#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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#114. 막, 어, 그, 네 -- How to use filler words in a Korean conversation

Here's a shout-out to Jessica from Michigan, who suggested this post! :)

Everyone has a quirk when they speak. For some, this might show up as a gesture (for example, winking at random moments), or in the intonation of their speech. But the most common is their choice of filler words.

Like, it really helps to, like, insert these random words into your sentences because, like um, it gives you a bit more time to organize your thoughts, you know?

For example, the English speakers often use words such as "like", "I mean", "you know", and "um," and these can be inserted into any pauses that you might take while speaking the sentence. They fill the space which would otherwise be filled with an awkward pause, and they help the conversation go smoothly.

So, as a non-native speaker, it would be definitely very helpful to be able to use these filler words properly. Some of the Korean filler words include "막", "어", "그", and so on, and there are many examples of Koreans speaking with these filler words below. So, pick a filler word, and practice filling the pauses with them.

A word of caution, though: you should remember that each filler word comes with a specific nuance, and each group of people has a different preferred filler word (think about how the filler word "like" is mostly associated to teenaged girls in English!) So, while it's not wrong to choose any filler word you would like, you should pay attention to the native Koreans when they speak, and see if you can see any popular filler word that is used within your demographic.

Without any further ado, here are some Koreans engaged in a spontaneous speech (which is usually when the filler words get used the most). See if you can pick out the filler words.

The first two clips are from the popular Korean reality show called "Produce 101." In this show, 101 young women (101 young men in season 2) aspiring to be K-pop singers competed for one of the 11 spots in the team that would debut through this show. The winners were determined by the viewers' votes. So the competition was fierce to get even a tiny bit of the screen time, as if you got none, you would not have any viewers vote for you!

In these clips, the women and men are given exactly one minute to guess the object hidden inside a box that they cannot see, and they are only allowed to feel the object. When they guess the object within the time limit, they are allowed to use the remaining time to show their talents, or to plead for more votes, in however way they want. Many contestants elected to say a few words about themselves, and as they were under a time pressure and a bit frazzled (understandingly so!), many of them used more filler words than usual.

Here is Jeon Somi (전소미), the winner of Season 1 of Produce 101, trying to guess the object in the box (a small octopus, 낙지 in Korean).

She says:

아... 안녕하세요! 전소미라고 합니다.
Ah... hi! My name is Jeon Somi.
아 네 지난번 PR때 너무 건성건성 했다고 하시는데
Ah... yes. People said that I wasn't doing my best in the last PR opportunity.
저 엄청 떨어가지고 말을 잘 못했던것 같습니다.
I was really nervous and couldn't speak properly.
어 일단 너무 죄송하고요 이제 저 오늘 기분 최고치입니다!
Ah... first of all, I'm really sorry about that, and now I am feeling the better than I have ever been!
너무 행복해서 아 여러분들한테 비타민을 막 쏴주겠습니다.
I'm so happy and so... ah... I want to send vitamin to everyone.
너무 감사하고요 아- 사랑하고 아 저 투표해주시고요.
Thank you so much! Ah... I love you, ah, and please vote for me.

낙지 진짜 ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
Octopus, really! lol
감사하고요 사랑합니다. 네 소미 많이 투표해주시고 사랑해주시고
Thank you, and I love you. Yeah. Please vote for Somi and send some love!
꼭 프로듀스 101도 많이 사랑해주세요. 감사합니다!
And please love Produce 101 as well. Thank you!


So you can tell that Somi's preferred filler word is "아" and "네."

The filler word "아" is used fairly universally among the younger people of Korea and is fairly neutral in nuance.

The filler word "네" is very different, however. You know that "네" is "yes" in Korean, in formal speech (for example, if you want to say "yes" to your teacher, you would say "네," as opposed to the informal "응.") Somi is using this filler word because she is addressing millions of viewers, most of whom she would use the formal speech to. In fact, you will see many Korean celebrities use this filler word on TV shows for the same reason, that it is somewhat formal and respectful.

However, this is less appropriate as a filler word in your daily speech, even when you are speaking to your elders! Personally, I think of salespeople who are extremely eager to please when people use this filler word (not common at all!) and it is only appropriate when you are really lowering yourself and trying to make the other person feel extremely valued.



Here is another clip from Season 2 of the same show, where Kim Samuel (김사무엘) and Lee Dae Hui (이대휘, who ranked in top 11 and is now a member of the group Wanna One) competing to guess the object first. The object is raw chicken feet (닭발)!

