WOTD: 部队火锅

Before…

It’s weird coming to Korea when one is only familiar with the food through the context of China. I know the names of several classic dishes in both English and Korean, but have no idea what it would be on an English menu.

部队火锅 (bu4dui4 huo3guo1 “army hot pot”) is a dish that I always assumed the Chinese were taking some liberty with their translation. The Korean for which is 부대찌개 (budae jjigae), so one would be forgiven for thinking that 部队 (bu4dui4) is just a sound loan, while 火锅 (huo3guo1) is a slight improvement over jjigae (a general term for stews) since it is cooked on the table. I always figured the “army” aspect of it described the way that a lot of people could eat from the same pot.

In truth, the 部队 refers to American troops, who apparently introduced the key ingredients during the Korean War. Though the ingredients vary depending on the “flavor” you order, they almost invariably contain hot dogs and spam (or other off-brand processed “ham”). America’s contribution to Korean cuisine. I didn’t realize how popular Spam is here, but I have seen several stores selling gift baskets of Spam.

…and after.

This particular pot was kimchi flavored of course.


Wayfinding without Internet

Thanks Alibaba, very helpful! (NYSE: BABA)

As soon as I was in Korea, I plopped down in a seat and logged into the free Wi-Fi. I have international roaming available on my phone, but at 1 RMB per MB, that can get pretty expensive. Though there is a lot of “free” Wi-Fi around Korea, most of those Olleh/KT signals require you to do something in Korean. Getting a local prepaid SIM card is on the top of my to-do list.

The other top priority is getting non-Chinese apps installed on my phone. It’s not just the convenience of having Twitter, Facebook, or Youtube in app form, it’s that Chinese apps are somewhat useless outside of China. For example, all the map apps are great inside of China, but have zero information about anywhere else. Even if you just want to see the name of city, the world outside of China is just a blank.

I can’t believe how much of a pain in the neck it is to get Google Play up and running on my Huawei phone (as yet unresolved). It was a fairly trivial matter to install all the Google services on previous Chinese smartphones, but I spent two hours in the International Port arrival hall repeatedly searching the Chinese app stores for the necessary components and attempting to install them. I equally blame China and Google for the situation. If Google would just let me download apks from play.google.com, it wouldn’t be a problem, but Google insists I have my device registered to my device which requires 4 separate pieces of software.

Anyways, I found an apk for Naver Map from a third-party site, which at least allowed me to look up how to get to the Airbnb. Frustrated with Google and feeling hungry I set off in search of food in the direction of where I could also hop on a bus.

I had a nice “army hot pot” and popped into a 7-11 to see if I had any T-money on my “Tour Korea” card. I had enough for a bus, but loaded it up anyways. Compared to China, buses and subways in Korea feel pretty expensive (typically starting around 1250 W), but it is wonderful that one card works all over the country.

Hello Korea!

My Korean is definitely not good enough to read a bus schedule, but it was easy enough to figure out when to get off the bus, and the Naver map keeps working in an offline state, so it was easy to find the apartment.

I didn’t explore much after dropping my bags off, only getting an overpriced coffee and later a simple dinner at a 7-11. The convenience stores in Korea, Japan, Taiwan, and Thailand are so freaking amazing. I don’t know what is wrong with China.


Army Stew7,900 Won
T-money Recharge50,000 Won*
Airbnb (2 nights)190.85 RMB
Twosome Coffee (Mocha)5,100 Won
Curry Rice (7-11)3,400 Won
Total:592.5 RMB (USD 88.33)

Running Total: 1732 RMB (USD 258.4)
Daily Average: 577 RMB (USD 86)

*I don’t want to have to track every single bus/subway fare, so it only seems like today is an expensive day, but I expect that should last about a month.


WOTD: 理发

Getting a haircut on the street near the Worker’s Gymnasium

Getting one’s haircut in a foreign language is hard, especially when there is a swirling mass of overlapping vocabulary. To begin with, how does one even say hair? Chinese distinguishes between hair on one’s head and hair on one’s body. The first is 头发 (tou2fa, literally “head hair”) while the second is 毛 (mao2, “hair/feather/down”). Don’t get 发 (fa4 “hair”) confused with 发 (fa1 “send out”), the two characters are only the same because of simplification. Also, note that fa4 loses its tone in the 头发 construction.

