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Vowels are an interesting aspect of Hangeul. They are composed of long lines and short lines, verical and horizotal. The long horizontal lines represent Earth's horizon, yin, and the long vertical lines represent man. The short lines represent the sun, yang. They used to be dots, but were translated to short strokes when writing with a brush, and they eventually replaced the traditional dots.
The vowels are divided into bright, dark, and neutral categories, depending on where the short stroke (sun) is located, if present. If the short stroke is to the right of (in the east) or above (above the horizon) the long stroke, the vowel is bright. If it is to the left of (in the west) or below (below the horizon) the long stroke, it is dark. The two vowels with only a long stroke are considered neutral, even though the one that is only a horizontal stroke (the horizon) is technically dark. This all matters when conjugating verbs and otherwise inflecting words. Dark vowel words are only followed by dark vowel suffixes, etc.
Here's a breakdown of the vowels:
ㅏ
"A" sound, as in "father"
Long vertical line, short horizontal line to the right (a man standing before the rising sun)
Romanized as "a"
ㅓ
Short "o" sound, as in "hot"
Long vertical line, short horizontal line to the left (a man standing before the setting sun)
Romanized as "eo"
ㅗ
Long "o" around, as "boat"
Long horizontal line, short vertical line above it (the sun over the horizon)
Romanized as "o"
ㅜ
Long "u" sound, as in "mute"
Long horizontal line, short vertical line below it (the sun below the horizon)
Romanized as "u"
ㅣ
Long "e" sound, as in "feet"
Long vertical line (a man)
Romanized as "i"
ㅡ
Sort of short "u" sound, kind of like in "put"
Long horizontal line (the horizon)
Romanized as "eu"
Hangeul doesn't have a letter "y" like we do, but they do have a sound for it. This is accomplished by adding a short stroke to the first four vowels above, adding the "y" sound to the beginning:
ㅑ
"ya"
ㅕ
"yeo"
ㅛ
"yo"
ㅠ
"yu"
Hangeul also has numerous diphthongs (the combinations above are technically iotized vowels). These two were originally diphthongs, but have become pure vowels over time. They also originally had distinct sounds, but over the last couple generations have come to both sound like short "e." Mostly only the older generations can tell the difference now.
ㅐ
"ae" = ㅏ a + ㅣ i
ㅔ
"e" = ㅓ eo + ㅣ i
These two vowels can also be given an extra stroke to add the "y" sound:
ㅒ
"yae"
ㅖ
"ye"
The same goes for the "w" sound as it does for "y" as evidenced with these diphthongs:
ㅘ
"wa" = ㅗ o + ㅏ a
ㅝ
"wo" = ㅜ u + ㅓ eo
ㅙ
"wae" = ㅗ o + ㅐ ae
ㅞ
"we" = ㅜ u + ㅔ e
ㅟ
"wi" = ㅜ u + ㅣ i
ㅢ
"ui" = ㅡ eu + ㅣ i
ㅚ
"oe" = ㅗ o + ㅣ i (This one doesn't get Romanized with a "w," but it sounds like there is one.)
The cool thing about Korean (and other not-English languages) is that the vowels make the same sound, one sound, every time. You don't have to memorize fifteen different combinations of vowels that all make the same sound. Some of the diphthongs make similar sounds, but in order to read and pronounce them, all you have to do is break them down into the vowels that built them and you've got it.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Hangeul, the Korean System of Writing
Hangeul, which means "great script" and "Korean script," was invented by King Sejong around 565 years ago. It was described in an official document released on October 9, 1446; the anniversary of that day is celebrated as Hangeul Day. I don't get that day off. Prior to the invention of Hangeul, Koreans used a Sino-Korean hanja system, using script and words borrowed from the Chinese language.
