#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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#103. 대나무숲 -- Tell me your secrets

It must be human nature to want to talk about your deepest secrets. Relationship troubles, secret crushes, and inner turmoil. Some of us pour our hearts out to our closest friends, some of us to our dear diaries. Yet some others, wanting impartial feedback and advice, turn to anonymous online forums. Whatever your method of choice may be, there is the feeling of relief and catharsis after having gotten something off your chest.

Koreans are no exception to this rule, and this is well-documented in our history.

There was a king in Unified Silla (remember that the three kingdoms were unified thanks to the efforts of the General 김유신) named 경문왕 (King Gyeongmoon). While he is not a notable king in terms of politics or military tactics, he leaves behind many mysterious legends. One says that whenever he slept, hundreds of snakes appeared out of nowhere and formed a blanket across his body. When his surprised servants tried to chase them away, the king stopped them, telling them that he couldn't sleep as well without the snakes. Another says that he is the father of 궁예, whose terrible reign led to the downfall of Unified Silla and to the establishment of the Koryo Kingdom (고려).

 But the most popular story of all says that 경문왕 developed very long ears shortly after becoming king, like those of a donkey. Even circa 850, people were insecure of their appearances, it seems, and this was a very well-guarded secret, as the king never took off his crown-hat.

Really?

 Even the servants and his wives didn't know about it, and the only one who knew was his hat-maker, as he had to take off his crown-hat to get his measurements taken when it was time for a new hat.

For what it's worth, I always imagined that his hat was slightly bigger than his actual size, so that he could stick his ears into the hat!

While the poor hat-maker tried his best to keep this a secret, legend has it that he started getting sicker and sicker from not being able to get this secret off his chest.  Eventually unable to bear it any longer, he went to a bamboo forest (which was fairly common in Korea) nearby, and yelled out into the forest his deepest secret:

"임금님 귀는 당나귀 귀!" (The ears of our king (임금님) are donkey (당나귀) ears!)

Bamboo groves are usually fairly dense, and uninhabited.

But ever since days, whenever the winds rustled through the leaves, it seemed to the listeners that the leaves were whispering the secrets of the king, saying that "임금님 귀는 당나귀 귀." So the rumours spread, and eventually even made it into history books of the Unified Silla era! It is said that eventually the king got wind of it, and ordered to have all of the bamboo cut down. The bamboo grove was replaced by small berry bushes, after which they only whispered "임금님 귀는 길다!" (The ears of our king are long).

Anyway, this story is so famous among the Korean public that the phrase "대나무 숲" (bamboo forest/bamboo grove) almost always evokes this story. Furthermore, the need to speak your mind hasn't decreased at all in the past 1200 years since Unified Silla, so the Korean internet users have created a safe space to whisper your secrets to, much akin to the bamboo groves from the days of Unified Silla.

In the Western world, the easiest thing to do would be to create a throwaway account and talk about your troubles online; however, in Korea, most account creation requires some form of an ID; they usually ask for your 주민등록번호 (resident registration number) which is a form of your government ID, or your cell phone number. So it hardly feels like a safe space to spell out all of your secrets.

So, the Korean alternative works like this. Some page (whether it be a Facebook page, a Twitter account, or a separate website) is created, along with an email address to which you can send your secrets to. When the creator/moderator of the webpage receives your email, your email is posted to the webpage, to which people can react or comment.

The most famous bamboo grove (대나무숲) belongs to the prestigious universities; for example, here is a post from the SNU Bamboo Grove (SNU is Seoul National University; possibly the most prestigious university in Korea):

January 1st, oppa (in this context, boyfriend who was older than the poster) wished me a lot of happiness and luck. January 2nd, oppa dumped me.

People seem to be interested in these university-level 대나무숲, because of several reasons. First, most internet-savvy people belong in this generation; they are either still in university, or university is a recent memory. Secondly, many Koreans have fantasies about the students in these elite universities; it is interesting to see that even an SNU student deals with the same everyday problems as the rest of us. Finally, these well-educated students tend to be more eloquent in their writing, and more interesting posts show up in these bamboo groves of the prestigious universities.

Aaaah, Bamboo Grove! I accidentally accessed Instagram with my boyfriend's phone! I opened my Pandora's Box... I knew that he [used Instagram] often... As I tried to access my own account by searching, I saw that his search history had "Sextagram," "hot body,"... etc.  He followed a lot of accounts that post hot body pictures... It's not like he's contacting them privately, so I'm trying to ignore it, but I can't... Is this common? It's not that common... is it?

I enjoy accessing these 대나무숲 every once in a while. Koreans tend to be extremely polite; I have pretty much never met a Korean who would say rude or risqué things to my face. So it is nice to know that even the Koreans think about the same things that I do. Also, I feel that the writings in these bamboo groves are very representative of the everyday Korean language, talking about mundane things. It's a way for me to keep current on the language trend of an average Korean, while getting my gossip fix of the day! For those who are interested, here is the link to the SNU Bamboo Grove. You can access many others via Google, of course!

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#97. Pay attention to your dreams (Shamanism 8, Hanja 2)

A popular myth in North Korea goes that Kim Il Sung, the grandfather of Kim Jong Un and the founder of North Korea, had some special powers. He was able to walk incredibly fast by warping the ground and leaping through the folds (in Korean, this is called "축지법.") During the Japanese occupation, he is said to have crossed the Tumen River ("두만강" in Korean) on a single leaf to fight and defeat the Japanese. In this battle, he turned pine cones into grenades and threw it at the Japanese. This sounds crazy!

