#23. 넘사벽 -- Try as you might

Superstitious people are everywhere. In North America, 13 is considered unlucky (I'm not really sure why; maybe because there were 13 people at the table during the last supper) and you sometimes see the 13th floor missing entirely from high-rise buildings.

In Korea, the number to avoid (along with 13, because why not) is four. This is because the number four, pronounced "사" in Korean, sounds exactly like the Chinese character 死 meaning death (for example, "사형" means the capital punishment, "사신" means the messenger of death, "사약" means the poisonous drink that people were required to drink in the olden days when they were given the death penalty). So in many Korean buildings, both the fourth and the thirteenth floors are missing.

Anyway, there's a Korean internet slang word "넘사벽." It is often used in the context such as this: Say that you figure skate as a hobby, and a friend compliments you on your skating skills, going as far as saying things like how you skate like the famous Yuna Kim (김연아.) Then you are embarrassed because you're not actually that good, and you say something like, "Oh, I will never even come close to catching up to Yuna Kim." In Korean, you could say:

김연아는 넘사벽이야.

If you were chatting on the internet, you might have typed instead:

 김연아 >>>>>>>넘사벽>>>>>> 나 (Yuna Kim >>>> 넘사벽 >>>>> me.)

When I first heard the word in a sentence, it was clear that the word "넘사벽" was clearly a shortened form, because I didn't see how to break up "넘사벽" into different words. Before reading on, try to guess what this word means -- it wasn't completely obvious to me, even as a native speaker (and the exact meaning of the catchiest internet slang can usually be interpreted!)
 

The famous skater Yuna Kim, whom every Korean can recognize.

From the context, it seemed obvious that the word "넘사벽" should mean "incomparable," or "way beyond my abilities." But in the word "넘사벽," I only recognized one word inside it, namely "벽" or "wall." Combined with the context, it felt like the word should come from the well-known phrase "넘을수 없는 벽" or "insurmountable wall."

That took care of the letters "넘" and "벽," but where did the letter "사" come from? At this point, I was left completely on my own to take a stab in the dark. My guess was that the letter "사" came from "death," combining to suggest that the word "넘사벽" means "a wall that you can't overcome, even if you died trying." Satisfied with this meaning, I happily went about my way around the Korean internet world (and I suppose you could use this word with anyone, since it's not offensive and the meaning is guessable.)

A few years later, though, I learned that the original intended meaning of "넘사벽" was not a wall that you cannot overcome even in death, but actually a shortened form of "넘을수 없는 사차원의 벽," or "an insurmountable four-dimensional wall."

Oh well. I was a little bit off, but I wasn't the only one, and many Koreans guessed that the letter "사" came from "death" rather than "four." Plus, the meaning still wasn't lost. Such is the way of the Korean internet slang.

Apparently, this word presented more of a challenge to some than the others, though. Some people thought that this word meant "넘을수 없는 사랑의 벽," or "an insurmountable wall of love," but that really shouldn't have made sense from the context (although it would be pretty hilarious in the right context!) In any case, I thought you might enjoy seeing how a native Korean speaker goes about figuring out the new slang word that they encounter on the internet (and get it wrong!)

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#22. 만렙 -- You're the best

I was an elementary school student in Korea in the late 90s and early 2000s, when Starcraft was just gaining its popularity. I was never a teen in Korea, and I was more interested in comic books and cute K-pop boy bands, so I never played Starcraft. Despite this, I heard about Starcraft daily from my classmates. If we were to form groups for some projects, our group name was invariably going to be Protoss or Terran, or some variation thereof (apparently, Zergs were too ugly to be considered a good name!) I listened to my classmates brag about their actions per minute, or the latest strategy, and none of this was strange to me. It was a bit of a shock to realize that the gamers were fairly rare in the Western world, when practically everyone in Korea could be considered a gamer.

Well, gamers naturally end up spending a ton of time on the internet, so when most of your population is a gamer, gamer lingo is sure to seep into your internet slang. Now that I reflect on it, I am surprised that I managed to avoid talking about the gamer slang for the majority of my posts so far. The only words coming from gamer language so far would be "항마력" and "용자."

But here is another word that clearly comes from the gaming culture.

When I was living in Korea, I had a friend who never got anything other than 100% on her math exams. Although this expression did not exist then, if I see her now, I'd want to tell her that:

넌 정말 수학에 있어서는 만렙이다. (As far as math is concerned, you are really the best.)

