Diary

A Hard Lesson

Hajin — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 17:01:59 +0900

Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterwards.
- Vernon Sanders Law

About one and a half years ago, I wrote a blog entry about my desire to translate Lee Sedol 9P’s book into English. I found his book very exciting for the contents, but also for the story of how the book was born to the world. I grieved over the fact that I was born too early. Otherwise I could have studied the book while preparing for the pro test. Of course I can still read and study the book, but it’s not the same now that I am in a different stage of playing baduk. There is something I can do though, I thought. The very idea of translating the book to English hammered my mind. I was excited for how much this book could mean to other baduk players around the world.

Luckily I knew a friend who was very close to the author, Lee Sena, and through this networking, I met up with her. My passion and admiration toward the book shined for themselves, and after talking with me, Sena asked for some sample translation. I found a native speaker editor to help me who liked baduk, and together we did work that I was proud of. After viewing my sample translation pages, the author gave me the permission to translate the book. Everything looked so bright and fresh. I wanted to make the Korean version of Invincible, the baduk book famous for its beautiful English and interesting comments and narrations.

In contrast to my excitement, however, the responses of publishing companies were stiff. I sent letters to several publishing companies, and while they were interested in having the book, they would not pay for the translation. The plan became dormant. In October, though, I attended the 6th Korean Prime Minister’s cup International Amateur Baduk Championship in Pohang, the Southern city of Korea. My mid-term exams were just over, and I was enjoying chatting with people around. Among the vendors was someone who also respected the book, who worked for a publishing company. We agreed that it should be translated to English to enable more players to access such a masterpiece.

It turned out, the publishing company was genuinely serious about the translating project, and contacted me about a week later. A meeting was arranged, and the writer, people from the company, I, and my editor convened. We discussed major terms of the contract, and set the milestones for the progress of the work. Though it wasn’t the best time to start the work for me, it was the work I’ve been eager to get. I had no complaints, but passion and ambition. Everything was going exactly as I’d dreamed.

Then, things started to go wrong. After weeks of discussion about terms, contracts, translation issues, and more, the publishing company decided they wanted to work with a different translator. I was hurt at first. Thinking about it now, however, I learned many lessons, and I am free to do something more exciting. I learned about difficulties in translating baduk books, and fierceness of a business schedule as well as the fact how nothing is secure in the business world. As the quotation says, the experience was the hard teacher, but I appreciate what I gained from it.

I’d like to pass along some of the lessons, in case anyone reading this had ever considered doing translation work. I hope you can benefit from my experiences. There are lessons specifically related to translation, and those related to doing business.

Book publishing in general operates on very thin margins. This is even more true for baduk books because of the small market and low print runs. It’s not very profitable. As I said before, many publishers were interested in the book, but not the outside translator and editor. It increases their overhead and cuts into their already small profits. This publisher decided to do it anyway to get access to the book, but they were not happy about it. For them, it as an unnecessary expense when they were already paying a salary to people on staff who could do the work.

Second was their aggressive publishing schedule. Just like I had a great ambition and excitement over my translation work, the publishing company had the blueprint for successful publication. They wanted to launch the book before the European Go Congress in Germany next July, so they had to have the book ready and sent to the printer well before that. The problem was that I considered myself a part-time translator and a full-time student, while the company’s timeline demanded a greater commitment. They wanted to keep the tight deadlines at the same time as imposing a rigorous revision process based on differing visions of what the book should be. The company then wanted greater time for their in-house revision process. I liked the idea, but I simply couldn’t spare too much time only for this. I told them I needed to extend the deadline by two weeks or postpone the revision process until I finish translating the entire book on the due date they gave me. As a result, the publishing company decided to change the translator to someone else.

These first two problems could have been solved by having the translation work done before contacting the publisher. Then, they could perform their quality control and send the finished file to the designer and printer however their own schedule permits. I could have translated on my own timetable and provided the attention to detail and quality that I thought the project deserved.

