people still wore kat and Korean costume. Even up to the mid-1930s, I rarely saw mature women wearing Western-style skirts and shoes. That was rare, but in the late 30s you did see some women with short hair or permanents wearing Western dresses and carrying handbags. The men, the intelligentsia, however young-if they were at least thirty and if they could afford it-normally carried a cane for style. My father, who always carried a cane, had many of them for different occasions, like accessories. My grandfather also had a cane, but he wore Korean-style clothes.

A sound I remember at home was when my grandfather would ring a bell in the evening to signal that we had a "guest," which meant that Japanese police were raiding homes to make sure we weren't eating white rice. We had to eat mixed-grain rice instead. Many things were rationed once the war started. Sugar, I remember, was scarce.

MH: What were your impressions of your first time in Europe? What things were fashionable in Europe at the time? What were you carried away by?

PHL: Fribourg, Switzerland, was the first place I went to in Europe from the States. I arrived there in 1954, mainly to improve my French, so I took some courses in French literature. I also took a series of courses in Indian philosophy. The town was small, [End Page 373] and there was no concert hall or anything like that except for the university auditorium. Occasionally, someone would come and give a concert.

After that I went to Milan in the fall of 1955. And to La Scala. At the time, they sold student tickets. I would go there early in the morning, 7:30 or 8:00, and stand on line so I could buy tickets for the opera. It couldn't have been expensive if I could afford it. So I went there regularly while I was in Milan studying, and I heard Maria Callas performing the role of Violetta in La Traviata, and she did very well. On that day every box, the ceiling, and the walls of La Scala were decorated with real roses. It was just absolutely breathtaking. The fragrance and the color-red! I thought, "Oh my goodness!" Only Italians could think of doing that. Callas was slightly taller and bigger than ideal for portraying Violetta, who is petite and has TB. Anyway, she sang well and I vigorously applauded her. I forgot what other operas I saw there, but I went to La Scala quite often, like twice a month. I saw several operas, but that's what stays most in my mind because of the magnificent setting. Particularly on that evening, women came in their best gowns-so beautifully dressed. It was quite an experience.

Of course Milan has a famous cathedral but it also has a modern shopping arcade that's completely enclosed by glass-with a high ceiling. I used to go there with my friends and take a walk and have coffee, known in Italian as quattro passi in galleria, which means you are making four steps, or going there and taking a walk.

And then I went to Florence, which was my ideal city, and still is today. I was completely captivated by the cultural heritage they have. I would take a walk every day through a certain section. Maybe two blocks every day. I would look at the buildings, and sometimes touch the walls because almost every building in Florence has some historical significance. I ate well in Florence. I found a small restaurant, a trattoria, run by an Italian couple. As I began to have every lunch and dinner there, they somehow took a liking to me, and the owner's wife would take me into the kitchen [End Page 374] and show me everything, asking, "You like this? You like that?" I paid weekly or fortnightly. They kept track of what I ate. They would tell me, "You ate this much," and I would pay. It was a nice arrangement.

But in Florence there are many good restaurants. It's out of this world the way they eat-the setting, the way they serve the food, the food itself. René Wellek came to stay in Florence for a month or two while he was writing his book. He took me once to a nice restaurant for lunch, so I took him out to dinner. One of the well-known dishes in Florence is called Fiorentina ai ferri, which is actually a cut of Florentine beef barbecued on top of the grill. There is one place that is well known for this dish, so if you go there, you have to have it. It's the only thing they serve. We went there and they served us a flattened beef steak on a huge plate. It was very tender and thin. And that's it. So we had a good meal, maybe with some salad.

It wasn't expensive as I recall, about three dollars because the exchange rate was so favorable in 1956, six hundred Italian lire to the U.S. dollar. I think I paid two thousand lire for the meal. So it cost a little over three dollars. We had that magnificent meal for three dollars! So I enjoyed Florence every day. I would meet with my friends who were mostly painters from Israel, Spain, Sweden, and Germany. Finally, toward the end of my stay in Florence, one Japanese painter showed up, and he didn't speak a single word of Italian. Somehow he came to the table next to where our gang was sitting. I was the only Asian there, until that other guy. So I went over and talked to him and learned that he was from Japan, and I helped him find an atelier in Florence. We looked around, and he finally chose one, a nice place.

