#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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#108. 번역체 -- Five ways Koreans can tell that you are not a native speaker

Pyeongchang Olympics are all set to begin, and the excitement is mounting (well, a lot of Koreans are still unhappy about the flag fiasco...)

The American alpine skier Lindsey Vonn shares the sentiment, and she posted on her Instagram account about how her journey was delayed, yet how she is still very excited. The Korean media reported her Instagram post as front-page news of the sports section.

This is partly due to her success as an alpine skier, but mostly because she used a Korean phrase in her Instagram post. She wrote:

"나는 너무 흥분 돼." (I am so excited.)

The Korean media must have loved the fact that she went through the trouble of using Google Translate to post this short phrase, and the headlines reflect this.

The headline says: "Lindsey Vonn arrives in Korea, writes in Korean "I am so excited""

Wait, you might say. How do you know that she used Google Translate? Are you saying this because she's white?

Interestingly enough, I am not being a racist. I know that she is nowhere near being a native speaker, because she used the kind of Korean that the Koreans call "번역체." This word is a composition of two words: "번역" and "체." The word "번역" just means "translation."

The word "체," meaning "body" in Hanja, is a bit more complicated. It can be used to describe the form of anything related to a language. For example, it can describe physical attributes of letters. The font of your letters are called "글씨체" and cursive fonts are called "필기체." At the very beginning of this blog, I also talked about a specific Korean font called "궁서체," which refers to the font traditionally used within the palace. The font with which you write gives some character to the sentence itself -- in English, the big loopy and girly writings with hearts to dot your i's have a completely different character from Times New Roman, with which you write your college reports.

Here are some basic Korean fonts. From top to bottom, rounded font, palatial calligraphy font, standout font, clear gothic font, and basic font.

However, in modern Korean slang, it can also refer to the mood of the sentences. The most widely used example of this is the word "번역체," where people decide that certain sentences feel so "off" that they must have come badly translating another language. While the actual written letters have no physical characteristics, the overall mood of the sentence gives the sentence a character.

What Lindsey Vonn wrote is a clear example of "영어 번역체" (English-translated mood). While the correct translation of the word "excitement" is indeed "흥분," for lack of a better word in the Korean language, Koreans generally use the word "흥분" to mean "aroused." (As of recent, some Koreans use it to mean "excited" but this is an influence of Koreans who have become more fluent in English!) So when I Googled the phrase "흥분돼" I got a mix of Korean language lessons (where English speakers want to translate the phrase "I am excited"), and porn. Fun stuff.

Then there are other elements in Vonn's writing that seem slightly off to a native Korean. The use of "는" in "나는" seems wrong (I'd have suppressed it), and her spacing in "흥분 돼" seems off. While I could not tell you exactly why it is grammatically wrong, I just know that it doesn't sound right. And from experience (of having read many English sentences translated through Google translate), I know that her sentence has been auto-translated.

If it were a native Korean writing this sentence, she probably would have said something along the lines of:

"나 올림픽이 정말 기대돼." (I am really looking forward to the Olympics.)

or

"진짜 신난다." (I'm feeling the fun.)

 While these are not the exact translates of the sentence "I'm excited," the whole point is that there is no exact translation of this sentence in Korean, so any attempt at an exact translation will make it sound awkward. Young Koreans are beginning to adopt this phrase, by saying things like

 "나 지금 흥분함" (I'm excited right now)

but in order to use it in a non-awkward manner, you would need a complete mastery of the language, where you don't want to follow all rules of grammar, but you still want to follow enough. This is a subtle nuance issue that most learners will struggle with, as the 번역체 sentences are still mostly grammatically correct!

So, here are a few examples of 번역체 sentences that you could keep in mind. I am covering the ones coming from English, but many language-specific examples exist, and Koreans can generally tell apart the ones coming from English, Japanese, or Chinese.

1. Pay attention to the order of your phrases.

English and Korean have very different order of words. A silly 번역체 would be:

"나는 간다, 학교에." (I am going to school.)

While each word matches up the English counterpart, the natural Korean grammar would say "나는 학교에 간다." So if the ordering of your words are awkward, the Koreans can usually tell that you are not a native speaker. A more complicated example might be:

"와서 나를 봐 바쁘지 않으면" (Come see me when you are not busy.) 