The slang here is the word "만렙." The word "렙" is a shortened form for "레벨," or "level (as in, the level of a game; the Koreans never use it like in the sentence 'level the ground.')" Koreans really like to shorten words, and this is just one instance of such contraction. So for example, in gaming language, if someone has just started playing and has pretty low stats, you could call them "0렙 (level 0)," "1렙 (level 1)," or "저렙 (low level; "저" is a Chinese letter meaning "low," as in "저지대 (low-lying area)," "저원 (low-lying field)," or "저퀄리티 (low quality)")." In contrast, someone who has high stats can be called "고렙 (high level; "고" is a Chinese letter meaning "high," as in "고지대," "고원," "고퀄리티," etc.)"

The word "만" comes from Chinese, and it means "full." The most common usage you see in Korea, of course, is how the Koreans count their age. When the Koreans want to talk about their age in the Western sense (where you age one year when you have lived out a full year), they will say:

제 나이는 만으로 스물 두 살이에요 (I have lived twenty-two years in full; I'm 22 in the Western sense.)

Putting the above two words together, "만렙" means that your stats are full; that is, there is no room to improve. So, if I were telling my friend that she is "만렙" in math, I'm telling her that no one is better than her in math, and that she pretty much has nowhere to improve. In short, I am giving her the highest compliment.

You can also use this word in the gaming setting (or any situation that reminds you of a gaming setting.) When someone achieves the highest level in a game, the correct way to use this slang is to use the verb "만렙을 찍다." For example, you can say:

너 어제 만렙 찍었다면서? (I heard that you got to the final level yesterday.)

Unfortunately, this word has such strong gamer origins that it is inappropriate to use in a formal setting (although no one would be offended by it, it would be pretty strange to use this to your grandparents, for example!) But it's a widespread word nonetheless, and given the affinity to video games in Korea, most people who use the internet will understand the word!

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#21. 한강물 차냐? -- Should I just go kill myself? (just kidding)

While I was fooling around on DC Inside (it's the Korean version of Reddit, but the people are the most vicious and mean, hence it is often my website of choice!), I read a pretty sad post of one of the users, where he really messed up his chance with the girl of his dreams. He misread signals, he was too eager, and it was a disaster overall. Everyone was mocking his failure, and in his depressed state, yet clearly being a good sport and playing along with the others, he asked:

한강물 많이 차냐? (How cold is the water of Han river?)

This phrase is actually used fairly often, when someone has screwed up badly, and doesn't see any way to rectify the situation. It is, of course, spoken in jest, but the concreteness and the precision of the phrase shocks me a lot more than just saying something like "죽고싶다 (I want to kill myself)." Yet the phrase is fairly humorous, because the speaker is almost surely joking.

But people really do kill themselves a lot on the bridges of the Han river. So much to the point that the railings actually have phrases written on them, to try to discourage people from jumping into the river (and apparently it works).

It must have been so difficult for you. I know, even though you never said it out loud.

Did you remember to eat?

It seems to me that each culture has its own way of dealing with difficult subjects. The Korean way feels a lot more blunt than the North American culture that I am used to, and making the situation humorous is also something that is not often done in North America, to the point where it seems almost taboo. But I suppose that this is something that one needs to see as "틀린게 아니라 다른" (not wrong, just different.) After all, sharing a laugh in even the most miserable situation can make it seem better.

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#20. 안드로메다 -- What is this, I don't even

So, I'm in the process of experimenting with my blog's layout. I'm not convinced that what I have now is better than what I had before, but it turns out that HTML is difficult to learn, and no template perfectly fits my dream. I'm going to continue to experiment for the next while, so if my blog is out of order, please visit again in a few minutes! Also soliciting any kind of advice and help that you can give on how to make my blog more readable, and more navigate-able (leave them in the comments below!) This is my first time blogging and I think the inexperience is definitely showing. Sigh. I promise that I'll improve. I also got a Twitter account! You can follow my Twitter account here.

Moving onto the actual post...

For some weird reason, every Korean knows about the Andromeda galaxy. This knowledge of the Andromeda galaxy is such a staple in our everyday life that there is even a neologism to honour this galaxy. In everyday Korean conversations, "안드로메다" means "very far away." For example, I was talking to a friend of mine the other day, who used the following brilliant exaggeration:

여가시간은 안드로메다로 관광보냈지 (I sent my free time on a trip to the Andromeda galaxy.)

 She was trying to tell me that she was so busy that her free time could have gone on a trip to the Andromeda galaxy, and she wouldn't know. So by sending something on a trip to the Andromeda galaxy, the speaker is telling me that she has none of that something, in a very strong negation. Just saying that "I have no free time" is nowhere as strong as "All of my free time is having some fun in the Andromeda galaxy."