Hangeul is divided into syllables, each one of which fits into a square (the square is not drawn, of course). There are no more than four letters per syllable, and no fewer than two. Words and syllables cannot begin with vowels in this script, so a silent letter precedes any vowel that is at the beginning of a syllable. Double consonants within the same syllable are somewhat rare in Korean, relative to English, and can only come at the end of the syllable. When two consonants are put together, only one is pronounced, unless the next syllable begins with a vowel. In that case, the second consonant sound is carried over orally, to begin the next syllable.
Example: the root of the conjugated form of the verb "to sit" is pronounced "an-ja," but the "j" sound is actually in the first syllable, so the romanized version would look like this: anj-a.
The script reads from left to right, then top to bottom, as with English writing, but it can also be read top to bottom, right to left. The former is the preferred modern method of writing, but the latter is the traditional way to write, as influenced by Chinese writing.
Linguists find this written language quite interesting. It was invented with specifical goals in mind. The major goal was to create a writing system that the common man could learn and use easily. When the Chinese hanja system was the only writing available to Koreans, it was mostly only members of the aristocracy who could write, because it was such a difficult task to learn. Once Hangeul was released, it was opposed by scholars who didn't want to lose their high status, but it nonetheless was quickly assimilated into popular culture and the country became literate fairly quickly.
The letters of Hangeul are so easy to learn that it is said "A wise man can acquaint himself with them before the morning is over; a stupid man can learn them within the space of ten days." When I took Korean language classes in LA, the first quarter was devoted solely to learning Hangeul. A quarter was ten weeks long, with classes meeting one night a week for two hours. So, the first class and last class being devoted primarily to placement testing, class organization, fun activities, and ceremonies, it took sixteen hours to learn the whole alphabet and how to read anything written in Hangeul, even if I don't understand it. Not too shabby.
The history of the shapes of the letters is quite interesting, and partly why linguists are fascinated by the system, but I'll have to save that explanation for another day. Stay tuned.
Hangeul is divided into syllables, each one of which fits into a square (the square is not drawn, of course). There are no more than four letters per syllable, and no fewer than two. Words and syllables cannot begin with vowels in this script, so a silent letter precedes any vowel that is at the beginning of a syllable. Double consonants within the same syllable are somewhat rare in Korean, relative to English, and can only come at the end of the syllable. When two consonants are put together, only one is pronounced, unless the next syllable begins with a vowel. In that case, the second consonant sound is carried over orally, to begin the next syllable.
Example: the root of the conjugated form of the verb "to sit" is pronounced "an-ja," but the "j" sound is actually in the first syllable, so the romanized version would look like this: anj-a.
The script reads from left to right, then top to bottom, as with English writing, but it can also be read top to bottom, right to left. The former is the preferred modern method of writing, but the latter is the traditional way to write, as influenced by Chinese writing.
Linguists find this written language quite interesting. It was invented with specifical goals in mind. The major goal was to create a writing system that the common man could learn and use easily. When the Chinese hanja system was the only writing available to Koreans, it was mostly only members of the aristocracy who could write, because it was such a difficult task to learn. Once Hangeul was released, it was opposed by scholars who didn't want to lose their high status, but it nonetheless was quickly assimilated into popular culture and the country became literate fairly quickly.
The letters of Hangeul are so easy to learn that it is said "A wise man can acquaint himself with them before the morning is over; a stupid man can learn them within the space of ten days." When I took Korean language classes in LA, the first quarter was devoted solely to learning Hangeul. A quarter was ten weeks long, with classes meeting one night a week for two hours. So, the first class and last class being devoted primarily to placement testing, class organization, fun activities, and ceremonies, it took sixteen hours to learn the whole alphabet and how to read anything written in Hangeul, even if I don't understand it. Not too shabby.
The history of the shapes of the letters is quite interesting, and partly why linguists are fascinated by the system, but I'll have to save that explanation for another day. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Children
I have never seen so many children as I have in this place. There are children EVERYWHERE. It doesn't matter where I go, or what time it is. Kids get up early and stay up late (thanks to the superstudent education system), so there's no time of day I haven't seen them swarming the streets, restaurants, and stores. Even when I think they're supposed to be in school, they're all over the streets. I still haven't quite figured out the school schedules here.