To the Koreans, this also sounds crazy. But I always maintain that this sounds slightly less crazy to the Koreans than the rest of the world, because we have many other characters in our history who claim to have done similar things (to be fair, there is also Jesus Christ, who walked on water and turned water into wine, but I feel that there are just way more stories like this in Korea!)

The reason for my claim is that the Koreans are really interested in the biographies of the famous historical figures. In fact, you used to be able to buy a set books of 200 (or some other large number) famous historical personalities (I assume you still can, although I'm not sure). Of course, not all of them are actually significant in history, so often myths or legends were inserted into these books to make their lengths approximately equal, and many of these stories became well-known in the general Korean psyche.

One character who is said to have accomplished such fantastical things is a man named 김유신 (Yooshin Kim, if you anglicize it). He was a famous general in the Three Kingdoms Era (삼국시대), which consisted of 고구려 (Goguryeo), 백제 (Baekje), and 신라 (Silla). 김유신 was one of the highest-ranking generals of Silla, and he led the final battles that ended the kingdom of 백제. He was also politically talented, and his political talents ended 고구려 eight years later.

Here is a portrait of 김유신 (595-673 AD).

There are a million myths associated to 김유신. One short myth goes that a soothsayer in 고구려 was about to be executed after being framed. This soothsayer, as his dying words, told the people around him that he will be reincarnated as a fearsome general of Silla, and that he will bring doom to 고구려. Some time later, the king of 고구려 dreamed of the soothsayer, who was in process of entering the body of a Silla woman, of the name 만명부인. When he heard the news that she indeed had a son (김유신, of course!), the king sent an assassin after her son, but it is said that three goddesses appeared and forewarned the general and his mother about this scheme, and 김유신 survived.

You can already tell that dreams occupied an important part of the Korean lives; important enough for a king to act on his dream. The Koreans took their dreams very seriously since the ancient times. As far as the Koreans were concerned, they could tell the future, they served as warnings, and if you acted appropriately, you could avert disaster, or also bring luck into your life. 김유신 had two sisters, and it is said that their fates changed because of one dream.

The older sister, named 보희 (Bohee), had a dream that she climbed the Seoak Mountain (서악산) which overlooks the city of Gyeongju (경주), which was the capital of 신라. In her dream, she urinated at the top of the mountain, and her urine filled the entire city of Gyeongju.

Scandalized and embarrassed, she confided in her younger sister named 문희 (Moonhee) her awful dream. 문희, however, thought that this dream was a positive omen, and that this meant that she would rule over Silla one day. So she asked 보희 to sell the dream to her, to which 보희 gladly and eagerly agreed. For the price for her dream, 문희 paid with a beautiful dress made of silk.

The story of 문희 and 보희 is well-known amongst Koreans!

Just a few days later, 김유신's good friend named 김춘추 (Chunchu Kim) was kicking a ball around with 김유신. While doing so, he ripped his shirt (some say that 김유신 caused this on purpose). As it would not have been proper behaviour for a nobleman to walk around with a ripped shirt, and as they were near 김유신's house, 김유신 brought his friend home, and asked his two sisters to sew the shirt back up. 보희 declined, as she did not want to stay in the same room with an unmarried man as the etiquettes of the time dictated. However, 문희 accepted. And thus 김유신 played a matchmaker to 김춘추 and 문희, and the pair met often and enjoyed a whirlwind of romance.

Alas, while 김춘추 was a nobleman of the highest tier (back in the Silla era, he was a 성골; this meant that he was eligible for the crown), 김유신 was only a nobleman of the second highest tier (진골; while this meant that he had a very high status, he could never be the king). And by law, marriage between different tiers was forbidden. However, 김유신 was not to be deterred. When he found out that his sister was pregnant, he ordered her to be burned to death -- however, her burning was to take place at a very visible place, while he knew that the queen of Silla would be nearby with 김춘추! When the queen found out that 문희 was about to be killed because of 김춘추, she ordered the two to be married despite the difference in their ranks.

It is said that on the day of 문희's marriage, 보희 stayed at home crying and burning her silk dress.

Eventually, 김춘추 unified the three kingdoms and became the first king of the Unified Silla (통일신라), and 문희 was his queen. Their son was the next king of Unified Silla.

Interestingly enough, many Koreans still put a lot of significance into their dreams, and there are many Korean words whose equivalent translations do not exist in English because of this. First, a Hanja:

The Korean name of this Hanja is

꿈 몽.

As in the previous installation where I introduced Hanja, the meaning of this letter is "dream," while the pronunciation is "몽." So whenever you encounter a Korean word that has the letter "몽" as a part of it, you might guess that this word has something to do with dreams. Some examples of such words include:

악몽 (惡夢, nightmare), 몽유병 (夢遊病, sleepwalking), 몽환 (夢幻, dreams and fantasies), 몽정 (夢精, wet dreams), 동상이몽 (同床異夢, two people dreaming of different things even though they are lying in the same bed; two people who seem to be partners while having a different agenda).

Anyway, in the modern-day Korea, people still pay attention to their dreams. Some of the dreams are widely believed to talk of imminent good fortune. There dreams are called 길몽, or auspicious dreams. If you dream of a dragon (the Korean-style, of course, 용꿈), pigs (돼지꿈), or feces (똥꿈...?!), then this means that you are about to have some financial windfall. Many Koreans react to this dream by going out and buying a lottery ticket, or they might try to sell their auspicious dreams to someone going through hard times (like 문희 and 보희) for a nominal amount of money. At the very least, this is a nice gesture, and possibly has a placebo effect, right?