 Knowing this, we can try using it in many different contexts. If someone cuts the line in front of you while you're waiting for the metro, you could tell them:

이봐요, 매너는 안드로메다로 관광보냈어요? (Hey, are your manners having fun on the Andromeda galaxy?)

If you're about to go into a haunted castle with your friends, and you want to appear tough, you could tell your friends:

무서움 따위는 안드로메다로 보내버렸지 (I sent my fear away to the Andromeda galaxy.)

If you feel that Andromeda is a teensy bit too far for what you're trying to say (because, who is not scared of going into the haunted castle, really?), you could maybe settle for not necessarily the Andromeda galaxy, but just out of our own galaxy, which is the Milky Way galaxy. You could have said instead:

무서움 따위는 은하수 너머로 보내버렸지 (I sent my fear away beyond the Milky Way.)

 Again, you could be creative and replace the Andromeda galaxy by other things that are sufficiently far away (Jupiter, Pluto, or Asteroid XXIV, whatever it is, are all good candidates, as are a bunch of other things).

While this expression is not offensive at all (you would sometimes see this expression in some TV shows), because of the gross exaggeration, I would not say that this is necessarily appropriate for the elders.

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#19. 강철멘탈, 유리멘탈 -- How much insult can you withstand?

I spent most of my formative years in Canada, and really consider myself a Canadian. And true to the Canadian stereotype, I love hockey.

If you have spent any amount of time watching hockey games, you would have heard of the "Green Men" of Vancouver, two men in green body suits who mock the opposing team players in the penalty box. Some take the insult better than the others, and undoubtedly, the performance given by the Green Men has some of the hockey players fuming as they leave the penalty box. This is what they do:

Apparently, it is not good enough to be just good at hockey to become the top player of the team nowadays; you have to have that unwavering determination and concentration, regardless of what is going on around you. If the Koreans saw this clip, they would say:

 와, 저사람들 정말 강철멘탈이네 (Wow, those people have nerves of steel.)

 The word "강철" means "steel," and "멘탈" comes from the English word "mental" (although "mentality" is perhaps a better translation), so quite literally "강철멘탈" means "nerves of steel." As usual, you can replace "강철" with any hard and durable object, such as "다이아몬드멘탈" (nerves of diamond.)

The opposite of "강철멘탈" is "유리멘탈," where "유리" means "glass." That is, they are so easy to rattle that their ego, their self-esteem, or whatever is holding them together at the moment (this is really the correct nuance for the word "멘탈") could shatter easily like glass. Once again, you can be creative, and use other easily shattered objects in place of "유리." Some of the most commonly used words include "두부멘탈" (mentality easily shattered like a tofu), "쿠크다스멘탈" (couque d'asse is a the name for a thin cookie you can get in any grocery stores in Korea, and it is notorious for almost never keeping shape because of its thinness,) "종이멘탈" (mentality like a paper.)

When these people of glass mentality have a meltdown, the Koreans call this "멘붕," which is short for "멘탈붕괴," or "destruction of mentality." As a verb, you can use various forms, such as "멘붕을 일으키다," "멘붕이 오다," or "멘붕하다." As it is a neologism, people seem fairly generous with what kind of conjugation you can use!

Some examples:

다연이는 너무 유리멘탈이라 교수님이 이름을 호명하자마자 한마디도 못하고 멘붕을 일으키더라. (Dayeon had the mentality of glass, so that as soon as the professor called on her, she seemed completely destroyed.)

파티가 끝난 후 어지러진 집을 보고 멘붕했다. (I went through a mental breakdown after seeing the messy house after the party.)

와, 그 스캔들은 정말 장난 아니더라. 진심 멘붕. (Wow, that scandal was no joke. Seriously, a total mental breakdown.)

 Although this is a neologism, it's been around for a while, at least a few years at this point. It seems that the mainstream media also picked up on this expression, so it is not that weird to use this in most context, except in formal writing.

Note that an English word (멘탈) is combined with Korean words (강철, 유리, or 붕괴) to form these neologisms, so when this word first came out, there was a strong undertone of intended humour. However, as this word is becoming more and more accepted in mainstream language, the nuance of humour is on the decline towards just a neutral word. Of course, all that depends on the context. If your friends are joking around and you use this word, clearly there will be some humour. If you talk to your boss about your last episode of 멘붕, there isn't a lot that is funny about it!