The more natural translation is: "바쁘지 않을 때 들러."

2. Suppress your pronouns. 

Unlike the English language, Korean doesn't need a lot of pronouns, and they tend to be suppressed whenever it is clear from context. For example, the sentence "I love you" does not get translated in Korean as "나는 너를 사랑한다," which is definitely an example of 번역체. It is enough to say:

"사랑해."

It should be clear from context whether this sentence is an affirmation of love, or if you simply adore Korean fried chicken. Similarly, you don't want to translate "They're coming!" as "그들이 오고있어!" It is enough to simply say:

"온다!" 

3. Be more specific with your pronouns.

This sounds contradictory to point 2, but this rule covers a completely different set of cases. If the context is clear, you should suppress your pronouns. But suppose that you are about to open the windows in the classroom, and your friend happens to know that the teacher is allergic and he really hates it. Then she might tell you, "He really doesn't like the windows open."

In this case, the easiest Korean translation might be "그는 창문을 여는것을 좋아하지 않아." However, the usage of non-specific pronouns such as 그, 그녀, or 그것 is very rare in Korean. Instead, saying:

"선생님은 창문을 여는것을 좋아하시지 않아"

is a much better translation.

4. Learn the Korean equivalent of the English idioms (sometimes they don't exist).

You should think twice when an English sentence does not serve its literal purpose. For example, think about the sentence:

"Seulgi is nicer than you think, if you ask me."

While a literal translation might be: "만약 나에게 물어본다면, 슬기는 네가 생각하는것보다 착해," the phrase "if you ask me" does not literally mean that the listener asked the speaker her opinion about Seulgi. The speaker is using this phrase to emphasize the fact that she is stating an opinion. Therefore, it is unreasonable to expect that Korean would have a literal counterpart to this English expression. A better translation is:

"내생각엔 슬기는 네가 생각하는것보다 착해." (I think Seulgi is nicer than you think.)

Other expressions that sound awkward when translated directly into Korean include:

- "please" (for example, "Can you please help me" doesn't translate to "나를 제발 도와줄래?"  but rather "도와줄수 있어?")
-  "I say": use "내 생각엔," not "내가 말하길."
- "Give me a break": use "그만좀 해" and not "휴식을 줘."
- "take into account": use "고려하다" or "염두에 두다."
- "you know": use "있잖아."
- "I'm excited": use "정말 기대돼" (note the suppressed pronoun.)

5. "Oh" translates to a variety of different words in Korean.

While it is not wrong to translate "oh" into "오" in Korean, as soon as this word is inserted into a sentence, it smells strongly of a 번역체 sentence. In general, the better translation is "아," but it depends on the purpose of "oh" in the sentence.

If it precedes a revelation ("Oh, you live here too?") or an afterthought ("Oh, don't forget to buy some apples!"), then the Korean translation uses "아." For example, the two above sentences become:

"아, 여기 사시네요?" (Oh, you live here too? -- note the suppressed pronoun of "you")

and

"아, 사과 사는거 잊지마!" (Oh, don't forget to buy some apples.)

If it denotes a mild surprise ("Oh, is that right?") you can use "아", as well as "어" or "어라." So you can translate this sentence to:

"아, 진짜?" or "어라, 진짜야?" etc.

If "oh" is used as lamentation ("Oh no!") then you can use "아아," such as:

"아아, 안돼!!"

And above all, "Oh my god" does not translate to "오, 신이시여." Koreans are more likely to resort to profanity, but the most (politically) correct translation might be:

"아이구, 맙소사." 

Oh my god, indeed!

Of course, all of these things don't operate according to a well-defined set of rules, and most Koreans avoid these usages by the "ear test" -- they just don't sound quite right. The best way to avoid making these mistakes is just to expose yourself to more Korean, and get used to the way Korean sentences are constructed.

