Learning Korea Without Korean: A Foreigner's Perspective

I've noticed a subtle dance at coffee shops here more times than I can count. It's almost imperceptible: One employee, usually at the register, shoots a quick glance backward. The other, maybe the one busy steaming milk, seamlessly steps into place, replacing her colleague with a slightly nervous, apologetic smile. They’ve swapped roles based on a rapid assessment of who's "better" at English.

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This all happens so fast it barely registers. It's probably a pretty common occurrence, something like a familiar tune playing just below the level of conscious awareness. Usually, I just smile, keep my eyes down, and order in Korean. This usually elicits a flicker of surprise, and maybe a slight blush, nothing major. Then I might ask a question, maybe comment on the unseasonably warm weather. It's only then that it becomes clear their carefully choreographed routine was, at least this time, unnecessary.

Now, it's crucial to say that this isn't a universal experience. Someone who appears Korean, or even just Asian, probably won’t encounter the same assumptions, the same unspoken expectation that English will be the default language. That's just a reality, however uncomfortable it might be.

And so, while Buddha might discourage looking back with regret, I honestly wish I'd engaged with the language sooner. The changes that come from actually Learning Korean, from truly understanding the nuances, are pretty remarkable – almost embarrassing when I consider how long I waited. Now, I read Korean books daily, listen to podcasts, binge-watch dramas (a guilty pleasure, I admit), and navigate daily life pretty much like everyone else. Korean isn't a tool I use; it's just the air I breathe. I even dream in Korean, and, frustratingly, seem to speak it better in my sleep!

But many foreigners never make that leap, and that's okay. There are a ton of reasons, most of them understandable. Some find the language too difficult. Others point to its unfamiliar sentence structure. I've had friends argue that Korean just doesn't offer the same global return on investment as, say, Chinese or Spanish. Some simply aren't wired for language learning, possessing instead a talent for music or painting. We’re all different, after all.

This, in turn, allows people – often unintentionally – to construct their own version of Korea. When you can't understand the news or the conversation at the next table, you’re forced to fill in the blanks. You become, whether you realize it or not, the author of your surroundings. While this can feel empowering, even comforting, it also means that society slowly begins to resemble a projection of one's own internal landscape, rather than a living, breathing, and often wonderfully contradictory multitude whose complexities might otherwise challenge you to grow.

Race and ethnicity play a part too, albeit in a way that can be...awkward. If you are white, people will sometimes – though certainly not always – assume that *they* need to bridge the language gap, in English, rather than expecting *you* to speak Korean. It’s a fascinating dynamic to observe, and something I’m still trying to fully unpack.