After Florence I went to Perugia. There's a university for foreign students where they gave you intensive training in Italian grammar, composition, conversation, and culture. Five to six hours every day. You met at nine, and there was a class on grammar, then on reading. Every weekend they organized a tour. You paid little and they took you to all the cultural places near Perugia. Of course, Perugia is in [End Page 375] Umbria, so there were many small, well-known places. My time there passed quickly. After that I went to Munich, Germany. I was studying German poetry, particularly Rilke, but I also did East Asian studies, Sinology, and Japanology. Again, I had a group of close friends with whom I would meet once a week. We would take walks, go out to eat, and discuss books.

During my sojourn in Munich I also went to concerts, operas, and plays on a regular basis. One thing I recall is attending a performance of Wagner's Parsifal, a long piece lasting four to five hours. When I entered the hall, I noticed formally dressed nurses lined up with stretchers on both sides. I was told that they were ready if someone fainted during the performance-and sure enough, one lady behind me fainted, and had to be removed by the nurses. And the audience was not supposed to clap at the end of the performance-it was supposed to be akin to a religious experience (at least for the Germans).

It was pleasant in Munich because at that time it was the most international city in Germany-open-minded and liberal. For example, in the English Garden-a main feature of the city, a huge park of I don't know how many acres, with streams, lakes, pavilions, and lots of trees and greenery-from April to September you saw completely naked sunbathers, and they didn't care! They were all lying down and completely naked! They didn't care about passersby.

And then I went to Oxford to speak with Sir (Cecil) Maurice Bowra, who was the Warden of Wadham College. I went to see him, and it was like an advanced conversation on the books I read. We met once a week and he entertained me with a huge afternoon tea with a lot of biscuits and sandwiches. We'd eat and talk; sometimes he asked me questions and I answered, and then I asked him questions and so forth. It was a civilized way of spending time.

MH: How did you feel as one of the very few Asians studying abroad? Did you encounter any difficulties? [End Page 376]

PHL: No, actually by the time I was in Munich in 1956, there were about five or six Koreans, most of them studying music-piano, violin, or cello. They were girl students from Seoul National University. Also there was one student studying law. We seldom got together because we didn't have time. I was there to learn German culture, so I would speak to my German friends.

In 1955, I spent one summer in Paris on my own, trying to listen to the Parisian accent and the way they talk. The language spoken in Fribourg is French, so I was in a French-speaking part of Switzerland. However, there's a difference between Swiss and Parisian French. So going to Paris was quite useful.

Another summer I went to Spain on my own and looked around. That's how I spent my European sojourn of seven years. Then toward the end of my seventh year, I was communicating with Donald Keene, whom I had known earlier. He knew that I had gotten my Ph.D. in the meantime and was looking for a job, and he told me there was a possibility that Columbia University would hire someone in my field. I waited and finally a letter came from him [End Page 377]

Bust
The lonely woman who weeps while picking up moonlight
When the stars flow and the owl hoots
Choking from memory that decends like fog
She wanders the long deep night in a secluded alley
The heart that is as cool as the crooked gravestone
The beads that flow down on two pale cheeks
Oh, foresaken woman . . .
A shattered vase!
As what race were you born
That you must possess such sorrow?
To revive you, many have
Spilled their blood upon your chest
Can't even rose-color twilight or blue moon
Break the heavy iron chain?
Heartless woman!
If I could dye your heart in red
I will stick into your chest a vein from my heart
In the night when even crickets have gone in hiding and clocks are asleep
She embraces the sad bust and rubs her cheek against it.
Translated by Mickey Hong [End Page 378]

asking me to send him my CV. I did and then maybe after about a month I received an official letter that I had been appointed an assistant professor of Korean literature with an annual salary of $6,500. That wasn't much. I was single, but my monthly check was about $300 after they deducted taxes and everything. But it was okay because I had to study and prepare my lectures and write my books. $300 was enough. At that time no matter how many years they had been teaching, every assistant professor in the humanities received the same salary of $6,500-that was it. Because they seemed to say, "You should be thankful that you are at Columbia. Don't even think about money!"

