On the Airplane

Talk about procrastination. I learned about this trip a month ago, and now that I’m on the plane, on my way TO Korea, I finally decide to dust off the old Rosetta Stone and try cramming in some Korean vocabulary before we get there. I bought the Korean Level 1 program about 3 years ago, and I have yet to finish it. I think I’ve started and stopped it about 3 or 4 times. I enjoy doing it when I do it, but this has been my way with most things in my life: work really hard towards a goal for about a week and then watch Law & Order for 6 months. For anyone who is confused, I am learning Korean because my boyfriend of 4 years, George, is Korean-American. His family is Korean-Korean, and they have been generous enough to bring me with them on their latest trip to the mother country. Every time I’m with George’s family I desperately want to speak Korean with them. I’m thinking, “Man, I wish I had been more diligent with that Rosetta Stone. I could be fluent by now.” Or could I? Perhaps I should give myself a break because it is just me, my laptop and my headset. I’m not giving myself too many real-world situations in which to practice. So anyway. This is where I am. On a plane to Korea, traveling with my Korean-American boyfriend who has a Korean-Korean family, and I can’t say anything. Anything useful that is. Don’t get me wrong, I can tell someone that “I have a pink belt,” but this isn’t very helpful because I don’t have a pink belt, nor can I imagine a situation when someone would want to know that. “In the morning, I run outside,” will prove to be a truthful sentence, but will anyone care? Anytime I try to bust out a phrase or a word, his parents don’t seem to notice. I don’t think they’ll be impressed until I’m fluent. When I first met them, I was on the lookout for times when I could show them the Korean I had learned so far. At the end of the first day, his mother was showing me pictures of her house, and I got the nerve to say “living room.” She didn’t seem to notice and moved on to the next picture. I asked George later if I’d used the right word, and he said, “Yes, but she was thinking, ‘Yes, living room. What’s your point?’” So the next morning while waiting in line for breakfast, I was again scanning my brain for something I could say. George spoke with his parents about the plans for the day, but mostly we waited in line in silence. Still desperate to prove I knew some Korean, I blurted out “I’m hungry.” Brilliant conversationalist, I am. Other than rattling off “Hello. Nice to meet you. Thank you. Goodbye.” I have yet to speak any more of the Korean I have learned in front of his family. How can I, though? When will it be useful to tell George’s father, “The boy is sitting. The boy is wearing shoes and socks. The woman is wearing shoes, but she’s not wearing socks. Where is the supermarket?” As we waited earlier today to board our plane to Korea, I tried to say “big” when his dad was looking at the plane. He didn’t seem to notice. It may be because I got my vocabulary mixed up and said “sleeping,” but I don’t think he heard that either. Unfortunately, even with my last minute cram session, I cannot yet say, “How was your flight? I want to thank you both so much for bringing me on this trip. It is an honor to spend this time with your family in your home country.” But it’s okay. I am sure they will all be happy to know that “I am wearing pants.”