However, I also want to emphasize that the Koreans love it when foreigners speak Korean. I think the foreigners, especially anglophones, do not really understand just how happy it makes the Koreans to hear a foreigner speak Korean. Learning Korean generally does not advance your career except in very specific niches (although speaking more popular languages such as English, Spanish, French, or German probably will!) and so knowing any amount of Korean really demonstrates your interest in the Korean culture. So, you should continue to learn and speak Korean, whether you make mistakes or not -- it is flattery of the highest form to the Koreans. I mean, just look at how Lindsey Vonn made the headlines with just one Korean sentence!

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#107. 좆만하다, 좆밥 -- You couldn't be any more irrelevant

Here is a word that shows the viciousness of the Korean internet users.

Let's start with the word "좆," which I explained in a previous post; in short, it is a vulgar slang for "penis," and it is used in several expressions that are meant for insult, or for venting one's frustration. The word I want to talk about in this post is also based on the word "좆," but it is a bit more insult-like than just saying "좆같다 (despite the vulgarity, it mostly just means "it sucks")"

I love puppies!

Say that you are arguing with a user online about a topic (in the Korean internet lingo, we say that you're engaged in a "키보드배틀," or that you are "키배뜬다".) During the exchange, it becomes clear to you that the other user has no idea what he is talking about. Perhaps you are arguing about the best computer specifications to play some game, and it is clear that the other user only has beginner's level equipment.

One way to insult him is to say

"좆만한 새끼야, 까불지 마" (Don't brag, you baby.)

"까불다" is a verb that means to frolic to draw attention, or be overly cheery and loud. It is used to describe the class clowns, or a little child cheerfully and loudly showing off some random skill that he learned from his friends. It can just be a positive quality (focusing on the cheery and outgoing part of the personality) or it can be a negative quality (focusing on the fact that the person likes to be in the centre of attention, regardless of whether they deserve it or not).

"좆만하다" means that you believe that your listener is about as big as a penis (and the underlying assumption is, of course, that the penis in question is tiny!) So by drawing this comparison, you are implying that the listener only has a small bit of experience, and that they are no more than a baby and a newbie. (As an aside, "-만하다" is a comparison in size; "사과만하다" means "as big as an apple," etc.)

But then you can go one level higher, and tell him:

"좆밥같은 새끼가 어디서 까불어?" (Look where you're bragging, you irrelevant sh*t!)

The insult is in the word "좆밥." We already know that the letter "좆" means "penis." From the phrase "좆밥같은," you can tell that the above sentence is comparing your opponent in your keyboard battle to a penis. (Another aside, "-같은" is a comparison in quality; "사과같다" means "looks/feels like an apple")

However, there is so much more than that to this insult.

The letter "밥" has many meanings; while its primary meaning is "boiled rice," this is not what it means in this case. The letter "밥" also means "crumbs," especially the residue left after working on some material with tools. So, in Korean, "sawdust" is "톱밥," literally "saw crumbs."

Other words that use this suffix are "귓밥" (ear crumbs, i.e. earwax; this is actually not correct according to the dictionary -- it should mean earlobes, but Koreans use it to mean earwax anyway) and "실밥" (the threads forming the stitches after an injury).

So what in the world is "좆밥"? Koreans use it to mean the residue left on the folds of your penis when you don't wash it carefully. Disgusting, I know. So you are basically insulting your opponent by saying that they are so irrelevant, and that they are more or less equivalent to the residue on your penis.

The skater Adelina Sotnikova is often referred to as "형광나방," or "fluorescent moth" among the Koreans.

So, for example, the Koreans still hate the figure skater Adelina Sotnikova, because they believe that she stole the gold medal that rightfully belongs to Kim Yuna (and all things considered, Kim Yuna has much better records than Adelina Sotnikova). So they might say:

"김연아 좆밥새끼가 까부네." (That b*tch who is about as relevant as the residue on Kim Yuna's penis (?!?!?!) is bragging again.)

It sounds awkward when you think about its meaning, since Kim Yuna surely doesn't have a penis! Yet this phrase does get used, because the Koreans don't think carefully about the etymology of the insult words; they know that "좆밥" means "not even worthy of comparison" but they rarely think about what the word actually means.

This is possibly one of the reasons why Korean profanity tends to be a lot more aggressive and extreme compared to the English profanity. While most of the anglophone profanity retain their meaning, the Korean profanity does not; as soon as a word becomes popular, people usually become desensitized to the actual meaning behind the words, and they are off to find the next exciting word soon afterwards.

