In Mike Griffin’s class.

One of my personal professional goals to achieve during my Korea time was, as you might have read in some posts before, visiting classrooms and processing the experience. I think I started with a lot of zest. As a result, this post came out a very detailed one, took about 5 hours of my time, a lot of concentration, meticulous note-taking of anything I was seeing (and the thoughts those scenes and moments spawned), and then brain effort to structure and write it up in the way it could be readable and telling the points.

Next class I visited was of a very different type and I eventually decided to blog about it in an idle way which would require little analysis on my part but would leave a special feeling of other people being part of this emerging space of a blog. There were voices to be heard, I sensed, and I think that was a good choice on my part to eliminate the thorough scrutiny.

I’m going to go similar way now writing about another class I visited in Korea about a month ago, that meaning I will cut the dissection part. Because it’s too hard and I’m not sure it’s worth it. Besides, I feel like the main interest in that class for you the reader of my blog could be the contents of the class, at least that’s what it was for me.

 

Welcome to Michael Griffin’s English class at Chung Ang University, Seoul. Fasten your seatbelts, or any other belts, I hope it can be an interesting cultural ride.

 

 *****

I’ll set the scene for you. Imagine a rainy but warm day in Seoul. That was the kind of day. Mike invited me to one of his classes and I was even going to be more than just a guest taking notes. That is exciting, if you ask me, and exactly the type of experience I’d long been thinking of having.

It’s a rough estimate, but it felt like 2 minutes of class passed after I felt a pang of jealousy. I saw Mike being relaxed but obviously confident and in control of the flow of his lesson, joking around while being on track and giving clear instructions. That was, in fact, pretty much the same Mike Griffin you’d see if you attend a presentation of his (and next chance to do so is in Japan in just 5 days). What was the pang about anyway? Well it struck me like it hadn’t in the months before that I miss teaching. I wanted to teach a/my university class and it was while being in that particular room that the feeling got so intense. I was almost aching to interrupt, interfere, comment, play a teacher, or get involved in any other way.

Which I only had to wait for. The plan for the class was the students (4 Korean ladies) doing the task assigned by Mike for one hour, and then the next hour would be divided into 15-minute “interview” sections, the interviewers being both Mike and me. This was in itself a new and unusual class format for me, and now that I’ve tested it and seen it in action, I’ll certainly try it out with some students in Russia, as soon as I get a chance.

 

So the four students split into two groups of two. There was “a Korean” and “a non-Korean” in each pair. The non-Korean Koreans were to read the questions, the questions that non-Koreans might wish to ask Koreans about their culture. The Korean Koreans, in their turn, were to give their Korean replies and explanations and provide any necessary comments on any further interrogation by pesky non-Korean Koreans.

Some of the questions from Mike were the following:

? Why do so many Koreans wear masks?
? Why are there so many Kims and Parks and Lees in Korea?
? Why do Koreans like Samsung and want to work for it?
? Why do Koreans hate Japan?
? Why do Koreans use metal chopsticks?

 

There were all in all 24 questions, all of them equally interesting or some even more. As you might imagine, I stopped taking notes of the things I could observe about the lesson very soon, for the simple reason of getting too curious about what the students had to say explaining their culture! By that time I’d been in Korea for three weeks and collected a fair amount of questions like that myself, so I couldn’t wait till the interview part of the class.

 

And while I learnt a lot in that interview part of the class and satisfied some part of my curiosity, I’m led to believe the students had a chance to learn from me, too. One of the best examples of the kind of cultural learning that happened that day and happened both ways was talking about the image of Russia. In that hour I heard 3 things which the students  shared with me as their instant associations with my country: (1) Moscow is a dangerous place to go to as there are skinheads who roam about the streets attacking, hitting and killing foreigners; (2) Russian food is greasy; (3) What do you think about Putin? … I don’t believe I need to go into much detail here about how passionate I was dealing with (1) since it’s just not true *anymore?*, and it was shocking news to me that such information travels around. Russian food is certainly different from Korean and it’s common knowledge that tastes differ. I’d heard taxi drivers here in Seoul blurt out “Putin?” first thing after they found out I was actually a Russian, not an American.

