#121. 도화살 -- Fated to be attractive (Shamanism 11, feat. Sulli, IU)

My mom was just in Korea for a visit, and on her way back, she brought back some Korean cosmetics for me (if you ever visit Korea, remember that these make the best souvenir gifts!) She excitedly told me that she chatted to the store clerk, and got some of the most popular cosmetics items for me, including these eyeshadows in the photo below. Alas, the Korean popularity does not necessarily translate to something that is wearable as a daily makeup in North America.

Thanks, mom! Believe it or not, I'm sincere.

While I was a little taken aback by these colours, I was willing to give it a try. And I knew exactly what kind of look I would be aiming for. One of the most popular makeup trends today is called "도화살 메이크업" (makeup "메이크업" in the style of "도화살," which honestly has no translation in English.) Long story short, the Korean women are trying to imitate the looks of the popular celebrity Sulli (설리) by using red or pink coloured makeup items. Yet, it's not that they are trying to be Sulli (who has had her share of scandals, and many Koreans do not look kindly upon her).

Sulli is one of my favourite Korean celebrities! She is so beautiful, and so interesting (although she has her faults).

Let's start at the very beginning.

Many Koreans believe in what we call "사주팔자." Most Koreans take this word to mean "fate," and they believe in it with a reserved respect. While almost no one puts a blind faith in 사주팔자, people generally don't mind having their 사주팔자 told every once in a while (traditionally, people want to hear their 사주팔자 on New Year's Day, and before their wedding, or other big life events). In Korean, you say:

"나 내일 사주보러 가려고" (I'm going to get my 사주팔자 told tomorrow -- you often shorten it to just "사주".)

The way 사주팔자 works is very mysterious to me; the idea is that based on when you're born (the year, month, day, as well as the time of your birth -- these four (사) data points are the pillars (주) of your purpose on earth, by which you are assigned a role in life -- you are assigned eight (팔) Hanja characters (자). In this age of technology, you can find these eight Hanja characters by an online calculator, for example, here (fill in the first line only; these are your birth year, month, date, hour, minute, and location (You probably want to enter the time of your birth in Korean time, but I'm not sure.) Then click "만세력 (Manse calendar)").

These eight Hanja letters written in four columns (from left to right, time, day, month, and year), if interpreted correctly, supposedly tells you of your course of life, and the role you were given by the skies.

Of course, actually interpreting them correctly is said to take decades of learning and practice. As a result, of all the shamanistic beliefs that exist in Korea, the people who engage in the interpretation of 사주팔자 are probably one of the most socially accepted (some people don't even include them in the category of shamans, preferring to view them as "the wise," if you will; some people learn how to interpret these as a hobby).

By interpreting these columns correctly, you can perceive your good fortunes (called "신"), and your misfortunes ("살"). So Koreans would often talk about "신살," which are your good and bad fortunes. As you might have guessed, the word "도화살" is a type of "살", a bad fortune. 

So, why would the Korean women try to look like they have a 도화살, a bad fortune?

This is because 도화살 is an interesting bad fortune. The word "도화" literally means "peach blossoms" in Hanja. The word "도" means "peach" (for example, one type of peaches is called "천도" or sky peach), and "화" means "flower" (as in "국화" meaning chrysanthemum, or "화관" meaning flower crown). In pure Korean, one might instead say "복숭아꽃", where "복숭아" means "peach." So why would peach blossoms signify bad fortune?

Peach blossom, or 도화 in Korean

Peach blossoms are not necessarily known for their beauty (unlike roses, for example). Nonetheless, they have their own charms, and they have such delicious smell that entices the insects to flock to it. The insects (not just the bees and butterflies, but all sorts of terrible insects, too) apparently become addicted to the aroma of peach blossoms eventually, and they will die around the peach blossoms after pining for it for days (to be honest, I have no idea if this is true or not, but this is what the wise people of 사주팔자 say!)

In the olden-day Korea, where sex was viewed as a negative thing, it was said that if a woman has a 도화살 in her 사주팔자, then she would not be able to satisfy her needs with just one man, and that she would end up prostituting herself, or become a 기생 (Korean version of Geisha -- notice the similarities in the pronunciation!) If a man married a woman with a 도화살, he would lose all of his chi ("기," life energy) and die early. 

If a man had a 도화살, then he would eventually become enticed by drinking and women, and eventually lead his family into destruction. For this reason, whether someone had a 도화살 or not was an important question to ask each other before a marriage.

