#120. 틀딱충 -- Shut up, gramps!

What kind of classes were you taking when you were a grade 9 student? In Canada, where I spent my grade 9 years, I took the core classes (English, French, math, science, physical education), and some electives (business studies, fine arts, and music).

While it did not immediately strike me as odd, I realized over the years that there was one core class that the Canadian education system was missing, that the Koreans thought were important. And that class was called "도덕 (ethics)." It is a core class starting in around grade 3 in Korea, and you take this class every year, well into your high school years.

These classes go by different names; "생활의 길잡이 (guide to everyday living) or 바른생활 (righteous living)" for the elementary school students, "도덕 (ethics/morals)" for middle school students, and "윤리 (ethics)" for high school students. Look at the textbook covers, which supposedly illustrates the ethical way of living.

Honestly speaking, the 도덕 classes were giveaways. They mostly taught you a slightly idealized version of common sense (at least, they should be common sense, if you grew up with good Korean values). While it was an annoying class to be in, I don't remember ever stressing out about the class material. However, looking at it from the perspective of a grown-up in a North American society, some of the values taught in a 도덕 class are pretty strange.

Here is a test question from a 도덕 class: Which of the following people have the most desirable attitude towards being in a relationship as an adolescent?
1. Smoke to look cool.
2. Ask to touch their body to satisfy their needs.
3. Make sure that the time and place of your dates are public.
4. Make it a deep relationship just between the two of you.
5. Meet privately, rather than meeting alongside many other friends.
The correct answer is 3 (not obvious at all, unless you're Korean!)

But in general, these classes teach you to be considerate of the others, and to be courageous in standing up for your morals and values. For example, it teaches you to be courteous and respectful to the elders in the society, and to listen to what they say, since they have years of wisdom; it also teaches you to give up your seats in public transit, if an elderly person gets on board; it also tells you never to raise your voices with an elder -- even if they make a mistake, you should be considerate, don't make them lose face, and privately point out their errors.

An ethical question might be: If you were not seated in a priority seating, and an old man with a cane hobbles in; do you give up your seat, or not?

Be considerate, respectful, and courteous, these ethics classes say. When you respect your elders, you will be respected when it is your turn to be the elderly of the society.

All of these things are, of course, completely reasonable to a Korean, especially considering that Korea is a country built upon Confucian values. However, with the development of the internet, and the ease of cultural exchange that comes with it, the Korean society is facing a fair bit of conflict in its ethical values.

The elderly, as they were taught, expect a certain level of respect and consideration from the younger generation. They expect that they will be given a seat by the younger Koreans whenever they board a public bus or a subway. They expect a certain degree of respect from the young. They expect all this, because they had given up their seats when they were young, and now it's their turn to reap the rewards of an ethical society.

If you're a Korean, you have likely seen pictures like this in your 도덕책 (ethics textbook).

However, the younger generation of Korea feels differently. While being over the age of 65 legally classifies you as an elder who should be respected, nowadays, 65-year-olds barely even have wrinkles, and they can certainly make a few stops on the bus while standing. There is no reason for them to give up their seats to these healthy-looking people, since they got there first. And the younger generation is not shy about speaking up. To the young of Korea, the expectations of the elders feel like entitlement.

So, the scenarios like the following are fairly common in Korea:

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A young Korean is dozing off in her seat on the subway. The subway is fairly empty, with open seats scattered throughout the car. The door opens, and an elderly man strolls in, leaning on his cane. Evidently deciding that hobbling over to an empty seat is too long of a trek, the man stands in front of the young Korean and expectantly stares at her.

The young woman, mostly asleep, doesn't notice the elderly man, who grows impatient and starts conspicuously muttering to himself:

"아휴, 오늘 다리가 참 많이 아프네." (Ugh, my leg really hurts today.)

When the young woman still doesn't notice, the man starts tapping the young woman's leg with his cane, escalating the force with each tap. When the young woman finally looks up, the old man explodes in fury, saying:

"요즘 젊은것들은 버릇이 없어요." (The young ones these days have no manners.)

Flustered, the young woman gets off at the next stop, while the people around the two are trying to calm down the man.

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The consensus among the younger generation of Korea is that these elders have too much entitlement. And so there is a certain degree of enmity between the younger Koreans and the older Koreans. Although many Koreans won't usually raise their voices to an elder, just like how they were taught in their 도덕 classes, they might whisper in their anger:

"와 저 틀딱충 진짜 너무하네." (Wow, that denture-clicking insect is just too much.)

or

"요즘은 틀딱이 벼슬이야." (Nowadays, clicking your dentures is a status symbol or something -- "벼슬" used to mean the status as a government official in Joseon Dynasty, but it makes more sense to translate this as a status symbol instead!)

As you can see, the word "틀딱" or "틀딱충" is an extremely derogatory term that refers to the elderly people (who behave in an entitled manner, or, in some annoying manner.) It comes from two Korean words "틀니" (dentures) and "딱딱" (onomatopoeia for click-clacking sounds).

Quite literally, the young Koreans are being derisive towards these older Koreans, who are often loud and vocal about not getting the treatment that they feel are entitled to, by evoking the imagery of dentures opening and closing, and making those clicking noises. And often, they add the suffix "-충," meaning "insect" (you can also say things like "맘충," those insects of mothers who don't take the time to educate their children.)

So, by calling an older person a "틀딱" or a "틀딱충," you are both making fun of the fact that they are old and obsolete (since they wear dentures), and the fact that they talk too much (since their dentures are making clicking noises).

You can even use this word to insult people even just a few years older than you (when they try to act like they are your elder), as a way of exaggerating, although if you use this word to someone in their twenties, say, it is no longer mortally offensive, as it would be if you said this word to a 70-year-old!