The final lesson is that a translator should never do any work without a contract in place. We negotiated the terms of the contract while we did initial translation work. When we started having problems, there was no protection, both for my involvement in the project, and for the work I had already done. While I reached an agreement with the publisher that was acceptable to both of us, I had no legal protection or recourse for being cut out of the project.

The lessons for doing a translation are no less significant. Understanding what is written was easy, but articulating it into English was not. I could explain the meaning to someone else if I was casually conversing. Writing is different. My primary concern was that literal translation often failed to deliver the same weight as the original sentences do. The purpose was clear: to allow readers of the English version to get as much as Korean readers get from the book. During the translation, I learned three issues which actively got in the way.

The first one was clarifying. We wanted players of intermediate levels to be able to learn from the book as well. My editor plays baduk, but is not too strong yet, so he was a good test to see if we were communicating with lower-level players. While he worked, he would ask me meanings of sentences to make sure he preserves them when he refines my translation work. In the process, I realized many explanations or statements had unstated premises or rationales that may be obvious to strong players, but are not quite clear to the players under a certain level. One easy example would be this. “Black 2 to 14 is a joseki, but the result in this situation is good for Black.” Seemingly simple statement as it is, there are some hidden elements here. If we expand this:

The result of a joseki should be even (assumed)
Black 2 to 14 is a joseki.
The Black’s potential territory on the upper side and the White’s advantage in the center and the right side should be equal. (unstated)
The circumstances make Black’s position on the upper side better than what White gains in the center and the right side. (unstated)
The result in this situation is good for Black.

I admit that I sometimes took liberties using my professional status, and added explanations and clarifications where I thought they were needed. Some people might argue it’s beyond the translator’s authority. They may be right. My value or purpose, however, dictates that the most important aspect is whether the readers get the message the author intended to convey. It is like a professor’s lecture and her teaching assistant’s review. When students get lost in the main lecture and come to the review, the TA may show them the hidden bridges between the professor’s statements, because the TA understands both the professor’s language, and the students’ language.

Repetitive use of certain expressions was another hurdle. Baduk books, especially in the Korean language, are very generous with repeating the same words or expressions. For example, expressions such as “it is playable”, “the result is good for Black”, “it is well-balanced”, and “Black A instead of 27” are so common that you are likely to encounter one or two of them in every paragraph. As you well know, however, English language in general has very little tolerance for repetitions. Therefore my editor and I had to think about many synonyms or the alternative expressions to replace some of them. We used, “the exchange benefits Black”, “the move produces a favorable outcome for White”, “It is acceptable for both”, and so on.

The third issue was with certain Korean-style perceptual terms, which have multiple meanings according to the context. These words may have literal equivalents in English, but do not imply the same meaning as the Korean words offer. As I was facing those words, I’ve scrutinized the roots of the words and the best way to express them. One solution was to pick the closest word, and keep using it. Readers might grasp the meaning by the time they finish reading the book. Another one, which I preferred, was to use one or more specific words depending on the situation. For instance, “doo-tuh-un” may literally be translated as “thick.” Therefore, I could say, “Black 17 is thick” whenever I see the word in Korean, or “Black 17 solidifies his position while securing the territory on the upper side.” In the latter way, however, the word also can be “safe”, “slow”, “strong”, “having potential”, “influential”, and so forth according to the context in which the word was used.

I didn’t just want to translate baduk books. I wanted to translate this baduk book because I thought that it was worthy of what I could bring to it as an English user and Professional player. Though I have lost the chance to translate this book, I hope to someday find another book that excites the same passion and vision in me. If that day comes, I will hold these lessons closely.

A Good Tournament

Hajin — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 22:18:02 +0900

I have been busy since the beginning of the semester--the end of August. Given this, I thought the weekend after mid-term exams would be as sweet as dark chocolate ice cream after a long diet effort. With exams were right before the corner, however, I received a phone call from Mr. Seo of the Korea Amateur Baduk Association (KABA). He officially invited me to come to the Korea Prime Minister’s Cup International Amateur Baduk Championship (KPMC) as a guest professional player. This tournament was scheduled in the very weekend I was eagerly anticipating. Although the majority of my mind shouted “Nooooo!”, just like in any other mental politics, the minority, but powerful governing body, of my brain made the decision. I should go no matter what.