네, 여러분. 네, 어, 국민 프로듀서님!
Yes, everyone. Yes, uh, the citizen producers! (Ed: as the viewers voted for the winner, the contestants called the viewers the "citizen producers")
네, 안녕하세요, 네, 어, 브레이브 엔터테인먼트의 김사무엘입니다.
Yes, hello. Yes, uh, I am Kim Samuel of Brave Entertainment.
이 이름을 꼭 기억해주시고요,
Please remember this name,
네, 저는, 어, 24시간동안 열심히 하고, 어, 꿈을 향해 달려가고
Yes, I, uh, worked really hard for 24 hours, uh, and I am running towards my dreams
네, 손에 비린내가 많이 납니다.
Yes, my hand smells pretty bad.
네 하지만 이 비린내가 나도 여러분들한테 어, 얘기를 할수 있는게
Yes, but even despite the smell, it is, uh,
어 정말 영광이고요,
such an honour to be able to talk to you all,
아... 저를 만약에 뽑아주시면 어... 국민프로듀서님들을 위해,
Ah... if you vote for me, uh... I will, for all of you citizen producers,
국민 프로듀서님 뿐만이 아니라, 여러분들을 위해, 어, 정말 최고의, 어
and not just the citizen producers, but for everyone, uh, I will really, uh
아이돌이 되겠습니다.
become the best idol.
네 그러면 많이 사랑해주시고요,
Yes, so, please send me some love,
네 그리고 프로듀스 101에 들어가셔서 꼭 투표해주세요!
Yes, and please log onto the Produce 101 website and vote for me!
네, 김사무엘입니다!
Yes, I am Kim Samuel!
네, 나이는 16살이고요, 네, 춤, 노래, 랩 다 자신있습니다.
Yes, I am 16 years old, and yes, I am confident in all of dance, singing, and rap.


You can tell that Samuel really likes to use the two filler words "네" and "어." Just as in the case of Somi, I would say that it is very unlikely that Samuel will use the word "네" as filler in normal conversation, and you can tell that this filler word usually begins a phrase -- these pauses are more intentional than the mid-sentence pauses, and it seems that Samuel uses this artificial filler "네" more frequently in these intentional pauses.

However, in mid-sentence, if he needs to pause for a second, he reverts to what is presumably his usual choice of filler, "어." If I had to guess, I would say that this is the filler that he uses when he is conversing with his friends.


Finally, here is a clip of a middle school principal making a speech at a graduation ceremony (boring, I know!) and the transcript is mostly subtitled in the video. Can you guess what filler words he is using?

Here, the principal is using an overwhelming amount of "에" and "어" as his filler (both similar in nuance as "ah"), but you can hear the occasional "그" as well. In fact, for whatever reason, when Koreans make a (boring) speech, "에" is a very common filler word -- some Koreans might even call "에" the filler word of the principals.



I personally use "막" as a filler word. It originates from the adverb "마구" meaning "haphazardly" or "without pattern," and it can be used as a proper part of speech. For example, a sentence using "막" correctly might be:

"눈싸움을 하면서 눈덩이를 마구 (막) 던졌다." (In a snowball fight, I threw snowballs without any regards to the consequences/without pattern/indiscriminately/)

However, if I were to say the above sentence in an informal speech, I might have to use "막" in two different ways:

"막 어제 내가 막 눈싸움을 하는데 막 눈덩이를 막 던져버렸어." (So like, I was in a, like, snowball fight, and like, I threw so many snowballs.)

Here, the red "막" denote fillers (without any meaning), and the blue "막" is used properly as an adverb. It is even more informal than "아" or "어" in nuance, and if I were ever to appear on a TV show (unlikely), I would probably refrain from using "막" myself and maybe choose "아" or "어" out of respect for the viewers (but since my career doesn't depend on gaining love and support from the viewers, I probably won't stoop to using "네" -- it feels too professional and it has a nuance of pandering to the crowd at the same time!)

While I can't help you choose your own personal filler, I will once again recommend that you listen to normal speech by the Koreans. Possibly the easiest filler is just "아" or "어," but some fillers have more aegyo (listen to girls who have more aegyo, and see what they use as fillers -- sometimes just the way a word is spoken can change a nuance!), some fillers might signify that you are very educated or very serious, and so on. And I hope that this makes your conversation flow a bit more naturally!

In closing, here is a small tidbit of Korean grammar (I had to consult several Korean language teachers and would-be teachers in Korean high schools to learn about this; so don't expect an average Korean to know this!): the filler words in Korean are called "간투사."

The letter "간" comes from Hanja, meaning "the crack in between." Its full name is "사이 간" (as in, "우리사이" means "the space (사이) between us (우리)") and you see this Hanja show up in words as "미간" (the space between your eyebrows), "중간" (the space in the middle), and "간격" (width of space).

Here is Hanja for "사이 간," which is really cool! The Hanja for "door" is  門, and the Hanja for the "sun" is 日, so "사이 간" visually represents the sunlight shining through the crack in your door!

The letter "투" means "to throw," as in "투수" (the pitcher), and the letter "사" means "word" (for example, "명사" means "a noun", "동사" means "verb", and "형용사" means "adjective.")

So "간투사" literally means "words thrown in between," that is, an "interjection!"

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#113. 선폭풍, 후폭풍 -- When your relationship comes to an end (Hanja 4)

Note: this is a post about Hanja; if you are confused about the notation, I encourage to check out my first Hanja post, where my notation for Hanja is explained in more detail.

