Land of the Not-So-Calm

The school that holds the Korean language classes that I’ve been going to is on spring break right now, so there was no Korean class this week. I was actually really disappointed, because in some ways I feel like I’m cramming for a test by trying to learn as much Korean as possible before we leave. I think I know more Korean than when I went last time — but really, that isn’t saying much. Those silly 대학원생들…. don’t they realize I’m on a deadline??? How dare they take a vacation??? :-) 

Of course, in some ways it doesn’t matter how much Korean I know if I never use it. For the most part, on our previous trip I was so overwhelmed — both physically and emotionally — that all of the Korean I had planned on using flew out of my head as soon as I even thought of opening my mouth. And when I did try, it often wasn’t necessary. On our second or third day in Seoul we went into a convenience store across the street from 창덕궁 (Changdeok Palace) to ask if there were any restaurants nearby. I knew all the words and was trying to remember which version of the verb “to be” I should use (있다 vs. 이다), when the college-aged person behind the cash register asked us in flawless American English: “Do you guys speak English?” Well, at least I tried.

When we were farther away from Seoul (like in 대구 and 제주도) it was a little more difficult, and my Korean language skills got a bit more of a workout. So did my Korean-English dictionary and Lonely Planet phrasebook (the latter of which includes the Korean phrase for “I’m looking for my birth parents,” interestingly enough). My big triumph was when we were looking for an open-air market in 제주도, but when we asked where the market was we were continually directed to regular shopping malls. Finally I looked up the word “fruit” in my dictionary, explained “We want to buy fruit,” and — success! — we were on our way. It kind of made up for the convenience store experience.

However, looking for restaurants and open-air markets is one thing; looking for your Korean parents is another. Where am I going to find the words that will open doors and hearts and lead me not to fruit, but to family? How will I acquire enough language so that I can stand on Korean soil and pretend, if only for a few minutes, that I am a “Korean-Korean”? When will the loss of a language that I was meant to have spoken no longer feel like an amputation?

Coincidentally, I came across this post today at Dawn’s:

Sharon [Roszia, keynote speaker at AAC] went even further with that. She said that anyone who was unwilling to learn their child’s language shouldn’t adopt internationally.

As I commented on the original post, AMEN to that! I know I’ve written this countless times before, but I’ll say it again: For me at least, language is one of the most formidable barriers there is to connecting with Korea and Korean culture. It is a journey that I will be on for the rest of my life. Looking back, it would have been nice to have started this trip earlier than I did, and to have had some company along the way.

Because we all know that cramming is not an effective way to learn.