Thinking about it afterwards, I know I made the right decision. Though I didn’t have the couple days’ break I wanted, it was wonderful to meet players and association officers from 70 different countries, including some old friends and colleagues. Besides, the work wasn’t so demanding. Basically, all I did was walk around, talk to people, and play VIP games with the Executive Vice President of POSCO and the president of Pohang Baduk Association (Pohang was the host city of KPMC). These were things I could do well and enjoy myself at the same time.

As you may assume, I have been to myriad tournaments--professional, amateur, domestic or international--throughout my career. Consequently, when I go to a tournament I usually have certain expectations of the tournament, and very often see what I expected to see, from the opening ceremony to the tournament setting and so on. This year’s KPMC wasn’t an exception, but my experience was different this time. I was unwittingly paying attention to the things I overlooked or didn’t care about before, and was trying to see the big picture of the whole event. What is the purpose of this tournament? What will make this tournament successful? Intentionally or unintentionally, I suppose I am becoming a business major.

Anyway, after observing and talking with the players, organizers, part-time workers, sponsors, locals and my professional colleagues, I learned each party had different angles and expectations for the tournament. Then one question arose in my mind. What is a good tournament? In the current system, almost every tournament is identical. If we change anything from the status quo, what that would be?

Let me take the KPMC as an example. At the superficial level, everything seemed well organized. The tournament venue, called POSCO Gymnasium, was a newly built complex building designed by top architects. It was clean, spacious and functional. The hotel we stayed was the best in the city, and meals and snacks the organizers provided were decent. Numerous honorary guests such as politicians, governors and dignitaries of the sponsors, paid visits for the grand opening ceremony. Organizers and part-timers, mostly from KABA or Myoung-ji University, were proficient and caring. Participants seemed to be enjoying such a world-level baduk event. Nevertheless, what people said in private or in person wasn’t all bright. What were the problems and what questions needed to be addressed?

Players

In KPMC, 70 players played 3 games a day, over 2 consecutive days, under the Swiss-system. This method is reasonable for most amateur tournaments, especially if you consider most participants are either workers or students. KPMC, however, is an international tournament which makes many players fly for a dozen hours to come. It may be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for many of them, and they definitely do not want to cram all the games into one weekend. The competition is very serious for a few Asian players, but for the rest of the players the experience of traveling and experiencing the baduk community may be more important than their final result. Therefore, we should look for a fine balance between experience and competition.

Organizers

Having a smooth, trouble-free event is very important, but spending too much money on preventing potential problems is equally troublesome. One staff member of KABA told me that they too would like to have more rounds and fewer games in a day, but the problems were limited resources, and the difficulty of finding more sponsors. Extreme cost-control was inevitable to keep the quality of the event. They shortened the tournament period, and even restricted additional food and drinks at the dinner banquet. But then, the hotel was oppulent, there were so many VIP guests for the opening ceremony, a lot of professional players during the tournament, and luxurious stage performances for the closing ceremony. Although I was one of the guests myself, I couldn’t help questioning what the priorities were. What should be sacrificed and what should be kept?

Sponsors

The media and the public are inured to reports of a tournament victory by Korean or Chinese players. This makes it hard for a baduk tournament to get more than passing notice from the public. Therefore, it may be rational for sponsors to question the advertising effect or the return on investment. In fact, this is why baduk tournaments are vulnerable. Most sponsors are sponsoring either because the top person likes baduk, or their predecessors made the tournament and they do not want to upset anyone. I am not saying there is no return in sponsoring baduk tournaments. It’s just not attractive enough to get non-baduk player sponsors. Thus, the question would be, how will you expose it more to the media and the public and thereby make it more attractive to the prospective sponsors?

Professional Players

There were about 10 professional players in the tournament place. They were all willing to help or talk to the participants, but the connection between the two parties was almost invisible. Language barrier was one barrier, and the culture was the other. In Korea, professional players are rarely proactive, meaning he or she wouldn’t offer a review or a teaching game unless you ask first. A similar problem is on the foreign players’ side. For them, professional players are intimidating, and they do not know how to ask for a review appropriately. We may call it ‘the burden of initiation.’ Anyway, what can be the bridge? What will facilitate the interaction between them?