If you wanted to be slightly less vulgar while conveying the same meaning, you can say instead:

"김연아 발톱의 때만도 못한게 까부네" (That b*tch who is less relevant than the residue on Kim Yuna's toenail residues is bragging again.)

While conveying approximately the same idea, this word uses words from the dictionary, and is much less of a slang.

In any case, I would refrain from using this word in real life, but if you ever engage in a keyboard battle, go ahead and use it, by all means! It is definitely an insult, but not the one that the listener would take very seriously. You might occasionally see your very close male friends use it on each other (if you are male), but I would not want to be the one to initiate the usage of this word, especially if you are not familiar with the Korean words and their nuances.

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#106. 응/ㅇㅇ/웅 -- How to say "yes" without being offensive

The Korean language has countless number of conjugations that you can apply to any verb. These conjugations do not change according to the subject; rather, the change of these conjugations reflect the change of mood in the sentence. For example, there are many ways to translate "Eat this" using the informal tone:

"이거 먹어" (Eat this; imperative)

"이거 먹어봐." (Try this; strongly suggestive)

"이거 먹어볼래?" (Do you want to try this?; weakly suggestive)

"이거 먹어줘." (Please eat this; strong request)

"이거 먹어줄 수 있어?" (Could you eat this for me?; weak request)

"이거 혹시 먹어줄 수 있어?" (Could you possibly eat this for me?; careful weak request)

"이거 혹시 먹어봐줄 수 있어?" (Could you possibly try eating this for me?; very careful weak request) 

Very small changes to the verb can completely change the meaning of a sentence. This makes the Korean language very ambiguous; even if what someone said sounded rude, you have to wonder whether they actually meant to be rude, or if they misspoke. This also makes the Koreans hyper-aware of nuance of the language.

In Korean, we call this "어감," or the feeling ("감," as in "감정 emotion" or "예감 premonition") of the words ("어," as in "단어 word" or "영어 English language"). It is very important to choose the words that convey the right "어감." One wrong conjugation, and you might inadvertently offend the listener. As such, we have many proverbs that describe the importance of nuance.

"말 한 마디가 천냥빚을 갚는다." (One phrase can repay the loan of a thousand gold coins; around $400k USD, if you must know!)

Another proverb goes:

"아 다르고 어 다르다." ("아" is different from "어"; the smallest things make a difference in nuance.)

This one is, of course, harder to translate. It is simply saying that while the two korean vowels "ㅏ" and "ㅓ" are very similar in looks and sounds, depending on where you apply it, it can make a difference. For example, "이거 먹어" and "이거 먹어봐줄수 있어?" have very different 어감 to the listener. While the first is an order, the second conveys that the speaker respects my wishes, and that the speaker is afraid of offending me with this (probably innocuous) request.

Koreans are exposed to these subtle nuances from birth; so these two requests are likely to bring out very different reactions in Koreans, much more so than the Westerners. And so the Koreans often obsess over what seems like a useless point.

Today, I was browsing the Korean online forum "Pann," whose users are primarily schoolgirls in their teens (but women of all ages frequent this website). There, I saw an amazing comment by one of the users, who was agonizing over how to answer in the affirmative to friends on Kakaotalk (the Korean version of texting.) Here is her text:

She writes,

"Everyone, saying "응" feels like I'm standoffish or not friendly enough, and "엉" sounds like I'm not putting enough thought into it. Is it just me? I'm not so sure. Then "웅" sounds like I'm trying to be cute, "앙" is even worse, and "옹" is Sungwoo. Is "응응" the best...?"

Here, "응," "엉," "웅," "앙," "옹," and "응응" are just some of the different ways the Koreans say "yes" when texting. Over time, each of these words, while meaning exactly the same thing, gained nuances (or 어감) of their own. And now the Koreans must pay attention to what subtle undertone they are conveying besides saying "yes."

While saying "응" is grammatically the most correct, she fears that this feels too formal and standoffish; because it is too correct, it is not giving off enough of the friendly vibe.