 

Among all other things we talked about it might be interesting for English language teachers in Russia to read that I heard this line: “My Russian groupmates struggle with their English”. I realize that it’s just one student sharing her personal opinion and it doesn’t lead us into making this unpleasant conclusion about the state of English language education in Russia, its standards and the levels students get finishing school.. There’s one thing that is certain as it’s a fact: Russian students don’t have to take an obligatory English exam as they finish school education, unlike Korean kids. For the latter English is mandatory for entering any university whatever major they choose, and English scores are in a way crucial (yes, they are a big deal). As I explained what the situation for Russian school children is like, my Korean interviewee said “I think your system is better” (stress related + not all students really need English in the future). Whichever system is better, her Russian groupmates struggle with their English.

 

I’ll share with you my questions about Korea and things Korean I’d been noticing in my time here. I got responses to some of these but still wonder about others. In any case, it’s useful to have them here as a memory of what I had in my mind in October 2014, and it’d be more than great to have some of your replies in the comments to this post.

• Is it bad manners to tip?
• Is it bad manners to not finish your meal/ leave food on your plate, if you don’t like it (some parts of pork, for example)?
• What about dairy products and Koreans?
• Has anyone here ever tried a dish called “kuksi”?
• Why do Koreans invent English names for themselves and introduce themselves to me as Suzie, Robert or Jenny?? (note: I got an excellent answer to this question from one student but I’d like to read what your perspectives are as well, teachers who are based in SK)
• Why are people in the metro or in the street never saying sorry after pushing you, stepping on your feet?
• Why are people not looking at other people in the street? Or is it just for me?
• How are people from Seoul different from Koreans from other places?
• Where does Japan stand in the list of tourism preferences for Koreans? How’s the general *hostile* attitude reflected in daily life – do Koreans use Japanese products? Do Koreans have Japanese friends?
• Why are you asked to scribble whatever on a special thing if you’re paying with your card? It’s not even supposed to be a signature. Apparently, there are no security reasons involved as there would be with PIN-codes, what then?
• Names for dishes! That’s just amazing to me. In order to feed myself in a restaurant I need to know the name of a dish (and what that dish is, of course). It’s not as easy as it is to order a steak or pasta marinara, you know.
• What’s one thing a Korean would never eat?
• How about going to places, such a coffee shops, alone? It seemed to me it’s not quite typical/ natural for Koreans to hang out on their own.
• Is there no Korean version of Google?

 

It was a very informative class for me, and even insightful in certain ways. Cultural gaps were filled, for me and maybe for those students as well. In the end I did feel I was a good part of the lesson, and I thank Mike for organizing the time in the way that allowed for that! Thanks a lot, Mike! =)

 

*****

Random analysis points that I couldn’t resist:

 

1)  I enjoyed Mike’s teaching style: very smooth and natural, with interesting and timely commenting and language work. The whole first part of the lesson revolved around one and only task, and that felt right and “light”. There was no hurry to proceed to some next stages and that opened up space for fruiful work on the task there was to be done.

2) I personally learnt a new word (peoplewatch (v)).

3) Several times Mike referred to Korean in his comments on the use of some phrases in English. I’m sure making connection with L1 is useful for students at any level of language proficiency. That is my humble assurance.

4) Here is a post to read to learn something more or less up-to-date about Russia (Moscow?).

5) I asked one student to share 3 important things my students in Russia should know about Korea. Here are her replies:

– Korean parents have high expectations of their children. They want them to study hard and get best scores.

– Wifi connection is excellent in Korea.

– Delivery service is just as excellent in Korea. Your order will arrive at your door within 10-15 mins from your call.

6) I paid special attention to Mike’s phrazing of “non-Koreans” instead of “foreigners”. I’m determined to stick to “non-Russians” from now on, whenever that comes in handy.

 

*****

This post is the forth (! already) in the #livebloggingparty series. This time Mike himself and I got together and blogged. We also ate this kimchi pizza. I hope you enjoy his post that you’ll find here. And with this post the blogging party moves on to another country! Expect to be continued soon-ish.

Big thanks to Josette, Anne and Mike for agreeing to go through this with me. I’m going to leave Korea with exceptional memories.

Thanks for reading!