Have you ever thought about what steps you would take if a nuclear bomb were to hit your city? Having lived in the country with possibly the most active nuclear threat in the world, I definitely have.

You should be inside, if at all possible, because it seems that the majority of the nuclear fallout can be blocked easily by any physical barrier. As long as you're far enough from the explosion, being in a secure indoors location is your best bet to survival (and simple acts such as removing the outer layer of clothing or taking a shower can reduce your exposure to nuclear fallout.)

However, if you cannot get inside in time (you are likely to have about ten minutes to prepare), then you should duck and cover (to protect yourself from soon-to-be-flying debris, the heat, and the fallout), and open your mouth so that your eardrums don't burst from pressure. This is exactly as Bert the Turtle from the Cold War Era tells you:

The important thing to keep in mind is that you don't want to get up immediately after having survived the initial blast; when a nuclear bomb explodes, it will create a vacuum at the centre of the explosion (as it pushes out everything when it explodes), which means that after the initial blast, things will get sucked back into the centre of explosion to create equilibrium. So you should expect a second blast to follow soon after the first blast, in the opposite direction of the initial blast, and stay protected until this second blast happens.

This second blast is called the "reverse blast" in English, and "후폭풍" in Korean. The word "후폭풍" is made up of two parts: "후" which is Hanja meaning "back, late, or behind," and "폭풍" meaning "storm." So, "후폭풍" literally means "after-storm" or "second (later) storm." 

Here is the Hanja for "후": you pronounce this hanja as "후", but its meaning is "뒤," or "behind" in English. The numbers show you the order in which to write this hanja.

The Hanja 뒤 후 is used in many everyday words, such as 후진 (driving in reverse, i.e. driving towards the back); 오후 (afternoon); 후년 (next year); 후퇴 (retreat); 후사 (heir); 방과후 (after school); and 후기 (an after-story, which is a detailed account of your experience).

This word is, of course, a proper word that you can find in a Korean dictionary; and given that nuclear bombs do not explode very frequently, this word is used mostly as a metaphor. For example, the government may implement a higher minimum wage (just happened in Korea as of January 2018; now the minimum wage is 7530 Korean won, about $7.50 USD, up from 6470 Korean won, about $6.50 USD), and as a result, many people may lose their jobs, or small businesses may have to close as they cannot afford to hire workers anymore (there are signs of these, although the total effect remains to be seen).

A newspaper might decide to report on the aftermath of the steep minimum wage hike, by saying:

"최저임금 인상의 후폭풍이 우려됩니다." (The reverse-blast of the minimum-wage hike could become a worry.)

However, the Korean internet users found another clever way to use this word in a more everyday scenario. Consider the following breakup scenario, which many of us have must have experienced to some degree.

A declares that they no longer want to be with B; B gets upset and cries, and blows up A's phone with texts and missed calls. After a few whirlwind days of emotionally charged texts and phone calls involving pleading and begging, followed by anger and resentment, B finally accepts the breakup. B goes through many months of erasing and forgetting the memories of A.

Just about when B decides that the memories of A are no longer the cause of acute heartache, B's phone rings. It's A, asking: "How are you doing?" A regrets having left B, and would do anything to be back with B. Now it is A who is blowing up B's phone, begging for a second chance.

Aside from the role that one plays in this scenario (I have certainly been both A and B!) this is a familiar story to many people who have experienced breakups.

The Koreans are no exceptions to this rule. What's interesting is that they have extra vocabulary that doesn't seem to exist in the English language, to describe various parts of breaking up.

The word "후폭풍" describes the whirlwind of texts and phone calls that follow the breakup several months later, usually by the person who did the breakup, who realized that they made a terrible mistake of letting the love of their lives go. After the initial begging and pleading by B (which often have the intensity of the figurative nuclear bomb!), A returns the begging and pleading (also equally intense, just in the opposite direction), which matches exactly the nuclear blast scenario.

Many people who were dumped secretly (or not-so-secretly) hope that their ex will soon realize that they made a mistake. So they end up hoping for a 후폭풍. They may ask their friends on tips for making this happen, by saying:

"후폭풍이 오게하려면 어떻게 해야하지?" (What do I have to do to make the reverse-blast come?)

And they may end up laughing at their ex, when the reverse blast comes after they have moved on:

"헤어진지 일년이 다 됐는데 이제 후폭풍이 오면 어쩌라는거야 ㅋㅋ" (It's been a year since the breakup; what am I supposed to do with a reverse-blast now? lol)

When this word became standard usage on the Korean internet, people noticed the fact that there are, in fact, two "blasts" to a typical breakup. The first blast, of course, is when B has not yet come to terms with the fact that they will no longer be together. While there was no particular word that described this in the dictionary, the Koreans noticed that the Hanja "뒤 후" has a clear antonym, also in Hanja: the appropriate Hanja would have been "먼저 선," that is, the pronunciation is "선," and the meaning is "먼저" -- "first" or "before" in English.

