점점 적응하고 있어*

* = I am gradually adapting (jeom jeom jeok-eung hago isseoh)

Week 2 begins, and I probably understood about 30% more of what was going on in class today. Somebody asked me if that makes 90% total; I replied that it actually makes about 60%, seeing as I understood about a third (or less) of what was going on last week. I realized this this morning when it became apparent that we had a rather lengthy homework assignment that I completely did not know was ever delegated to us. Live and learn? At least here, homework is not a high priority - you of course should do it (and in a somewhat timely fashion, so as to keep up with the pace of the program), but as most of the students are adults who lead busy lives beyond the four hours they spend at Sogang every morning, homework is emphasized far less than is classwork.

I also discovered what I need to do to stay afloat in level 3, and that is prep work like the devil is after me. Our textbook and workbook come with this tiny booklet outlining all of the grammar patterns and vocabulary for each new chapter; if you study this intensely the weekend/night before class, you are a lot less lost, trust me. It may involve a little extra work here and there, but the payoff is quite nice. I even answered one or two questions in my listening class (ironically, one of which was to make a sentence using the word for "to lack confidence"), and Yang Sunsaengnim doesn't seem as terrifying anymore. I think all three of my teachers are growing on me, which is definitely a positive step.

After class today, we had our obligatory lunch at Kimbap Heaven (kimbap + dumplings = $2.80) followed by homework-ing and the like. At 6:00, we all plodded down to the Hyundai Department Store to meet Jihye Unni** again for dinner - which was wonderful, as always. She took us to a 닭갈비 (dalk-galbi) restaurant, which specializes in serving a spicy chicken stew made with ddeokbokki, noodles, and various vegetables. It was fabulous; we ate it along with a couple of merry shots of Korea's alcohol of choice, soju. Honestly, I love that girl - Jihye's company is such a comfort to me here in Seoul, more so than any other Korean or American friends that I have here. She seems very protective of all of us, and very much lives up to her title as "older sister." I'm glad to know she's always just a phone call away, and I hope I see her again soon.

Jihye & (most of) our Korean class - an old photo, to surely be replaced by some newer ones, pending the procurement of that stupid camera battery charger.

While walking Jihye to the subway station, some white guy came up to me unexpectedly and asked, "Are you Dana D'Amelio?" Sure enough, it was Philip Gant, perhaps the most famous Light Fellow to ever come to Korea (if you ask Lee Sunsaengnim, that is) as well as my friend Sejin's boyfriend, who was in tow. It was really nice to see Sejin again - she's sticking around Korea for most of the summer. She promised to meet me tomorrow and to help me (finally) get a cell phone and camera battery on Wednesday. This is a relief, since, you know, I'd actually like to have these electronics instead of wimping around and whining that my language skills aren't good enough to procure such devices (which, okay, they probably are - but I fear speaking at this point. It's on the to-do list, I promise).

A couple of hours, mostly spent doing homework and goofing off at Starbucks, have since elapsed, and my Korean clock tells me that it is bedtime as the day begins in New York/New Haven. So it is.

** = something I have intended to address for awhile is the kind of ridiculous obsession with age that Korean culture seems to revolve around (if you are Korean or are taking Korean, you might want to skip this; you'll know about it already). Well, I suppose "ridiculous" is a harsh word; "unfamiliar" is more like it, seeing as I can't really think of any true equivalent in any other language. Basically, Korean language changes and adapts to fit the social situation at hand, or rather, the speaker must adapt their language and grammatical choices to the appropriate level. I *think* there are something like 6 or 7 levels of formality; which one you use depends almost entirely on age. Whereas I might use familiar speech (반말, or banmal) with close friends my own age, I would have to use a more formal style of construction when addressing teachers, parents of friends, basically any adults that you don't know well or wish to show respect. There is yet another level of formal speech, used to convey utmost respect and which I have most often heard used by news reporters on TV and by people who are introduced for the first time. It's all very confusing, and knowing when to switch in and out of each level of formality seems totally ingrained in the Korean psyche. Which is to say that it is near impossible for foreigners to grasp. We don't have things like this back in the States; the closest approximation would maybe be changing the word "yeah" to "yes" (as in you might say "yeah" to a friend, but "yes" to a teacher or something like that). Even this, however, is not nearly as strict as it is in Korea; also, it doesn't really quite revolve around age.

A manifestation of the Korean obsession with age is the terms by which younger people are supposed to address people older than they. This applies to children AND adults. Take me and Jihye, for example - Jihye is five or so years older than me, and therefore I should not address her solely by her first name, but by 언니(unni, a term meaning "older sister"). If I want to distinguish her from other girls who are older than me, because I am supposed to call each and every one of them unni, I have to add unni to her name, making her Jihye Unni, as specified above. If I am addressing an older boy, the term is 오빠 (oppa, meaning "older brother"); as if this wasn't all confusing enough, there are actually separate terms for girls and boys to use (boys refer to older girls as 누나, nuna, and older guys as 형, hyung). This relationship applies even to family members; if we were Korean, my younger brother Matt would always, always refer to me simply as nuna. This is totally unfathomable to me; I can't imagine my brother never calling me by name, or never calling my older friends by their true names. If Hayeon and I were totally Korean all the time, she would technically be my unni, because she's a year and a month older than me. I am grateful that she hates the term.

I think the age thing seems to remove a certain level of personability that I know I've reached with older friends, but Koreans seem comfortable in it and I would be stunned if this ever changed. Chalk it up to one of those things you just have to get used to; it's like eating kimchi. I know it's weird and looks funny and isn't what you're used to, but everyone else is eating it. You might as well, too.