Life at a Korean law firm, or at least my journey to it (part 4)
By Jacco Zwetsloot
Like a lot of people of my generation, I did not learn much Korean before coming here. But I did not come completely unprepared. Thanks to an assignment in an introductory linguistics course at university, I was already familiar with some of Korean’s basic phonology. I had also started to memorize the Hangeul alphabet from a guidebook I had bought.
As a child I was not fond of spicy food ― even a mild Japanese-style curry cooked by my parents would be turned away with a sniff ― and I had heard that Korean cuisine was full of piquant peppers. A friend even warned me that kimchi was like tear gas in solid form.
Therefore, before leaving Australia I made sure to learn two sentences: “Is this spicy?” and “I can’t eat this.” After arrival, I quickly learned to adjust my taste so that these bon mots are no longer necessary. There is no way I would have survived this long otherwise.
I do not have the temperament to tolerate living for any length of time in a place where I cannot understand what people say to (or about) me, so I began applying myself to learning Korean from the orientation week.
Within the first month I had received a book with cassette tapes from a departing friend, so that I could teach myself some basic dialogues. I also bought a dictionary (they only came in book form then) and took it with me wherever I went.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but not as dangerous as a bilingual dictionary. One either learns to treat this book with skepticism, or one forever says, “But the dictionary says this, so it must be right!”
A salient example was the word “you.” Looking it up, I found that the Korean equivalent was “dangsin.” I proceeded to make sentences with “you” as a subject, only to be informed that this word is only used when speaking to a lover or a person one wants to fight. Oops.
Then there was the day I went to the local marketplace in Kumchon. I found the imported goods store where I could buy tomato sauce for pasta, and syrup for pancakes. The woman who ran the store asked me a question that contained the word “seon-gyo”. I dutifully looked up in the dictionary what I thought I had heard. My finger alighted on “seong-gyo.”
Embarrassed, but determined to get to the bottom of the matter, I pointed to the word and held the book up for the woman to see. She nodded yes, I said no, and left the store quickly. I cannot remember how long it took me to work out that she was not offering me sexual relations, but asking if I was a missionary.
Sometime in my first year, I was flipping through TV channels and happened to see a talk show in which Robert Holley and Ida Daussy were engaged in lively Korean banter with a local host. I was at the same time transfixed at their abilities and also convinced that I would never reach their level of mastery.
Indeed, I am still dissatisfied with my speaking and listening skills. I find understanding radio and television news particularly difficult; my ears are still not attuned to the (to me) unnatural cadence and intonation of Korea’s newsreaders. I perform much better in real-life conversations.
In my current job I use both languages daily, in reading, writing, listening and speaking ― this for me is ideal. Obviously, my writing and reading in English are still much faster than in Korean, and I still use a dictionary (although much more wisely than at first, and now on a website or app instead of a book).
Becoming a Korean novelist or politician is not in my immediate future, but I have reached the stage at which I can accomplish most of what I need to in a given situation.
Over the years I have heard people say, “Learning Korean is a waste of time,” or “There’s no value to the Korean language outside Korea.”
This view saddens me, especially when the speaker has a Korean spouse. My response is that learning a language is never a waste. Just like physical exercise, it has its own rewards, but it also can lead to economic gain and deeper, happier and more fulfilling relationships with Korean people. And those are never bad things.
Jacco Zwetsloot works for HMP Law as Director of Business Innovation
The thoughts expressed in this column do not necessary reflect those of HMP Law.