#84. -냐 -- Conjugation of the badass tough bros

For the first time, I want to talk about how to conjugate verbs in a slangy way. You have probably noticed that there are countless ways of conjugating a Korean verb, and each conjugation has a slightly different nuance. For example, "피곤하다 (to feel/be tired)" can be conjugated in various ways, including:

"피곤하세요?" (Are you tired?) -- to elders and superiors

"피곤해?" (Are you tired?) -- to friends and younger people

"피곤하신가봐요." (It seems that you are tired) -- to elders and superiors

"피곤하구나." (I see you are tired) -- to friends and younger people

"피곤하시겠어요." (You must be tired) -- to elders and superiors

"피곤하겠다" (You musts be tired) -- to friends and younger people

Here is one more way to conjugate this verb, and you probably didn't learn it in classes (although what do I know, I have never taken a Korean class!) This conjugation has two usages, so let me give scenarios for both.

A friend of yours that you have a huge crush on is yawning and dozing on the bus. She must have spent all of last night studying again. You want to cheer her up a little, so in the classic K-drama style, you take out a can coffee (yes, you can buy coffee in a can in Korea), and approach her. You want to give it to her, but you don't want to look like a clingy and weak person who is hopelessly in love with her. Rather, you convince yourself that you don't even care about that girl, but you happen to have this can coffee that you don't even want to drink, and since she looks like she might need it, you're going to give it to her. Because you're a generous person. No other reason. So you tap her on the shoulder, and say:

"피곤하냐?" (You tired?)

 Then you hold out your coffee and give her a quick smile. Perfectly executed.

Awww.

You're playing the part of a tough person who doesn't have a care in the world, and it turns out that this "-냐" conjugation works very well in this context. It conveys extreme familiarity (so don't use this conjugation to your elders and superiors), as well as the air of nonchalance and manliness(!) So, a lot of men use this conjugation in front of girls that they know well, as well as within their close friend group. Women very rarely use this conjugation; this conjugation is perceived as fairly masculine, and women might feel offended if a fellow woman uses this conjugation towards another woman. If you think about it, this kind of nonchalant bro-feeling is conveyed more often among men even in the English language!

Some other examples of this conjugation (among male friends):

"이번 주말에 뭐하냐?" (Yo, what are you doing this weekend?)

"안자냐?" (Dude, aren't you sleeping?)

"밥 먹었냐?" (Hey, have you eaten already?)

And all of these convey that familiar nonchalant bro-y feeling.

Now, here is the second usage of this conjugation. As a manager of a company, you are in charge of several employees. But you can't seem to deal with this one employee. He is frequently late to work, his productivity is way down, and he falls asleep during meetings.

One day, you are so angry, but you try to suppress your anger and talk to this employee in a reasonable way. While you are trying to tell him nicely that he should not fall asleep during meetings because it is rude to his fellow employees, this employee, incredibly, falls asleep again.

You are livid. Is this a direct challenge? Does he even realize that you're his boss?

In a menacing low tone, you ask one last time:

피곤하냐? (So you're tired, huh?)

The undertone that is omitted here is something like "Are you trying to challenge me?" or "Do you want to get fired?"According to gender stereotype, male language is of course more aggressive and straightforward. So it makes sense to be aggressive using this masculine conjugation.

You can also threaten people in other ways using this conjugation:

"죽고싶냐?" (Do you have a death wish?)

"맞고싶냐?" (Do you want to be punched?)

Of course, depending on context, these above quotes could be interpreted as just being playful between friends. But these contexts are so different from one another that you won't make many mistakes distinguishing them. So, listen for these conjugations amongst your friends, and try sprinkling a dose of masculinity to your everyday Korean dialogues!

P.S. Also, you know, I'm all for gender equality, but there are some things that you just have to acknowledge; there are clear male conjugations and female conjugations in Korea, and I can't explain it any other way! The issue of male/female conjugations have been brought up in Korea a few times (many novelists use gendered conjugations), and maybe one day they will disappear. However, this gender divide still exists, and I decided that I wasn't going to pretend that it didn't exist.

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Listening Exercise with Transcript #14: Baby talk

Here is a transcript of a Korean baby (her name is "예빈") having a conversation with her mother. While babies talking is definitely more difficult to understand, this kind of baby talk is often used by the Korean women as an aegyo material, as they often mimic babies in trying to look adorable to their boyfriends!