There are many everyday words that use "먼저 선" as well: 선생 (teacher; as "생" is Hanja for "life," the Korean word for "teacher" denotes a person who lived first); 선배 (sunbae, or your seniors. "배" means "to learn," so these people are the ones who learned before you); 선대 or 선조 (ancestors); 선약 (prior appointment); 선입견 (prejudice, which are notions that are conceived prior to experience).

Using this Hanja, the Koreans started calling the initial blast of emotions following a declaration of breakup a "선폭풍," or the "initial blast." While it is not used as frequently, you can use this word to say things like:

"한바탕 선폭풍을 겪고나니 오히려 후련해요." (I feel like a huge weight has been lifted, now that I've gone through the initial blast.)

 or

"난 선폭풍때문에 힘든데 그새끼는 벌써 새 여자친구가 생겼더라." (I'm still struggling from the initial blast, but that bastard already has a new girlfriend.)

 Both of these words are widely accepted within the younger Koreans, and the nuance is extremely neutral. You can use these words without worrying about offending, while showing off your mastery of Korean slang!

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#112. 인실좆, 고소미 -- Three unexpected ways you can end up in a Korean court

Back in the 1990s when I lived in Korea, I remember watching a sitcom episode (I wish I remembered the title!) that featured a Korean-American family. While they mostly spoke Korean, they had a bit of an American attitude. They would mix in random English words in conversation (to brag that they know English), and they would behave in a stereotypical American way. One thing they constantly said to each other was:

"너 쑤할거야!" (I'm going to sue you! -- "쑤" is just the Koreaniztion of the English word "sue")

Koreans used to believe that the Americans take each other to court for the most trivial of reasons. Maybe they still believe this, I am not sure.

Whatever the case may have been in the 1990s, I actually think that the Koreans have become much more liberal about suing each other since then. And in the typical Korean fashion, the Koreans find humour out of the situation. For example, when they catch wind of the fact that you are engaged in a questionable behaviour, they may say various things. I have covered some of these sayings in a previous post, but here are some of the things the Koreans might say to you:

"너 고소미 먹어볼래?" (Do you want to taste "고소미 Gosomi"?)

Or

"인실좆 당해봐야 정신을 차리지" (You will only behave yourself when you have experienced "인실좆 Insiljot.")

Both of these things imply that you are about to get sued (or be charged with a crime) and face the Korean court, but Koreans rarely use the word "sue" ("고소" in Korean) in the Korean internet. The proper way to say that "You may get sued soon" would have been:

"너 곧 고소당할것 같아." (I think you'll get sued soon.)

In particular, "to get sued" in Korean is "고소당하다," but in informal speech, they may say instead "고소 먹다." Here, "먹다" is "to eat" in English, so the speaker would be saying that they got a taste of a lawsuit.

But the thing is, there is a brand of crackers in Korea called "고소미," which you can literally eat. So these (admittedly delicious) crackers became synonymous with "getting sued." So if someone talks about eating "고소미," more often than not, they're not actually talking about these crackers!

You can probably find these in your local Korean grocery store -- these are delicious and highly recommended!

Another expression that I mentioned above, "인실좆," is short for

"인생은 실전이다 좆만아." (Life is not a practice game, you baby.)

Here, "인생" means "life," and "실전" means "real battle." All four letters come from Hanja, and these are standard dictionary words. The slanginess of this phrase comes from the fact that the speaker is calling the listener "좆만이" (for example, if your friend's name is "김다솜," you often refer to her as "다솜이," and when you call her directly, you call her "다솜아!")

I have covered the word "좆 (vulgar slang for penis)" and phrases involving it in a couple of posts, and you can read about them here and here. In this particular instance, the name "좆만이" comes from the derogatory assertion that your listener is about as big as a penis ("좆만하다.") Turning that into a name-form, you drop the suffix "-하다" and turn it into "좆만이," like how "다솜" becomes "다솜이."

So in the above phrase, the speaker is:

1. Insulting the listener by asserting that the listener is nothing but a baby, since the listener is about as big as a penis, and

2. Telling the listener that they are about to experience the bitter taste of life, since there is no second try in a real battle.

While this phrase could be used anywhere, its shortened form "인실좆" is exclusively used for the Korean internet users to imply that because of the listener's mistake, they are about to get sued (and experience just how difficult life can get for them.) Nowadays, you can use "인실좆" as a noun that substitute the Korean word "고소," so that instead of "고소당하다 (getting sued)," you might "인실좆 당하다 (get to experience just how real life can get.)"

Of course, in calling someone a "좆만이," there is the air of forced toughness, or "허세" in Korean, on the speaker's part, and the nuance of the phrase ends up sounding a bit ridiculous, injecting some humour into the situation.

In a true display of 허세, you might decide to sue someone, watch them get dragged off by police officers, and when they pass by you in handcuffs, you might whisper in their ear: "인생은 실전이야, 좆만아" with a small smirk. A classic comic book moment!