This means that you need to be very, very careful if you're using this word in real life. Sometimes, the older people do act terribly, and perhaps you feel that this is the only word you can use to insult them; however, you should brace yourself for the consequences, as it may very well backfire -- the bystanders might feel that you went too far, and side with the rude elderly person (such public humiliation!)

Unfortunately, judging by the viciousness of this word, all those ethics classes have done very little to the young generation of Koreans!

 

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#119. 주작 -- God of lies

It is still snowing where I live. It has been a really long winter, and although I try, it is difficult to look upon the winter season with kindness when it has been dragging on for nearly six months. Save for the Christmas season, winter is the depressing time of the year where the land is barren and the weather harsh. It is something that you must prepare for during the happy and plentiful seasons of spring, summer, and autumn.

Did you ever stop to think that the House Stark is perhaps being a little unfair to winter?

Having lived in Korea, I can tell you that the winter in Korea is just as unpleasant as the winters anywhere else. However, the Koreans seemed to have made a valiant effort against the (well-deserved) notion of "winter sucks," and here is how:

The central idea behind the Daoist philosophy (in Korean, this is called the "도가 (Daoist) 사상 (philosophy)"), which is one of the ingredients that shaped the traditional Korean shamanistic beliefs, is that one must not struggle against what is natural. For example, getting old, dying, as well as the winter, is just a natural way ("도" in Korean) of life, and it is pointless to resist. Furthermore, by enduring and obeying the natural way, one eventually arrives at something positive, such as birth (many Koreans believe in the past life and rebirth to some degree!) or maybe even spring.

The Daoists presumably needed to come up with a simpler way to explain this idea to the laypeople (Daoism was born around 400 BC, by the way!) Their idea seems to have been that they would correspond a "mascot" to each of these ideas, and there won't be a preconceived positive or negative notions attached to these mascots.

They began by assigning a god to each direction. They assigned:

- "청룡", or a blue ("청", as in "청바지" meaning blue jeans) dragon ("룡", as in "공룡" meaning dinosaur) to the east;
- "백호", or a white ("백", as in "백조" meaning swan) tiger ("호", as in "호랑이" meaning tiger) to the west;
- "주작", or a red ("주", as in "주황색" meaning orange colour) bird ("작", as in "공작" meaning a peacock) to the south; and
- "현무", or a black turtle-snake (this imaginary animal is said to have the body of a turtle, and the face and the tail of a snake), to the north.

These mural paintings of the four gods are often found in the ruins and tombs of Goguryeo -- it is said that the Tang Dynasty sent some of its Daoist priests to Goguryeo as part of their diplomatic efforts.

These are called 사방신 in Korean, or four (사) gods (신) of directions (방) if you translate it. These gods not only guard the evils coming in from these directions, but they are also in charge of various other elements of life. For example:

- the 청룡, or the blue dragon (east), is in charge of spring, childhood, and the feeling of anger;
- the 백호, or the white tiger (west), is in charge of autumn, elderliness, and the feeling of sadness;
- the 주작, or the red bird (south), is in charge of summer, youth, and the feeling of happiness;
- the 현무, or the black turtle-snake (north), is in charge of winter, death, and the feeling of fear.

By using these imaginary animals, the Daoists tried to place the everyday occurrences on an equal footing, and emphasized that one is not superior than the other. Living through things as they come may have been easier with this analogy.

It is not a coincidence that the Korean flag is made up of the four colours of the four gods -- red, blue, black, and white.

You can find these gods everywhere in the Korean history. You may find some artwork that draws its motives from these four directional gods, or you may find some ornaments in the Korean architecture (almost like gargoyles) in their shapes. The people of Goguryeo used to paint these gods in the appropriate directions in their houses, in hopes that they protect their houses from all bad things that lurk outside.

However, in this age of the internet, the four gods are no longer on an equal footing. Instead, the 주작, the red bird of the south, the summer, and the youth, is more popular and better-known compared to the other gods, thanks to none other than StarCraft.

StarCraft, of course, could be the game that built the reputation of Korean gamers on the international stage. It was the game that everyone played since the 2000s, and the Korean gamers were the best in the world. Korea even had some betting sites, where you could bet on the outcomes of StarCraft games in the professional league.

In 2010, there was a huge scandal in the Korean gamers' community, where several professional gamers were bribed to rig the outcomes of the games (it seems that they were paid around $5000 USD per game). When this scandal, called "승부 (outcome) 조작 (rigging) 사건 (scandal)," came to light, it shook the Korean gamer community to the core. Several professional gamers were expelled from the gamers league on top of being indicted, at least eight professional teams disbanded, and StarCraft never regained its high level of popularity.

This is 마재윤 (Jaeyoon Ma), one of the professional StarCraft players who was involved in the 승부조작 scandal.

The expelled gamers received an unprecedented amount of hate from the Korean gamers, and it seemed unlikely that they will ever become professional again in any game whatsoever. However, one of the expelled gamers, 마재윤 (Jaeyoon Ma), shocked the Koreans by becoming a streamer via Afreeca (think of it as a precursor to YouTube streaming, as covered in a previous post).

When he started his streaming, the chatrooms were full of the words "조작 (rigging)," designed to insult him. For example, you could type something like

"이것도 조작이냐?" (Are you rigging this, too?)

whenever he did or said something.

Thankfully, as the streamer, he had some control of the chatroom, and he set the word "조작" as a "금지어" (forbidden "금지" word "어"), meaning that you would be banned from entering the chatroom again if you ever type this word.