Before I worked at a school in LA, I would literally go months without seeing a single child. Actually, I think I figured something out from coming here. Angelenos don't actually procreate: they just replenish their massive population by enticing people to move there with eversunny weather and the film industry.
I think the family unit is much stronger here than it is in the US (or at least, where I've lived), so instead of leaving the kids home while they go out, parents take their kids along with them WHEREVER they go. Koreans also work longer hours at school and at their jobs, so they really work hard at relaxation when they have free time. Thus, family field trips.
Before I worked at a school in LA, I would literally go months without seeing a single child. Actually, I think I figured something out from coming here. Angelenos don't actually procreate: they just replenish their massive population by enticing people to move there with eversunny weather and the film industry.
I think the family unit is much stronger here than it is in the US (or at least, where I've lived), so instead of leaving the kids home while they go out, parents take their kids along with them WHEREVER they go. Koreans also work longer hours at school and at their jobs, so they really work hard at relaxation when they have free time. Thus, family field trips.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Things I Don't Miss
Driving, and paying for gas. That's for the birds.
Soda made with high fructose corn syrup. I've noticed that soda tastes infinitely better outside the US, I assume because it's made with real cane sugar.
Having to leave my apartment to do laundry, and having to pay for it. Apartments come with their own laundry room and washing machine here.
City noise. In Koreatown, I was constantly bombarded with sounds of car alarms, people yelling or partying, cars honking (or crashing), sirens, and loud music. Here, the only sounds I hear at night are the occasional cats yowling or fighting. In the morning, I sometimes hear the produce trucks with their loudspeaker recordings screaming out what they're selling, but they usually don't start until a little bit before I get up.
Understanding the commercials. They're so much less annoying when you don't know what's being said.
Having to pay utility bills and rent. Here, each month, the amounts for my flat apartment management fee, my cell phone bill, and my internet bill are just taken out of my paycheck. And my rent is free, of course.
Commuting to work. At the job I was working before I came here, I drove 35-40 minutes to and from work each day. Total distance: SIX MILES. Here, I walk to work. It takes three minutes.
Having to talk to other people all the time. I do have to talk all day to my students, which kills me, but other than that, I don't have to converse much. The language barrier has its advantages.
High priced movie tickets. It's not super cheap here, but it's cheaper than in LA. I pay about seven dollars for a ticket here, and I just found out last night, that although they don't seem to have matinee prices here, they do have, let's call them "nuit," prices for late night shows. Only 5 dollars.
Vacuuming.
Soda made with high fructose corn syrup. I've noticed that soda tastes infinitely better outside the US, I assume because it's made with real cane sugar.
Having to leave my apartment to do laundry, and having to pay for it. Apartments come with their own laundry room and washing machine here.
City noise. In Koreatown, I was constantly bombarded with sounds of car alarms, people yelling or partying, cars honking (or crashing), sirens, and loud music. Here, the only sounds I hear at night are the occasional cats yowling or fighting. In the morning, I sometimes hear the produce trucks with their loudspeaker recordings screaming out what they're selling, but they usually don't start until a little bit before I get up.
Understanding the commercials. They're so much less annoying when you don't know what's being said.
Having to pay utility bills and rent. Here, each month, the amounts for my flat apartment management fee, my cell phone bill, and my internet bill are just taken out of my paycheck. And my rent is free, of course.
Commuting to work. At the job I was working before I came here, I drove 35-40 minutes to and from work each day. Total distance: SIX MILES. Here, I walk to work. It takes three minutes.
Having to talk to other people all the time. I do have to talk all day to my students, which kills me, but other than that, I don't have to converse much. The language barrier has its advantages.
High priced movie tickets. It's not super cheap here, but it's cheaper than in LA. I pay about seven dollars for a ticket here, and I just found out last night, that although they don't seem to have matinee prices here, they do have, let's call them "nuit," prices for late night shows. Only 5 dollars.
Vacuuming.
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