And it turns out that it is easier to get sued in Korea than in America -- there are some actions that are considered to be a crime in Korean that are not crimes in the Western world. Here are three very common reasons for suing someone in Korea, that the Westerners would not have thought about:

1. 모욕죄 (the crime of insulting someone)

In the Western world, we mostly operate by the principle of "freedom of speech," and so uttering a simple insult is generally protected by the constitution. However, in Korea, a simple insult in public can be grounds for suing someone. According to the Korean criminal law:

311. Any one who intentionally insults another can be subject to incarceration of less than one year, or a fine of less than $2000 USD.

This law covers the case where one person publicly humiliates another via insults, in a way that the bystanders can tell who the insulted person is. So, in particular, if a Korean internet user goes on someone's Facebook profile, and posts vulgarity clearly directed at the owner of the page, the owner can take screenshots of these insults and head to the police station.

Note that this is different from slander; as long as the listener feels humiliated, you have committed a crime in the eyes of the Korean law, even if you may have spoken the truth.

And these laws get used frequently. There were 8488 lawsuits filed by the end of July in 2015, pertaining to online insults. And these lawsuits have been on the rise ever since.

For a culture that puts a lot of emphasis on saving face, this is not a completely unreasonable law, although it goes directly against the Western values! My feeling is that a lot of Koreans don't take this very seriously; some people view this as an opportunity for a small side income, and habitually sues anyone who insults them online. Others view this as a source of amusement, as there are many dramas related to one internet user trying to sue another (often, the drama concludes by a public apology by the offending party.)

2. 초상권 (the right to your portraits)

In the Western world, if you are in a public place, it is assumed that anyone can be recording you. Your right to privacy applies only in areas where you can reasonably expect privacy. 

That being said, if you read the Korean newspapers, you may have seen the blurred-out faces of the people in the background of a newspaper photo. In Korea, it is recognized that if you are photographed against your will and the photo distributed, the person can feel humiliation or embarrassment, and this act infringes on the right to privacy. So, unless you are explicitly doing acts that are presumably inviting photographers (such as leading a demonstration, or performing in the streets), you are not allowed to take photos of strangers and share it publicly.

If you're taking a photo of some celebrities in a crowd, make sure you blur out everyone's faces, except the celebrities' faces, since they are probably expecting to get photographed!

In fact, if someone posts photos on online communities or newspapers without blurring out the faces of the people in the background, someone will invariably point out that the photo needs to be edited. 

3. 상간 손해배상 (compensation for adultery)

Up until 2015, it was illegal to commit adultery! Adultery was a crime, and if the faithful spouse was able to provide clear evidence of adultery, the cheating spouse could go to jail for at least 6 months, but less than 2 years. (Fun fact: each sexual act could be counted as a separate instance of the crime!)

There was a surprising amount of hesitation getting rid of this law with the Korean public. They were afraid that their spouses would cheat with abandon, and with no regards to the consequences. The media reports that it is true that people started feeling less guilt about cheating since abolishing the adultery laws.

However, the non-cheating spouse can still ask for damages from not only their cheating spouse, but also the partner of the cheating spouse. As this is a civil matter and no longer criminal, depending on the extent of the damage, they can expect a fair bit of money to be awarded. Unlike the Western world, where anything that goes inside of your bedroom is your business, Koreans feel very differently. In fact, the divorce process is very different as well -- the cheating spouse cannot initiate divorce procedures in Korea, although people think this will change in the future.

So, take care not to trip yourself up while in Korea! I am sure there are other laws that are different, but these three are the ones that I hear about the most online, while being very different from the Western legal perspectives. While the cracker 고소미 may be tasty, I am sure the taste of the Korean court will not be the same.

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#111. 즙을 짜다 -- Crocodile tears

In the past 48 hours, Korean internet has seen unrestrained fiery anger, which had not been witnessed since the impeachment of the president Park Geun-Hye (who had been seeking advice from the shaman Choi Soon-Sil on important national matters).

The story unfolded quite unexpectedly, on the ice during Women's Team Pursuit in the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics. In this event, all three members of a team start together, and run six laps (2400m) around the arena. The catch is that the team's time is recorded as the time it took the slowest member of the team to complete six laps. This means that there are some unexpected strategizing involved. If one member seems to be struggling, the other two members should push them along, and all three members should stay together in case of any unexpected events. It seems to be a heartwarming sport that emphasizes teamwork instead of individual records.

In this quarterfinal match, the Korean team was not expected to medal, but they were aiming for 4th place. Instead, they came in 7th out of 8 teams that competed, because the last member of the Korean team, Noh Sun-Young, was about half a lap behind her teammates.

Many Koreans felt that something was off, since team members are supposed to stay together to help each other.

So, even though the two Koreans (Kim Bo-Reum, and Park Ji-Woo) did well, the Korean team's time was recorded as the last teammate's record, which was four seconds behind the qualifying time.

