Hanging out with my friends from Korean class, I always thought that my Korean listening skills were shitty. Now that I’m alright in Korean and studying Mandarin, I’m beginning to realize that it was due to language crossover.
I hung out with my Chinese friends from Korean class this weekend. 풍란 (Pungran) lives nearby, and I went to her officetel first.
“삼백우 (sam baek uu),” she said, telling me her officetel number. There is no “uu” number, so I assumed this was 삼백구 sam baek gu (309). Went up to the third floor, and there’s only 301, 302, 303, 304, 305.
I call her again. “SAM BAEK UU!” she repeats loudly, but this time holds her fingers up: 3-0-5.
5 in Mandarin is “uu”. 5 in Korean is “oh”.
After that was figured out, we headed to town to meet the other two friends: Gyehwa from Yanbian, and Myeongho from Inner Mongolia. Myeongho passed KIIP 5 on his first try. Pungran and I got through on our second try. Gyehwa had taken her third KIIP 5 exam earlier that day, before we met up. She said that the writing test was awful: write about your personality 성격, and the advantages/disadvantages 강점/단점. That’s from KIIP 3. I hated that chapter.
We had lamb skewers 양꼬치, which I’ve never had before. Technically it’s adult sheep, but I guess in English, it’s marketed with the term “lamb”.
“There’s lots of restaurants like this in China,” they told me. Really? They make it sound like it’s everywhere. I was amazed at the setup, which moved back and forth, made the skewers rotate over the coals. Technology! No need to flip them over – it’s all automated!! And I love that the skewers are stainless steel.
I loved it! I liked the spice mix for dipping the lamb in, with the cumin seeds and everything.
Pungran insisted we take the bus home, just as she’d insisted we take the bus there. She complained about having to walk long distances from the subway, and the subway station stairs. While on the bus, her Korean boyfriend called her and it turned out that he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Pungran then told me, Ugh, I have to go home and cook.
“Tell him to cook,” I said. She rolled her eyes and complained that Korean men can’t cook, because the women have always done it for them.
“But now you’re doing it too!” I pointed out. I told her to hand him a packet of ramyeon and have him figure it out.
“You should marry a Chinese man,” she told me. “Chinese men know how to cook.”