Showing posts with label test. Show all posts
Showing posts with label test. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Jjukkumi

My time in Korea is rapidly drawing to a close. I return to America in less than two weeks.

Today was the first part of my final exam, listening and speaking. Tomorrow we will have the writing and reading sections, and then Friday is our "completion ceremony" (수료식 修了式). After that there are no more classes, and I'll spend time visiting people and packing.

The SNU semester continues -- it is on a different schedule from the language school -- but today was also the last day for me to attend the Korean philology seminar that I've been sitting in on. As we do after most class meetings, the students and I had dinner at the dining hall with the professor today. As it happens, one of the two dishes being served was jjukkumi 쭈꾸미, baby octopus, which I discussed in this post.

They are pretty tasty, decapitated and fried in hot sauce with onions and served over rice.

I'm not sure I could handle eating a live one, though.

Monday, April 7, 2008

Jal boatda

Midterm grades came back today, and I did very well. In fact, my score was best in the class. As is customary, this fact was announced aloud. As is also customary, I am now expected to treat the class. I will bring some tteok in tomorrow to share around.

Here's what the grade slip looks like:


After my name, separate scores are given for the individual sections of the test (from left to right: writing, speaking, listening, and reading), and then the total score.

As regular readers of the blog know, listening comprehension is my weak point, so I'm proud of my 19-out-of-20 score on that section. However, it was also widely acknowledged by students and teachers alike that the listening section was much too easy. Our teacher warned us today that the test as a whole was too easy and that the final exam would be considerably more difficult.

The original exams were not returned to us, but we were allowed to go to the teachers' room to look at them for a few minutes.

Here's what I had for lunch today:

"Bean-curd refuse stew". The English name was rather unfortunately lifted straight out of the standard Korean-English dictionary, which defines kongbiji as "bean-curd refuse; the edible residue left after the production of bean curd".

In the Chinese countryside in 2001 I watched bean curd being made. The beans are boiled and then squeezed, yielding a rich, flavorful liquid which is then congealed into tofu. What remains behind is a dry, mealy, flavorless starch with little nutritional value. I assume this is the same thing as kongbiji. The tofu-maker used it as pig food.

I thought the stew was quite tasty, though I assume that the bean-curd refuse contributed more to its texture than its flavor.

[The following paragraph and photograph added by Lance April 8, 2008:]

Today I bought two kinds of tteok at the little tteok specialty shop next door to my building: gyeongdan 경단 and shirutteok 시루떡. As it happened, the teacher also brought tteok in today, the kind that is traditionally eaten on Chuseok, because it was the subject of our lesson text. So there was a tteok feast during the midday break.

Upper left: songpyeon 송편, half-moon shaped glutinous rice balls with sweet paste filling, traditionally eaten on the harvest festival day Chuseok
Lower left: shirutteok 시루떡, layered glutinous rice cake, sweetened mung bean and sweetened red bean
Lower right: gyeongdan 경단, glutinous rice balls rolled in flavored powders (e.g. the red is cinnamon, the pale brown sesame)

Friday, December 7, 2007

Tellebijeon 2

Our final exam scores are back. Erma and I did very well on everything with one exception: I got a demoralizing 78 on my listening comprehension test. This is possibly the lowest grade I have ever received on a test in my life.

Watching television has apparently not improved my listening ability much, but it has provided an interesting window into certain aspects of contemporary Korean culture.

The most common TV shows seem to be "dramas" (the term used for soap operas, which are broadcast in prime time), talk shows, game shows, and sketch humor shows. Talk shows and game shows apparently must always have celebrity guests, and many of them seem to be celebrities by virtue of appearing on a lot of TV shows. Being a television star looks like hard work in Korea. These folks are under contract and have to work a lot of shows each week.

Two of the shows we've watched a lot are Minyeodeur-ui Suda 미녀들의 수다 ("Beautiful Women Chatting") and Muhan Dojeon 무한 도전 (無限挑戰) ("Limitless Challenge"). The former is an extremely popular program that is rebroadcast so often throughout the week on various channels that it is virtually impossible to turn on the TV and not find it on.

The premise of the show is simple: Put 16 young women from foreign countries, all of whom speak Korean well, into a room together and ask them what they think about Korea.

Korea is now a significant enough world player that many foreigners are learning Korean. As I've mentioned before, the Yonsei Korean Language Institute has about 1000 students right now. So it's possible to find young women of various nationalities with good enough Korean to be on a television talk show. At the same time, foreigners who speak Korean well are still enough of a novelty that the studio audience (and presumably the audience at home) is fascinated by them.

Nearly all the discussion topics are about how these foreign women perceive aspects of Korean society. There is some comparison with their home countries, but for the most part the show is more interested in exploring the image of Korea in the minds of foreigners than in examining other cultures. Perhaps this is because for decades Koreans have been intimately aware of Western culture, while their own country has been largely ignored by the outside world. Koreans now seem intensely interested in how they are perceived by others.