So his viewers started coming up with clever ways to insult 마재윤. Instead of saying "조작," they started looking for words that sound similar to "조작." For example, a birch tree ("자작") was a popular choice, and one might have said something like:

"이것도 자작이냐?" (Is this a birch tree, too? -- meaning "are you rigging this, too?" with an intentional typo)

to avoid the auto-filter from booting you out of the chatroom. You might be even more roundabout by saying things such as:

"어디서 자작나무 타는 냄새가 나는것 같은데?" (I think I smell a birch tree burning? -- meaning "I think he's rigging this.")

Birch trees

When this caught on among his viewers, 마재윤 also set "자작" as a forbidden word. And thus began the game of hide-and-seek. 마재윤 sets a new forbidden word, and his viewers come up with yet another word that evoke the word "조작" in some way.

The most popular of these was "주작," the red bird of the south and the summer. In particular, the phrase

"날아오르라 주작이여" (Rise, O the red bird of the south -- meaning "lol, he definitely rigged this.")

became wildly popular on the internet, to the point where this phrase migrated beyond the chatroom of 마재윤's personal stream, into the general region of the Korean internet. Nowadays, it is actually more rare to see the word "조작" than "주작" when accusing someone of having made something up, or rigged something!

The font in this picture definitely has to be in 궁서체 -- see this post if you don't get the reference!

For example, if someone posts a tear-jerking story of their childhood, where they were raised by tigers and carried home by a stork when they were sixteen, people might type:

"주작을 하려면 좀 티가 안나게해라." (If you're going to make something up, at least make it less noticeable.)

or just simply:

"주작" (Red bird of the south, although it simply means "fake" in context.)

or, if you want to be particularly sarcastic:

"날아오르라 주작이여."

Interestingly, "주작" is a homonym -- it can mean a red bird (朱雀), but it can also mean "making something up" (做作), although the latter was a very old usage that was barely used prior to 마재윤's internet streaming! So, it is not incorrect to use the word "주작" for something that is fake, and this may be one of the reasons this expression caught on (but in this expression, the word "주작" definitely came from the red bird!)

The nuance of this word is definitely one of sarcastic humour. Not only are you accusing someone of having faked something, you are making fun of them by invoking the name of one of the four directional gods. Yet, as someone who spends way too much time on the Korean internet, the word "주작" almost feels more natural than "조작," and I always have to stop for a second to ensure that I am using the correct word ("조작") when I am speaking in a formal setting. I think that many Koreans would not even bother to stop and think, and just use the word "주작" in most settings!

Finally, to finish off the story of 마재윤, he also eventually set the word "주작" as a forbidden word. The Korean internet users continued to come up with new words (although none of them caught on quite like 주작), such as:

- 저작권 (copyright), 조직 (organization), for sounding similar to "조작 (rigging)";
-  백호 (white tiger), 청룡 (blue dragon), 현무 (black turtle-snake), for being the other three directional gods, and for reminding the viewers of the word "주작";
- 불사조 (phoenix), because a phoenix is another mythical bird;
- 여자친구 (girlfriend), because a girlfriend is also a mythical being among the Korean gamers;
- 전현무 (Hyunmoo Jeon, an anchorman whose first name is "현무", which reminds people of the black turtle-snake, and consequently of 주작), 노무현 (Roh Moo-hyun, a previous president of Korea, whose first name "무현" backwards "현무" is the black turtle-snake);
- 아나운서 (anchorman), because 전현무 was an anchorman, and he reminds people of "현무," which reminds them of "주작," which sounds like "조작."

This is 전현무, an ex-anchorman who now freelances as an entertainer.

All of these words were eventually set as forbidden words in 마재윤's streaming. He never gained popularity as a streamer anyway (as you can tell from the fact that his Instagram account has just 894 followers!) and he probably deserved that, first from his involvement in the rigging scandal, then from his ruthless filtering of his chatroom (although it ended up producing one of the most popular internet neologisms of this day!)

Anyway, that's the story of an ancient Korean god, whose name is still uttered by the Koreans millions of times each day. Does that please him? I am not sure, but I hope that he might be amused by the wittiness of the Korean internauts, and that he does not succumb to anger, in the true Daoist fashion where you just let things happen without fighting them.

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#118. 마크정식 -- A best way to a man's heart is through his stomach (feat. GOT7)

Special thanks to Jess from Paris, who suggested that I do a food-related post!

Pardon the cliché beginning; my family was quite poor when I was growing up. There was never enough money to get anything beyond the absolutely necessary. Forget the designer-brand clothing (even when I was a child, the Koreans were sensitive to designer brands, which make you appear wealthy, or so they believe!) and the adorable stationary (a must-have for every schoolchild in Korea); I was a happy child if I could share a small 컵떡볶이 on my way home with a friend, which was a rare occasion.

If I remember correctly, this 떡볶이 (rice cake in spicy chili sauce) in a small paper cup (컵) used to cost around 200 won, or 20 cents. Back then, that was a lot of money to me!

On the other end of the spectrum, if you wanted a very fancy Korean meal, you would be looking for a "한정식" restaurant. The letter "한" comes from "Korean" (remember that "Korea" is "한국", and "Korean language" is "한글", etc.) and the word "정식" means "a meal with decorum." In the Western world, this often means a full-course meal; in Korea, it often refers to a meal with many, many side dishes all laid out in a single table (Koreans often talk about a meal that will "break the legs of the table," or "상다리가 부러지게 차렸다.")

한정식 itself has an interesting history; while the meals derive from the palatial cuisine of Korea, the modern 한정식 restaurants are influenced by the Japanese occupation era -- prior to that, the traditional palatial meals meant that everyone got their own table. Nowadays, a single table is laid out for everyone in your party.