MH: Which films did you enjoy? Who were your favorite film stars?

PHL: Europeans have this terrible habit of dubbing. Humphrey Bogart would speak in French or Italian, which is horrible. I saw several Japanese films while I was in Italy, including Seven Samurai, and all seven samurai spoke Italian. So it was kind of funny. I don't really recall the actors and actresses. The Italian neorealist films directed by Vittorio De Sica-The Bicycle Thief and Open City -some actors in those movies. At the time, Silvana Mangano acted in a movie called Bitter Rice, Riso Amaro. Also Gina Lollobrigida. In French movies at the time, the well-known male actors included Jean Gabin and Charles Boyer. A woman actress who was still beautiful and popular was Danielle Darrieux. I don't know exactly when but Catherine Deneuve began acting at the time.

MH: What was your relationship like with your parents and grandparents?

PHL: When I did my homework well, such as memorizing a chapter from a Confucian canonical text, my grandfather would take me out and buy me candies, nicely wrapped hard candies. The interesting [End Page 379] thing is that neither my grandfather nor my parents ever asked me to study. They completely left me alone. I was absolutely free to do whatever I wanted with my time. But because I was a studious type, I studied hard even in grammar school, middle school, and senior year. I did so well in all my courses, including math, which was my worst subject, that I didn't have to pay tuition, even if it wasn't much, because I was an exceptional student.

I was always studying in my room. They might say, "Why don't you go out and take a walk or something?" but they never told me to study. I suppose they knew I was studying. Grammar school sent your grades home anyway, so they would look at them. My parents and grandfather never interfered with how I used my free time. If I had any, I would go out and take a walk and so on, but there was homework in middle and high school, even back then. There were two exams-midterms and finals-that I had to prepare for. In middle and high school, there were even biology and agriculture, all kinds of strange subjects. And Chinese-we had to learn to speak with the correct tones. I was not good at memorizing tones at the time, but I had to memorize everything. Somehow I passed. I was so glad that I no longer had to take exams. However, when I came to this country, I did have to take exams again. At university, I had to write papers, but exams I disliked intensely.

HM: What were some of your favorite concerts, lectures, travels, and notable encounters and meetings?

PHL: One memorable event took place in the winter of 1956 when Martin Heidegger came to the University of Munich and gave a lecture one evening in a big hall. I sat in the front row because I didn't want to miss anything he said. We were all eagerly waiting. Townspeople came, too, so there were people standing everywhere, and some sitting in the aisles. We kept waiting and waiting, and finally somebody appeared and I thought, "Who is that?" He was a ruddy-faced and stout man, not exactly what you would think [End Page 380] of as a typical German philosopher. Heidegger looked like a stout peasant, with his rugged face and broad shoulders. But the moment he opened his mouth, we were completely intoxicated because he knew how to manipulate the language just as he did in writing. Heidegger wrote famous essays on Hölderlin, the German poet. His lecture was about language and he said that to speak about language as language by means of language is beyond language. He repeated the same key words in their different functions. Sprach is a noun, and sprechen is a verb, and he used those words five or six times in different syntactical locations. That's why you really had to pay attention, because if you missed something, you would be completely confused. Heidegger gave a good talk and that was a memorable event during my stay in Munich.

MH: Passing on wisdom for future Koreanists, how should one study, manage interpersonal relations, and keep motivated, etc.?

PHL: When beginning in literary studies at age seventeen, I communicated with my seniors whose books I had read and whom I respected by writing letters to them. I'm so-and-so and I would like to meet you, so may I visit you at your home. Then invariably, they answered. By that time we already had phones, so if I could find out their phone numbers, I could call them. But most writers active at the time didn't have phones at home, because they were living far away in small houses. So I had to go out to meet these people. When they answered my letters, I would ask them to send me a map of how to get to their place. They usually wanted me to come to their homes early in the morning, because around nine or nine thirty, they would leave. If some didn't want me to come to their home, they would say come to such-and-such a tearoom or bookstore. I would go there and see them. And that's how I began to meet most writers.