5 things I want to be less

I have all sorts of work and writing to do, as well as exciting projects to think about and delve deeper into at the moment, all involving high concentration, focused attention, action research, and clear thinking. Yet here I am, dissecting and exposing my personality flaws that so aggressively jumped out at me during my recent time in Thai. I’m now less emotional than I was a week ago but I still feel like writing this down and having it out.

I have a theory why this blog has become more of a personal journal. I haven’t taught a university class since June. I haven’t taught a class in a real physical world room since September. As disappointing as it is to realize for me, classroom communication with its varied dynamics, personalities, challenges and successes is what drives me to think ELT, read your blogs and get inspired for teaching and experimenting with teaching.

Right now my mind seems to be in the condition of stagnation, professionally. It’s not easy to put the focus where I must, but speculating on self appears to come round naturally. So I’m embracing it while it’s here.

 

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5 things I want to be less – for myself, people around me, my students (since they also fall into the category of people around me), my colleagues, better communication, and clearing my sense of guilt.

1. Forceful.

I want to be less forceful. It’s a quite recent discovery. As soon as I start talking about the things I believe (maybe even mistakenly) to be true, I let it pour out of me with intensity I neither control or approve of. My overconfidence might look so aggressive at such moments, it’s appalling when I manage to take a side look at myself, post preaching. What I want to be more is distanced, in a good sense of the word. I’d prefer to be milder, more willing to stop my talking and just listen without having the load of my own opinions hovering over.

 

2. Egotistical.

I want to be less self-absorbed. Here’s where I get trapped as I’m in two minds about this. On the one hand, I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with desire to think of your own benefits, well-being, pleasure, etc. Apparently the times when I’ll be able to think of myself as selfless are in the distant future. What’s erroneous and ugly about egoism is when this dictionary definition gets centerstage:

egotistical – characteristic of those having an inflated idea of their own importance; concerned chiefly or only with yourself and your advantage to the exclusion of others (also selfish).

So I want to be more unselfish and less centered on my own self there where feelings or others are involved. The combination of selfishness with other unflattering qualities in this list that I possess cause situations making me feel ashamed. The line is thin and there seem to always be potential victims to my wish to “have it my own way”, because, in fairness, I am the only one who is closest to knowing which way is good for me.

 

3. Arrogant.

I want to be less of I-know-it-all-better-and-consider-myself-superior. The ultimate reason for wishing to change this is it is simply not true. There’s a lot to be said (and even more to be withheld) about it, but there’s one example I’ll share. A couple of days ago I read this little piece on reading from brainpickings. It features a letter of 20-year-old Franz Kafka to his friend, and there’s this line that struck me: “A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.” It is a powerful line, and I think maybe even dangerously so. For many years I have been placing this kind of books (and indeed films as well) on top of my favorites, and that’s what I would openly admit to reading. Just like Kafka (haha, really..) I used to think that “we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us”. Ask me who my favourite Russian writer is and you’ll hear Dostoevskiy in response. How does that relate to my arrogance? Well there seems to be a lot of posing in this attitude. It makes you seem different and/or more intelligent/ thoughtful/ intellectually deep than the crowds who read mass-oriented and served product. The crucial part of analysis of this extensive flaw of mine is that this perspective means I’ve missed out on so many stories just because I was assuming (with no good grounds) they were not worthy. I wanted to protect myself from mediocrity and found myself getting narrow-minded. I’m now trying to break out of these confines and open up.

 

4. Judgemental.

This is in direct relation to arrogance. As long as I consider myself knowing better, I inevitably land on the judgement plane. Examples can be plenty: what teachers do in their class, what presenters talk about in their sessions, what bloggers blog about, what Facebook friends share in their status updates, and so on and so forth. This quality of mine used to be so inflated that it would govern a lot of my behaviour in and out of teaching contexts. The progress has been made though, and I’m happy the message that there’s more benefit for me in stopping the practice of persisting judgement sank home. Still polishing it and trying to avoid or ignore people who proudly scatter their verdicts left and right.

“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.” I’ve been turning these opening lines of The Great Gatsby over in my mind for about 10 years. I didn’t at all understand what Fitzgerald was trying to tell me at first. At this particular point of my intellectual maturity I read it to trace a note of both judgement and arrogance built-in. I’ll certainly turn to these words again.