These meals can be quite pricey; the restaurants that specialize in the food of the kings charge upwards of $250 USD for a single meal (but despair not, there are some restaurants that sell more affordable 한정식 meals as well).

Certainly, most middle-class Koreans will never experience a real 한정식. For many Koreans, splurging a little on their meal is already a luxury. For example, one might decide to cook some ramyun noodle for dinner, crack an egg inside it (a real luxury!), and even buy a couple of 김밥 (rice and vegetables rolled in seaweed, almost like sushi) to go with it. Then one might ironically call this meal a "라면정식" (a ramyun meal with decorum).

I mean, this is pretty fancy, as far as a ramyun meal goes!

Here's another way to splurge on your meal. On a regular day, you might decide that a cup of instant noodles is a quick and cheap meal. If you want to add a little bit of decorum to this meal, try what the Koreans call 마크정식 (Mark's meal with decorum):

The ingredients:

Instant cup spaghetti, instant cup 떡볶이, a sausage (microwaveable), and some shredded cheese. Cheese and sausage are optional, and you can replace the spaghetti by any reasonable instant cup noodle.

Normally, just one of these cup noodles, or even just the single sausage, could be a quick and light meal. But remember that you're splurging (and adding some decorum to your meal), so you buy a lot of food that you would normally eat over a couple of meals -- remember that 한정식 has a ton of dishes. What's just a few of these cup noodles, right? The total cost of this meal is about 7000 Korean won, or $7 USD. 

And the recipe (with translation) follows:

Boil some water in a coffee pot, or a kettle. If you have water dispenser, don't worry about this step. While the water boils, microwave the sausage for about 15-30 seconds.

Pour boiling water into the instant 떡볶이 and the instant spaghetti -- put about 0.5-1cm less water in the 떡볶이 than what the recipe asks for. Allow the spaghetti to cook by closing the lid with the sausage, and microwave the 떡볶이 for 3 minutes (2 minutes into microwaving, stir the contents).

After three minutes, take out the 떡볶이 from the microwave, and put in the powdered sauce into the drained spaghetti noodles.

Now stir the contents of the two bowls together.

At this point, maybe it should be added that the instant spaghetti noodles in Korea tend to have a sweet taste, while the 떡볶이 is spicy. And if you have ever tried the Korean fried chicken, you know that the sweet and spicy combination is pretty fantastic!

Then chop the sausage on top of the spaghetti and 떡볶이, and sprinkle the shredded cheese on top.

The trend in Korean food for the past decade or so has been to 1. exploit the sweet-and-salty (단맛과 짠맛, "단짠" for short in Korean slang!) combination, and 2. add cheese where possible. And most of the time, it works! You can see that this combination of food uses both points of the food philosophy, and honestly, you can't go wrong with combinations such as this.

Now microwave the bowl for about thirty seconds, so that the cheese will melt.

Tada! It is finished. Now go and enjoy!

This clever way of combining low-cost food items to create something quite delicious actually went viral on the Korean internet a few years ago (as far as I can tell, it was around 2016). A part of the reason for this recipe going viral is certainly due to the fact that the final product tastes fantastic. However, there is a cute story behind the creation of this "fancy" meal.

The creator of this meal (who opted to stay anonymous) is said to be a longtime fan of the K-Pop boy group GOT7, and in particular, a huge fan of Mark ("마크" in Korean), a member of GOT7. Coincidentally, GOT7 just released a new song, so take a moment to listen:

Anyway, the beginning of this group was not particularly noteworthy, and they had a bit of trouble attracting the public attention. In particular, when you Googled "마크," the search results related to Mark would be overshadowed by those for Minecraft (마인크래프트, or 마크 for short in Korean slang!) It is said that the creator of this recipe was upset by the fact that Mark was not very well-known, and she came up with this recipe as a way to advertise Mark's name.

This is Mark of GOT7.

This is why this meal is called "마크정식," or "Mark's meal with decorum," even though the meal itself has nothing to do with Mark. And the creator achieved all of her goals, and more. As the recipe went viral, many Koreans learned about the existence of Mark of GOT7, and Mark was actually asked to be on a couple of Korean TV entertainment shows, where the cast of the show cooked 마크정식 together with Mark and ate them. Mark himself has also posted pictures of himself eating the 마크정식 on his social media account! (Unfortunately, when I Google "마크," I still get the Minecraft results first... here's hoping that one day, Mark catches up to Minecraft!)

Furthermore, the creation of this recipe is considered to have shown a great way to be a good fan. This fan used her talents (cooking) to do something creative and productive that helped her group of choice, and even got acknowledged by her favourite idol himself. In the K-Pop culture, creative ways of supporting your group is encouraged, and the example of 마크정식 is one of the best examples of it that I can think of.

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#117. 반다비 -- Can you bear being the mascot of the paralympic games? (Shamanism 10)

Many of the anglophone fairy tales start with the phrase "Once upon a time..." Korean fairy tales often begin with the phrase:

"옛날 옛적에, 호랑이가 담배피던 시절에..." (A long, long time ago, back when tigers used to smoke tobacco...)

And the story I want to tell in this post is very relevant to this particular phrase, so let me begin my story with this:

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옛날 옛적에, 호랑이가 담배피던 시절에, there lived a tiger (호랑이) and a bear (곰). They both badly wanted to be humans. Luckily for them, the son of the Sky-God, whose name was "환웅 (Hwanung)," had descended to the earth, and was living in the Korean peninsula.