In Korean, if you have a 도화살, you say:

"나 도화살 있어." (I have 도화살).

However, times have changed. Sexuality is not so stigmatized anymore, and being attractive and charming is now a positive thing. For example, for celebrities, who make their living by attracting love and admiration from many people, it would be advantageous to have a 도화살 in their 사주팔자 (in fact, you can even have more than one!) and even the average Koreans started wishing for a 도화살.

현아, of the Gangnam Style fame, is another celebrity who is said to have 도화살.

People who are born with a strong 도화살 are said to have a certain look (remember that the Koreans believe that one can guess certain aspects of a person based on how they look!) -- in short, the people with a 도화살 have a certain pinkish sheen in their face that makes them look very attractive. Here is how the people with 도화살 supposedly look like:

- softly arched eyebrows, like the crescent moon

- light brown and moist eyes

- the "inner V" part of your eye should be sharp

- white and soft skin

- round nose

- long eyelashes

- red and plump lips

- brown hair (as opposed to jet black that is typical of Koreans)

- flushed cheeks

In particular, Koreans place a particular emphasis on how your eyes should look -- they should look like you had just cried, looking moist and red around the rim -- it's supposed to evoke the "instinct to protect" from men, "보호본능" in Korean. The upper lashline does not go up as they travel towards the outside of your eye, and maybe there is a beauty spot around your eye.

And this is why the pink and burgundy eyeshadows are popular in Korea! The Koreans try to use these reddish shades to create the look of the women with a 도화살, in the hopes that this look will bring them popularity.

It is mostly understood and accepted among the Koreans that 설리's face is more or less the textbook definition of how a woman with a 도화살 should look. Interestingly, in the early 1900's, there was a very famous 기생 (Geisha) of the Joseon Dynasty named 이난향 -- she must have had very strong 도화살, given her occupation. And she looks almost identical to 설리!

When this photo first surfaced, this freaked a lot of people out, and surely it contributed to the popularity of the 도화살 makeup.

And this is why 설리's nickname among the Koreans (fans and non-fans alike) is "인간복숭아," or "human peach." Not only does she remind people of a peach, people are also referring to the fact that it almost looks like she was fated to be a successful celebrity, and they are acknowledging the fact that 설리's 사주팔자 probably contains multiple 도화살s (the maximum number that you can have is four). You might say something like:

"설리는 도화살이 적어도 서너개는 될듯" (Sulli probably has 3-4 도화살s.)

Interestingly, the popular singer IU, who is good friends with 설리, wrote a song for 설리, titled "복숭아 (Peach)." The lyrics tell the irresistible charm of 설리, and you can pick up some descriptions of the 도화살 there.

To close this long post, let me explain how to tell if you have a 도화살. Go back to your Manse calendar, enter your birth data, and look at the bottom row of the eight Hanja characters.

- If the second character from the left (子 in the above example), or the last character (辰 in the above example) in the bottom row is one of 寅,午, or 戌, then you have a 도화살 if you can find the character "卯" in your set of eight Hanja characters.

-  If the second character from the left or the last character of the bottom row is one of 申,子, or 辰, then you have a 도화살 if you can find the character "酉" in your set of eight Hanja characters.

- If the second character from the left or the last character of the bottom row is one of 巳, 酉, or 丑, then you have a 도화살 if you can find the character "午" in your set of eight Hanja characters.

- If the second character from the left or the last character of the bottom row is one of 亥, 卯, or 未, then you have a 도화살 if you can find the character "子" in your set of eight Hanja characters.

There can be at most four 도화살, and the more 도화살 you have, the more of a femme (or homme) fatale you are. I have never seen 설리's 사주팔자, but I definitely wonder how many 도화살 she has! As for my attempt at the 도화살 makeup, while it didn't turn out too terribly, I decided to reserve it for the occasional days when I feel like trying something new.

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#120. 틀딱충 -- Shut up, gramps!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

or

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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#119. 주작 -- God of lies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

whenever he did or said something.

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

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

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

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

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

Birch trees

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

or just simply:

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

or, if you want to be particularly sarcastic:

"날아오르라 주작이여."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ingredients:

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

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

And the recipe (with translation) follows:

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

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

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

Now stir the contents of the two bowls together.

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

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

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

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

Tada! It is finished. Now go and enjoy!

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

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

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

This is Mark of GOT7.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Source: Wikipedia)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The poem supposedly translates to:

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

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

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

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

And show the traitors the true power of North Korea

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

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

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

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