 

5. Snappy.

This last “thing” overlaps with many others already mentioned as it’s an outer manifestation of those qualities. Josette LeBlanc wrote a post back in December 2013 about her linguistic rebellion, which was, as this circle of blogosphere goes, a spark to get 4 more people to write about theirs (links at the bottom of Josette’s initial post). I almost laid mine bare back then, but pushed the brakes as I thought that “the snapping side of me” (as I have it in my drafts) is too revealing. Now I feel fine about accepting it. Since I was about 12 I’ve heard my parents and people closest to me at this or that part of my life say that I “have a sharp tongue”. Many a time that meant some damage was done, people were hurt. I did not always feel deeply sorry about the effects my biting remarks had for members of my family. Then with time I started to call it sarcasm, or the extreme of it. Now I hope I’m in a better control of my language and my apologetic instincts are at much higher levels (sometimes fortunately even before the waspish words roll off my tongue). I can’t get over it completely, though. Luckily, you’re not going to be harmed, since it seems to be working in me only for my family, which adds pain to the fact.

 

*****

There are times I can physically feel the whole heavy weight of these things I want to be less on my shoulders, but most perceptibly on my mind and conscience. It causes headaches, tears, remorse, and guilt. Internet is great for making yourself look sticky sweet, or put on a trendy sarcastic hat, or remain impassively professional, or exaggerate anything to any extent. I’m not sure how great the Internet actually is for exposing one’s flaws in hopes to lessen the pressure of guilt. I am fully aware of the fact that it could be far more effective to talk about it in a more private setting, with the people who get affected.

Anyway, ELT-related blog posts on this blog are just round the corner. For now, thanks for reading what’s bothering me now.

Impulsive blogging. Questions from a bus.

Thoughts jotted down impulsively during a sudden high emotional peak on a mini-bus some 8 hours ago somewhere in southern part of continental Thailand. Barely edited, possibly harsh (to some). I apologise for this and my one-sided judgement based on exasperation and hot humid air. I’m self-concious to publish it, again, that’s what this trip is doing to me, much to my satisfaction. I relish these moments and so I want them here in the space which is mine.

 

*****

What is it that drives you out of your native towns, fatherlands, motherlands and places you were born and maybe raised in responsibly by your parents?

What is it that pushes you hard in your back and urges you take a plane, or yet another plane?

Where does wanderlust come from and why does it rub off on you but leaves the people you leave behind unaffected?

Does it make you different, your experience?

What makes you stay and nestle in a place at some point?

 

*****

I’m wondering because I’m speeding on this damned tourist mini-bus packed full with Russians I am trying my best to ignore.
Through the jungle. And I want to get off this bus right now and walk my own way. Alone would be more than ok. I want to talk to people in those sad-looking, dilapidated buildings of all bright, cheerful colours of the rainbow with tiled verandas.

Look out of the window! Why won’t you look out of the window right now and take it all in…

 

Something is calling me to wander. I want to see raw culture, nature I choose to see, the green of kinds I’ve never seen, beaches I’ve never trodden, streets bustling with life I don’t know about. Something is calling me out of the shell and the prospect of letting myself get locked in is horrifying.

 

*****

How do I cure the burning pain in my chest of feeling disconnected with those who should be “my people”? With the gap growing only bigger, deeper, and harder, harder to bear.

“You belong there where you were born” – is a Russian saying underpinning, in my view, our very culture and one that I consider to be so unfair and unconsoling.

 

*****

I have questions. About things I see and things I won’t see anytime soon. About feelings I am experiencing and why am I feeling so raw. About languages I hear and why do I hear mullah voice in the jungle, where from and to do children in white robes and Muslim caps go at 8 pm, playing, goofing around and being children on a muddy road 500 meters to the ocean.
I have questions and some of them can be answered by Google, others by exploration and open character.
I have questions that have grown from within and are burning my mind and provoking my reason to take action frowned upon by others, to say the least.

 

I’m not restless. I think I’m just craving more than I’m already getting. I feel an acute need to, through experience, find meaning, balance, and My Place.

 

*****

 

These questions and musings from a bus end abruptly here with this picture from a beach.

The questions in the post are not rhetorical and I’d appreciate any perspectives shared on those problematic issues that I was concerned with earlier today.

Thanks for reading.

What happened to my Korean in Korea, and a little more.