The two animals went to 환웅, and asked if he could turn them into humans. 환웅 agreed, and gave them some bundles of mugwort (쑥) and garlic (마늘) -- the Koreans believed (and still do today, to some degree), that these ingredients purify the mind and the body. 환웅 told the animals that if they were able to remain in a cave without seeing the sunlight for 100 days, while subsisting on the 쑥 and 마늘, then they will turn into human beings.

Mugwort and garlic. Mugwort is a pleasantly bitter-tasting herb that grows everywhere in Korea. You can eat this raw, or put it into your fermented-bean soup, or use it as a colouring and flavouring agent in your rice cake, etc. It is also used in traditional medicine.

The tiger, being used to the freedom of running around in the sunlight and eating meat, gave up rather quickly, and left the cave. However, the bear was slow and steady, and she stayed in the cave eating only the 쑥 and 마늘. On the 21st day, the bear transformed int a beautiful woman.

When she emerged from the cave, 환웅 named her "웅녀" (in Hanja, this means "Bear-Woman") and took her as his bride, and the two went on to have a son, named 단군, and he eventually founded the nation of 고조선 (Gojoseon), often considered to be the beginning of the Korean history.

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This story is known to every school-aged child in Korea, since, if you believe the legend, this is how Korea came to be. In fact, you can find various temples, as well as shamans (called 무당 in Korean) around Korea that worship 환웅, 웅녀, or 단군.

A portrait of 단군, the son of 환웅 and 웅녀, probably drawn for the purpose of worship.

While I do not mean for this post to be a history lecture, there are a few interesting points about this legend. First, it is widely accepted that the nation of 고조선 was founded in 2333 BC (the ancient civilizations were just beginning to flourish elsewhere in the world!) which puts 고조선 squarely in the bronze age. And indeed, many relics have been found throughout the Korean peninsula to support that there was indeed civilization during the bronze age.

고조선 precedes 삼국시대 (the Three Kingdoms Era, which began around 300 BC) which I have mentioned in a few of the posts in this blog (you can find them here, here, and here), and the existence of 고조선 is also confirmed in the history texts written during the Three Kingdoms Era.

So, there is a very fine line drawn between the legend and history -- a country that began with an unbelievable legend is proved to have existed! While many modern historians believe that the tiger and the bear are symbols for two tribes (and the bear tribe probably won some power struggle), most Koreans, especially in the early years of the long Korean history, probably grew up believing that they were descended from the Sky-God and the Bear-Woman. There were rituals dedicated to 환웅, 웅녀, and 단군, some of which continue to this day within the native Korean shamanism -- of course, most Koreans do not subscribe to this belief anymore, but their attitude towards those who do is not simple derision; most Koreans will be respectful towards their beliefs.

Furthermore, the name of "단군" is so familiar to everyone that you can use it in everyday conversation. For example, if you see someone who is particularly rebellious towards the traditional Korean culture, you could say something like:

"널 보면 단군할아버지가 눈물흘리실듯" (I think the grandpa 단군 might cry seeing you.)

Here's a religious picture drawn by a Korean, which includes various native Gods of Korea (환웅, his father the Sky-God, and 단군) as well as Jesus and Buddha. Many aspects of these religions are intertwined within the Korean community!

Anyway, this story reflects how the Koreans view bears. To the Koreans, bears are steady and constant. They work hard, and they endure the hardship in anticipation of the rewards to come (this is perhaps a bit more serious than the honey-loving and slightly dumb bears that you can fool by playing dead, in the Western psyche.)

This makes a bear a perfect candidate for a mascot for the Paralympic Games. The athletes competing in the Paralympics have overcome tremendous personal difficulties in order to be there. They are resistant, they are strong, and they have persevered.

This is probably the species of bear that 웅녀 was, as this is the native species of bear in Korea.

The native species of bear in Korea are called "반달곰 (Half-moon bear)" or "반달가슴곰 (half-moon chested bear)" due to the moon-shaped fur on their chests. From this name derives the name of the Paralympics mascot, "반다비."

Here is 반다비 wearing the cute 어사화, the hat of the winners!

So, when I saw the announcement for the mascot for the Paralympic games, I thought it made very good sense. There is the added advantage that the 반달곰 are native to the Gangwon province, which is where PyeongChang is! So somehow, this mascot is the perfect blend of showcasing our long history, the native wildlife, and the display of our admiration for these athletes who have been through so much in their lives.

Let me close this post with one food for thought: in English, there are expressions such as "I cannot bear to do this task." In this phrase, the verb "to bear" means "to work through" or "to persevere." As I cannot think of any Western-based stories that should suggest the relationship between the two-fold meanings behind the word "bear," it amazes me that somehow these double meanings exist in both English and Korean. Are they related? Where did this even come from?

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#116. 세로드립 -- Find the secret message (feat. f(x), Apink, and GFriend)

Have you ever seen the "Christian Fish symbol"? It's called Ichthys, or "ΙΧΘΥΣ" in Greek, and it looks like this:

You may be wondering why the Christians decided to use a fish, of all things, to represent them. If you're familiar with biblical stories, there is the story of Jesus feeding a huge crowd out of a couple of bread loafs and some fish, but that story is just one out of thousands of stories in the bible. While it is a well-known story, it seems like a major leap of logic to summarize the entire Christian faith by that one story, then go even further and use a fish to represent an entire religion, don't you agree?

Indeed, that story is not why the Christians use a fish to represent their religion. Rather, it comes from a more straightforward reason, that when you take the acrostic (taking the first letter of each word) of the phrase "Jesus Christ, Son of God, the Saviour" in Greek, you get "ΙΧΘΥΣ (ichthys)," which means "fish" in Greek.