"엉" indeed gives off the vibe of not paying enough attention into the conversation. It used to be the case that a lot of men would respond "어" in order to say "yes," and when they didn't have much else to say. In conforming with the international stereotype that men are bad at texting, the male version of "yes" also got the nuance that not enough attention is being given to the conversation at hand. Although one can improve it a little by adding the extra "ㅇ," it feels like an afterthought after you have already responded with the "male yes."

As an aside, an even worse way to say "yes" is "ㅇㅇ." A lot of Korean males will use this to say "yes" to their annoying little sisters, or very close male friends, for example! And what a terrible nuance; they can't even be bothered to move their hands away from the keyboard to press different keys.

"웅" and "앙" are mostly used by women, when they are trying to say "yes" to their boyfriends, in an effort to show aegyo. So it does seem a little bit too much to be using this to your female friends!

And then she makes a tiny joke that "옹" (which you could use to say "yes" but is not super common) is "Sungwoo" -- "옹성우" is a Korean celebrity who is currently a member of the boy band Wanna One. He is known for his shockingly good looks, and his extremely unique last name "Ong." Because of his popularity, the syllable "옹" will evoke in the minds of the listeners the singer Ong Sungwoo -- especially if the listener is a teenage girl!

This man shocked the nation with his good looks in the reality program Produce 101 Season 2; he was selected to be in the boy band by placing in the top 11 out of 101 contestants.

Finally, she settles for "응응." Enough grammar has been broken that she is not putting unnecessary distance between herself and the lucky recipient of her thoughtful "yes"; she is not trying too hard to be cute, and since she wrote TWO letters for a simple "yes," she is clearly engaged in the exchange!

Such is the stress of being a native Korean speaker -- for a Korean, nuance is everything.

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#105. 달님, 재앙 -- Current Korean political climate, North Korea, and the Olympics

Have you ever tried to eat the outer part of old celery stalks?

As the celery ages, the fibres become tough, and chewing doesn't do anything to make them any more palatable. Unless you toss them in a huge pot and boil them for hours, there is nothing you can do to make it delicious.

You can imagine that there are other things that are even tougher to eat. For example, imagine you are trying to cook cornstalk, or barks of trees. They would be tough, chewy, and rubbery.

South Koreans would sometimes steep tree bark into a cup of tea; North Koreans might actually eat these tough-looking things!

Koreans call this state of toughness "억세다." It is an adjective describing the toughness and hardness of material; unlike young shoots, willow tree, or fabric, which bend easily to the touch, the objects that are tough (or, "억센 물건들" in Korean) have the quality of resilience, and do not change easily from the outside force. For example, you can say:

"셀러리 줄기는 빨리 먹지 않으면 억세져." (The celery stalks become tough and chewy if you don't eat them soon.)

In this case, there is no nuance to this word other than the neutral one used to describe some property. However, you can describe someone who doesn't bend to outside pressure by using this word. While I would say that the nuance of this word is slightly negative in this case, it can be used in a positive context, like the example below:

"정아는 성격이 억세서 마음먹은 일은 꼭 이뤄내." (Jung-ah is tough and resilient, so she always gets things done that she intended to do.)

 Of course, some listeners would detect a subtle undertone of criticism, about how her personality is rather too strong (definitely not a desired trait in the Korean society!)

Nonetheless, the word "억세다" is often used by the South Koreans to describe the North Koreans. Due to the lack of food and other resources, the North Koreans are forced to be tough and resilient; otherwise they would have died from starvation already. When the food situation is dire, they resort to eating things like barks of trees (which are "억세다" themselves); it seems socially acceptable to commit small acts of crime such as petty theft (especially if it is against the government officials), and unfortunately, their sense of morals are not quite at the level of that of the South Koreans.

As you can see, natural resources are scarce in North Korea; between the government needing trees and other things, and the North Koreans eating whatever they can find, most of their mountains are bald. South Koreans call this "민둥산," literally "bald mountain."

Combined with the long years of separation between the two nations (this July marks 65 years since the truce), the young South Koreans are actually apprehensive about trying to unify the two countries. Although many of them have long-lost relatives in Korea, it is a tall order to try to feel that you are connected to someone that you don't even know exists -- I am one of them; my paternal grandfather is from Hwanghae Province in North Korea, although he moved to Seoul before the Korean war. He had siblings in the Hwanghae Province, although whether they married and had children, I have absolutely no clue. So, I might have cousins in North Korea, but so what?