Without further ado, here is the transcript:

Mom: 예빈이 누구닮았다고? (Who does Yebin look like?)
Baby: 에비느엄마달마쪄요! (예빈이 엄마 닮았어요! - Yebin looks like mommy!)

Mom: 에이~ 거짓말! (You're lying!)
Baby: 즘말즘말! 지짱지짱! (정말정말! 진짜진짜! - Really really!)

Mom: 에이~ 아닌것같은데? (Hmm. I don't think so!)
Baby: 지짱 지짱야~ (진짜 진짜야! Really really!)

Mom: 누구닮았다고? (Who does she look like again?)
Baby: 예비니엄마달마쪄요! (예빈이 엄마 닮았어요! - Yebin looks like mommy!)

Mom: 정말? (Really?)

Baby: 응! (Mmhmm!)



Mom: 진짜로? (Really?)

Baby: 응! (Mmhmm!)

Mom: 진짜? (Really?)
Baby: 응! (Mmhmm!)

Mom: 에이~ 아닌것같은데? (I don't believe you!)
Baby: 지땅 지땅야~ (진짜 진짜야! - Really really!)

Mom: 정말 엄마 닮았어? (You really look like mommy?)
Baby: 응. (Yes!)

Mom: 예빈이 누구 닮았다고? (Who does Yebin look like again?)
Baby: 에분이엄마달마쪄요!  (예빈이 엄마 닮았어요! - Yebin looks like mommy!)

Mom: 진짜로? (Really?)
Baby: 네! (Yes!)

Mom: 진짜? (Really?)
Baby: 네! (Yes!)

Mom: 알았어! 최고! 최고! 따봉! (Okay! You're the best! The best! Tabon!)
Tabon is Korean slang originating from Portuguese. Although it means "okay" in Portuguese, Koreans must have understood this to mean "very good" in their initial contact with Portuguese people (if you think about it, this is an understandable mistake!) So "따봉" in Korean means "very good"

Mom: 예빈이 누구 닮았다고? (Who does Yebin look like again?)
Baby: 네비니엄마달마쓔유! (예빈이 엄마 닮았어요! - Yebin looks like mommy!)

There are a couple of interesting points to note from this short conversation. First, notice that the baby is referring to herself in the third person. This is actually quite normal, as babies are probably learning to talk by mirroring her mother, who is referring to the baby in the third person. In fact, a lot of Korean women attempting aegyo will also refer to themselves in third person, so that they can pretend to be a baby.

Also, the baby conjugates the verbs in an adorable way because she cannot yet speak Korean well enough. Instead of pronouncing "닮았어요" she only manages to pronounce "달마쪄요," which is another common form of verb conjugation in aegyo!

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#83. 숙주나물 -- Bean sprouts

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

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

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

신숙주, whose reputation is questionable at best.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#82. 금수저 -- Thanks to your parents

As I get older, I'm noticing that life is less fair than I expected it to be. Do your best, follow your heart, and everything will work out. I try my best, and while I'm satisfied with my life, there are people who seemingly don't have to try very hard to get everything that they want.

The most infuriating of those people are perhaps the people who were born to rich parents. They literally lucked out once by being born to rich parents, and everything else seems to have fallen into place for them.

In Korea, this phenomenon is even more visible, as they have the culture of chaebol (재벌), where the ownership of large corporations are passed on within family (Samsung is the largest chaebol family in Korea). Many of the children born in these chaebol family are, as you might imagine, spoiled and entitled. But for the most part, they seem to live their lives in comfort and wealth with seemingly no consequences of their entitled behaviour. It can be truly frustrating to see that someone is getting ahead of you when you are doing your very best.

Koreans might say:

"부모 잘만나서 호강하네" (He met good parents, and he's living the good life)

"부모" is "부 (father)" + "모 (mother)" in Chinese, and "호강" means to "live a luxurious (호화스럽다) and comfortable (강, as in 강녕하다 or 만수무강하다) life."