I can't really tell you why the pigs or feces are considered good dreams. I do have some guesses, though. For pigs, as they are generally chubby, they were believed to be the bringers of good fortune from the olden days. As for the feces, Koreans also often say that

꿈은 반대다 (dreams are opposites of reality)

and since feces are pretty much one of the worst things that can happen, maybe it is a favourable dream. Popular urban myths often say that a lot of lottery winners dreamed of feces before winning the lottery.

There are dreams that are opposites of 길몽 -- they are different from nightmares, as the dreams themselves might not be too bad, but they foreshadow some bad things to come. These dreams are called 흉몽 (as opposed to 악몽, which are the nightmares). One widely believed 흉몽 is the dream of having your tooth (or teeth) come out (이빨 빠지는 꿈). The Koreans say that when you dream of something like this, one of your relatives are about to die. If their dream seems very ominous, some Koreans (obviously, not all!) will pay a visit to a shaman to have their dreams interpreted, and to try to prevent the disaster that is to come.

태몽

A final group of dreams that is widely believed by the general population of Korea is called 태몽. When a woman becomes pregnant, either the woman or family members close to the woman are said to dream a mysterious dream. These dreams are supposed to tell you the gender of the baby, the personality of the baby, and the future of the baby. If you ask, many Koreans will tell you their own 태몽!

These 태몽 feature a lot of objects that are stereo-typically associated to a gender. For example, if you are to have a boy, you might see the sun, the dragon, a thunderbolt, a rock, a rooster, a pig, or a peach (in Asian cultures, peaches are very much associated to the male gender, for some reason.) If your pig was particularly lively, this might signify that your child will be a very outgoing child, whose aptitude is in the sports or in performance. If you are to have a girl, you might dream of a flower, a melon, a cucumber, an apple, a seashell, a half-moon, etc.

For example, 김유신's father is said to have dreamed of two planets coming at him before having his child. It is not entirely clear to me how you tell a 태몽 apart from other dreams, but I suppose these dreams remain with you vividly even after you wake up, and it's all about whether you decide to attribute the significance to the dream or not. At least most Koreans that I talk to seem to have no ambiguity about their own 태몽.

I am not sure about my own 태몽, weirdly enough. When I first asked my mom about it, I think I must have been maybe seven or eight years old. She just told me that she would tell me when I became an adult. However, although I became an adult a decade ago, she still hasn't told me about it. I suspect that she didn't have one (or, my family was never very superstitious, so maybe she just disapproved of me getting sucked into the popular shamanism myths!), and she was just buying time before disappointing me -- I will have to ask her again in the near future.

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#95. On the traditional Korean marriages and divorces (Hanja 1: "혼")

I learned something interesting today about the marriage customs in the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1897 AD), so I thought I'd share it in my blog. Just so that this blog doesn't become just a cultural blog, and so that you learn something about the Korean language as well, here is the Chinese letter (hanja, or 한자 in Korean) that means "to wed":

The full Korean name of this letter is:

혼인할 혼

All full names of hanjas are two words. The first part "혼인할" describes the meaning of the hanja. While this first part does not get read out loud when the hanjas combine to make a word, this first part is very important because it tells us how to interpret the hanja. Since "혼인하다" in Korean means "to wed," this first part signals that whenever this letter gets used in a word, the word will be related to marriages.

The second part "혼" describes how it sounds when it is used in a word, and this is the part that you read out aloud when they hanjas form a word. This means that every time you see a Korean word which includes the above Chinese character, you read out the character as just "혼", and not by its full name "혼인할 혼."

So, for example, the word for marriage is "결혼 (結婚)." You see that the second character is "혼인할 혼," so you know that the second syllable of the above word is "혼." Not only that, even without knowing the first character, you know that this word is related to marriage!

And here is a photo of a traditional Korean wedding ceremony. Notice the crazy balance of yin (the woman, and the colour blue) and yang (the man, and the colour red). Marriage, of course, balances yin and yang :)

Other words that include this hanja "혼인할 혼" are:

이혼 (divorce), 결혼식 (wedding ceremony), 약혼 (engagement), 파혼 (break off engagement), 혼사 (everything related to wedding), 혼담 (talk and negotiations of marriage between families) etc.

Even if you didn't know what these words meant, you can make an educated guess by knowing enough hanja. This is why hanja is such an important part of the Korean school curriculum -- it allows you to expand your vocabulary in an exponential way!

Of course, there are other hanjas whose second part is still "혼", so you cannot make the correct guess every time. But this is just part of life of every Korean, and what counts is that you can still make a guess! (Ironically, the Korean word for "alone" is "혼자," and we can be sure that this "혼" definitely does not come from "혼인할 혼.")

The hanja itself is also interesting. It is comprised of two other hanjas, the one meaning woman (女,  "계집 녀") and dusk/darkness (昏, "어두울 혼"). A woman at dusk/darkness? I will leave that one to your imagination (and don't be offended by the implied sexism, because this letter was probably invented in the time of Jesus Christ.)

Anyway, now that the Korean lesson is out of the way, here is an interesting fact.

As we all know, Koreans are pretty traditional people. The laws against adultery were abolished only a year or so ago, and people are still very traditional about pre-marital sex or being a single parent. So I had always assumed that divorces were a recent development, as a bi-product of having come in contact with the west.

It turns out that this is completely false, and divorces (이혼) were commonplace in the Joseon Dynasty, especially among the common folks (but also among the nobles). According to Arnold Henry Savage Landor, a British explorer who came to Korea in the late 1890s, he said: "if a lower-class Korean woman was left a widow by her 20th husband, she'd probably move right on and find a 21st husband."

As such, the process for obtaining an 이혼 was really simple. In order to obtain an 이혼, all they had to do was agree that they did not want to be married anymore! This is because most of the commoners did not know how to write, so they could not write down an agreement even if they wanted to.