I met Chŏng Chiyong, Im Haksu, Kim Tongsŏk, Kim Tongni, Cho Yŏnhyŏn, and Sŏ Chŏngju. I met a number of active poets and [End Page 381] fiction writers, as well as critics. In addition to meeting creative writers, I was also contacting those who studied English literature and were teaching the subject. By 1945, I had read most basic English textbooks on my own so I was able to read a novel in English, but I didn't have any books because my father's field was law. So I contacted these people and asked if I could borrow their books. They told me to go ahead and look around their studies and take whatever I wanted. Some had beautifully bound leather books with cases that they had never opened, and which were there only as decoration. So they would let me borrow them. I was a junior scholar of English literature and a junior writer, but they said it's OK. They had complete trust in me. That's how I met important scholars of English literature. Some of them even showed me their dissertations they had submitted at Keijo Imperial University (which existed in Seoul, Korea, from 1924 to the end of World War II), or Tokyo [Imperial University], or wherever. If I went to their house early in the morning, inevitably they would ask me to eat breakfast with them but I never did because I always ate before I went.

Sometimes, we would leave their home together and go to a well-known coffee shop. We would sit down and other writers would join us and that's how I met A, B, C, D, and so on, and new writers, and they were all very kind to me. I felt good that they were not condescending. They listened and responded to me. We discussed books that were popular at the time. Actually I bought all the books published from 1945 to 1948, so I had a first-rate library of first editions illustrated by well-known painters, but during the [Korean] War, part of our house was burned down and they were all destroyed. Gone. Books were not expensive at the time, so whenever a new book appeared, I bought it.

From 1945 to 1948, the political Left and Right co-existed. So one evening you attended a lecture by a right-wing author and the following evening, you went to a lecture or poetry reading by a left-wing author. It was a exciting period. I could go to all these meetings. There were also concerts and recitals. I met leftist [End Page 382] composers and singers who were educated in Japan. There was one composer named Kim Sunnam who set to music mainly poems by Korean poets like Kim Sowŏl and others. When he had composed enough pieces, his practice was to choose a singer, a tenor or a baritone, and have him try them out for the first time. I went to a public performance of Kim Sunnam's work, and I met the composer as well as the singer. I don't know what happened to the singer. He was a nice man. His name was Pak Ŭnyong. I also borrowed a lot of books from him. He had a good collection of Japanese authors as well as Korean authors in Japan writing in Japanese, such as Kim Saryang. I borrowed those works and read them.

It was an exciting period, very dynamic. Of course there were many demonstrations and assassinations, but we had nothing to do with those kinds of things. For a while, from 1945 to 1946, North Korea stopped supplying electricity to the South as a kind of retaliation. So we had to use candles. The city of Seoul allocated electricity in such a way that it came on only during supper time, from five to seven, and it was off. So you had to eat your supper quickly. But we still went out in the darkness. Tea rooms were still open. On every table there was a candle and we talked with our friends, friends of both sexes. Women were also students of literature and writing their own poems. It was interesting to talk to them and discuss what they had read. We sometimes exchanged books. The zeal for reading was really strong at the time, particularly among the young intelligentsia. If you were on a tram or bus, you would seldom see a young man of my age group or students who were not reading. They all carried a pocket edition. These days I don't see that in Seoul. They read the newspapers and popular genres, but not Goethe, Andre Gide, or Thomas Mann, which we used to read on trams or buses. It was really amazing. The moment you got onto the tram, you saw that everyone was reading, except for commoners. It was a good phenomenon at the time.

I followed the same practice of contacting scholars in Europe when I went there, in Switzerland, France, Italy, or Germany, [End Page 383] and meeting them. I met a number of German poets, very good ones, that way. I went to see Arthur Waley in London. That's how I spent my free time: contacting these people and meeting them, sizing them up, seeing what they were up to. In 1951 I sent a group of poems in English to Wallace Stevens. I used to go see him in Hartford, and I met W.H. Auden in New York. I met well-known critics who came to Yale to give talks. In this way I came in contact with well-known writers and critics. I enjoyed that. I wanted to know what kind of person writes a certain kind of poem. And usually the person is completely different than you imagined.