To cut one’s hair, the operative word is 剪 (jian3 “scissors*”) and one could say 剪头发 (jian3 tou2fa). However, one doesn’t usually just cut one’s hair in China. It is pretty standard to get a 洗剪吹 (xi3 jian3 chui1 “wash, cut, blow”) where you get a shampoo first, haircut, rinse, and blow dry as a package deal. In smaller shops, you can save a buck by opting for a haircut only: 单剪 (dan1 jian3 “single cut”).

Gender also comes into play in Chinese between the pair of words 理发 (li3fa4 “tidy hair”) and 美发 (mei3fa4 “beautiful hair”), much like the distinction between a barbershop and a beauty salon. Both words can add a 师 (shi1 “master”) to the end to refer to the person holding the scissors (e.g. 理发师,美发师) or a 店 (dian4 “shop”) to the end to refer to the room where it happens (e.g. 理发店,美发店). Prices in salons tend to rely on the “experience level” of a hairdresser, and there is a whole lexicon of terms given them important sound titles, which I won’t go into here, because I always seek out the cheapest options.

In parts of China (even Beijing) where there are lots of old people still making up a community, you may find in public parks or on the street side an old barber with a pair of sheers. Give him a try.


*To refer to scissors, one needs to add 刀 (dao1; “knife”) to the end. By itself, 剪 typically functions as a verb meaning “to cut as scissors do,” so the full term 剪刀 (jian3dao1) could be literally thought of as “knife which cuts like scissors,” i.e. scissors.

Landing in Incheon

Much worse air in Incheon than in Weihai

Check-in for the ferry began at 3:30, which didn’t leave me any time to explore Weihai. I took a run in a park and spent the morning on my computer in the hostel common room. After checking out at noon and making sure my electronics were fully charged, I decided to walk over to a well rated Sichuan restaurant in a mall, from where I could easily catch the bus to the International Port. However, I took a wrong turn and found myself in Weihai’s “Happy Korea Village” and I stopped at a vegetarian buffet for lunch. I need to write a post about buffets and this was certainly something unique.

The process of actually picking up my ticket, going through security, going through Immigration and Customs, and boarding the vessel were all straight forward, except the slow pace of it all. Boarding is between 3:30 and 4:30, but the ship did not push off until about 8 pm. The Korean-operated ferry far exceeded my expectations. Even the economy class fare put me in a very comfortable 8-bed dorm, where each bunk had privacy curtains. The ship had a restaurant, karaoke rooms, a duty-free store, a cafe, and a convenience store. I also wasn’t expecting the showers and a (free!) laundry room. The ship was also well-heated.

I stuck to coffee and water, though it seemed like everyone else on the ship (I estimated a 20-80 split of Chinese-to-Korean and an average age in the 60s. I was the only white face on the boat) started breaking out the beer, soju, and baijiu. It turned into quite a party, but I kept my head down. I was so full after lunch, I made do with a bowl of Korean instant ramen from the convenience store.

맛있어요 (Delicious!)

In the morning, it felt like forever before we berthed. The ship had to pass through a lock to get into the inner harbor. I was expecting some questions from Korean immigration (i.e. “What’s your job? When are you leaving?”), but they stamped me through so quickly, they didn’t even mark an exit date in my passport. I assume that means I can stay forever.


Vegetarian Buffet Lunch20 RMB
Bus Fare1 RMB
Kimchi Ramen1,500 Won (9.08 RMB)
Total: 30 RMB (USD 4.48)

Running Total: 1139.5 RMB (USD 169.7)
Daily Average: 569.75 RMB (USD 84.9)

WOTD: Bags

My worldly possessions

I was working Korean in Duolingo and I came across the following:

공공칠가방
gong-gong-chil ga-bang

I immediately recognized the root 가방 as “bag” (which in my semantic space is centered around the prototypical schoolbag) and since it was a Numbers lesson, the first three syllables correspond to 0-0-7. So, a “James Bond bag,” or a briefcase.

