Korean translation, 년[neon,nyawn]: year



Korean translation, 년[neon,nyawn]: year




To whoever is looking at this blog, know that while although one of the functions of this blog is to inform others of my time here, I also use this blog as a way to document what I am doing in Korea for myself. I do this so that come a year, two years, ten, twenty from now, I can look back and remember some of the the amazing people I met, the places I went and the meaningful experiences I had.

Why am I in Seoul, anyways?

Why am I in Seoul, anyways? I'm studying language in Seoul for the year through the National Security Language Initiative for Youth operated by the U.S. State Department. While in Seoul, I attend a local Korean high school as a regular Korean student and have intensive language classes three times a week at an international institute in Seoul. My school is a digital media vocational school. Both in school and in many other settings, I am often the only American they have met and almost always the only Jew. As such, I have an important role, not only as an American or a Jew, but as The American and The Jew. Because of this, I have been prone to some alarming, but insightful questions. Like when it was drizzling outside, weather that does not necessarily warrant carrying an umbrella, but being asked by my host brother, "Do all Jews not use umbrellas?" I am constantly being put in new situations. I make mistakes sometimes. Like when I clearly asked for "not spicy," however later realized, tears in my eyes, that the woman's shocked expression when I ordered "meh-un tteokbokki" was not from my Korean ordering skills, but was because I had probably been the first foreigner to specifically ask for the spiciest food on the menu. These year as the non-umbrella-carrying-spicy-food-eating-American-Jew living in Seoul has been exhausting and exhilarating, but a year of experiences I will bring with me for the rest of my life. .

Chopstick Troubles

It was our first dinner. Years of charade practice culminating in this ultimate test. Was I able to communicate with my new host family- I could use no Korean and they no English. The host mom brought the table out to the living room. As is common in Korea, we sat on the floor to eat. This did not shock me, but when I saw a three pronged metal stick placed at my bowl, my heart sank.

In my head I said no. I was in Korea. I am going to use the chopsticks even if I make a complete fool out of myself. And so I pointed to the kitchen and then at my fork and then I realized that they had no idea what I was doing. I went to the kitchen on my own, put back the fork and got a pair of chopsticks. 

ahhhhhhhhhhh

Omma motioned to me. She pointed at the chopsticks and then at me and then put her thumbs up and shrugged her shoulders. In my head I ran through the possible situations. I could go for the kimchi, but it looked like it could slide out of grip to easily. I looked at some of the other foreign looking dishes and went for the one that looked the most solid. I pick up what would later find out was tteok, Korean rice cake, and brought it almost all the way back to my bowl. It slipped out of the metal chopsticks and onto the table. 

It could have been a strange moment, had I not started laughing. They started laughing too. There was nothing worthy of being ashamed of, and so we laughed.