Part-time workers

Many of the part time workers were there primarily to record games. Yet, recording games is so easy that almost all baduk players can do it themselves. On the other hand, the Myoung-ji University students that the organizers hired were strong baduk players themselves who were getting professional education in Baduk Studies. It’s a pity that such skilled workers had to stay bored and unengaged most of the time. Isn’t there a way to give them more challenging and meaningful tasks?

Local people

The president of Pohang Baduk Association proudly told me that they managed to hang banners of the KPMC all over the city for about a month before the tournament. Also the female members of the association all came in full Han-bok (Korean traditional clothes), and served many kinds of snacks and tea. Yet, despite the local people’s hospitality and willingness to be engaged, I couldn’t see the clear interface between the international players, organizers, and the local people. How can the organizers facilitate the engagement of themselves, the players, the local people more meaningfully? After all, relationship building is one of the motivations for having this tournament in the first place.

I don’t want to pretend to have the answers. As an outsider, I don’t know what kind of budget the event had, what the difficulties were, or what kind of choices the organizers had to make. What I can tell is there is a room for improvement, despite the fine job done by all the organizers. There is room to approach tournaments in new ways. After countless experiences, organizers become susceptible to patterns and traditions. I hope organizers, especially KABA and KBA, will work to make every year’s tournaments better than the year before.

2011 US Go Congress, Santa Barbara

Hajin — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 00:47:37 +0900

Leaving Korea

Someone told me a professional player speaks by her results. It’s true. A player won’t survive if she can’t win. Even if she keeps winning, she won’t survive if there are no events or tournaments for her to play, or baduk lovers who are eager to watch her play. That’s why, though a professional player shines when she reaches the top, not every professional player’s roles is to pursue the highest rankings. In this essay there are professional players, but you won’t find any tense, do-or-die moves or precise calculation. Instead, there is a warm story wherein a group of baduk players bond over the game. It is beyond nationality, age, or strength, but it is about players who come together to have a wonderful summertime in beautiful Santa Barbara.

The US Go Congress is the biggest baduk event in North America, and it takes place either in the last week of July or the first week of August for a little longer than a week. Though it’s not short, players may plan ahead for it easily because the committee usually announces the exact date one year in advance. Over the years, It has been healthy and successful without any big accidents, and is turning 27 years old this summer. The venue of the congress gets decided by AGA. This year, LA or Southern California hosted the congress for the first time. About 480 players registered, and 19 professional players came including the hero of American players, Michael Redmond 9P, and the two big teachers of US baduk stars, Feng Yun 9P and Mingjiu Jiang 7P. KBA sent Neong-wook Seo 9P, who was one of the top players in Korea in the 90’s, and me.

It has been already 5 years since I first went abroad to promote baduk. I visited a few European countries and attended three Korean Ambassador’s Cups in Germany, France and the Netherlands. It was the spring of 2006. At first I thought it was fun to travel around and get attention from Western players. However, Prof. Hahn, who took me to Europe the first time, taught me not only English but the responsibility as a professional player from Korea and the importance of promoting baduk. Since then I have had some more chances to go to Europe or America, and I am now better equipped with the English language, a sense of responsibility and experience. Thinking back, I was very fortunate to go to Europe with Prof. Hahn in the first place.

USA

In the morning of July 27th, Korea was suffering a severe rainstorm which caused avalanches and floods in many cities. Though, luckily, my city didn’t have much rain, Seo 9P had to come to the airport by taxi because the limousine bus stopped operating due to the heavy rain. (He showed up at the airport an hour late). KBA also seemed worried about cancellation of our plane. Fortunately, the plane took off as planned, and after 16 hours’ journey including the transfer in Taipei, we safely arrived in LA.