But just agreeing to 이혼 in words leaves so many messy possibilities, and no ways to prove the 이혼 should they want to marry someone else! So the man and the woman cut out a part of their clothes and gave the parts to each other, as a token for having agreed to the 이혼. The part of their clothes that they cut out is called "옷섶," and it is marked in the photo below:

This is a woman's traditional top, but the man's top also had a similar part.

It is the little extraneous piece of cloth that serves to keep the two flaps of the top closed and connected. Without it, the top is much more likely to come apart, leading to indecent exposure. It is also symbolic. By getting rid of the piece that held the two flaps together, it symbolizes the splitting of the union between the couple. And so it served as a token of the broken union.

For illiterate plebeians, I found this to be a shockingly direct yet heartbreaking analogy, so I thought that I would share this with you. I hope you enjoyed it!

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#89. Letter from a Korean king

This picture went viral on the Korean internet a couple of days ago:

This letter (which you are supposed to read from right to left, and top-down), is interesting for several reasons.

The first is that this was written by 정조, one of the kings of Joseon, when he was about five years old. And although the letter is hard to decipher even for a native Korean, you can see all the markings of a child's writing.

This is actually why this letter went viral in Korea -- regardless of the meaning, you can see that the child starts on the top right with quite impressive calligraphy. Then as he continues to write, his writing gets fainter (meaning that he wasn't dipping his brush into the ink often enough), and also larger (probably he was getting tired of writing this letter!) Koreans found this letter adorable.

This is 정조, who was a colorful character, and a good king, comparable to King Sejong.

Not only that, it is interesting that the letter was written in 한글 instead of Chinese characters. Ever since King Sejong made the unique Korean alphabets, the upper class, who saw China as the fashionable and powerful neighbour of Korea, objected to the popularization of 한글. Chinese was the language of the intellectuals (since each character has a meaning, and you need to study for quite a long time before becoming proficient at it), and 한글 was for the common folks who did not know Chinese.

However, here you see the next king of Korea writing a letter to his aunt in 한글! This letter was written in 1757, while 한글 was invented in 1446, so between these three hundred years, you can see that much has changed in the Joseonian society.

As for the contents of the letter, it says the following (the old Korean had some characters that we do not use anymore, so I have re-written it to today's standards, still using old expressions that you might hear in historical dramas):

"문안 아뢰고 기후 무사하신지 알고자 합니다. 이 족건은 저에게 작사오니 수대를 신기옵소서. -- 질"

 If you try to translate it to a more mundane language, it goes like this: 

문안 (greetings) 아뢰고 (asking) 기후 (the status of the body and mind) 무사 (no troubles) 하신지 알고자 (to know) 합니다 (want). 이 (this) 족건은 (pair of traditional Korean socks, called 버선 now) 저에게 (for me) 작사오니 (small) 수대를 신기옵소서 (give them to 수대, the name of his cousin). --질 (nephew)

These are the traditional Korean socks, called 버선. This pair is for men, and women often wore an embroidered version.

Putting these together:

I am hoping that you are well and want to know that nothing troubles you in mind and body. These socks are now too small for me, so please give them to 수대. - Your nephew.

Adorable, and kind of surprising that even the royals wore hand-me-downs!

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#83. 숙주나물 -- Bean sprouts

Let's start with the King Sejong (세종), who was a great king for the early Joseon Dynasty. He has done a lot to bring order into the new Dynasty that was barely 30 years old, but of course, his greatest achievement is coming up with a new system for the Korean language.

King Sejong, one of the greatest kings in the Korean history.

He did not make Hangul (한글) all by himself, though. He had a large number of scholars working for him in 집현전 (which was basically the National Academy that supported the best scholars of the time), and they were the ones who created 한글. One scholar in particular stood out. His name was 신숙주 (Sookju Shin).

신숙주, whose reputation is questionable at best.

It is said that his passion for the studies was so great that he would often spend all night at the Academy reading. One night, he fell asleep at his table while reading, and King Sejong saw this while passing by. The king took off his coat and draped it over 신숙주's shoulders as a gesture of appreciation. When 신숙주 woke up the next day, he saw the coat, and swore that he would be his loyal subject forever. In return, 세종 was very fond of 신숙주 and had complete trust in him.

Unfortunately, this oath was not to be kept. After 세종 passed away, his oldest son, 문종, took over. While 문종 was a competent and savvy politician, his health was not so great, and he died only two years into his reign.

This was a terrible time for Joseon, as 문종 had only one child, and he was only twelve years old. This child, 단종, succeeded his father, which immediately made many Koreans (Joseonians?) unhappy. In particular, his uncle 수양대군 felt that this was his opportunity (note that this makes 수양대군 a son of Sejong, and a younger brother of 문종.) 

단종, one of the more tragic figures of the Korean history.

So 수양대군, who really had no claim on the throne as he was not the first-born, plotted a very bloody coup d'état, and succeeded in becoming king. To keep the cause of the rebellion legitimate, his nephew 단종 was "elevated" to the title of "상왕" or "high king," but it was of course just a show.

Many scholars of the National Academy (집현전), who were trusted by Sejong and created Hangul, felt that this was very wrong (in particular, very against the principles of Confucianism, as this tested their loyalty towards the now-deceased King Sejong). Six of these brilliant scholars plotted a rebellion, but it failed and they were executed by the evil uncle. Another six quit their posts and refused to help 수양대군 in his political endeavors.

The former six who gave up their lives are called 사육신. "사" is Chinese for "death," "육" is Chinese for the number 6, and "신" is Chinese for "subject." So "사육신" means "six subjects that died (for their beliefs.)"