In contrast, Americans are woefully ignorant of other countries and societies, and generally completely uninterested in learning more. It's impossible to conceive of an American equivalent of this show. (Foreigners who speak English well! Talking about their perceptions of America!)

Here's what the show looks like. The sixteen women (they vary somewhat from show to show, but most seem to be regulars) are arrayed in rows of four, their seats labeled with their names and countries of origin. They generally dress in similar colors: yellow one day, red the next, but they almost always show a lot of leg. Here, they are in black and white.


There's a host, who dresses in bizarre outfits, and directs the conversation. A small group of male celebrities asks questions of the women. Like this guy:


The women pictured here are from Canada, Russia, England, and Malaysia.


The person speaking is sometimes broadcast on a big screen behind the studio audience. Throughout the show written messages appear on the screen, sometimes summarizing or quoting what is being said, sometimes listing the topic of conversation, sometimes poking fun at Korean-language errors.

In this picture, the Mongolian woman is talking about how Mongolian men in Korea often do part-time work as extras in historical dramas because of their skill at riding horses.


This kind of rapid-fire presentation of written messages on the screen is common to all of the talk and comedy shows. (Unfortunately, they usually flash by too quickly for me to read more than a word or two.)

The second show we really enjoy, Limitless Challenge, features six comedian celebrities. On each show the producers give them some kind of ridiculous challenge, and they are then filmed trying to meet it. On a lot of the shows they travel around in an old van. Often they are bored. Through clever editing and the addition of humorous text, the results are woven into an hour of hilarious comedy.

On this particular episode, the comedians were dressed up as super-heroes and sent out into Seoul to do good deeds.

There's Spider-Man, Batman, Wonder Woman, Superman, and two characters I don't recognize. (Brownie points to anyone who can identify them!)


They spent a lot of time sitting in their van looking bored and trying to figure out what to do.


Wonder Woman has fallen asleep here.


Eventually they decided to go out into one of the parks and clean up gum stuck to the ground. The guy playing Spider-Man kept striking these hilarious Spider-Man like poses as he scraped gum off with a putty knife.


The caption here says, ridiculously: "When you attack the enemy, don't let him get wind of your intentions!"


Another episode simply followed the guys around as they prepared to put on a live concert for Yonsei college students. Here they are backstage, wearing outrageous wigs and costumes, practicing their dance moves.


The concert was held in the same amphitheater where Erma and I participated in the Korean writing contest.


The performance was pure goofiness.


The Yonsei students were thrilled. They were all wearing blue, just like at the Yeon-Go Jeon.


In the most recent episode we saw, the comedians were dressed up in schoolboy outfits and sent into an English-speaking Potemkin Village. Their task was to mail a letter. In this village, however, speaking Korean is illegal, and if you do it two times you go to jail. Confronted with various stressful situations (like a hold-up at the post office), their desperate attempts to speak only in broken English (every one of which was hilarious) eventually failed, and the police carted them off to jail one by one. (The caption here says "We're going to get another roommate ...")


One of the weirder talk shows we've seen is called Museoun Seupeonji 무서운 스펀지 "Frightening Sponge". Each episode presents tales of the weird and inexplicable. (Exactly what the English word "sponge" in the show's title is supposed to mean is unclear.) On one episode there were very low-budget dramatic reenactments of bizarre events in history (like the guy who got a metal pipe through his head and lived). On another, a magician performed a card trick. On a third the program attempted to make you afraid to ride in your elevator by showing how easily you could be knifed to death by a madman riding with you. In all of these cases professors were guests on the show, explaining or elucidating these events, tricks, and warnings.

The function of the celebrity guests (one of whom is also a regular on "Beautiful Women") is mainly to gasp in awe, look terrified, and then slowly come to an understanding.

One day there was a special episode of "SPONGE 2.0":


For some reason it was called "Love Sponge" (as written in the lower left-hand corner):


We didn't watch long enough to figure out what was going on.

On one of the game shows we watched, one of the celebrity contestants struck Erma as looking remarkably like her friend King of Thompson:

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Rak!

Yesterday Erma and I were in one of the local eateries having lunch while I bemoaned my poor performance on our listening comprehension final exam. (I'll find out tomorrow just how poor it was.) The television in the restaurant was tuned to a music video station, and they were showing a live musical performance at a big open-air theater.

On the screen behind the performers on stage, the following text appeared in giant green letters:

SCHOOL OF 樂

The Chinese character is used to write two different meaningful syllables in Korean (and in Chinese). One is ak 악 (Chinese yuè), meaning "music". The other is pronounced nak 낙 or rak 락 (Chinese ), meaning "joy".

Have you figured out the multilingual pun? If the character is given one of its Korean pronunciations for the meaning "joy", the sign can be read "SCHOOL OF RAK", i.e. "SCHOOL OF ROCK". This, of course, evokes associations with the character's other meaning, "music".

