One of the bigger news stories from last month was the announcement that an Indonesian tribe, the Cia-Cia from the area around Bau-Bau on Buton Island, will adopt the Korean alphabet (Hangeul) as its official writing system. This decision, undertaken after consultation with the Hunminjeongeum Research Institute, made it into several media outlets here, and for those curious in how the subject was originally presented there's an online piece available here from Yonhap News. The story was revisited a couple of times over the weekend, with both Annalog and Brian in Jeollanam-do writing on the subject.

While this is certainly an interesting development, the impression that I get is that many of the comments to these entries come from people with little background in linguistics or anthropology, which influences how they look at the matter. For example, one should avoid the misconception that alphabets are stagnant entities impervious to change. However, this has been brought up a couple of times in regard to the case in Bau-Bau - see here for one instance - about how there's no guarantee that Hangeul will accurately represent the sounds needed to preserve Cia-Cia. But this ignores the crucial fact that language - both oral and written - is a dynamic force that changes to suit the needs of its users.

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On the corner across the alley from my apartment is a small mini-mart that often sees the neighborhood's older residents congregate for conversation in the early afternoon. Their midday chat sessions may offer a glimpse of rural Korea in one of the world's largest urban areas but I have to admit that I've never given them much more than a passing glance in the past. However, while on my way to work earlier today I happened to hear one of the two men outside the shop make a reference to Uzbekistan (우즈베키스탄) as I was walking past.

My path had carried me past the men when I realized what he had said, which prompted a quick turn of my head to see if I could catch any more of their conversation. Imagine my surprise then when I saw the speaker turned around and looking in my direction as I glanced back -- followed by a comment to his companion, "우즈베키스탄 ... 맞아". The Korean verb 맞다 can be used in a couple of different contexts but typically implies correctness or agreement. Was the second-glance and use of 맞다 a coincidence or could they have been related?

I've had migrant workers from Central Asia assume I was Russian, and the Koreans who have guessed at my nationality almost invariably pick a non-English-speaking country in Europe - the current list of guesses includes Russia, Germany, Ukraine, Denmark, and France - so it may only be a matter of time before someone concludes that my original home is in Central Asia. One of the international students at my university was a Russian guy from Uzbekistan; earlier this week one of my online friends - an ethnically Korean girl from Uzbekistan - told me that she had thought I was Russian at first based on my photo ... so the possibility is certainly there.

The plane next to ours during my last trip to Taiwan

Monday afternoon was marked by a trip to the Uijeongbu Immigration Office with my academy director to renew my work visa for another year. After submitting my health check and apostilled, notarized criminal background check last year the only thing we needed this time around was to purchase the three stamps necessary for the paperwork. If you ignore the time we spent in the waiting lounge - about 25 minutes due to the fact that there were six people ahead of us - the whole process took about three minutes. The immigration official working that day was the same person who helped us last year and the year before that, although the odds are against her remembering us from our very brief visits.

While waiting for our turn at the counter I was reminded of a story involving the first foreign teacher at our academy and his experience with the Korean Immigration Service. Without getting into too much detail - since this takes place before my arrival at the academy and was later shared by the director - this particular teacher was a Korean-Canadian who came to teach on an F-4 Visa but encountered problems when it came time to renew his visa. The government issues F-4 Visas to ethnic Koreans who are not Korean nationals (citizens) and they contain the perk of remaining valid for two years with an unlimited number of renewals available plus a few other benefits. Compare this to my E-2 Visa, which is valid for a year at a time and contains restrictions on what kind of activities I can perform here -- making the F-4 Visa more convenient.

After leaving our school this teacher got a job working in the capital and needed to use one of the local immigration offices to renew his visa. However, the clerk there pretty much told him that he should never have been granted an F-4 Visa in the first place, so the teacher came back to our school to ask the director for help sorting everything out. Seems the problem was that his parents renounced their Korean citizenship after he was born - one week later - instead of before, which meant he was disqualified from receiving an F-4 Visa. Odds are someone spaced while processing his initial visa request, assumed the dates were okay, entered his information into the system, and nobody knew any better until he came back for the renewal.

My passport as a teen by richardmasoner

Turns out the Uijeongbu immigration office didn't want anything to do with him either, even with our director present. During his visit to one of the Seoul immigration offices - I no longer remember which branch was involved - he made a scene over the refusal to renew his visa that was subsequently logged into the KIS computer network. When it comes to information involving the status of foreign nationals residing in a country it makes sense to have everything linked for easy access and transmission via a network -- including notes on any problems related to these individuals. This is something that may be easy to forget during the heat of the moment or when dealing with a particularly obstinate immigration official, but it does apparently make a difference.

In summary: don't act like a jerk at immigration. You will be noticed and it might come back to bite you later.

One of the other academy directors in town has noted that a female employee at the Uijeongbu immigration office is a real pain to work with but I've never had any problems with service, whether alone or with my academy director. Going along with this comment from Brian Dear in a recent post by Brian in Jeollanam-do (concerning an attempted framing at Incheon International Airport), it's worth dressing nicely any time you know you'll be paying a visit to your local immigration office. It's done a good job of keeping me out of trouble in regard to international travel, immigration officials, and doing anything special at the bank. And there's also the bonus of affirming the traditional image of teachers within a Confucian perspective that could always help you (and the next guy or girl) out by presenting an upstanding image of foreign English teachers in Korea.

Immigration Office V by Jens-Olaf

Who knew Korea had so many special days crammed into the month of May? Yesterday was perhaps the newest of them all, as Together Day (세계인의 날) was celebrated for the second year running. Despite the cheesy name - which brings to mind images of couples out for a stroll along Cheonggyecheon - the event is actually an effort by the Korean government to promote cultural exchanges between foreign residents and native Koreans. As the Korea Herald reports, Together Day was introduced by the Ministry of Justice in 2007 to "promote communication and interaction with foreign residents living here [in Korea]". Keep in mind that the foreign population in Korea only just reached 2% of the national total.

One of the things that has always bemused me about the Korean blogosphere are the references to things like how "most foreigners in Korea are English teachers" despite the fact that the current immigration figures list Chinese immigrants as the largest demographic (573,815), followed by those from the United States (115,046), Vietnam (87,436), the Philippines (46,630), and Japan (43,819). While I don't have any figures to back this up, my guess is that there aren't many Chinese nationals working here as English teachers -- and they outnumber Americans (the only non-Asian community to make the top five) 5:1.

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On the subject of important days this month, another event in the Korean calendar that sees a lot less attention now than it once received is 성년의 날 -- the coming of age ceremony held for men and women turning twenty years old. Held every third Monday in May, there are slightly different rituals conducted for each sex. This year the event falls on 18 May, today, although the government has also instituted a program where ceremonies are performed each month rather than once per year.

The KNU Times suggests that the ceremony has been practiced since the days of the Mahan Confederacy (100BCE-300CE) but offers no source to back up the claim. An article from last year's event from Korea.net, meanwhile, reports that the impetus for this event comes from the Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392). More specifically,

The first written record of Korea's coming of age ceremony is found in 965, during King Gwangjong's reign (925-975). It was written at the time that the young crown prince was presented with new grown-up garments to wear. It became a popular custom of the upper class people by the time of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910) where social codes were necessary to uphold various family rituals.