Mallie Learns Korean // 말리가 한국어 배워요

The Korean language is like a masterful secret code.

Remember your childhood secret language? Or Pig Latin, the silly way kids say words backward? Well, think about the time before you learned how to understand that secret code. Frustrating, right? There was a whole world of communication going on among the other kids that you weren’t a part of.

And once you figured it out—voilà! The world is your oyster.

Well, unlike what you may think when you look at those non-Latin-based symbols used in Korean, the Korean alphabet is just that—an alphabet (unlike the crazy-hard Chinese characters!). They are phonetic letters. They work differently than our ABCs, but once you figure out the letters, you can read anything... or, well, at least sound anything out!

The first week of my 11-week intensive Korean course at Sogang University here in Seoul was focused only on getting the sounds right. And Korean sounds are not the same as English sounds! For one thing, there is no way to end a word on a hard consonant like S or T—hence some Korean English speakers adding a “suh” or “tuh” on the end of many words (i.e. “gohl-puh” for golf).

In class, we chanted something similar to “Ahhhhhh, awwwwwww, ohhhh, uuuuu…” as though we were those weird mystics in The Dark Crystal (see video if you don’t get the 80s-fantasy-muppet reference).

But it worked! Pretty soon I was driving Joe crazy by sounding out the signs around town: “Joe, what does this mean? What does this mean?”

I’m so grateful to have a patient husband.

The best thing, though, is sounding out Konglish signs. Like, for example, on my way out of the subway one day, I sounded out this word: “에스컬레이터.” It sounds something like: “eh-suh-kohl-lay-ee-tawh.” Oh! Escalator.

Since there is Konglish everywhere, this is one of my new favorite games.

Take American movies currently in local theaters; I’ll roughly sound them out for you (again, the sounds are hard to transliterate):

맨 인 블랙 3 = Mehn een bul-lake 3.

어벤져스 = Awh-bayn-jyawh-suh

스노우 화이트 앤 더 헌츠맨 = Suh-no-uu hwah-ee-tuh ane-dawh hawhn-chuh-mayn

Can you guess them?

Shortly after learning the Korean alphabet, I was riding in a taxi and sounding out the store signs around me when I noticed the driver was talking under his breath: “Een-tuh-nay-shun-al keen-dah-gah-den.”

I looked out the other side of the car and saw a yellow bus with the English words “International Kindergarten” plastered on the side. We were doing the same thing, but opposite. That taxi driver and I were totally simpatico.

The class got far more complex very quickly. As proof, here’s my notebook from week 1, then week 3, and then week 9:


Whew. I honestly can’t believe how much I learned! While I’m not confident enough yet to boldly strike up conversations with strangers (it’s hard for me to understand when people speak quickly!), I really am proud of what I learned. My teachers were amazing—they took our class from not even knowing Korean sounds to conversations about our families, vacations, the weather, plans, hobbies, shopping, food, and more. Basically, we really rock the small talk.

And the class itself was a unique way to make friends from all over the world. Of course it was easiest to make friends with the other English speakers, but it’s amazing how much you can communicate without a common language. And then, it’s also amazing how much you can communicate when you all know a little bit of a third language.

I joined my classmates for several extracurricular activities—excellent chances for us to practice Korean conversation:

Cherry-blossom gazing, ...




...a picnic in a park, ...






...random lunches here and there, and even a visit to Asia’s favorite cartoon cat at the Hello Kitty Café (which, as you would imagine, feels just like being at a 4-year-old girl’s birthday party).

















As I mentioned in a previous post, continuing class got a little tricky around week 8 or 9 since my pregnancy hit trimester 3 and Seoul’s weather suddenly shifted to hot, but I’m glad I stuck it out—and passed with flying colors! Ok, ok, I know it doesn’t count for much in the scheme of things since I was doing the course for fun, but it is still nice to know I have the capacity to learn such a difficult language.

I wish I could keep going with level 2, but… well… I plan to be happily busy with the new baby come July. And now I will be able to read him baby books in Korean!