I’m in Thailand now, with my face freshly burnt red and with my mind both relaxed and agitated just the right amount for catching up on my multiple drafts from Korea. Let’s see what comes out of it. This post will be the updated and seriously revised version of a thing I almost published two weeks ago. But what does it matter, here it goes.

 

 

 

Roughly n weeks ago I wrote the following paragraph for the “Teachers as Students” issue of iTDi Blog:

“On October 1st I’ll arrive in South Korea and will be staying there for over a month. In  view of that, I thought it respectful, good manners, and actually practically useful to study Korean. I don’t set objectives for myself higher than merely being able to read hangul, the Korean script. Ideally, I’d also learn to say a few touristy basics, realizing all the time that saying something in a foreign language is just part of a communication situation, and not even half of it.” (all 15 paragraphs I wrote can be found here).

 

So that was a scene set. It’s been 2 weeks I’m in South Korea (UPD: I’ve left Korea now). One of the most amazing and useful (for me) features of blogging, or writing of any form, for that matter, is that it allows you to read into your own mind of weeks ago. Moreover, it prompts asking yourself questions, such as:

– Can you read hangul?

– Was/ is it useful?

– Have you learnt a few touristy basics? How many is “a few”? What are they?

– Do your few touristy basics help you in your touristy communicative situations?

 

These are the questions you can ask me. In this post I want to speculate about my hangul’s worth, describe my encounters with the language, and in general share my thoughts about the languages that surround(ed) me in Korea..

 

*****

My prep for visiting Korea did include attempts to learn the script, and I can say that I diligently and enthusiastically managed about 2 weeks of self-study using apps and videos (which have been very helpful and I still aim to continue watching the lessons, mostly for the nerdy fun of it). As a result, I am not frightened of the look of most street signs. I am, though, feeling quite insecure when I see this:

I consider myself very lucky to have rarely needed to face this on my own. When on my own, though, I resorted to choose places with pictures and/or English menus.

What’s wrong with this one if you claim to be able to read the script? – I ask myself. Here’s when I’ll get to write about skills and competences and the mess they make.

 

On reading.

So yes, with the exception of uncomfortable vowel combinations, 4-letter blocks (닭), numerous (luckily not endless) pronunciation rules when sounds of separate letters blend together to make something totally different from what I’m seeing – with the exception of those, I can read hangul, the Korean script. In practice, that means I can try to give the sticks and circles a sound equivalent. If that word happens to be of an English origin, I’ve nailed it. I can figure out that 커피 is “keopi” (coffee) and 오렌지 is “oraenji” (orange). At this point I start feeling masterful and very linguistically talented. In this fashion, I can read = pronounce metro stations, names of attractions, separate words on product labels, anything Korean which makes it no more than a line of lexical items at a time. How useful that is without knowing what the words actually mean, I have little clue. In that menu above, once I regain confidence after first-minute shock of looking at the paper, I might recognize rice rolls, ramen and soup, because I know those words. Otherwise I’m lost and being able to pronounce the stuff doesn’t guarantee ordering the stuff I’ll feel like eating.

Bottomline on reading: it feels very nice to be able to associate symbols with sounds. Reading practice itself is hard when we’re talking beyond  word/ collocation level.

 

On writing.

I was not at all surprised to find that the skill I’m so fervently preaching to be particularly effective in learning a language (as it’s proven to be that to me in my own experiences) is actually worth all the fuss in Korean, too. If I don’t write it, or type it, odds are high I’ll forget it the next minute. So that’s what I’ve been doing:

For a little while I also played with writing hashtags for my Instagram pics in hangul. That’s one of those little, seemingly unimportant and unimpressive things that, in my opinion, assist quite a bit in getting your confidence when dealing with a foreign language. Tiny steps made up of no more than words, repetition, playful use and no rules – it works for me.

Bottomline on writing: it is key for me, be it English, Japanese, Korean or other. I suppose there must be scientific evidence (and published papers) that language produced by/ registered with the help of fingertips has better retention. The little data I have speaks in the favour of this statement.

 

On speaking.