The latter six who did not take part in the rebellion, yet let their beliefs known through resignation, are called "생육신" and "생" is Chinese for "life." For example, "생일" is "birthday, or day of life." They are the "six subjects that lived."

So which was 신숙주? Astonishingly (given Sejong's trust in him), he was neither. In fact, it seems that he was with 수양대군 from the beginning. In fact, he was one of the people who strongly pushed for the execution of the "six subjects that died," although he was once colleagues with all of them at the National Academy. He was also instrumental in executing the poor boy king, in order to stop more rebellions from taking place. If only Sejong knew what he ended up doing to his own grandson!

In any case, his political career thrived from here, and he was later appointed to be the prime minister (영의정) of Joseon.

This betrayal was not taken well by the Koreans, both from the Joseon era and the modern era.  So, the Koreans found a way to mock 신숙주 for eternity.

If you've ever bought bean sprouts, you might have noticed that they spoil very well, within a couple of days. It is one of the trickier ingredients to work with if you're trying to cook.

Well, bean sprouts are called "숙주나물" or "the sookjoo vegetable" in Korean (totally standard usage at that!) This is a twofold insult for 신숙주.

First, just like how 신숙주 changed his loyalty quickly, these veggies have a very quick turnaround date. And secondly, the Koreans decided to use the first name only in naming this vegetable. You use the first name (without the last name) for friends, or when you want to be very insulting. For example, try walking up to your Korean teacher and call them by their first Korean name only: they'll gasp and tell you that this is rude and you must never do it!

So, there you have it. Next time you eat your pho, I hope you take some time reflecting on this piece of Korean history, and take a moment to silently curse 신숙주 on his very non-Confucian (yet good for his career) betrayal!

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#66. 보쌈 -- Wrapped up

When Romulus founded Rome, he had only male followers. This was not particularly surprising, as Rome was founded via numerous battles against Alba Longa, which was the major Latin city of the area. This soon became problematic, as no city can prosper without having enough younger generation. So he invited the Sabines, a nearby Italian tribe, to a festival in Rome. At a predetermined signal, the Roman men grabbed the Sabine women and married them. For what it's worth, the historian Livy claims that no rape took place right then, and that the Sabine women were more seduced into their marriages rather than coerced. Nonetheless, it still makes us cringe a little.

Rape of the Sabine Women, Pietro da Cortona, 1627-29.

Unfortunately, Koreans resorted to similar types of violence from time to time. If the lack of women was the major problem for the Romans, the big issue for the Koreans was Confucianism (called "유교" in Korean). The teachings of Confucius forbade widows from re-marrying again, as being faithful to your husband (of whom there is only one) was one of the major virtues for the women. There have been nation-wide efforts to praise women who were exceptionally faithful to her husband (for example, by acting like a daughter to her deceased husband's parents and rejecting all advances by other men, or even, killing herself to be with her husband), to encourage faithfulness. (By the way, men were allowed to re-marry three years after their wives' deaths...)

However, this became a problem as Korea went through major wars against China and Japan in the Joseon Dynasty. Many men were killed in the wars, and there were too many widows who were not willing to re-marry, due to their faith in Confucianism and also due to the societal pressure. And if the country were to re-build, they needed the birth rates to be up.

Thus came about the custom of "보쌈." The word "보쌈" literally means "wrapped up (쌈, whose verb form is 싸다) by cloth (보자기, or more commonly 보 in old Korean)."

Among the lower and lower middle class of Korea, men would enter a widow's house late at night, wrap her up in a piece of cloth (보자기), and kidnap her to his own home. At this point, as her fidelity was already violated, she would be forced to marry the man. And the government would turn a blind eye towards it, as they were secretly happy about unions of this kind. The upper class, of course, would prefer to adhere to the rules of Confucianism, and did not engage in this kind of behaviour.

Just like the story of the Sabine women, historians claim that it wasn't all bad. Often the kidnapping would be pre-arranged between the man and the woman, to set up the pretext that the widow had no choice but to marry the man (but secretly she wanted it as well). This was, of course, not always the case, and some women, who took Confucianism seriously, would prefer to kill themselves after being kidnapped.

This problem was resolved only in the late 1800s, when the Joseon Dynasty, at the urging of the critics, ruled that widows indeed have the right to re-marry whoever, and whenever they please. This was one of the clauses inserted into 갑오개혁 (Reform "개혁" of the 갑오 year, which works out to be 1894).

Although this practice disappeared, the word remained in a particular type of kimchi (김치), weirdly enough. There is a type of kimchi called 보쌈김치. Usually, kimchi has two components. Brined cabbage, and what the Koreans call "속 (insides)," consisting of chopped radish seasoned with red pepper powder. Normally, you take the 속 and interlace it with the leaves of the cabbage.

보쌈김치.

But in 보쌈김치, the cabbage leaves enclose the 속, so that it forms the shape of a 보쌈, as if there is a woman inside the cabbage leaves (of course, you have the 속 instead of the woman!) As this type of kimchi was the popular choice to eat with boiled pork, the word "보쌈" started becoming the word of choice to denote the Korean dish where you wrap some pork in leaves of kimchi.

So there you have it, why this food is called 보쌈.

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#47. 훈장질, 선비질 -- Stepping into Korea's past

If you stop to think about it, it might astound you just how much of the life from the Joseon Dynasty (조선 시대) carried over to our modern life.