Chinese, unfortunately, is not so creative in its description of briefcase, the two main ways of saying which are 公文包 (gong1wen1bao1) and 皮包 (pi2bao1). 包 works in Chinese as a general term for bags or anything with wrapping (e.g. see the Oscar nominated animated short Bao), and the modifiers work by describing what is stored in the bag (公文, “public documents” or briefs if you will) or what the bag is usually made of (皮, “skin” i.e. leather).

I really like the word 皮包 (pi2bao1) because it is also used in the compound word 皮包公司 (pi2bao1 gong1si1, “briefcase company”). As one can imagine, a company based out of a briefcase may not be the most reliable, so it refers to fly-by-night operations. Do be careful with 皮包, however, if you reverse the order of the characters, you refer to a portion of the male anatomy that is removed in a circumcision.

包 (bao1) is an extremely productive character making up 288 words in my master list of Chinese words. Ironically, however 包 is not used to describe luggage, which is 行李 (xing2li5, “travel plum(?)”). 李 is a strange character. Its base meaning is plum, it is a very common surname, and it shows up in the word 行李.


The Journey Begins

Well, I’ve started my trip with an overnight train from Beijing to Weihai, and am waiting around for a ferry onward to Incheon, South Korea. Weihai seems to be a lovely coastal town on the north coast of Shandong, and I wish I could stick around a few days to hike some of the mountains and enjoy the beaches, though it would be better to come in the summer when the lows aren’t below freezing.

I think I’m ready to leave China given how easily the minor annoyances of travel really grate at me. From trying to sit down in the waiting hall of the train station (“No, I can’t let you sit in this seat because I want to put my coat there”) to stowing my luggage on the train (“Sorry, all the under bunk and overhead spaces are full, you’ll just have to leave your suitcase in the alley”) and waking up in a sauna (“Could you not set the A/C to 34 degrees?”).

On the other hand, I’m going from somewhere where I am perfectly comfortable in the language to somewhere where I am going to be a foreigner again. Even if I get some decent conversational Korean under my belt, it is still going to be a constant mental strain to understand and be understood. I am starting to have some doubts about the utility of this journey/nomadic lifestyle. It would probably be better to just pick somewhere, settle down, get a job. That would be a lot more pleasant than traveling, which is mostly a mix of boredom, loneliness, and stress. Though, that sounds like the typical life for most people anyways.


Since I am without income, and it is my habit to do travel bookkeeping, I will keep a running log of my expenses.

Train Ticket (Hard Sleeper)244.5 RMB
Ferry Ticket (Economy)*788 RMB
Bus Fare1 RMB
Hostel26 RMB
Dinner** (Bulgogi + Noodles)50 RMB
Total:1109.5 RMB (USD 165.20)

*Direct flights from Beijing to Seoul cost about 1100 RMB. With the train ticket, I’m not really saving any money, but this should be more fun.
**Forgot to take a picture of dinner. Will need to remember to write about what I eat as well.


WOTD: 钱

Yuan, Yen, Won

Qian2 (钱, “money”) does not exactly merit “Word-of-the-Day” status, being a high frequency character and level one HSK word, but it has been on my mind a lot recently with 6 visits to the bank in the past week in order to convert some RMB into other currencies.

If you don’t already know, Chinese people refer to their money as “the People’s Money,” i.e. 人民币 (ren2min2bi4, “People Money”), much like it is the People’s Republic of China, the People’s Liberation Army, and the People’s Park. The money is denominated in yuan (元, second tone, “dollars”), jiao (角, third tone, literally “horn” but meaning a tenth of a yuan), and fen (分, first tone, “fraction” and meaning one hundredth of a yuan). Paper currency comes in denominations of 1, 5, 10, 20, 50, and 100 yuan and all feature the Great Helmsman*. Exchange rates fluctuate, but a “Pink Mao” is generally worth about 15 bucks American. There are 1 yuan coins and an assortment of coins and tiny paper bills for 1 and 5 jiao, as well as fen, although fen are seldom used. Its cheaper for a supermarket to round down than to deal with things worth a fraction of a penny.

China’s neighbors to the east also use yuan, though in their language systems it gets rendered won and yen, respectively. Korean Won are simply called 韩元 (han2yuan2, “Korea Dollar”, e.g. 원) and Japanese Yen are simply called 日元 (ri4yuan2, “Japan Dollar”, e.g. 円) in Chinese. (Pro-tip: 円 is in your Chinese IME under “yuan.”) Though US dollars and Euros also get the yuan treatment, not all currencies are “yuan.”