Ιησούς    I  esous   Jesus
Χριστός   CH ristos  Christ
Θεού      TH eou     of God
Υἱός      Y  ios     son
Σωτήρ     S  oter    saviour

(Source: Wikipedia)

This is called an acrostic in English. It can be used to deliver a secret message, or to remember things easily (want to know the names of the great lakes? Just remember HOMES, or Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, and Superior!) An acrostic in English almost feels outdated and antique. It's the kind of puzzle Sherlock Holmes might have delighted in.

In Korea, however, acrostics are still thriving on the 'net. Here is a scenario where you might see an acrostic.

You engage in a bout of keyboard battle with another internet user, probably over some minor and irrelevant issue. These battles are pretty fun to watch, but unbelievably infuriating to actually engage in. These usually result in a lot of name-calling, not only about you, but about your family, your ancestors, and what they did with their sensitive body parts (the more creative you can be, the more likely you are to win!)

Here, a Buddhist monk (?) engages in a keyboard battle with another netizen named 박용민. The exchange goes:
박용민: You fake monk, you're a human trash. How was your beef meal? (ed: monks aren't allowed to eat meat).
Monk: I ate your daughter, she was tasty (ed: "먹다" or "to eat" means "to have sex with" in Korean slang).
박용민: I don't have a daughter, lol.
Monk: Oh, must have been your mother that I ate, then.

The problem is that in Korea, once you are insulted in a public forum, you are allowed to sue the other person for having been humiliated in public. So, if you get too carried away, your keyboard battle opponent might decide to screenshot your very creative insults, take them to a local police station, and file a police report. Of course, this is a hassle and rarely carried out, but such threats are daily occurrences on the Korean internet.

But once in a while, some of these people will actually threaten to file a lawsuit, usually by actually printing out the screenshots, and taking a photo of the screenshots in front of the local police station, then posting it on the online forum. At this point, you probably want to apologize and de-escalate the situation (the alternative is that a lawsuit gets filed, then you have a nice in-person meeting with a police detective, who will read aloud the insults that you wrote, the ones about someone else's family members and their ancestors and their body parts).

The accepted solution in the Korean internet community is to publicly post a sincere letter of apology, and hope that a lawsuit doesn't actually get filed. This of course hurts your pride a little, but the alternative is just too terrible to think about.

If you are daring, and if you want to spare your pride a little bit, you can try an acrostic, where you hide your real feelings in the letter of apology, and hope that the other people don't notice (not recommended). Here is an example of it:

In this letter of apology from a student to his teacher, the student apologizes for skipping "야자," which is short for "야간자습." Korean high schools have nightly review sessions for students, and you can get in trouble for missing many of these. However, in his letter of apology, the first letters of each sentence spell out "쓰발새끼야 내가 반성할거같아," which means "You f*cker, you think I'm actually sorry?"

This type of acrostic, in Korean, is called a "세로드립." The word "세로" means "downward," and its antonym is "가로" meaning "horizontal." The word "드립" is short for "ad lib," and it refers to any clever and witty remark (especially made online). Therefore, "세로드립" means "being witty downwards" or a "downward witticism."

When someone notices the 세로드립 on an online post, they generally try to give clues to the other readers by posting comments along the lines of "세로드립 ㅋㅋㅋㅋ (look downwards lol)," "세로드립 보소 ㅋㅋㅋ (look at that cleverness downwards lol)," or "세로드립 지린다 (that's some awesome downward witticism)."

The Koreans generally enjoy these kinds of 세로드립 so much that a tamer version often appears on TV shows, where the celebrities are asked to create a 세로드립 using each other's names or other simple words. These go by the name of "삼행시" or a "three (삼)-line (행) poem (시)."

이상민, the man in the screenshot, is known for having incurred an astronomical amount of debt (and he is still paying it off). When asked to create a 삼행시 using 이상민's name, 미나 (Mina) of the popular girl group IOI created this clever verse:
"I will definitely pay it back before the end of this month ("이번달")!
Things ("상황") aren't going great right now.
Please don't sue ("민사소송 = civil law suit") me!"

Some K-Pop groups also use 세로드립 that are hidden in their songs. For example, the group f(x) used in in their song "electric shock." Listen and see if you can find it:

Beginning at 0:09, Krystal sings two verses, followed by Sulli's two verses. Their lyrics go like this:

전 전 전류들이 몸을 타고 흘러 다녀 (the electric current flows through my body)
기 기 기절할 듯 아슬아슬 찌릿찌릿 (I could almost faint, the precarious of electricity)
충 충 충분해 네 사랑이 과분해 (This is enough, your love is too much for me)
격 격 격하게 날 아끼는 거 다 알아 (I know that you really adore me)

If you look at the 세로드립, it spells out the title of their song in Korean, "전기 (electric) 충격 (shock)." It seems that they were worried that their fans might not get this the first time around, because they do it again in the next verse, beginning at 1:11. This time, Luna sings the first two verses, followed by Victoria.

전 전 전압을 좀 맞춰서 날 사랑해줘 (Please love me at the right level of current)
기 기척 없이 나를 놀래키진 말아줘 (Don't surprise me without giving me any hints)
충 충돌 하진 말고 살짝 나를 피해줘 (Don't clash with me, just avoid me once in a while)
격 격변하는 세계 그 속에 날 지켜줘 (But protect me in this fast-changing world)


f(x) is not the only group to do this. Apink has a bit of an odd 세로드립 in their song "no no no". See if you can guess what their secret message is, starting at 2:34.