Something was clearly off, and the Korean netizens started digging around to try to understand what had happened. Of course, the Koreans had a good idea of what was going on -- when one person is separated from the mass, the Korean instinct is to suspect bullying, or 왕따 in Korean (which could loosely be translated as "mass ostracization.")

This is the Korean style of bullying; one person is ignored by everyone else. Every action they take is criticized and laughed at, and as far as everyone is concerned, you don't exist unless they want to tell you something mean-spirited. Almost every Korean experiences it at some point of their life, as ostracization is fairly rampant in the Korean society. So, Koreans react sensitively whenever there is a public 왕따 scandal. First of all, no one should be humiliated like that, and the Koreans see in the victim a shadow of themselves; so they really want to see the bullies punished.

The Koreans dug up evidence in no time.

Exhibit 1: The two Korean skaters (Kim and Park, bottom right) don't seem very friendly with the final team member (Noh, top left).

Exhibit 2: Noh Sun-Young, despondent about having come in so behind her teammates, was crying immediately after the race. The only person caught on camera comforting her was the coach, Bob de Jong.

Exhibit 3: Noh Sun-Young is crying on the left; the other two, Kim Bo-Reum and Park Ji-Woo, on the right, completely ignore their crying teammate.

All of this painted a very clear picture for the Koreans, who have all been there. It was clear that Noh Sun-Young was being bullied and ostracized by her teammates.

The Koreans were thrown into a further fury when Kim Bo-Reum, the captain of the Korean team, gave an interview, in which she insinuated that the Korean team was brought down by their weak link. To the Koreans, this showed that she did not understand the spirit of the sport; Team Pursuit was about teamwork and helping each other, and she was going out of her way to do the opposite.

And her smirk was enough to paint the picture of the perfect villain.

The Koreans started a petition to the Blue House (청와대, Korean equivalent of the White house, translated as the house of blue roof-bricks) and the president; Kim Bo-Reum and Park Ji-Woo lacked the compassion of a human being. Furthermore, they did not have the professionalism to set aside their differences with Noh Sun-Young, and to really play the sport. It also did not help that Noh Sun-Young is older than Kim Bo-Reum and Park Ji-Woo, so Kim and Park expected to be courteous to Noh, according to the teachings of Confucianism.

In just two days, over 500,000 Koreans signed the petition (almost one in every 100 Koreans!) It is said to be the petition that gathered the most number of signatures in the shortest amount of time in the history of the Blue House. You can check the status of the petition here.

They are petitioning for the disqualification of Kim and Park, and they are asking for an investigation into the Korean Skating Association, for having allowed this to happen. The petition will be gathering signatures until March 21, 2018.

Furthermore, the Korean clothing brand NEPA, which had been sponsoring Kim's trainings, announced that their contract with Kim is up on February 28, 2018, and that they will not be renewing their sponsorship.

Kim Bo-Reum called a press conference to apologize for her behaviour in tears, but it seems that no one was moved by her tears. In fact, many Koreans sneered at the fact that she was crying mere days after the smirk which had become famous in the Korean internet. They laughed at her, saying:

"즙짜고 있네" (Way to squeeze out some juice.)

 The word "즙" is often used to describe the juice or sap that you get from squeezing. For example, "오렌지즙" would be the juice of orange that you get when you squeeze. "나무즙" would be the sap of a tree, and so on. The common feature of the 즙 is that you do have to work a little (or a lot, in some cases) to actually get the liquid; so by saying that Kim Bo-Reum is "즙을 짠다," the Korean internauts are making fun of the fact that she is probably making an effort at showing some tears -- that is, they doubt the sincerity of her tears.

Mmmmm!

In general, you can use the verb "즙을 짜다" to describe anyone in Kim Bo-Reum's situation in a derogatory way. If your friend is crying, and you use this word on her, it had better be the case that everyone agrees that she is crying to win over some sympathy; otherwise, you will seem heartless.

I am not sure how this story will wrap up. Kim Bo-Reum and Park Ji-Woo both have more events coming up, and the three women will have to skate once more as a team at the Team Pursuit event today, which determines the 7th place and the 8th place.

People often say that in Korea, there are only two kinds of scandals that will damage your career forever -- one is to evade your military duties (since most Korean men spend about two years of their lives in service), and the other is to cause a bullying scandal.

No scandal of this magnitude has ever happened in the Korean athletic community. While I hope that these talented skaters are given a second chance, they seemed to have touched one of the very few taboo things in the Koreans' collective psyche, and we will have to wait and see what happens. Many Koreans seem to believe that PyeongChang will be Kim's last Olympic games.

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#110. 수호랑 -- the story behind the Olympic mascot

Winter Olympics are truly my favourite world event! I spend all of my evenings watching the games, so this is going to be a short post (so that I can go off and watch more Olympics events -- I have to admit, I cheer for Team Canada!)

I wanted to tell you a little bit about the adorable Olympics mascot, which is a white tiger named 수호랑 (Soohorang).