So, as for why I went to the bank nearly every day for a week, Chinese has extremely onerous controls on foreign currency. Non-citizens are limited to converting the equivalent of USD 500 per day. The self-service “smart” terminals that some banks have introduced (i.e. ICBC) are basically limited to Chinese ID card holders, meaning one has to wait up to an hour to see a teller, after which it takes another 20 minutes to make several photocopies and pictures of your passport and have a manager sign off on the transaction. Oh, and they make you wait two days before releasing the cash.*


*The current design of renminbi was introduced in 1999, and though anti-counterfeiting measures have been added, the basic design is consistent. See Lethal Weapon 3, which revolves around counterfeiting Chinese yuan for a glimpse of the previous design.
**Actual conditions depend on the city and bank.

Korean Learning Plans

I’ve dabbled with Korean on and off for the past 2+ years, and have recently gotten it into my head to finally commit myself to obtaining (conversational) fluency. The plan is to basically live there for two months (starting next week), and spend a couple hours a day on self-study, specifically Duolingo, a textbook written in Chinese, and the wonderful podcast TTMIK. While working on this self-improvement project, I hope to also direct this blog towards random musings on the learning process.

For the record, I have been to Korea twice so far, totaling almost three weeks in the country. I didn’t know any Korean prior to my first trip to Seoul in 2016, but after a few days, I had picked up the alphabet and was wandering the streets and subways sounding out all written signs to see if I could recognize any words through their similarity to Chinese or English.

About half a year later, a friend of mine announced her intention to take a semester of Korean lessons at my university, and in a show of solidarity I picked my own copy of the required textbooks and self-studied for a month or two. I only managed to finish the first of the two textbook set.

Second half of Elementary Korean textbook

Planning to visit Korea a second time that summer and wanting to be better able to communicate, I must have watched about a dozen instructional videos on YouTube before I found the “Talk to Me in Korean” podcast, which I started listening to. Korea was to be the last stop on a roughly eight-week tour taking me through Singapore, Thailand, and Japan, so, though I was most motivated to learn Korean, I was also a little distracted by the other languages. By the time I made it to Busan, I “knew” maybe enough to fit on a notebook card.

Cheat Sheet

After the trip, I rapidly forgot all the Korean I had studied, only briefly touching it for a couple weeks last Spring when I found it on Duolingo after finishing Spanish. However, I hadn’t reviewed or studied Korean until about two weeks ago, when I shifted the focus of my daily foreign language study over from German.

In these two weeks, I’ve been hacking away at Duolingo (57 crowns so far!) and spending a bit of time every day reviewing the Chinese textbook, and I have surprised myself not only by how much was still kicking around the old memory banks, but also how quickly I’ve incorporated new vocabulary. I am feeling very optimistic about how much progress I can make once I land at Incheon.

My Chinese Learning Story

Part One

Before China, I had absolutely no interest in learning Chinese. Long ago, I was looking to learn a non-European foreign language and my university offered two: Chinese and Arabic. I chose Arabic. Ironically, I am fluent in Chinese today while Arabic remains inscrutable.

Prior to visiting China the first time, my mom asked me if I intended to learn any. My answer was an emphatic no. I was going to be backpacking with a friend, who ostensibly was already fluent, and I figured there should be enough English-speakers in the touristy parts of Xi’an, Beijing, and Shanghai.

Nevertheless, it is hard not to pick up at least a few words when surrounded by the language, and it certainly helps to have a non-native speaker modeling the essentials of basic communication. I seem to recall learning “ma3 ma3 hu1 hu1” (horse horse tiger tiger, i.e. so-so) as my first word in Chinese, then getting the pronouns “ni3” (you), “wo3” (I), “ta1” (he/she/it) on the second day. Afterwards, there wasn’t much conscious effort to get a handle on: good, bad, have, don’t have, want, don’t want, this, that, etc. Considering my traveling companion went around telling every street peddler and beggar that I was a rich man forced me to scramble to spit out a “mei2you3” or “bu2yao4.” I did get my hands on a pair of phrase books during the travels, which exposed me to a fair amount vocabulary and sentence structure. (The Lonely Planet phrase book used such a weird romanization system.) Nevertheless, during the solo portions of my travels, it was extremely difficult to get around. I recall getting a taste for Chinese characters, learning “大” (da4 “big”) from the highway mileage signs between Kunming and Dali and getting North, South, East, and West figured out from the street signs on the grid-like Xi’an.