가장 내게 힘이 돼 주었던 (You supported me the most)
나를 언제나 믿어주던 그대 (you always trusted me)
다들 그만해 (When everyone says to stop)
라고 말할 때
마지막 니가 (I will become the last love that you will lay eyes on)
바라볼
사랑 이젠 내가 돼줄게
아~

Weirdly enough, they decided to encode the first eight letters of the Korean alphabet into their song. If you think that the translation is more awkward than usual, this is probably because they had to sacrifice a bit of the natural flow in order to fit in the 세로드립! It sounds a bit awkward in Korean as well.

Here is one last example by GFriend, in their song "Love Whisper." The 세로드립 starts at 1:52.

여전히 오늘도 화창했었지 (Today was sunny, as usual)
자꾸만 하루 종일 네 생각만 (I kept thinking of you all day)
친절한 너에게 전하고 싶어 내 맘을 (I want you to know how I feel, you kind-hearted person)
구름에 실어 말하고 말 거야 (I will send my heart to you by a cloud, and finally tell you how I feel)

Their group name ("여자친구") has been hidden in their lyrics!

So, here is another reason to pay attention to the Korean lyrics of the K-Pop groups, because you never know when they will be sending you a secret message.

I will close this long post by adding that, Koreans have moved one step further from the usual acrostic, and sometimes they attempt "대각선 드립," or "diagonal witticism." While this is much harder to pull off, a famous 대각선드립 happened in nothing less than the official North Korean website "우리민족끼리," where they decided to insult Kim Jong-Il:

아 위대한 령도자 김정일 동지께서 코쟁이 놈들과 내통하는 그런 민족의 배신자들을 한시라도 빨리 이 조선땅에서 몰아내주셨으면 좋겠당께요 설레발일지도 모르겠지만. 나에게는 꿈이있당께 위대한 령도자 김정일 동지께서 핵무기를 하루빨리 만드시어 그런놈들을정말 한소리도 못하게 시방 북조선의 무서운 맛을 보여주어야 한디 참말로 위대한일을 하시고 계신 김정일장군님과 무기개발 선생님들께 언제나 감사드린당께

The poem supposedly translates to:

I cannot wait for our great leader and comrade Kim Jong-Il to

sweep out the traitors who are passing information to the big-nosed people (ed: caucasians)

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I have a great dream

That our great leader Kim Jong-Il completes the nuclear weapons quickly

And show the traitors the true power of North Korea

I am always so thankful to the general Kim Jong-Il and his scientists who are doing great things.

However, you can see that the diagonal spells out "아시발김정일" or "Ah f*ck, Kim Jong-Il." Needless to say, this poem is said to have been deleted from the North Korean website rather quickly.

All of this proves that you really need to be on your guard at all times when you're navigating the Korean internet -- you never know when you'll be fooled by a 세로드립!

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#115. 소나무, 대나무, 민들레 -- Here are four phrases related to the native plants of Korea

When I started learning English, there were some phrases that did not make any sense to me. For example, what does it mean when you say that "Bob is as cool as a cucumber"? Does that mean that Bob is hip? Are cucumbers hip? Are we talking about their soothing powers? I admit that I always had an image of a cucumber wearing sunglasses and chilling in the sun, with a margarita in one hand (not that cucumbers have hands!)

And I'm not the only one who imagines things like this!

Later on, I learned that it is fairly common knowledge among the anglophones that the cucumbers are almost always cool to the touch. Even under the blazing sun, the inside of a cucumber is much cooler than the outside temperature; that is, it is able to "keep its cool." So, the above phrase says that Bob is a calm and unperturbed individual even in emergency situations. (However, fun fact: the reputable sources of the internet don't necessarily believe that cucumbers are cooler than any other objects.)

Anyway, I had never heard of such a thing from the Koreans. The random tidbit of knowledge that "cucumbers are cool" never reached the Korean-speaking community, and it seems that the French also find this expression strange. It may be something that only the anglophones believe!

It really fascinates me that while some concepts transcend languages, some other concepts are enclosed completely within a language. This got me thinking about some Korean expressions, also using plants, that may not be obvious to the non-native speakers. Can you guess what these expressions mean?

1. 수연이의 취향은 진짜 소나무야.
(Suyeon's tastes are like pine trees.)

2. 진호의 성격은 대쪽같아서 사실 좀 피곤해.
(Jinho's personality is a bit like bamboo, and frankly speaking, it tires me out sometimes.)

3. 동완이는 완전 일편단심 민들레라니까?
(I'm telling you, Dongwan is totally like a passionate dandelion.)

4. 요즘은 치킨집이 우후죽순처럼 생기는것같아.
(It seems that there are chicken restaurants opening like bamboo shoots after the rain.)

How many of these similes can you guess the meanings of? Here are the meanings that are accepted within the community of Korean speakers:

1. 취향이 소나무다 (has tastes like a pine tree)

To Koreans, pine trees have a very positive image, for their constant presence, for their beauty, and for their aroma.

Pine trees are evergreens; that is, they are unchanging throughout the years. This relatively new phrase is making its rounds on the Korean internet, by comparing someone's tastes (usually in their preferred style of girlfriend/boyfriend, or their tastes in their K-Pop group, or fashion, etc.) to an unchanging evergreen. So, if Suyeon's tastes ("취향" in Korean) are like pine trees, she has kept the same tastes (on whatever issue befits the context) over many years, like an evergreen tree. In context, one might come up with a sentence such as:

"수연이 넌 벌써 10년째 동방신기만 파니? 참 니 취향도 진짜 소나무다." (Suyeon, you have been digging TVXQ for 10 years already? Your tastes are so much like a pine tree!)