I find this to be a surprisingly a flat expression by the Korean standards! Surely the Koreans can do better? The netizens of Korea soon found a better expression from the English language: "to born with a silver spoon in one's mouth" was more descriptive, and it resonated with the Koreans. Silver is "은" in Korean (such as "은메달" or "silver medal") and spoon is "수저" (you can say "숟가락," but "수저" is a bit more old-fashioned and more fitting since we're trying to translate an old expression.)

So Koreans started saying:

"입에 은수저를 물고 태어났네." (Literally, born with a silver spoon in one's mouth.)

Now, if you were a Korean internet user who was aspiring to be complimented for your 드립, how would you take this expression further?

The Koreans just took the natural steps forward -- while your rich friend in school might have been born with an 은수저 in his mouth, the children of chaebol were even more jealousy-inducing, and they must have been born with something better than an 은수저. The obvious candidate is a 금수저 (golden spoon). Then even among the chaebols, children born in a particularly successful family, such as Samsung, were born with a 다이아수저 (dia-spoon, short for diamond spoon).

As this is not offensive (to most people, anyway), the media even picked up on it, and now it is one of the most commonly used slang expressions (even in formal writing!) Look below (click to enlarge) to see approximately what kind of spoon you were born with!

"자산" means the total worth of your household; "가구" means your household, and "연 수입" is the annual income. If you want to call yourself a "금수저," your household must have at least $2M USD as assets, and annual income of $200K USD.

 For the brevity of expression, Koreans at some point opted for calling someone a "금수저," "은수저" etc, instead of going with the full expression of having been born with a spoon in one's mouth. So, you could enviously call your rich friend a "금수저" in Korean slang.

Then the regular people on the internet also wanted a word to contrast themselves against the rich people, or the "금수저s." They opted for "흙수저," or a spoon made out of dirt, or even "똥수저," a spoon made out of, well, feces.

As for the nuance of these words, I always find that all of these words are often spoken with a fair amount of bitterness and frustration. There are a number of problems with the Korean society at present, where the younger people are having trouble finding jobs, housing prices (in Seoul, where most people want to live) have skyrocketed and it is often impossible to buy a house even with 10 years' worth of your salary, and so on.

There is exactly one kind of spoon that is spoken purely with humour.

This guy was born with a "핵수저," a nuclear spoon. I don't think that anyone will try to argue with this one!

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#81. 괴담 -- Just how real is the tiger-demon of Korea? (Shamanism 6)

I'll admit it, I slept with the lights on after I wrote the tiger-demon article from last week. Something about the Korean horror stories (especially if they're claimed to be true) freaks me out; maybe it's because there's traces of shamanism in my upbringing (and as a consequence, a small part of me believes these stories); or maybe it's just the sheer number of these stories, and how they all seem to match up. There were so many stories that some media outlets even wrote articles about them!

These kinds of news articles actually appeared in media.

Tiger-demon aside, there are actually a surprising number of these stories in the Korean society. These "scary urban legends" are often called "괴담."

The letter "괴" is Chinese meaning "strange" or "scary." For example, "괴물" is a "monster" in Korean, aliens are sometimes called "괴생명체 (strange life-forms)" and demons are called "요괴 (magical and strange beings)."

The letter "담" means "story" and it is used widely. If you want to read about someone's experience, search for "경험담 (experience story)." If you want to hear about the time when your friend saw something happening, ask about their "목격담 (witnessed story)."

So "괴담" means "strange story" and you will find so many "장산범 괴담" on the internet.

Anyway, here is the story that really scared me, with some edits to make the story clearer. As before, if you'd like to read the story in Korean, you can find it here.

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 My grandmother is 93 years old. Yep, she is pretty old. But she is still full of life. She can still walk well, and she can down an entire bottle of soju if there is a family gathering. She likes to sing, and her memory is top-notch. She remembers even the smallest events in my family from many years ago.

Anyway, this is a story that my grandmother often told me when I was in elementary school and middle school. It's the story of a 범. Every time she told this story, she always looked tense and shivered.

Whenever she sees a tiger ("호랑이" in Korean) on TV, she always says that this is not a 범 (while it is another word for a tiger in Korean, it seems that at least some people distinguish them, at least in these stories!) She says that 범s have magical powers, and that they are snow-white.

