After living in Korea for seven months, the question I am asked most is, “can you speak any Korean?” The answer is a resounding, no. I can say the bare minimum, the ‘survival Korean’ and, to be honest, I’ve never even had to use most of that.
Before arriving, I knew one word of Korean (thanks to ‘Arrested Development’) “안녕” - a short and informal version of “안녕하세요” (“hello”). After my first month, I was taught sentences like: “My name is Jamie”, “I am from England” and “Nice to meet you” – the classic phrases you acquire when first learning a new language (I can still remember the same phrases -- and the catchy melodies we used in order to memorize them -- in German, after a year of studying it at the age of 10). But, the vast majority of Koreans whom I have come in contact with have spoken at least a low level of English, which results in them usually asking me basic questions in English and means I can respond in the same language. The only time I am ever able to actually use any Korean is when I am asked “can you speak Korean?” and I’d repeat the phrases I know, in my Northern-English-accented Korean.
I had, for a while,started Korean lessons with a lovely teacher at one of my schools (though, since summer vacation we have failed to pick up the routine again) who patiently worked through Korean exercise books with me. But, for whatever reason, nothing seems to stick. Actually, that is a lie -- I’m selling myself short; I can remember one sentence: “이것은 연필 아닙니다” (“this is not a pencil”). When Korean’s ask, “what Korean do you know?” I think they are usually expecting to hear something more practical, something I could use in everyday life, or something that is just generally more impressive. Instead, they’re left thinking “this strange boy, with the perm, why has he come to Korea and learned this sentence?” During the awkward silence, as this thought goes through their head, I then say, “이것은 가방 아닙니다”, “this is not a bag” (unfortunately, ‘bag’ and ‘pencil’ are the only nouns I know) but, again, they don’t really know what to say and they don’t seem any more impressed than before; which surprises me, to be honest, because I can apply those two sentences to absolutely everything – except from the two, pretty obvious, exceptions.
Perhaps my greatest achievement, however, has been learning the Korean ‘alphabet’ (Hangeul) you know, the strange alphabet that’s just a load of random symbols (as opposed to our sensible alphabet, in which the symbols have meaning). This means I am now able to read shop signs (I stand directly outside shops, blocking the pavement, for five minutes at a time, loudly sounding out a single word), restaurant menus (I sit at a table, while the waiter patiently stands by, for five minutes at a time, loudly sounding out a single word) and subway signs (stand directly under a sign, blocking a stairway, for five minutes at a time, loudly sounding out a single word). Unfortunately, because I don’t actually understand Korean, I don’t ever know what the words I am saying actually mean, but I gain a great sense of achievement from reading them.
On the whole, not knowing the language hasn’t hindered me at all, a lot of things are in Konglish/English/have pictures and my ‘lucky dip’ approach to pointing at something on a menu that sounds poetic in Korean, has only actually ever failed once (a dinner I do not wish to recall).
And so, although it is unfortunate that I have not managed to learn something new and it is embarrassing that I have come to this country and been one of those people that hasn’t even attempted to learn the language and has been a complete burden to the community, I think that both myself and ‘the community’ have coped quite well.