My last trip to the States was in 2009, so I came back after 2 years. Speaking of time, I am realizing that it has a mystical aspect. When I am sitting in a long class, time tends to crawl. If you reminisce about an event that happened 2 years ago, however, it feels as if the 2 years flew by like a jet plane. Time feels even faster when you look back 5 or 10 years. That’s probably why people say time goes faster as you get older. Wait. Does that mean we may keep time slow by not looking back the past?

The Congress Location

Santa Barbara is a small beautiful city in California. It attracts many tourists with beautiful beaches and fantastic weather all year round. Buildings sit like ladies fixing their dark orange colored hair and soft apricot color dresses. Tall, straight palm trees shield a little bit of bright sun rays and smile to welcome. Colorful flowers chit-chat with bees and butterflies and grizzled, wide streets yawn as if they don’t care whether their territory is taken or not.

Andy (Andrew Okun) told me that the Congress committee originally planned to use the UCLA campus. Because the price was too high and nonnegotiable, they decided to have the congress in UCSB instead. Though UCLA would have been more convenient location, I liked Santa Barbara a lot. It’s peaceful and beautiful. Besides, the campus was right by a beach. One thing that surprised me, though, was that the campus had so many students already. 2 years ago when the congress was held at George Mason University, the campus was almost empty aside from the congress participants. Later I found out that Santa Barbara campus was very popular for summer classes and camps.

Opening Ceremony

The opening ceremony was short and simple. There were Andrew Okun’s (the chairman of the board of AGA) welcome greeting, an introduction of the visiting professional players, AGA President Allan Abramson’s updates on AGA, and both co-directors’ greetings and announcements. The most interesting thing about the ceremony was the AGA’s declaration of launching a professional system in collaboration with KBA. I know some people think it’s immature considering the gap between top American players and World’s top players. Yet, I will root for AGA in this regard. When KBA first selected its professional players, those players were much weaker than Japanese professional players. Yet, because KBA started, Korean players could have a base to catch up. Therefore I think it’s important to start the process anyway. Though there wasn’t anything special in the ceremony, I liked the way that it felt natural and practical.

A typical day at the UGC is like this: players have breakfast freely at the cafeteria, and play the US Open from 9 am. There are 6 rounds in the Open tournament, and each player has 1.5 hours and 30 seconds countdown 5 times. (4D and above have 2 hours). After lunch at the nearby cafeteria, there are lectures, game reviews, and simultaneous games by professional players. Because there were many professional players this year, participants could enjoy the variety. From 7 o’clock, there is the Ing Masters Cup tournament, and event tournaments such as the 9X9, 13X13, Pair-Go, and Crazy Go. Also, there was a live commentary of the first board of the Ing Cup in the main playing room. The real fun part of the evening, though, was the mini bar that offered a few kinds of beer and wine from 7pm in the main playing room.

Schedule

Unlike my first congress, in which I was assigned 10 or 11 simultaneous games out of 12 official scheduled events, this year I received 6 lectures, 3 commentaries and 3 simultaneous games. Though playing simultaneous games allows me to interact with the players directly, there is a limitation on the number of players that can participate, and little room to talk and communicate. Therefore, I generally prefer to have a lecture or a commentary over playing simultaneous games. I wouldn’t want to have lectures without preparation time, though. Anyway, it was exciting and stressful at the same time to have my first lectures and commentaries in a Congress. I tried to be confident, but couldn’t help wondering whether players wanted to listen to what I had to say. Thankfully, many players came to my lectures and commentaries, and encouraged me a lot by telling me that they enjoyed the time. Speaking of the lectures, I would like to thank Andrew Jackson and Lisa Scott for helping me with the equipment. I just assumed it would be easy to use a projector and screen.

Pair-Go Tournament

On Tuesday, the 4th day of the congress, there was a Pair-Go tournament in the evening. Before going to the Congress, I thought I would not play this tournament, mainly because I had a commentary scheduled at the same time. That evening, Lisa told me she could easily move my schedule to some other time, and I teamed up with Matthew at the last minute. When I ran to the registration desk to sign up, the sheet had already gone to be paired. I rushed to the office, and Todd, the pair-go tournament director generously accepted my team.