In today's Korea, one of the jobs that are considered the best by the Korean people is to be a public servant (공무원: "공" means "public" as in "공공기관 (public institution)" or "공익 (public good)"; "무" means "work" as in "업무 (work)"; "원" refers to a person who holds down a particular job.) The reason for this is simple. While any other job, be it by a corporate or self-employment, has the potential to disappear, being a public servant is as stable as it gets. Getting fired takes a lot of paperwork (just like any other governmental work!) and promotion is more or less automatic. When you retire, you are given a good pension to comfortably live out the rest of your life. Even though the public servants tend to get paid less than corporate jobs, the Koreans still flock to this job due to its stability.

How to obtain one of these jobs? Simple. Take a test. This test, called 공무원 시험 (literally, public servant test), often tests your knowledge in Korean, English, Korean history, and other subjects relevant to the position that you are applying for. For most of the Korean public servant positions, you must pass one of these tests. There are classes of public servants. The lowest being 9급 공무원 (level 9 public servant), who work in local offices. The highest is 1급 공무원 (level 1 public servant), who work as the head of national-level governmental offices.

These tests are, as you may guess, very competitive. For example, in 2016, for the 9급 공무원 시험 (test to select level 9 public servants), about 165,000 people signed up to take the test. The target number of public servants? Around 4,000. Many people waste years of their lives trying to score well on these tests, but things don't always go as planned.

This may seem like a strange way to select public servants. This is because the tradition of taking a test to hold a governmental post goes back to the Joseon Dynasty.

Back then, the level of the public servants went from the lowest of level 9 (9품) to the highest of level 1 (1품). They were selected by a nationally administered test called "과거 시험," and if you passed the test, then you were given a governmental post. If you pass, it was an honour of the family, and of your village, as it was very competitive -- often around two hundred people were selected out of hundreds of thousands of people who took the test. Not much has changed, huh?

Koreans sometimes reenact the 과거시험, which was held in one of the palaces around Seoul.

Anyway, in order to prepare for the test, you often had to start preparing at a very young age, pretty much as soon as you could walk and talk. In most villages, some people (sometimes retired public servants, sometimes just literate people) opened private schools, and taught the children of the village how to read and write. (As an interesting aside, there were a few nationally operated schools for talented or rich students -- the most famous one is 성균관, which is now a well-recognized university in Korea, and it has a language school that many foreigners go to in order to learn Korean!)

This iconic picture depicts a child being admonished by his teacher while his classmates look on with glee.

These precursors of teachers were called "훈장" or "훈장님." They taught Chinese characters, Confucianism, and ethics (most of which were tested in the 과거 시험). They were probably very strict, making sure that the students were up to the standards not only in reading and writing, but also in their ethics and everyday behaviour. After all, Confucianism is less a subject and more a way of life (which emphasizes humanity, loyalty, filial piety, and so on), so the 훈장님 had every right to interfere with how you were living with your life!

And then there were the other learned people, who did not necessarily teach the village children, but were just as well-versed in Confucianism as the 훈장님. These people were called 선비. They were smart, well-mannered, and seemingly incorruptible. If you were doing something that was morally wrong (say eating from your neighbour's apple tree) and a 선비 passed by you, you would have been ashamed to be caught by him, although they may or may not have said something to you.

This is how a typical 선비 used to dress. From the long overcoat called 도포 and the characteristic hat called 갓, you could recognize a 선비 from a mile away.

While these people were very much well-respected in Korea's past, now the Koreans seem to think that these people were probably a bit too intrusive. So, even these very respected people did not escape Korea's internet users.

For example, you might encounter a user who thinks that swearing is immoral, and they either try to put you down, or suggest a phrase that you could say instead. Or, when you're ranting about your ex, a user chimes in and says that you are being too emotional and unfair, and that in any case, you should never say anything bad about people that you know in a public place. In your anger, you can say:

훈장질 하지 마 (Don't play teacher)

 or

선비 납셨네 (Here comes a 선비.)

"-질" is a derogatory suffix that attaches to job titles, so "훈장질" means you're playing the part of a teacher when you really shouldn't. "납시다" is an extremely respectful form of "오시다" which is already a respectful form of "오다 (to come)." You never use this word in modern Korea, as it could only be taken as sarcasm. In ancient Korea, this word would have been used only for the king. So by saying "선비 납셨네," you are saying, "A 선비 deigned to come to my humble abode" or something along these lines.

In both cases, you're basically making fun of their holier-than-thou attitudes, and these usages are fairly common non-profanity in Korea's online communities. While it is not vulgar enough to get you banned (some communities ban you for extreme swearing) it is bad enough to insult the listener. It also gets used among friends, but saying this to a stranger (especially older strangers) is a sure formula for some sort of a fight (probably verbal, as you wouldn't provoke them enough for a fistfight.)

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#30. Creatively complaining about your dinner (where's the meat?)

A friend of mine posted a picture of his dinner on Facebook, that looked a lot like the following picture:

This is one of those things that everyone will either love or hate. The banchan (반찬, the side dishes aside from the rice and the soup) are all made up of spring herbs. They might look delicious and very seasonal to some people. But to most Koreans, where vegetarianism is not as common as in North America, it will look like there is not enough protein. Even the soup is made out of spring herbs!

One of the comments posted under my friend's photo had me laughing tears. One of the commenters said:

반찬이 개마고원이네. 대자연을 펼쳐놓은듯.

This is not a standard internet slang. In fact, this is the first time I have heard this expression. But Korean internet users value fresh expressions that are appropriate and humorous to the situation, and I thought that this was a perfect example of such an expression.

In the first half of the above quote, the commenter compares the 반찬 to 개마고원 (Kaema Plateau). Here is the picture of 개마고원:

"고원" means "highland/plateau." "개마" is just the name of this plateau, and it is located in North Korea.