When she was in her 20s, my grandmother lived in the 황해 province, which is now in North Korea. One day, she went into a nearby mountain to pick some wild fiddleheads with three friends. While they did this often, that particular day, they decided to go a little deeper into the woods in hopes that there will be more fiddleheads.

Indeed there were a lot of fiddleheads and other wild edible plants, and they filled up their baskets with them. My grandmother remembers that on that day, they ate lunch of barley rice (보리밥), soybean paste (된장), and cucumber kimchi (by the way, this is a totally standard meal in the 1920-30s of Korea). Then they decided to leave the mountain early because it looked like they could be trapped in a storm if they stayed too late.

Unfortunately, they didn't bring enough water. As they finished lunch and started to come down from the mountain, one of their friends was whining about how thirsty she was. But as they were near the summit, they couldn't find any water.

All of a sudden, they heard the sound of a stream, where the water seemed to be flowing (in Korean onomatopoeia, it is described as "졸졸졸 시냇물 흐르는 소리 -- the sound of flowing stream.") All four of them heard it.

The friend who was whining didn't want to get separated from the group, so all four of them set out to search for the stream so she could drink some water. Although they followed the sound for some time, they couldn't locate the stream. Sometimes they could hear the sound, and sometimes they couldn't. They were so tired so they gave up on the search for the stream and turned back to get back on the mountain trail.

Then they saw the thing on their way back up. Two lights not unlike the headlights of a car shining down at them. My grandmother described it as a thing covered in white fur. Very fine, very soft, and long. While it was clearly not human, it felt human. It was standing there, between them and the trail, looking down at them, and making the sound of the flowing stream from its mouth. It wasn't growling or roaring.

The four women screamed and ran down the side of the mountain, already having dropped all of their baskets full of fiddleheads, and even losing some shoes in their panic. And behind them they could still hear the sound of the stream following them.

About halfway down, they saw a little hut, probably used by those who look for medicinal herbs in the mountain. They ran inside the hut, locked the door, and cried in their panic. Then the sound of the stream stopped.

They could hear something coming up to the door. It circled the hut, then called out the name of the friend who was whining earlier of thirst. The voice was so full of warmth, and so soft. The friend recognized it as her mother's voice. No one dared to answer, and it started to rain. So instead of trying to get back to their village, they all fell asleep in the little hut together.

In the dawn of the next day, when the woke up, the friend who was complaining of thirst was gone. The three remaining women searched for her frantically but could not find her. Their return to the village of course put everyone in panic, and the Japanese police force with their long swords (this would have been in the Japanese occupation era) searched the village and the surrounding areas. But no one ever saw the friend again, and they never found her body either.
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I'm still not sure why I am so fascinated by these stories, but all of these shamanism theories aside, it's good fun to read scary stories once in a while and get some organic goosebumps in the heat of the summer, no?

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#80. Someone tweeted about a 맘충

Today, while browsing the internet, I saw a tweet, in which someone complains about a 맘충 that they encountered. It seemed to have just the right amount of slang that I thought I would put it here.

Here is the text:
와 진짜 골때린다 ㅋㅋㅋ
Wow, I really feel like I've just been hit in the head.

요즘 애엄마들 다 그러나?
Are all moms like this nowadays?

남의 가게 메뉴꾸며놓은 칠판에 애가 낙서하고있는데 거기다대고 "어머~ 참잘했어요~"
Her kid was ruining the menu board for someone else's store and she said "wow~ good job~"
(Note that the writer made one typo, saying 낚서 instead of 낙서.)

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ 왘ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
"왘" is actually "와" but if you type "와" and "ㅋㅋㅋ" together, you often end up with "왘." It just means "wow."

닥치고 니가 그대로 복구해놔라
Shut up and put it back yourself.

Hopefully studying the Korean slang made this tweet easier to understand!

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#79. 파오후 -- You are f-ing obese (not my words, theirs!)

Another shout-out to Shane for suggesting covering more onomatopoeic words! :)

This had not occurred to me before Shane asked me about the Korean onomatopoeia in one of my other posts -- the Korean language is full of onomatopoeia, compared to English! For example, the following sentences all use onomatopoeia and they are sentences that you would often hear in everyday life.