Monday, December 3, 2007

Gimal Shiheom

We've got final exams tomorrow and Wednesday. (For some reason classes continue for another week after finals end.) My recent cold, preparations for finals, an outing to see the Korean version of Hairspray, and a conference presentation have kept me too busy to post blog entries over the last week.

We'll get something interesting up again within the next few days.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Junggan Shiheom

Erma and I both did very well on our midterm exams. No one need feel guilty that we went to see the burrito-eating contest.

The exams were rather grueling. I had six separate tests: recitation, writing, reading, speaking, listening, and situational role-playing, for a total of eight hours of exam time. (The actual total was a bit less, because much of the time allotted for the speaking and situational role-playing tests is taken up with waiting for one's turn with the examining teacher.) My test results confirmed that I am weakest in listening. Maybe the TV-watching will turn that around before the final exams.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Igeup

The placement test results are out. I'm in Level 2 and Erma's in Level 4. (There are six levels in all.) That seems about right; I've taken one 9-week summer intensive course 2 years ago, and these Yonsei courses are 10-week intensive courses. Classes begin Monday.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Shikdang

Today was rainy. Erma and I took our placement tests at the Korean Language Institute. All of the new students gathered in a large auditorium where we received verbal instructions in, serially, Korean, English, Chinese, and Japanese. (A guy sitting near me, looking at a Russian text, was presumably out of luck.) Then we all separated into small classrooms where we took a written exam and had one-on-one oral exams with instructors. The whole process took about two hours. Our assigned class levels will be posted tomorrow.

After the test, the two of us went over to the main student center on Yonsei campus to have lunch in the dining hall. The student center was pretty old and run down. The dining hall itself was large and grimy. Most of the space was filled by long rectangular tables with white plastic chairs. At the back end of the room were a number of windows where you could pick up a brown plastic tray and some silverware, and get served a meal. After looking at a few of them, we chose this one:

We each helped ourselves to a small bowl of radish kimchi and a small bowl of bean-sprout broth. The worker behind the counter brought over, and put on each of our trays, a sizzling iron tray of kimchi fried rice.

Then we looked around to try to figure out where to pay. It wasn't obvious. By this time it was well after 1:00, and there were not too many students getting food, so there was no big line that we could just get in. The few other people we saw getting food were just sitting down and eating. The meals couldn't possibly be free, could they?

Finally, we spotted a woman sitting at a wooden desk in a far corner of the dining hall. We approached her with our trays of food and asked if this was the place to pay for our meal. "You didn't pay yet?" she said in surprise. We were, it turned out, supposed to pay her first, get a little meal ticket, and then use the meal ticket at the counter to get our food.

I took the two meal tickets back to the counter, where I found a plastic bucket at the bottom of which a whole bunch of similar tickets were forlornly clustered, and dropped them in.

The meals cost 3000 Korean won each. At current exchange rates, that about $3.25.

While we were eating, we looked around and realized how the system is supposed to work. When you enter the dining hall, you should immediately turn left. As you walk along the wall, there is a menu of today's dishes, and a glass-fronted cabinet in which you can see samples of each of the meals available, with prices. Here's the meal we got:


The sign says "철판 김치 볶음밥 & 후라이". That's kimchi fried rice and "hurai". "Hurai" is the Korean pronunciation of "fry", and means the fried egg. (This is a case where the English "F" sound, absent in Korean, is replaced with "H" rather than "P".)

The more observant of you will have noticed that the counter where we got our food has an orthographically bizarre name. Here it is up close:

There are three scripts involved here, and a trilingual pun. Let's start with the last two elements, 토랑. This is written in the Korean alphabet, Han-geul, and spells out "torang".

At the beginning is a Chinese character, 世. Chinese characters aren't used much in Korean writing anymore, but they are still used occasionally in signs or in certain formal settings to write Korean words that have historically been borrowed from Chinese. This Chinese character writes a word meaning "world", pronounced "se" in Korean.*

The middle element is, of course, the English "apostrophe s".

So what does the whole thing mean? Well, it appears to say something like "World's Torang", which has the look of a name of an establishment. But "torang" is not a Korean word, as far as I know. The trick to understanding it is to pronounce the whole thing in Korean. Then you get "Se + seu + torang". (The vowel transcribed here "eu" is a very short, whispery vowel. Its presence is necessary because Koreans cannot pronounce an "s" sound at the end of a syllable.) This pronunciation differs by only one consonant from "reseutorang", the Korean word for restaurant, which is borrowed from French.

What we have, then, is an establishment name that puns on the French-borrowed word for restaurant while incorporating a Chinese character meaning "world" and an English possessive form.

I wonder if any of the Korean students who see the sign ever think about this?

[Footnote added September 28]
*I've just discovered that the 世 is the Chinese character used to write the second syllable of Yonsei University. In this context it's got nothing to do with "world". So "Yonsei's Torang" is a better interpretation than "World's Torang".