개마고원 is well-known to the Koreans for a couple of reasons.

First of all, it is the largest highland plateau in the Korean peninsula, so you learn to memorize its name in school. It is also known for being home to many wild animals, and it is said to be very well-preserved due to sparse population.

But perhaps more importantly, it is also one of the maps that appear on Starcraft... I suppose I will never know which of these two reasons prompted the above comment, but I have my suspicions.

Anyway, the first part of the quote compares the 반찬 to 개마고원, which seems pretty hilarious both for the comparison, but also the random appearance of 개마고원, which is appropriate but unexpected.

The second half of the quote is also not very different. The commenter says that "대자연,"or "the great nature" is spread out on the table, and the grandeur of the comment contrasts with the simple meal to create humour.

These kinds of fresh expressions are welcomed and well-loved on the Korean internet. This kind of creativity is what makes the Korean internet unique (it contrasts with the deadpan humour of Reddit in my opinion, for example.) This must also be one of the reasons why the Korean internet slang has such a short lifespan. Many of these slang come from novel expressions from random internet users that caught on, and as there is no shortage of witty internet users, the internet slang keeps evolving at a breakneck speed.

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#26. 궁예질 -- Mind-reading

Here's a question that is perhaps a bit cliché, but fascinating nonetheless: let's say that you're the king of a nation. Unfortunately, as things go for most kings, there are a few people that you're not so fond of, and you'd like to get rid of them. How would you go about accomplishing such a task? One Korean man was so bizarre in his ways in trying to achieve this goal, that it ultimately led him to the internet fame of Korea.

You may remember the kingdom of 신라 (Silla) from an earlier post. In that post, 신라 was the driving force behind the destruction of the kingdom of 백제 (Baekje), and the cause of the death of (supposedly) three thousand palace maidens. Although 신라 lasted almost 300 years longer than 백제 after unifying the three kingdoms, it too eventually came to its demise by a man named 궁예. He was a supporting character (but really, more memorable than the main character!) in the wildly popular Korean drama "태조 왕건" about fifteen years ago, and most Koreans imagine 궁예 to look like this guy:

A quick biography: rumour has it that he was a prince of 신라, but due to various political reasons, he was thrown off a high building to be killed as an infant. Thankfully, his nurse was waiting at the base of the building and caught him as he was flung off, although she poked one of his eyes with her finger while catching him. He was raised as a Buddhist monk after this. As a result, 궁예 was very hostile towards 신라, which has already weakened considerably, and eventually claimed parts of 신라 as his own country (what the country was called isn't really important; the man couldn't make up his mind and changed the name of this country several times, and probably the Koreans don't remember this either.)

As a king, he focused heavily on strengthening his power against the nobles. He accomplished this by claiming himself to be the living Buddha (going by the name of "미륵"), and claiming that he could read people's minds. Of course, he then read that his political enemies were thinking about rebelling against him, which was good enough for him to execute them. Not surprisingly, people soon had enough of his antics, and they really did rebel against him, leading to the destruction of his country, and the establishment of 고려 (Goryo, which is where the name "Korea" comes from!)

While the opinions differ on what kind of a man he was (he even killed his own wife through his "mind-reading skills," but perhaps he was a very talented politician), the internet found its own way to immortalize this memorable figure.

For example, say that you're spacing out with no expression on your face. Your friend is walking by and sees you spacing out, and decides that judging by the expressionless face that you're wearing, you must have had a bad day. Not just a bad day, but since your expression looked sad, you probably broke up with your significant other. In fact, you must have been dumped since you look like you're on the verge of tears. In your annoyance, you could tell your friend:

궁예질 좀 그만해! (Stop trying to read my mind as if you're 궁예!)

The new word is "궁예질," made up of two parts "궁예" and "질." The word "질" is a derogatory suffix that attaches itself to nouns (usually body parts or job titles) with negative connotations. For example, "손가락질" is supposed to denote negative actions done with your fingers, so it means "pointing at someone to deride them." "선생질" is supposed to emphasize the negative aspects of being a teacher, maybe dealing with disrespectful students, or maybe having students with very low grades.

So in our context, "궁예질" is talking about the negative aspects of "궁예," or "mind-reading," in a derogatory way. Put in another words, the word "궁예질" is making fun (in a derogatory way) of the people who infer things from where there is no meaning.

For the people who blow things out of proportion by drawing incorrect conclusions because they were too imaginative, I might say (with a certain amount of sarcasm):

궁예질이 너무 심하다 (your mind-reading is really too much).

While 궁예 is really a well-known figure in the Korean history because of his antics, and most Koreans will pick up on your meaning if you use this word, there is a mix of sarcasm and condescension placed on this word, and you should only use it when you want to insult someone. Likely you will see this word online the most!

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#16. 의자왕 -- The Korean Casanova

백제 (Baekje) has always had my sympathy. It formed a part of the Three Kingdoms Era of Korea, along with 신라 (Silla) and 고구려 (Goguryeo), but it seems that 백제 was decidedly the weakest of the three kingdoms. 신라 eventually destroyed the other two kingdoms and unified Korea; 고구려, at its heyday, controlled a large part of China and Mongolia, occupying about five times the land the size of the Korean peninsula.

백제, on the other hand, never seems to have had that golden era comparable to its two rivals. Instead, the most remembered figures of this sad little kingdom lived right as it was going through its final moments, destroyed in the hands of the allied forces of 신라 and the Tang dynasty of China. Whether it really did not have a golden era, or whether the records were destroyed in the hands of the victors, we will never really know, as 백제 fell in 660AD, more than 1300 years ago.