"먹을때 쩝쩝대지 마." (Don't chew with your mouth open -- "쩝쩝" is onomatopoeia for the sound that you make when you do)

"이 수학문제를 가지고 한시간째 끙끙대고 있어." (I've been struggling with this math problem for an hour -- "끙끙" is the sound that you might make when you're struggling with a heavy weight at the gym. Math problems make you suffer just as much, right?)

"물결이 찰랑대는 호수가 너무 예쁘다." (The lake with small waves is so beautiful -- "찰랑" is the onomatopoeia for the small sloshing of water. For a larger wave, you might use "출렁" instead.)

These onomatopoeia occupy a large portion of the Korean language, and while we, the anglophones, might use these words to a toddler to engage in conversation, these are totally normal words to use in Korean. This brings up the question, how about on the internet? Do the Koreans also make up new onomatopoeia?

The answer is a loud YES. Looking through my previous posts, I have talked about one instance of onomatopoeia here (the word is "철컹철컹" which describes the clanking of handcuffs, and also describes how you might be locked up in a jail cell with a lock). Perhaps this is not totally satisfactory since "철컹철컹" is an onomatopoeia that already existed in standard Korean. But here is one that you might find to be more amusing (or more offensive, as is the case with most internet literature!)

Long before YouTube was a thing, Koreans already had a platform where people could have their own channels, and create video content that was broadcasted live. The website still exists. But it often comes under fire because a lot of people there create questionable content (for example, minors trying to create sexual content for the money, or adults trying dangerous stunts), and the censorship is not well enforced for the most part.

Anyway, one of these broadcasters, who was known for being overweight, was one day streaming a video of himself eating. He made some interesting noises during the broadcast, which, to Koreans, seemed like the sound that people make when they are very enthusiastic about food (and this is an awful stereotype, but a fair number of these people are overweight).

When he inhales the food, it sounds like he's breathing in and saying "파오후," and when he chews, he makes a sound very similar to "쿰척쿰척," listen for yourself and see if you agree that this sounds like a fair representation of the eating sounds that the broadcaster is making.

So the Koreans started making fun of obese people with the phrase "파오후 쿰척쿰척." First when they were eating food, but then it just kind of became a phrase to mock the obese people of the internet. In the current usage, "파오후" just became a noun for "an obese person," and "쿰척쿰척" became an onomatopoeia describing anything that an obese person does. (Another theory says that "파오후" refers to the sounds of breathing of an obese person, and "쿰척쿰척" is the sound of sniffling, so you are free to believe whichever theory suits your imagination!)

At this point, I can imagine your reactions. You are gasping in shock, because this is incredibly insensitive and mean-spirited. And I agree with you; Korean internet users tend to be a lot more vitriolic than their anglophone counterparts.

One of the reasons this is tolerated is because the Korean society is a lot less forgiving towards the people who stand out. This is really how the unfortunate tradition of 왕따 started, where people attempt to punish those who stand out by not acknowledging their existence, or with open hostility.

Another reason is that these kinds of words get made up in what you might call the garbage dumps of the Korean internet -- namely DC Inside and ilbe.com, where they are notorious for their blatant disregard for the social norms. A lot of people hide the fact that they have accounts on these websites (for the fear of being ostracized), but I guess a lot of people still use these communities, as they are still one of the most popular internet communities of Korea. These slang words end up becoming mainstream either through these secret users slipping up and using them in real life, or by the non-users, who try to use these new neologisms to insult the users of DC Inside and ilbe.com (as the internet communities always seem to be at war with one another.)

Finally, the default assumption of the Korean internet users is that whoever you are interacting with on the internet is the biggest loser imaginable (as this makes it easier to insult them). They are probably losers with no jobs, ugly or deformed, never dated, and probably went to a 지잡대. Also, they are probably morbidly obese. So it is not unusual to see insults of the kind

"이 파오후새끼야, 쿰척쿰척하지말고 가서 알바라도 해." (You f-ing pig, stop being a fat loser and get a part-time job)

Regardless of they are actually obese or not. (Of course, they also get used correctly to mock obese people.)

So there you have it, probably the first truly mean Korean internet slang that I've covered in this blog. This only touches the surface of what some of the Korean internet users are capable of, though (and if this scares you, you should stay far away from DC Inside and ilbe.com, and a few other communities!) And please, do not use these words in real life!

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