I had caught the China bug, so even back in the U.S., I put a little effort into Chinese language podcasts (i.e. ChinesePod), but I recall even the Newbie level was too hard for me and I didn’t make any progress on Chinese.

When I moved to China, I would assess my Chinese level as pretty close to zero. I could count to ten and say hello, but had no clue what anyone was saying to me. Since I didn’t have any actual job to occupy my days, I spent quite a few hours a day studying Chinese, typically from a borrowed introductory textbook (Short-term Spoken Chinese) and podcasts (which I began to systematically and obsessively listen to).

My first month in Shenzhen, I went to a particular Lanzhou Pulled Noodle restaurant, which had both the picture menu on the wall and the one page laminated text-only menu. I worked my way down the text-only menu blindly and trusting in the fact that a Muslim restaurant wouldn’t serve me any pig brains. I copied the name of the dish I ordered into a notebook and used my best judgement of what came out to try to decipher the Chinese characters. Though I was quickly able to distinguish 大 (da4 “big”) from 小 (xiao3 “small”) and 牛 (niu2 “cow”) from 羊 (yang2 “sheep”), I recall being utterly flummoxed by 面 (mian2) which had so, so many entries in the dictionary, e.g.: “face, side, surface, aspect, top, classified for …”

I spent a lot of time finding places to hang out in, and having the same basic conversations over and over again. Even understanding only 50% of what was said to me, it was pretty easy to guess that people were asking “what country am I from”, “am I married”, and other questions of that ilk. I’m certain I gave some funny answers when I completely missed the mark.

Alcohol also served a major role in the early learning process, both in trying to flirt with the waitresses at a bar owned by a friend of mine and in drunkenly conversing with clients from Hong Kong in a combination of broken English and broken Mandarin.

As I found odd jobs which required a lot of commuting around the city, podcasts (mostly ChinesePod and ChineseLearnOnline, though I eventually added PopupChinese) became an essential part of the learning experience. I invested the time on my computer to edit the 10+ minute long lessons down to the approx. 30 sec. long content cores and built playlists to shuffle through them. I could “review” 50 lessons in a half hour long bus ride.

Time passed and I kept plugging away on the Chinese, moving on to the next textbook in the series. Within about 6 months, I was confident enough to do a short solo travel (3 days). Within about 9 months, I took a longer solo travel into the backwoods (2 weeks). The following year, I took and passed the Intermediate level HSK (old edition). I don’t recall how much, if any, writing was required for that.


WOTD: 冬泳

A warm sunny day in Beijing

Swimming (游泳 “you2yong3”) is one of those words composed essentially of “swim-swim” to refer to the activity in general. However, the two characters break off to form rather interesting collocations on there own.

游 (which I can never remember how to write without looking at it) has a much broader semantic space than “swimming.” It’s original meaning has something to do with rivers, which can still be seen through the words upstream and downstream (上游 “shang4you2″ and 下游 “xia4you2” respectively), while its use in 游戏 (you2xi4 “game” and 旅游 lv3you2 “travel”) occur an order of magnitude more often than 游泳.

泳, on the other hand, pretty much exclusively related to swimming and is a sticky morpheme (meaning it shouldn’t be showing up alone). If you are watching the Olympics on CCTV Sports, you’ll see it show up in the names of the various swimming styles, such as 仰泳 (yang3yong3, face up-swim, i.e. backstroke), 蛙泳 (wa1yong2, frog-swim, i.e. breaststroke), and 蝶泳 (die2yong3, butterfly-swim, i.e. butterfly stroke); in swimming accessories, such as 泳衣 (yong3yi1, swim-clothes) and 泳帽 (yong3mao4, swim-hat); and for special types of swimming, such as the word of the day.

冬泳 (dong1 yong3, winter-swim) is literally what the hanzi suggest it means: swimming in the winter. It’s quite a popular activity in China, among old men, who swear by the daily ritual as a way to stave off colds.