For example, you would think Wallace Stevens was very fine and frail. He was well-dressed, but he was a big man. A big man. After reading Sŏ Chŏngju's poems, you would envision somebody entirely different from the real So Chŏngju. When you met him, you . . . [sigh]. Chŏng Chiyong, the same thing. You would think . . . but he was a short man, very short. He came up to around here [points to chin]. Bespectacled, but sharp-tongued. That's how I met a number of active writers on both the right and left, especially from 1945 to 1948. I saw Yi T'aejun, Im Hwa, Yi Yong'ak, Kim Namch'ŏn, and Sŏl Chŏngsik. At the time they were much above me, because I was only in my late teens and they were in their early forties, established. But they were generous with their time. I'm grateful that they gave me that kind of time.

The important lesson is this. In order for Koreans to make Korean literature known, first of all we have to make connections. That means we have to be able to point to some Western works or Chinese and Japanese works as parallels or contrasts, so the reader will say, "Ah hah!" this work belongs to the genre of Montaigne's Essays. For example, P'aegwan chapki (Ŏ Sukkwŏn's The Storyteller's Miscellany)-to which genre of prose do you compare it? Because that kind of literary miscellany is a unique form, containing biographical, autobiographical, and critical writing-narratives. So you have to think how we can tell readers about the corresponding Western prose form. In order to do so, you have to read a certain number of books. [End Page 384]

I read quite widely from Greek and Latin literature to modern literature, so I was able to find comparable writers from ancient times through the sixteenth century (when Ŏ Sukkwŏn was active) and the seventeenth. So that's how it should be done. Particularly when one is writing on twentieth-century Korean writers, you have to bring in other twentieth-century writers-Western, Chinese, and Japanese. That way the reader is better able to situate a given work: "Ah hah, this work belongs to this, it's like this," which makes the reader better prepared. I would strongly recommend this because our approach, when we wish to introduce and propagate Korean literary works, has to be comparative. If a Korean work just stands by itself, it's hard to attract the attention of Western readers because they won't have time to pick up that book unless it's distinguished in some way, by unique features or those it shares with well-known Western works. That's the reason why we have to do it.

I suppose twentieth-century works are easier to treat in this comparative way because modernism is an international movement. To do it with pre-modern texts, traditional Korean literary works, takes time, but still we must do so. To me, that really is the first step, and the reason why few classical Korean works are being translated and introduced, and few secondary studies on classical Korean literary texts are readable is because those who teach classical Korean literature in Korea do not read even one Western language. So they don't have a comparative perspective. They're only introducing these works to a Korean audience, and a limited one at that. So that's why when I pick up a secondary source on classical Korean literary work, I learn little. So we have to somehow try to change the way Korean scholars approach classical Korean literary works. They have to open up, they have to read what's out there, but very few of them make that conscious effort. Many of them might think they are too old to pick up one new Western language. To make Korean literature better known, the work has to begin with Korean scholars in Korea. Isn't that so? [End Page 385]

MH: Yes, they have to expose themselves to what's out there so they have a context for comparison.

PHL: Yeah, that kind of work is rare in Korea. It will take considerable reading of Western literary works, but if scholars are not trained in literary theory and criticism, then it's difficult for them to understand such works. I think that's the main reason why Korean literary studies are not as advanced as Chinese or Japanese literary studies. At the graduate workshop on Korean humanities at UCLA, for example, Carter (J. Eckert) said that the younger generation will surely be larger than our generation, and they should be able to share their reading and contacts among themselves, but we have to see if they can do that. The simple fact that there are more students studying Korean literature now doesn't necessarily mean they will produce a better result. I think that's important to acknowledge.

Always seek out those from whom you would like to learn. With colleagues, too, take the initiative. Until the late 1980s, because there was really no one with whom I could talk about Korean literature, my main interactions were with scholars of English, comparative, Chinese, and Japanese literature. This is the way you learn, and in turn you impart something to others to make them aware of the existence of Korean literature. So you have to talk to everybody, not just those in your field. You always have to go out of your way, you have to reach out. That's important. Reach out. Reach out. Always. I think that's very important. Reaching out.