Being a mascot is a big job, as a mascot symbolizes many things; the spirit of the Olympics, as well as the host. And I think 수호랑 is doing this job admirably.

First of all, tigers have always stood for the Koreans. Koreans believe that the Korean peninsula looks like a crouching tiger, and being the strongest creatures within the Korean mountains (and there are many of them), many villages adopted tigers as their guardian deity within the traditional Korean shamanism, or 수호신 in Korean ("수호" means to guard, and "신" means deity). It should also be noted that in the Korean shamanism, albino animals typically symbolizes good omen -- a white tiger is, therefore, very special indeed!

Tigers also universally symbolize strength and power, as do the Olympics athletes.

Then there is the name of this mascot, "수호랑." You can already see where the word "수호" comes from; it symbolizes the Koreans' hopes that this mythical white tiger will stand guard against all evil things, and lead the Olympics to a success, while protecting the athletes and the audience from bad fortunes.

The word "랑" is also interesting to me. Officially, it comes from the Korean word "호랑이" meaning tiger, so that the name of the mascot "수호랑" means "protecting tiger." However, the nuance of the word is even more beautiful to me, because the suffix "-랑" was traditionally used (primarily in the Three Kingdoms era, and even into the Joseon Dynasty) as an honorific. For example, if your name was "준호," people would have called you "준호랑" to show some degree of respect -- the nuance is not unlike the "Mr.-" prefix, or "-chan" or "-sama" suffix in Japanese. So "수호랑" also taps some thousand years into the Korean history, and pays respect to this tiger deity who protects us.

There is also the fact that Korea hosted the 1988 Summer Olympics, so the Olympics have returned to Korea in exactly 30 years! The mascot of the 1988 Summer Olympics was also a tiger named "호돌이" (which could be roughly translated to "tiger boy" -- see this post for an explanation of the suffix "-돌이.") So, Koreans wanted to continue with another tiger mascot for the sake of continuity, and the back story is that 수호랑 is the son of 호돌이!

Finally, you may have noticed that some events do not award the medals at the venue, and they hold a separate ceremony for the medals. This started in the 2006 Torino Olympics to make sure that the athletes and the audience were not spending an unreasonable amount of time in the cold; so the athletes get a small souvenir at the venue, and the official ceremony with the anthems and the medals are held elsewhere.

The souvenirs for the medalling athletes were, not surprisingly, a stuffed 수호랑! However, these limited-edition 수호랑 dolls are special because they are wearing these adorable hats:

I have been searching everywhere to buy one of these dolls with this hat on, but it seems that only the Olympic athletes can get them. If you know otherwise, PLEASE let me know!

The reason I am going crazy over these hats is because these hats also hold a very special place in the Korean history.

In a past post, I had talked about how being a public servant has always been high on the Koreans' list of good jobs, thanks to its security and prestige. Thanks to a tradition that spans hundreds of years, the public servants of Korea are selected in a nationwide exam.

It was (and still is!) a big deal to pass these exams (passing this exam is called "급제"); if you passed with the top grades, called 장원급제, it was even a bigger deal (not anymore). These winners of the national exam would be employed in a more important position, and the king himself would congratulate the winner on his academic achievements. Having a winner come out of your village was an occasion to celebrate; and the winner would be given some time to come back home, and share this happy moment with his (no women were allowed to write these exams) family and friends.

An old drawing of a winner (장원급제자, or the person who achieved 장원급제) of the national exam.

When the winner returned home, he would be draped in a silk gown, and he would be wearing a special hat called 어사화 (literally, flowers "화" given "사" by the king "어"). These were paper flowers hanging in willow branches, that you stuck behind your hat. Being able to wear these paper flowers were a privilege, and something that all men dreamed of!

And now, the Olympic athletes symbolically get to wear these 어사화, through the Olympic mascot 수호랑. Watching these venue ceremonies where these athletes are presented with the flowers from the king fills this history nerd with such pride and happiness -- I love that the Koreans are sharing a small piece of their history with the world.

Finally, I leave you with a completely adorable video (in English, Korean subtitles) of foreigners trying to figure out the purpose of 어사화. I am off to watch more Olympics games, though!

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#109. 욜로, 골로가다 -- What the YOLO lifestyle will get you in Korea

#YOLO is something of a 2010 phrase in the English language (Drake used it first in 2011). While it is still occasionally used as a hashtag, the feeling that I get is that it is often used ironically.

In Korea, however, the word YOLO (욜로 in Korean) is still going strong. Generally, it takes a while for a foreign word to gain enough popularity, so the word was slow to rise in the Korean culture, so the word became popular after its English counterpart was past its peak, and it started being used in the Korean media around 2017.

Like many English-based slang in Korean, the word 욜로 actually changed its meaning at some point. While the anglophones use the word to justify reckless behaviour, the Koreans use it to describe something slightly different.