Playing Pair-Go is very interesting, especially when you have no countdown. You don’t want to spend too much time, but you also don’t want to mess things up. Despite the fact that there were some tough situations in that regard, we managed them very well. I wonder if having known each other for some years helped it. Anyway, I once again won the first board, and remained undefeated in the US Pair-Go Open :P

Off-day

Wednesday was the off-day. Ever since I arrived in Santa Barbara, I was looking for something fun and interesting to do for the free day. Universal Studios and Disney Land seemed a bit costly, and the winery tour wasn’t new to me. I have experienced in horseback riding in Poland, and the Channel Islands were pretty far for a day trip. One day, I noticed a trip to Santa Barbara downtown, which included “August Days Festival” among the off-day programs the Congress offered. I asked a few people if they knew anything about the festival, but no one knew about it except my wisest friend, Google. Of course, he knows everything. It turned out an old Spanish culture festival wherein you can find Spanish handcrafts, costumes and street foods. It certainly sounded interesting, but another problem arose. The tour bus was scheduled to come back at 6:50 to the campus, and I had to be back by 5:30 for the Pro-dinner. Luckily, Andy Okun turned out to be the off-day savior. His program got canceled due to insufficient applicants, and he agreed to drive me downtown. Later Matthew and Jay joined us to the trip, so we made a nice team for the day trip.

Good company, nice weather, and beautiful streets--everything was exactly how you would like it to be for your holiday. Even the parking lot was very close to the main street we wanted to see. The festival touched the downtown like a wand of a happy witch, and made whole streets and all the people lively and cheerful. We had fancy iced coffee not far from an amazing painting of David Alfaro Sequieros, and wandered around the magical streets. Then we ate a Hawaiian lunch and had an ice cream cone while we watched some Latin dance performances. Then a nice walk to the harbor followed as if a great scheduling-chef had come up with an exquisite happiness-course meal. I felt sad that we had to go back for the Pro-dinner, but on the other hand my mind was already full of pleasure.

Pro-dinner

Professional players in baduk tournaments are like tomatoes in burgers. You don’t have to have a tomato to make a burger, but a piece of fresh tomato adds more flavor, nutrition and color (though I am not a picky eater, I always want a tomato in my burger). Fortunately, through unsurprisingly, the US Go Congress is as popular to professional players as it is to American players. It is true that domestic players get paid for coming and teaching, while Korean, Chinese, Japanese players are usually supported by their associations, but there also are professional players who come to the Congress just because they like to be there. To appreciate all the professional players’ presence, it is customary for AGA and the Congress committee to host a Pro-dinner during a Congress.

This year, however, they could relax a little bit in that regard, because there was a volunteer who firmly insisted on hosting the dinner by himself. The owner of LA Korean baduk club (Na-sung-ki-won), Mr. Kunho Choi is the one. Mr. Choi is well-known to LA baduk players for his baduk club, which has been welcoming all baduk players for a few decades. Unlike typical baduk players, who like the indoors, Mr. Choi is an outdoor person. He enjoys hiking, camping and fishing a lot. Also, he is admired for his high respect for professional players. His willingness to host the Pro-dinner may have come from the same values.

The Pro-dinner was a fantastic Korean barbecue party at a beach. Mr. Choi found and booked a place with a huge charcoal grill and three long wooden tables that could seat more than 40 people. For the food, he delivered a truck full of meats, vegetables, kimchi, rice, chicken, and many more Korean style side dishes from LA. Of course, there was lots of beer and soda as well. Looking back, it was the only Korean meal I had in this trip to California. Anyway, the food was amazingly good, and I could tell that everyone had a delightful time there.

People

The US Go Congress is the meeting place of American baduk players. Attendees motivation for going to the Congress seems to be as much about meeting baduk friends from other states or countries as it is about playing baduk freely. Thinking about it, I was excited to go to the Congress for the same reason. As a result of my three American trips, I had some local American friends with whom I kept in touch online. Also, making a new friends always thrills me.