One man's name lives on, however, and his name is arguably used more frequently than any other figures from 신라 or 고구려 in modern-day Korea. His name is 의자왕 (King 의자, "의자" was just his name, and does not mean a chair or a healer. His parents named him, hoping that he would be just and merciful; "의" means "just" as in "정의롭다", and "자" means "merciful" as in "자비롭다."), and his legacy is admittedly questionable, as he was the last king of 백제.

According to the popular legends that most Koreans know, he was actually a decent king. 백제 prospered under his rule, and he was politically talented. But he gradually became interested in the decadent lifestyle, holding parties, drinking nightly, in the company of three thousand beautiful palace maidens (궁녀). When 신라, allied with the Tang dynasty (당나라), attacked 백제, he was not able to defend the country, and surrendered to the allied forces. He was eventually taken prisoner of the Tang dynasty, and died there within the year.

The three thousand women decided to throw themselves from a cliff into a nearby river, preferring to take their lives themselves rather than be captured by the allied forces. The cliff where they supposedly killed themselves still exists in the city of 부여, and it is called 낙화암 (It means "the rocks of the falling flowers:" "낙" means to fall, as in "낙하산 parachute"; "화" means a flower, as in "조화 artificial flowers" "국화 chrysanthemum" or "무궁화 rose of sharon"; "암" means rocks, as in "암벽등반 rock climbing," "화강암 granite.") It is a beautiful little place, and if you can visit, you should!

I remember visiting here as a child, and feeling down all day thinking about all the poor women who fell to their deaths.

Koreans managed to insert some humour into this sad story, however. Nowadays, if a man seems to be surrounded by many women, he will likely have been called an "의자왕" by his friends. For example, if a man always seems to be in the company of several women (whether romantically or not!), his friends might say something like:

니가 의자왕이냐?

 or, "Do you think you're King 의자?"

There is definitely a lot of humour in this expression, and it is one of those expressions that will make people laugh. What's better, because it is derived from history, Koreans of any age will get your reference, and it's not offensive at all! So this expression is used both online and offline.

That being said, this notoriety of 의자왕 saddens me a little bit, because it seems that there are no actual records in history that King 의자 was actually into that luxurious and decadent lifestyle. Rather, in the official records, he seems to have fought until the very end, and decided to surrender because he did not want any more sacrifices of his people, and in fact, 백제 was at one of its most prosperous periods under his rule. In particular, the mention of the three thousand women appears first in a 20th-century literature (there may have been a few women, but probably not three thousand!) But as people say, history is written by the victors, and he really did not have any choice in the matter. And for better or for worse, he is still remembered, and at least some people believe that he was a good king.

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#10. 신의 한 수 -- Looking very far ahead

The game of 바둑 (go) and 장기 (Chinese chess) both have a long tradition of being very well-loved by the Korean population. They go way back to our folklore, even. In the traditional Korean shamanism folklore, the old immortal man-gods (called 신선), who know everything about the humans but do not like to meddle in our affairs, pass their time playing 바둑 and 장기. The legend has it that their playing style is so fantastical that if a mortal man passes by while they are playing, they will be completely mesmerized, and will not notice the passage of time. The game of 바둑 and 장기 for the 신선 can take decades to finish, and when the mortal man gains hold of himself again, the wooden handle of their axe might have rotted off thanks to the passage of time.

신선 playing 바둑 is one of the most popular topics of oriental art. There's also the notion that if you can while your time away by playing 바둑, your life is pretty good! So this picture is supposed to be relaxing, and the viewer is supposed to look at this wistfully.

Anyway, a move in one of these games is called "수" in Korean. "Making a move" is called "수를 두다." ("두다" is the usual verb for "playing" these kinds of games; for example, "바둑을 두다" means "play go.") Here, "수" comes from the Chinese letter meaning "hand." For example, a bad move in 바둑 or 장기 is called "악수" (the same 악 as in "악마," a devil; different from shaking hands.) When someone is giving you an advice about how to play, this is called a "훈수" as a noun, and "훈수를 두다" as a verb.

When the 신선 play, each of their 수 is said to have been so profound that mortals might not even understand the ramification of it until many moves later. From this folklore, the Koreans have picked up on a new neologism, called "신의 한 수." It literally means the "one move by 신선," or the one move by a god. When is this used?

In our lives, many a meaningless event happens. But when we look back on it later, some of those events that we brushed off as meaningless were actually very crucial, or very lucrative, or in some ways unexpectedly positive, as if a 신선 has silently coached our move without us noticing. Maybe the restaurant I wanted to go to was completely booked up, so I decide to go to the quieter restaurant next door, only to discover that this restaurant is miles better than the original restaurant I had planned to go to. Then I would say that "그 레스토랑에 가기로 결정한 건 신의 한 수였어," or "the fact that I had decided to go to the other restaurant was a move whispered to me by a god." This expression is often used by sports fans almost as an exclamation as well, as in "우와, 신의 한 수!" for a particularly good assist.

Speaking of "수," there's another word related to it. When someone tries too hard to achieve something, we call it "무리수." "무리" means overexertion, as in "무리하지 마," or "don't overexert yourself." You might have seen a homonym of it, meaning "irrational numbers," but the underlying Chinese characters are different (the "수" in "trying to hard" comes from the word "hand," while the "수" in "irrational numbers" comes from the word "number.")

For example, if two people are on a date, and one person is telling one cheesy joke a minute, the other might be wincing and thinking, "무리수를 두네." You could also exaggerate that someone is trying way too hard by adding the all-purpose prefix "개-" to say, "개무리수," even!

Both words, "신의 한 수" and "무리수" are widely used in real life and online!

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