When you're on the verge of starvation, anything can be fair game. Poverty in North Korea is heartbreaking.

In fact, I feel a little more negative than indifference. Suppose that the two Koreas decided to unite. It might happen that one day, some North Koreans might show up at my doorstep. Likely they don't own anything, they are very poor, and they might have been brought up thinking that stealing is more or less OK (as it might be necessary to survive). And because we're related by blood, they might be expecting me to take care of them (that would be the proper thing to do according to Confucianism.) As heartless as it might sound, I am not OK with this idea. Furthermore, our more-or-less orderly South Korean society would be flooded with these 억센 North Koreans who are used to doing whatever they can to survive. It could be a disaster in terms of our economy, security, and social stability.

This makes politics a little bit complicated in Korea. While many young people (myself included) tend to lean towards the left in the political spectrum, in Korea, if you lean too much to the left, you land right on the communism side, which is a real possibility!

Currently, our president Moon Jae-In (문재인) is left-leaning in the political spectrum, whereas the previous president Park Geun-Hye (박근혜) was right-leaning. This means that ever since the power change, there has been a drastic change in our attitude towards the North.

Choi Soon-Sil (left) and Park Geun-Hye (right)

Park Geun-Hye took a very strict approach to North Korea, with minimal aids ($337 million USD, compared to $4.36 billion USD during president Roh Moo-Hyun (노무현), who was the last left-leaning president before Moon), and as far as I can tell, did not give into any demands by the North that she deemed unreasonable, which lead to a few tense situations. (Ironically, she still wanted to unify the two Koreas; with the approach she was taking, I have no idea how she would have accomplished this -- perhaps she wanted the Kim Dynasty to collapse, and the South would just absorb the North.)

The current president Moon Jae-In

Moon Jae-In is taking a completely different approach, by trying to invite North Korea to participate in conversations, and to interact with other countries. While he is barely eight months into his presidency, and we will have to wait and see what he accomplishes, one of his achievements so far was to dissolve the tension between the US and North Korea, and to convince North Korea to participate in the 2018 Winter Olympics, which is being hosted in Pyeongchang, South Korea. While the figures won't be available, I imagine that the aid towards North Korea will again increase, compared to Park's times.

Ironically, this achievement threw Korea into a huge political turmoil.

Moon became the president under overwhelming support by the Koreans, whether they were fundamentally on the left or right wing, because of the scandal involving Park's impeachment (mostly due to the fact that she was being unofficially advised by Choi Soon-Sil, who is the daughter of a shaman). At the time of his inauguration, he was supported by nearly 80% of the Koreans in his political endeavors, and even until a few months ago, his approval rating was in the mid-70% range.

With his unique situation involving the spectacular failure of the previous president, his campaign, and also his good looks, he gained quite a following (think of the Korean version of the popular Canadian Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau!) leading to the nickname "idol president." His strongest supporters call him by various nicknames, "달님 (the moon-god, because of his last name "Moon")," and "이니 (Innie, using the last syllable of his first name; kind of like Lexie for Alexandra)."

When he first became the president, you would often see comments throwing huge support behind him, such as:

"우리 이니 하고싶은거 다 해" (Our dearst Innie, do everything that you want to do.)

Or

"달님이 계셔서 든든합니다" (Because we have our moon-god, we feel protected.) 

While exaggerated, it was that much of a relief to get rid of our previous president, and her shaman advisor.

Unfortunately, Moon's approval rating has dropped to around 58% in the past few days, and it has something to do with his approach to North Korea. And it came from a seemingly innocuous move involving North Korea and the Olympics.

A few days into 2018, North Korea announced that they are open for conversations with the South, and South Korea took this offer. At this meeting, it was agreed that North Korea would participate in the 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics. The two Koreas would make their entrance as a single team (meaning that neither the South or the North Korean flags would be used; instead, they would use the 한반도기, the Korean peninsula flag.) Furthermore, while the two Koreas would compete mostly separately, they would form a single team for women's ice hockey.