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#18. 용자 -- Brave or stupid?

Back when I was a schoolchild in Korea, in-classroom discussions weren't really a thing. A part of the reason why was because most of us believed that the most important thing for the students was to do well in tests. If you know anything about the Korean school system, it makes sense -- where you go to university determines your life's trajectory; to go to a good university, you must score well in tests.

The majority of the questions given to us in these tests were multiple choice questions, called 객관식 문제 (The word "객관" comes from the Chinese "客觀," meaning the perspective of a guest: 객 means guest, think "고객 (VIP)" or "호객 (trying to attract guests)"; 관 means perspective "낙관 (optimistic)", "비관 (pessimistic)", or "세계관 (world view)." So this means "from the perspective of a third party," or "objective questions") As you must also know, your opinions really don't matter when you're trying to solve multiple-choice questions, because there is only one right answer.

There were the occasional 주관식 문제 (questions in the perspective of the host -- "주" means the host, as in "주인(owner)"), but although these should translate to "subjective questions" in English, they weren't really about our opinions. In the Korean school system in the 00s, 주관식문제 often just meant fill in the blanks, or answering in one sentence what the question was asking, and the questions had a definite correct answer.

Therefore, in some ways, in-classroom discussions were a waste of time. They contributed nothing to improving our performances in tests, so they simply did not take place. We were almost never invited to share our opinions, and the only way we spoke in class was to mutter a one-word answer to a close-ended question that our teachers posed.

And this makes sense. I am not trying to judge a culture. In fact, I think that given that the end goal is to do well in school by obtaining good grades, this is probably the most efficient way to get to that goal.

As this was the norm, volunteering to speak out in classes was seen as a huge anomaly, and it was just not done. If you did speak out, your classmates would call you out for being a 루저 (loser), or a 범생이 (it is a diminutive form of "모범생," or a "model student." They're treating "모범생" like a typical Korean name, where "모" is your last name, and "범생" is your first name, and they are calling you just by your first name for a little bit of humour.)

To some degree, this must be a formative experience. Even after they leave the school system, I have always found that the Koreans are a bit hesitant to express their opinions. When they do, it is almost never done with the absolute terms such as "It is definitely true that...," or "This is totally not okay to..." but rather "What do you think about...," or "I think it might be true that..."

Given this trend, bluntness or directness is not really a trait that is particularly prized in the Korean culture. (Actually, this probably goes up even further in the Korean culture, as the Koreans tend to value the good of the community over the individual gain. There is even a Korean proverb that goes "모난 돌이 정 맞는다," or "the stone that juts out gets the next strike of the chisel.")

On the other hand, this makes the Korean internet a particularly fascinating place for me. On the internet, all of the usual Korean reservedness and hesitance give way to blunt and vicious humour, and it makes me realize that there are many facets to being a Korean, and that they are capable of expressing themselves in the Western style. They just choose not to do it for the most part.

Anyway, for these reasons, speaking up requires more courage for a Korean than for a Westerner. And not surprisingly, Koreans have a word for this too. Say that someone is being annoying. Maybe they're slacking off and not pulling their weight in a group project. Maybe someone is not being very considerate of the others and taking up two seats in a crowded bus. Everyone hopes that someone says something, but they don't want to be the one speaking up, because it is such an uncomfortable experience. Then all the Koreans are probably thinking in their minds,

한마디 해줄 용자 어디 없나요?

 Or in English, "Isn't there a brave soul who is willing to say a word?"

"마디" is pure Korean, which means a unit of length, usually about as long as one joint of your finger, but it sometimes depends on the context (referring to the smallest unit of length). "한마디" is one such unit. In our context, since we are looking for someone to say something, the smallest unit of speech is a word.

"용자" is the slang I really want to talk about. "용" comes from Chinese, and it means "brave." You see it in words such as "용사" (warrior), "용기" (courage), "용맹" (bravery), "용감하다" (brave). "자" is also Chinese, and it means a person. You see it in everyday words, such as "남자" (man) and "여자" (woman), "승자" (winner), "패자" (loser, not in a derogatory way), and also in archaic setting: "의자" means "healer" (nowadays we say "의사" instead).

"용자" also has an archaic undertone. It would not be used in a normal usage of Korean, but if you were relating a fairy tale (or in a fantasy game), and a brave peasant (who has no training as a warrior) steps up to save a princess from a dragon, he would be called a "용자." In short, the only quality that sets him apart from the others is his bravery and courage.