For the Koreans, 욜로 is a lifestyle. So, people who pursue this lifestyle are called 욜로족 (the YOLO tribe; the "족" here appears in words such as "가족 (family)," and "부족 (tribe).")

The Koreans who pursue the 욜로 lifestyle tend to live for the moment. These people, mostly in their 20s and 30s, spend most of their earnings on their hobbies. They see their spending as an investment in a better quality of life in their future. They save very little, if at all, and they immerse themselves completely in the activities they enjoy. For example, a 욜로족 might decide to quit their high-paying job and travel around the world until they run out of their savings. Or they might decide to spend thousands of dollars to pursue their ballet hobbies, by taking many lessons. They try to think as little as possible of the consequences of their decisions, because for them, living the moment is just as important as their future.

So, instead of the completely negative and derogatory nuance in the English language, the Korean version of YOLO is a mix of the positive and the negative. I would say that the nuance of "욜로" matches the phrase "carpe diem" much more than "YOLO."

Of course, there are many Koreans that disapprove of this lifestyle, especially among the older Koreans. While reading an article that describes this YOLO lifestyle, I saw a comment that made me laugh out loud. The comment was:

"욜로족 좋아하다 골로족 된다."

If you try to translate this sentence following its nuance, it could translate to something like "if you keep following the YOLO tribe, you'll become a part of the GOLO tribe."

This sentence was so appropriate that even the super-popular Korean celebrity 유재석 (Jae-Suk Yoo) made references to it.

The value of this sentence in this clever construction of the two rhyming words. The writer of this sentence managed to make the connection between the similarities of the two words "욜로" and "골로." So, what does "골로" mean, and why is this an appropriate and witty thing to say on the internet?

Well, the word "골로" in the above sentence (which is not actually a word) comes from the verb "골로 가다," and it actually has a sad history.

The word "골" means "valley." You may have come across this word in "산골짜기" which means a valley in the mountains. Or you may have seen this word in "고랑 (which likely comes from "골앙" although no one knows the exact etymology)," which means furrow (long narrow trench in the ground, to make the water flow through it).

So the verb "골로 가다" means "to go to a valley" (and this is why "골로" is not actually a word; it means "to the valley" and it is an incomplete phrase in the Korean language).

"너 골로가고싶냐?" might be a perfect caption for this photo -- remember how to use the conjugation -냐?

It turns out that this slang comes from the times of the Korean War in the 1950s. Back then, the Korean population was divided into two factions; the heavily left-leaning people (most of whom left to North Korea to see their communist ideals come to fruition), and the heavily right-leaning people (who had the political power right after the Korean War). Both sides tried very hard to kill off the other side. Back in these days, even the smallest act such as giving a bowl of rice to the "enemy" was enough to get you killed by the other side, whichever side that may be.

When one was pegged as the enemy by one of these sides, they would force one into a secluded area, to be shot and killed, then buried quietly. As Korea is a very mountainous place, the easiest choice for a secluded area were in the mountains, and often in the valleys as it would be difficult to escape from a valley. Therefore, back in the 1950s, if someone led you to a valley, you would know that something has gone very wrong, and you would have been fearful of your life.

So people in this era, and the years following it, used the phrase "골로 가다" to (playfully) threaten each other. For example, say that you were doing the dishes, then you slipped and almost broke one of the family heirloom dishes. Your younger brother, who watched the whole thing, might say:

"조심해. 엄마가 알면 골로간다." (Be careful. If mom finds out, she might send you to the valley.)

Or, if you failed your exam badly, you might say:

"나 오늘 집에 가면 골로 갈듯." (When I go home tonight, I might get sent to the valley.)

So, the phrase "골로 간다" means that you f*cked up big time, and your life is at stake (exaggeration, I hope!)

Of course, this phrase doesn't get used that much anymore, as it sounds fairly old-fashioned.

This screenshot is a bit funny; while "골로 가다" has a long history, it is still slang and not totally appropriate to use in a formal setting -- certainly I would not expect a uniformed police officer to use this word!

However, this phrase is so perfect for the situation that I described above, that it made a brief comeback. Now we can understand what this sentence means:

"욜로족 좋아하다 골로족 된다." (If you like the YOLO tribe too much, you might be sent to the valley.)

"골로족" is not actually a word; however, knowing that the suffix "-족" describes a clan or a tribe of people doing the activity in the root word together, the word "골로족" should mean a group of people who are getting sent to the valley (if you think about it, this word is a bit troubling, as many Koreans were indeed massacred in the valleys during and immediately after the Korean War).

So this clever comment is saying that if you try to hard to be in the "YOLO tribe," you might end up in the "GOLO tribe = 골로족," which are the people who get sent to the valley -- that is, the people who screwed up big-time in their lives. Of course, the speaker is trying to say that if you spend without any regards to the future, you will one day be sorry.

Except, the sentence sounds a lot catchy with this clever rhyme of "욜로족" against "골로족." To me, sentences like this really highlight the linguistic abilities of the Korean people -- what a clever yet appropriate witticism!

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