As it happens, I can only say (1) what I’ve previously written down; (2) what I’ve written down and read to myself and aloud several times; (3) what I’ve written down, read aloud and practised saying to myself. The saying-it-to-myself part is as necessary to me as it’d look ridiculous: I must feel at ease with myself pronouncing the foreign sounds, hearing myself uttering them, first shyly and quitely, then possibly louder. In the end, I might finally feel brave enough to try sound the “goodbye” out at an appropriate moment. I’ve noticed, though, as there’s hardly ever any reaction following my “goodbye”(since I’m saying it when going or almost gone), I’m not motivated to keep saying it. I suppose if I were to stay in Korea for a while longer, I’d have braced myself for learning more meaningful vocabulary and actual expressions I could use in a variety of situations. Otherwise, it’s just words alone, and even then I’m not sure how well I’m managing. Last week at a bus station in Gangneung I tried to ask for tea at a cafe. I thought the Korean for tea is “cha”, which it is. I tried both “cha” and “tea” and gesticulation. The lady’s face was blank on all occasions and I felt quite dumb for a second there.

Bottomline on speaking: it’s thrilling to find yourself able to express yourself, however limited the way is, in a foreign language. It’s painful, too. I believe I’m very forceful as a teacher.

 

On listening.

Well, this paragraph will be really short. It’s just terrible.

It’s just terrible. It’s impossible for me to break down the Korean I hear into any intelligible parts, something I would be able to write down. As soon as I arrived, I had this idea in mind to ask every person I talk to to teach me a word/ phrase in Korean that’d be interesting, useful for me. Not even once could I catch what they were saying from merely listening to these good people! Not even when I asked them to repeat, not when I stared into their mouths trying to grasp the sounds from the movements of their lips and identify the corresponding letters to spell the things out. In the end, it was always the same – I asked the person to type it for me in my phone notes (which you can see above).

Bottomline on listening: it is a sad realization that my ear is so unresponsive to the language I hear around me for whole 30 days. It made me think about the ways I teach listening and also promise to myself to do more (and regular!) listening for my Japanese.

 

*****

These are my thoughts on my *progress in* Korean this past month. I’m going to be back to Seoul for a week soon, but frankly speaking I don’t expect myself to learn much more in that time. Besides, I really miss studying and focusing on Japanese, which I’ve neglected for 2 months. I enjoyed tackling Korean as I love the look of it and I still believe my decision was right, however little the progress. I had fun and I’m happy to officially announce my viewpoint that learning languages is exciting, and could be an especially great experience if in your learning you open up to people speaking the language in question.

 

As usual, I’ve got some random notes to share at the end of my post plus a little treat at the very bottom.

1) During my visit to one of Seoul palaces, the following conversation happened:

– Hello!

– Hello!

(silence, hiding behind the statue of a dragon)

– Here Korean king (pointing to the palace).

– Oh! Korean king lived here?! (smiling and overly enthusiastic about the fact shared)

– Goodbye.

– Goodbye.

 

My conversation partner hiding behind the statue of a dragon, then staring at me  and taking the time to formulate his 3-word *almost* sentence, was a five/six-year-old boy. I found this interaction beyond cute, and especially so when I tried to imagine a Russian kid of the same age approach a foreigner with a travel guide type comment in English. I just don’t see it happen.

 

2) Nobody I asked to teach me some Korean found it an easy task. Nobody ever taught me how to say YES or NO.))) I would still like to know how to say “I like it”.

 

3) ㅋㅋㅋ (“k k k”) standing for “hahaha” is fantastic and weird. From the little Korean laughter I heard here and there, their real laughing is pretty normal.

 

***** The Treat *****

Thanks for reading my post. Now I invite you to lean back in whatever furniture item it is you’re sitting on and enjoy the hilarious linguistic landscapes of Korea. I’d heard of them before I came to Seoul but I could hardly have imagined the immensity of the scale. They’re one of a kind, if you ask me. I don’t offer any analysis (though I’m very much interested in that and I have formed some opinion on that) or ideas how to use that in class. You can check the links shared at the very very bottom of this post to learn more about linguistic landscapes, which seem to have grown to be a thing in online ELT world. Otherwise, just enjoy the hilarity.

 

(there’s some school bag..)

I hope that was somewhat enjoyable. You can read more about linguistic landscapes here, here, here, and also here. You can rummage twitter for #LinguisticLandscapes. You can join this Facebook group. You can look around and see how the linguistic landscape in your country cannot compare compares to the one in Korea. Russian certainly does not!

 

Thank you for reading.