This is a perfectly acceptable usage of "용자," although perhaps it is a bit humorous since the speaker is speaking as if the modern Korean society is akin to some medieval or archaic background.

Nowadays, especially on the Korean internet, but also among the Koreans within a similar age bracket, the word "용자" sometimes doubles as "stupidly brave." For example, if a person jaywalks while a police cruiser is parked just a few metres from her, you may say:

와, 저 사람 정말 용자네.

You're really saying, "Wow, she is really stupidly brave."

Some other cases where you might call someone a "용자" includes: openly showing your love for animes of questionable quality or content, by bringing and showing off various products (with the exception of few very popular animes, you run the risk of being branded an otaku and a loser if you are too open about your anime tastes); betting on a sports team that almost always loses, or... solving a math problem like this:

The question says: Given a sequence that goes 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, ..., what is the 400th term of the sequence? This student has not only solved the question, he wrote on top of the paper "존나 쉽네," which is a very vulgar way of saying "f-ing easy."

So, to sum up, "용자" is a humorous and not super offensive, although informal. So you should be able to use this word in most settings, even to the elders as long as you're not trying to insult them!

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Listening exercise with transcript #3: Execution in North Korea

One of the privileges that you get from speaking Korean is the fact that you have access to a ton of interviews by the North Korean refugees (we call them "탈북자": the letter "탈" is Chinese for "exit." For example, "to escape" is "탈출" in Korean; to wring out water is "탈수". The letter "북" means "north," and "자" means "person": "남자" means "man," "망자" means "the departed (the dead).") The vast majority of these interviews are not translated into any other languages, so speaking Korean means that you have extra insight into the lives of the North Koreans that is otherwise unavailable.

The following short clip is a part of a TV show called "이제 만나러 갑니다" (Now we go meet them). Most of the people on the show are 탈북자. They all have heart-wrenching stories of how they left North Korea, risking their lives, as well as their families' lives, and now they are very outspoken about educating the public about the realities of living in North Korea. They do have a slight 북한 사투리 (North Korean accent), but they are barely detectable, so see if you can pick up what they're saying. The transcription follows:

Host: 반동 (this is a North Korean word; it does not mean "reaction," but rather it refers to anything anti-communism) 행위로 죽는 사람이 있는거죠? 총살당해서 사람이 죽는걸 보신분? 어렸을때부터.
Woman 1: 중학교 3학년부터 단체로 가서 봐요.
Man 1, talking to people around him: 나도 가서 봤어. (그래요? 진짜로요? 네. 공개처형이요? 네. 공개처형.)
Woman 1: 다 봐요. 학교에서 줄서가지고 뭐한대 막 종 때려요. 그렇게되면 총살한대 그러면 가서 봐요.
Woman 2: 장마당 (this is an old word in Korea now, it refers to a large open space "마당" where a market "장" opens at a regular time interval; of course, there aren't so many of these in Korea, but it seems that this tradition still exists in North Korea) 이나 학교 운동장같은데 가보면 표고문이 있어요. 몇월 몇일 몇시에 어느 장마당 운동장에서 총살 한다고 그렇게 붙여놔요. 그러면 온 동네사람들 아이들까지 다, 애기엄마 애기업고 다 와서 봐요.
Host: 몇명이 쏴요 총을?
Woman 2: 우리가, 우리 삼촌 사형할때는 일곱명이서 네명을 사형하더라고요.
Host: 한번에 다 쏘는거에요?
Women 1&2: 예.
Woman 1: 보통 규정이 세명의 사격수들이 한 사형수에게 세발씩 각각 아홉발을 맞아요.
Man 2 그럼 유현주씨 (this is the name of Woman 1), 그걸 봤을때 한번이 아니라 여러차례 몇번 봤을것 아니에요. 볼때마다 무서워요, 아니면 그냥 그러려니 해요?
Woman 1: 그러려니 해요. 처음에는 꿈에서 나타나고 그러는데 두번째부터 보고 또 세번째 보고 네번째 보잖아요. 아무렇지도 않아요. 어우, 죽는구나. 난 저렇게 죽지 말아야지. 그냥 이런 생각이에요.

You may have doubted your ears about what you're hearing; they often talk about these cruel and inhumane topics in a completely nonchalant way. This breaks my heart to realize that these kinds of things were so commonplace that they are immune to the usual reaction.

Anyway,  I hope that you take advantage of your Korean knowledge, and educate yourself about the goings-on in North Korea, because it seems like a real privilege to be privy to all these information. The information available in English is really a fraction of what you can readily find using Korean!

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