Kim Family BBQ

I have officially restored order to our kitchen in the wake of yesterday’s Kim Family Barbeque—that is, after a much-needed Monday morning of rest.

If I thought my Korean exams were over last week, I was wrong. Yesterday was the true test: my Korean grandmother-in-law and 10 other relatives—some of whom hadn't seen each other in a decade—came over for an American-style barbeque in our backyard. Three of those relatives speak fluent English, and several others can get their point across, but my grandmother (“Halmonee” in Korean) speaks none.

And she speaks Korean very quickly, with an accent.

My first weekend here in January, Joe and I celebrated Lunar New Year with Halmonee and some other relatives, and boy was yesterday a change. At the time, I blogged:

“Have you ever listened to Korean language? It’s beautiful, but it is HARD to pick out words if you don’t know the language. When I listen to French, Italian, or (especially) Spanish, I have a general idea of what’s going on. Not so with Korean.”

It is a testament to my teachers and the language program at Sogang University that this time, I could at least pick out the words! And I had a whole conversation with my grandmother in Korean. Part of it went something like this (in Korean, unless otherwise noted):

Halmonee: (Something I couldn’t understand.)

Helpful relative (in English): She asked, do you like living in Korea?

Mallie: Yes, I like my friends and I like the food.

Halmonee: What do you like to eat?

Mallie: Kalbi, Soondoobu jiggae, paht bingsu, kimchi, kimchi jiggae. I like lots of things!

Hamonee: I brought you some kimchi, it’s inside.

Mallie: Thank you! (literally—she brought us a GALLON of kimchi.)

Halmonee: (Something about kimchi.)

Mallie: Hm? Can you say that slower please? Writing in Korean is a little bit easy, but speaking is hard!

Halmonee: (Something about kimchi.)

Helpful relative (in English): It means let kimchi ferment.

Mallie: ?

Helpful relative: Joe—how do you say this in English?

Joe (in English): It means something like ‘ferment.’

Mallie (in English): OK, but why? Why are we talking about fermenting kimchi?

Halmonee: (Something about kimchi.)

Helpful relative #2 (in English): She says, when you make kimchi jiggae, you have to let the kimchi ferment.

Mallie: Oh! I can’t make it! I eat it at restaurants.

Family in general: (general laughter and repeating my stunned remark: “I can’t make it! 못 만들어요!”)

Halmonee: You should keep talking to Korean people. (Something positive about my Korean that I couldn’t really understand.)

Mallie: Yes, I need to practice. I’ve been practicing with Serin (a.k.a. helpful relative #2, who is also an English teacher).

Immediately after the barbeque, Halmonee called her daughter (my mother-in-law) in New York to tell her how impressed she was with my Korean progress and my accent. Major score!!

The family was really curious about our living situation here on the military base. Halmonee said she felt like she was in America. Stand-alone houses (or duplexes, in our case) are rare in this part of this overcrowded city, or really in any part of Seoul. It would be like having a suburban ranch house with a yard smack in the middle of the high-rises of downtown Los Angeles or New York. People in Seoul just don’t have yards. But the U.S. government has had this property for ages, so it basically looks like 1950s suburbia. I had a friend describe the embassy housing complex on base as eerily similar to the Dharma Initiative where The Others live in the show Lost. So that is what my city-dwelling relatives walked into.

We served up America’s finest: burgers, chicken shish kabobs, and salad. But calling this an entirely American-style barbeque would be a bit of a stretch.

Halmonee brought several kinds of Korean side dishes, and others contributed Korean food as well. Suffice it to say that the flavor mixture was unique, though definitely delicious. It was a good thing people brought food, too, because charcoal cooking chars food a little bit, and apparently most Korean grandmothers won’t eat charred food (they believe it causes cancer).

Dessert, though, was classic Americana: brownies and ice cream.

My brownies were a huge hit. Halmonee and Joe’s uncle both said I should make a business and sell them. Several people went back for seconds or thirds.

