驛馬煞 YUKMASAL

This week one of my students introduced me to the Korean word yukmasal (驛馬煞). My Korean English dictionary says it is "a person with itchy feet". However my students and Korean friends have several different opinions on the meaning.

The word comes from three Chinese characters. Yuk (驛) means station and ma (馬) is horse. Sal (煞) has been hard for me to understand and I've received different answers when asking the meaning. It seems to be similar to "destiny", and a bit like "aura", and most likely something in between. Although I've also heard it described as "bad spirit".

This history of yukmasal is very interesting. Many generations ago in Korea, before having such an awesome transportation system, horse and rider was the main method of delivering messages. Like many other countries, when the government had a new policy, or tax, or an order to send to another town, the message was delivered on horse back.

En route from the capital, and scattered around the country, were yukmal (驛馬) - literally horse stations. These were places where riders could turn in their tired horse for a fresh one before continuing on their journey. And interestingly enough, my closest subway station, Yanjaeyuk, used to be a yukma.

At that time in Korean history, being a messenger was considered unfortunate. There was a caste system, and only low-ranking citizens did this work. Thieves in the mountains made the job risky. And of course, Korea's extreme climate ensured a likelihood of becoming sick.

Korea was an agricultural society at that time, though not nomadic like Mongolia. So people settled in one place, and any digression from that life was frowned upon. Still today, there seems to be a strong mentality here that a settled job is a good job. But according to my student, Jin, the world, and Korea, is changing. Now a man will go abroad if he has the ability too. And because of this, the once very negative meaning of yukmasal, is becoming more positive. Often used in a joking manner, it can even be seen as a compliment in some cases to indicate a person has traveled a lot for enjoyment.

This word has really intrigued me and I enjoyed many a discussion with students and Korean friends about it. Some of the quotes that came out quite impressed me,

-"After leaving home, you will not come back".
-"It's your fate to be so active".
-"Just follow the wind".
-"You have lots of wind". (I had to correct my student on this one.)
-"It's an inherited illness".
'"If you meet a beautiful woman, you can't keep the relationship very long". (Damn!)


These talimans are typical charms for people with yukmasal. They are carried for protection against evil spirits, disease and accidents. They are also extremely expensive when bought from a temple. So feel free to print these off and tape to your arm before your next vacation.

THE IRONY OF LENT

2012 brings with it my twelfth year of giving up booze for Lent. This horrendous forty-six day period gets harder and harder every year. Even more so in countries like Korea and Japan where so much of the socializing is done round a soju or sake bottle. Add singledom to the equation and you can imagine what a battle it is to avoid alcohol and alcohol-events for almost seven weeks.
Although my Catholic upbringing was the origin of this regular pre-Easter abstinence, I still continued this practice in my now Atheist life. There are four reasons I do this.

1. It's good for my body, especially my liver and beer belly. Oh wait, I guess strictly speaking, it's bad for my beer belly, right? Anyway, it's good for my liver!

2. It's damn tough. I find it really difficult. And therefore, it must be good for my willpower and mental strength and, uh, making a man of me.

3. To ensure I'm not becoming an alcoholic. I read somewhere that being born Irish is being born into alcoholism. Although my country ranked only 15th in recent world alcoholism statistics, I do tend to drink everyday at times and to often drink alone at home. My drinking is usually in moderation and never when I have to work. But surviving Lent each year reassures me that I don't have a drinking problem.

4. Appreciation of alcohol - before, during and after Lent i have a profound appreciation of booze. Beer tastes great, whisky warms my heart and Korean makoli brings me pure joy and satisfaction. I'm not exaggerating. Knowing I won't or didn't have it for a while makes me thankful when I can. As they say - absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or is it Absinthe?

The irony of Lent is that for the weeks preceding and following it, I drink like a fish. I drink everyday. If I don't drink, I feel I'm missing out on limited opportunities. I justify this over-consumption with excuses such as "I better stock up", or "I deserve this for what I'm about to do". So this year, as afternoon drinking becomes more common, I question whether the physical "benefits" of Lent actually exist. Is Lent actually good for me? Or do the pre and post-consumption nullify the benefits of the dry period?

Or perhaps this new questioning of my annual routine is my inner alcoholic trying to find a way out of doing Lent.

IT'S A SAXOPHONE

I started a new private class last night. It's in one of the fanciest buildings in Seoul, the Gangnam Finance Center. My new student seems to have a status on par with the building in which he works. Mr Park oversees the construction of power plants. In March he'll move to India to build natural gas power plant. I was contacted to get his English ready for dealing with his Indian partners and staff.
Our first class was a little stiff, as it usually is when I'm attempting to teach business English to people who know much more about business, and often more about English, than me.
About thirty minutes into class I heard a loud beep. And then a boop. And then a bope. I ignored the beep and the boop, but the bope grabbed my attention. I looked at Mr Park inquisitively. "A trumpet", I think he said. "A what", I said. "Oh, no, not a trumpet," he said. I smiled. "It's a saxophone!", "My boss is learning".
And for the remaining thirty minutes of the class we both tried to keep serious faces. Discussing reverse discrimination and workplace glass ceilings as his boss slowly, methodically went up and down the saxophone scale, I had to bite my inside lip a few times to prevent an outburst of laughter.
Once in a while I accidentally smiled. Probably not very professional, but I think we broke the ice.