This threw many Koreans into rage and disappointment.

This is Dokdo. Although it is a tiny island, it comes with a large amount of surrounding water, hence the dispute with Japan.

First of all, news broke that the 한반도기 that the two Koreas would use at entrance did not include 독도 (Dokdo), the disputed island territory in the East Sea between South Korea and Japan. Given that most Koreans feel animosity against the Japanese for their occupation (my grandmother, who lived through Japanese occupation and the Korean war, says that the Japanese were a million times worse than the North Koreans) this territorial dispute is a huge deal to many Koreans. To make matters worse, a Japanese news outlet has remarked that the flag does not include 독도, therefore the Koreans are giving up their claim on the island. Koreans were enraged at this; the would much rather just see the South Korean flag at the Olympics. The Korean government recently confirmed that the flag does not include Dokdo, as it doesn't make sense to add every island to the flag.

When the government confirmed that there was no Dokdo in the Korean Peninsula flag, the netizens went and found a photo of the flag, held by the unified Korean team at the Torino Olympics in 2006. Notice that this flag depicts Dokdo, which led to further criticism for the Moon administration.

Secondly, Koreans feared that by forming a single team for women's hockey, the South Korean hockey players would get less ice time, since the North Koreans need to play on ice. The young Koreans were especially upset at this; Korean society is lacking some transparency, as the children of high-ranking officials are sometimes mysteriously excluded from military duties, or they get into a better university than they deserve, like the case of Chung Yoo-Ra, the daughter of Choi Soon-Sil. They hoped for a more transparent society under Moon's presidency, but instead, he was bringing politics into the Olympics, and took away the opportunity from the Korean hockey players who worked hard for their spots on the Olympics team.

The unified women's hockey team.

Furthermore, one of the ministers in Moon's administration made the mistake of saying that "the unified team doesn't matter; they're not in the range for a medal anyway." The youths of Korea, who hope for fair opportunities and rewards commensurate with the efforts that you put in, were enraged. At least one hockey player has publicly spoken out against it, saying that she does not understand how the government believes that they are not taking opportunities away from the South Korean players, as every minute on ice counts. Her post more or less confirmed that the South Korean hockey players are not happy that they became the scapegoat for a political agenda.

Because of this, Moon also gained some negative nicknames. Some are calling him "문재앙" (Disaster Moon, because the word "재앙" meaning disaster is very similar to his name "재인.") For similar reasons, some are calling him "문죄인" (Sinner Moon). There seems to be a sizable (and possibly growing) Korean population that believe that he is too friendly towards North Korea, and that one day, he might sell out to North Korea. Some are critical towards the staunch supporters of Moon, and started calling them "문슬람" (Moom-slam, coming from Moon+Islam; Koreans tend to be very liberal with using racial slurs.)

An article that I read today gives some numbers to this.

55.8% of the Koreans believe that having North Korea participate in the Olympics will contribute to its success, whereas 42.9% believe that this will not help.

56.7% of the Koreans believe that this move will help improve the relationship between the two Koreas; 41.9% of the Koreans believe that this will not help.

37.7% of the Koreans believe that the participation of North Korea in the 2018 Olympics is an embodiment of the spirit of the Olympics.

51.0% of the Koreans felt positively towards using the Korean peninsula flag, while 47.4% of the Koreans were against using the Korean peninsula flag.

58.7% of the Koreans are against forming a single women's ice hockey team.

88.2% of the Koreans feel that unification of two Koreas in unnecessary; they prefer to have two Koreas, and just maintain the peace. Only 9.8% of the Koreans felt that Korea should take active steps towards reunification.

73.2% of the Koreans felt that while the North Koreans are of the same ethnicity, North Korea is a separate entity. 25.2% of the Koreans felt that North Korea is the same country as South Korea.


This feels like a tricky situation; I can understand where both sides are coming from, and I hope that they will come to some kind of an understanding. I've often felt that the Korean politics tend to be extremely polarized (probably because of North Korea), so this may just be one of these instances that highlight this. In any case, do keep an eye on the political situation, as it really is very fascinating how everything changes so drastically (even more than the Obama-Trump transition, I would say!) with the change of power. I wish all my best for Korea.

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