2. 성격이 대쪽같다 (personality is like a piece of bamboo)

Bamboo trees (대나무) are very hard and tough. There is almost no flexibility in the bamboo branches. Therefore, under heavy winds, while most other plants would bend to the wind, bamboos tend to come out with the most amount of damage, due to their inflexibility. So, if someone is described akin to a bamboo, it means that they have very strict standards, and they are unwilling to bend their standards even when there is outside pressure. "대쪽" just means a piece of a bamboo tree, which retains the same properties as bamboo trees.

Therefore, if Jinho's personality is like bamboo, it means that he is inflexible, and unwilling to compromise. Depending on the context, this could be a positive thing (like a politician who is like bamboo, or 성격이 대쪽같은 정치인 in Korean, is generally an extremely positive description), or a negative thing (if you're describing your groupmate for a project like this, perhaps you are hinting at your exhaustion for having dealt with someone who doesn't compromise at all.)

In context, you might use this expression like this:

"진호의 성격은 정말 대쪽같아서 단돈 100원도 정확히 나누고 싶어해. 걔랑 있으면 정말 피곤할 때가 많다니까?" (Jinho's personality is so much like a piece of bamboo that he wants to split even 10 cents right down the middle. I'm telling you, it is so tiring to spend time with him most of the time!)

In a more positive spin, you can use this expression as:

"우리 할아버지는 나를 정말 귀여워하셨지만 성격이 대쪽같으셔서 내가 잘못할때마다 많이 혼내셨어." (My grandpa adored me, but his personality was like a piece of bamboo, and so every time I did something wrong, he gave me a severe talking-to.) 

You can also say that "진호의 성격은 대나무같아," using the simile of a bamboo tree instead of a piece of bamboo, but you will see the expressions using the word "대쪽" more often.

3. 일편단심 민들레 (passionate dandelion)

If you've ever had to maintain a lawn, you have probably felt a stab of fear from seeing dandelions, or 민들레, on your back yard. Dandelions are extremely resilient; its root digs deep into the ground, and it is very hard to get rid of all of the root; if you pull it out, you'll inevitably leave some pieces of its root in the ground, and another dandelion will bloom from the same spot not too long afterwards.

Well, that's how most of us would feel if we were crushing on someone. You think that you have no chance, so you try really hard to suppress this feeling of infatuation -- you tell yourself that there is no way that your crush would like them back, that they are way out of your league, and that they don't even know your name! But you wake up and you pass them in the hallway, and voilà, your feelings are back. Like those pesky dandelions.

The phrase "일편단심" is a 사자성어, or literally, four-letter words (usually each letter comes from the Chinese character Hanja, and so they have very concentrated meaning). Here, "일" means "one," and "편" means "piece." For example, you see that a one-way ticket is called "편도," and a single mother is "편모." The letter "단" means "red," as in "단풍나무" or "maple tree." Finally, "심" means "heart."

So, the short phrase "일편단심" means "one piece of red heart," or, "passionate love." At some point, the Koreans started using the phrase "일편단심 민들레" to denote the people who are madly in love, and refuse to give up in their love. In context, you can say things like:

"동완이는 민지가 관심이 없다는데도 벌써 여섯달째 일편단심 민들레네." (Even though Minji is not interested in Dongwan, he is being a passionate dandelion for six months.)

4. 우후죽순 (Bamboo shoots after the rain)

The Korean spring is very wet. There are so many rainy days, but these rains go by the beautifully-nuanced name of "봄비" or "spring rain." This is the rain that starts the blooming of the flowers and other plants, and the Koreans tend to welcome it.

In particular, these rainy days are very beneficial to the bamboo shoots. After a bout of spring rain, these shoots can be seen anywhere in a bamboo forest. They can grow up to 10cm (about 4 inches) overnight after it rains, and is a truly amazing sight to venture into a bamboo forest after a spring rain, as the scenery can change completely overnight, with these bamboo shoots everywhere!

The Koreans are very sensitive to fashion. You may have seen this trend in the Korean Entertainment TV -- if an audition reality show is a hit in one broadcasting station, all other stations scramble to mimic it; at some point, the trend was a child-rearing program, and so on. When a particular brand of clothing becomes popular, many Koreans hurriedly buy a similar brand, so that they will not fall behind the current fashion.

So it is not unusual to see the atmosphere of an entire country (or, more locally, your workplace, or your classroom) change quickly, based on what the current fashion is. It can remind you of the new bamboo shoots after a spring rain, to see these popular items dominate the country one by one. And by the phrase "우후죽순," literally meaning "bamboo shoots (죽순) after (후) the rain (우)," the Koreans are drawing exactly this analogy. In context, you might hear someone say:

"요즘 치킨이 인기가 많더니 치킨집이 우후죽순처럼 생겨나네." (Chicken has been the most popular item these days, and now the chicken restaurants are appearing everywhere like bamboo shoots after the rain.)

To close, all of these expressions are safe to use, and not offensive at all. However, they are associated to different time periods. The two expressions related to bamboo trees are classic -- I would not be surprised if they were used in the pre-modern Korea era. After all, bamboo forests are not so common in Korea anymore, although they were much more common in, say, Joseon dynasty. So it makes sense for these people to draw analogies to bamboo trees. You will see these expressions in newspapers, literature, and anywhere else that you can imagine.

The "passionate dandelion" phrase evokes the 70s-80s era, mostly thanks to the song of the same name released by the popular singer Cho Yong-Pil in 1981. You can listen to the song here:

And I imagine people my parents' age (people who were at the peak of their youth in the 70s-80s) using this phrase the most often -- if the millenials are using it, they might be trying to be sarcastic or facetious!

Finally, "having the taste like pine tree" is a phrase currently popular among the young people of Korea. While I cannot imagine the older people not understanding this phrase, or figuring it out from hearing it, it is mainly used by the people in their teens and twenties.

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