The truth? They were Ghirardelli Double Chocolate Brownies from a box. It is not an understatement to suggest these are the best brownies ever created. I’m not kidding. Just undercook those puppies a smidge, and bam! Your Korean relatives will be telling you to start a bakery. (Don’t be fooled by the same brand’s “Triple Chocolate” offering—eh, not so great.)

The barbeque overall was a lot of fun—though my body was not thanking me for the hard work later. But that hard work was worth it: Joe and I have realized that each time we host people in our house, the house feels more like a home, and we feel more settled.

And that feeling is multiplied when an event brings family together.

Now how to bring order to my refrigerator… Looks like it’s leftovers for dinner this week!

*Pictures courtesy of Serin Kim and one taken from a cousin's Facebook page!

Pep Talk To Myself

If you asked my mother to use one adjective to describe me as a child, I have a sneaking suspicion of what that would be: stubborn.

The most obvious manifestation? Picky eating. If I was convinced I didn’t like something, I was not going to like it (i.e. turkey, avocado, chicken pot pie, soup, potatoes). When I was 10, my family went to Russia for a few weeks, and since I wouldn’t eat soup or potatoes, I basically lived on the Cheese-Its and peanut butter I’d stashed in my suitcase. I was not at my healthiest when we got home (sorry Mom and Dad).

Eventually my mom created the if-you-don't-like-the-dinner-I-made-you-can-make-your-dinner-yourself rule. So I ate lots of Chef Boyardee's raviolis in junior high.

My tastes have definitely expanded, and I will try nearly anything a few times before giving up on it (other than pot pies. What in the world is the draw…?), but at least one aspect of my stubbornness has remained: When I set my mind to something, I will do it. And if someone pressures me to do otherwise or doubts my ability, I am all the more determined.

This is part of why I never drank in high school and why I avoided a lot of other youthful misdeeds.

The point, you ask? Well, at week 29 of my pregnancy, an internal switch flipped. Hot and stuffy rooms became impossible. Mornings found me lightheaded, unable to think clearly and all-around worn out—particularly after taking Jihachul (Seoul’s subway), which left me in no condition to learn.

Helloooo, third trimester.

The problem? I still had three more weeks of intensive Korean class, from 9am to 1pm every weekday. And in a highly stuffy classroom—that is, until we discovered how to use the window air-conditioning unit.

Each week seemed to stretch out into infinity… could I make it?

Immersion classes (you know, every day and with no English) are the best way to learn a language quickly, but anyone taking intensive language can attest: there’s a cost. It’s brain-and-body exhausting.

A friend who is taking intensive Korean in a different program asked me recently, “Have you been able to use your Korean a lot when you go out in Seoul?”

Ha. “Honestly, I don’t have energy to go out in Seoul and practice. I really only have energy for class and homework.”

Her response? “Actually, I’m not even pregnant and I feel the exact same way!”

It’s easy to question why I keep going. I have already learned way more Korean than I had even hoped in the last 10 weeks, and I’m really only doing the class for fun at this point; if I keep practicing what I’ve already learned, I’ll be able to get around town, shop, order food, maintain small talk and make appointments in Korean just fine.

But such questioning actually helps me: I signed up to do this. I wanted to do this. I can do this. I will finish this!*

The two-and-a-half weeks since that internal switch flipped have seemed twice as long, and every morning has been a bit of a struggle (especially since this belly of mine makes deep, long sleep elusive).

But I found ways to make do: Last week I started taking the $5 taxi ride to school in the morning, rather than trudge through Jihachul, and in class I plant myself in the chair directly in front of the air conditioner. (And the baby wiggles and pokes and kicks me enough these days to provide a happy distraction.)

So here I am now, in the middle of my last week of instruction before our exams. I really only have two more days of learning, then it’s all review, review, review and test, test, test. I’ve basically made it!

That end-of-the-tunnel light is tangible, just around the next corner.

I can do this!

Then, on to the next challenge I’ll need my stubbornness—strike that—determination to fulfill: drug-free childbirth!*



*[Disclaimer applies to both asterisks: That is, as long as the baby and I remain healthy enough to do so. Obviously I wouldn’t risk my child’s health.]