MH: How do you keep notes, organize your files? What are your personal habits and rituals?

PHL: Whenever I read a book, I take notes, even today. I keep these notes, which have all the page numbers, so that means I don't have to go back to the book again. I can simply refer to my notes. I have card files like these [pointing to 5 x 9 index cards] in five boxes. But [End Page 386] because those cards are too small, I began to type my notes on 8 x 11 paper. I have maybe eight or nine folders of those. I file them alphabetically, by subject or by author's name, so then I can go back and take a look. That saves a little time. Of course taking notes takes time, but you don't have to look for the books in the library and check them out again. Many times the books are not there anyway. That's my practice. My personal habit.

MH: You have been so prolific, are there things you'd still like to do? Personally, academically? What's next?

PHL: There are many books I haven't been able to read because I didn't have the time. When I was teaching, the books I had to read were mostly critical studies and theoretical works. I would like to spend more time reading actual literary works that I didn't find time to read in the past. Not only in Korean but also in Japanese and Western languages. That will take time. Then I will think of some project and go back to certain classical works that strike me, works I haven't had time to look at carefully. Ch'unhyang ka (The Song of Ch'unhyang) is one good example. I will continue to do something-reading, thinking, and writing.

MH: How would you describe your lifelong relationship with literature?

PHL: I think this is a good question because my attitude has always been grave and solemn. Because when you pick up a volume of verse or work of fiction, you immediately grasp that a tremendous amount of suffering, hard work, and imagination went into making that book. You are even more aware of this when you yourself are a creative writer and you know how much time you spend writing a single poem. You have to go though ten or twenty revisions. You mumble a poem to yourself, even when you're walking or on the bus, because you're thinking of how to improve a particular line. That's how I feel [End Page 387] whenever I pick up a book-I have respect for that author, I identify with him or her. My attitude is grave and solemn. I don't treat books lightly, but solemnly. It's something precious. That single book is imbued with an author's soul and blood. We cannot treat such a thing shabbily. That's the key attitude when dealing with a literary work; we respect the author who spent time, who suffered, who imagined, who wrote, and who wants us to take part in that experience.

There are some books for which one reading is not enough, so you have to go back. That's the attitude with which you have to treat books. Then some day, as a reader, you will begin to see a new world and acquire a new sensibility. Our literary sensibility has to be refined and polished continuously. We cannot just ignore it, or let it stagnate, because then it begins to rust. We must keep on refining and polishing that sensibility. If you keep on training yourself this way-I use the word hullyŏn-it's a kind of education, and even without knowing it, you begin to acquire certain criteria which are almost faultless. Then whenever you pick up a book and read, you can say, "Ah hah!" You begin to see the whole dimension. Not just layer by layer, but you begin to see the whole thing. It's a concrete object right there. It consists of a sound system, a meaning system, and a metaphysical system. It's all there. You are able to perceive that multi-dimensional work at first glance. And that should be the goal for all students of literature. One day, you will reach that level from which you can deal with a literary text meaningfully and fruitfully without missing much. A full engagement with the text. At all levels. If you want to do that, then you need hullyŏn. Those who have never produced any creative writing do not understand it very well. Those who have had the experience understand it better. Even if it's not much, it's good to do some creative writing. Not because you want to be a Shakespeare, Goethe, Valéry, or Rilke, but to experience the creative process.

Peter H. Lee retired as an active professor at the end of the spring semester in 2007 and the conference "Celebration of Continuity," a [End Page 388] commemoration of his career, was held on June 1, 2007, at UCLA. He is now professor emeritus and continues to do what he does best: read, write, and think, and make others do the same.

Of all the lessons from Prof. Lee, the harshest is also the most valuable and proves to be truer with passing time-that being a lover of literature is entirely demanding. Prof. Lee warned that literature is a jealous lover, and I must give it all of my attention. My attitude toward literature changed, not because he admonished me, but because of his infectious passion for literature-how he gives himself wholly to his work. [End Page 389]

Mickey Hong

Mickey Hong is a Ph.D. candidate in Korean literature at UCLA. Her dissertation topic is 1930s Korean modernist poetry.