The first person I want to introduce is Andrew Okun. He drove to the airport for me twice, once to pick me up, and once to drop me off. He let me stay in his daughter’s room (who happened to be out of town) while we were waiting for the Congress to start. He showed me around the LA area to anywhere I wanted to see, and so forth. He was a wonderful conversationalist, and was so welcoming and caring. I also enjoyed meeting another Andrew, Andrew Jackson, and Lisa Scott. They were great people who I’d met at my previous Congress as well. Sadly, they were too busy conducting the Congress to spend too much time hanging out together, but they were always so kind and helpful to me. Also I had so much fun hanging out with Greg, Gus and Nick. We played fooseball, pool and rengo together. I laughed a lot, and felt as comfortable as if I was with good friends that I’ve known for a long time.

Korean food, Korean language and Korean culture is very different from that of other countries, especially when it comes to Western places. Thus, many Korean people experience homesickness when they travel for a long-term or live abroad. Although I am relatively strong in this regard (I survive well without Korean food), it still makes me feel comfortable to have Korean people around. It was a pity that Myoung-wan couldn’t make it, but Ju-yong from Vancouver, Danny from LA, and Mr. Kim from Virginia came to the Congress. They were all very strong at baduk, pleasant, and kind. With Seo 9P, we sometimes had breakfast together, beer at night and enjoyed conversations in our mother tongue.

Closing Ceremony - Banquet

Just like any other vacation, one week at the Congress passed as fast as a two-hour-movie. Then there is a final event, the banquet. Having a banquet with a closing ceremony is one of the traditions of US Go Congress. Players would get out of the Congress shirts and dress up like non-baduk players. A little bit of alcohol, fancy food, various prizes, applause, photos and smiles are the main ingredients, but they are not sweet enough to cover a hint of bitterness from the impending farewells.

This year the Congress committee prepared an outdoor banquet. The venue was very nice with a small pond and a big bell tower right next to it, and the weather was perfect like every other day during the Congress. Also, I liked the fact that even the ones who didn’t pay for the banquet could come round and see the ceremony. One downside of it, though, was that the time was very limited. Because of that, Andy, the MC of the ceremony, had to be very tight on time. Other than that, I think everything went quite well, and the banquet was successful.

The End

Ever since I chose baduk for my career, each game of baduk was like a war to me. Dense fog was laid on a broad plain, and I would be all alone feeling very sharp and tense. After having started teaching baduk, however, I am discovering another side of the game. It also can be fun. Winning is good, but you don’t have to win. I don’t have to win. Looking at the baduk players at the congress, who seemed to love playing baduk so much, I couldn’t help feeling a little bit of jealous. Yet I, as a professional baduk player, also found hope and courage in them. After all, there is no professional player without the baduk lovers.

Nightmares

Hajin — Sat, 23 Jul 2011 00:16:08 +0900

A few years ago, I had a friend who kept a dream journal. He believed his dreams were telling him something. One day he asked me what my dream was. I said I didn’t have a dream. Then he said, “You always have a dream. You just don’t remember them.”

Since I was small, I was far from being sensitive--I slept well anywhere, any time, and I usually didn’t have (or didn’t remember anything about) dreams. Occasionally, though, I had nightmares. People say your nightmares come from your fear. Can you guess what my nightmares were about? I dreamt about losing matches; the final round of a tournament, an important game of an Insei league or the last gate to my professional certificate.

After I became a professional player I no longer feared losing. I was still stressed out and discouraged whenever I lost, but I was confident and secure with myself. Plus, no one blames you for losing once you are a professional player. As a result, I stopped having losing-a-match nightmares. Instead, I started having another recurring nightmare even more frequently. At the time I was living in Seoul by myself, and was often worried about my security. In my dreams, strangers would break into my place, and I would wake up so frightened and panicked.

In 2009, I moved to my parents’ place in Daejeon. My family had been hoping to live with me for a long time--I was away from them for 12 years (since I was 9). I was tired of all the matches, office work and house chores. Though Daejeon was 2 hours away from Seoul, life with my family sounded too tempting to resist any more. Also I was seriously considering entering a college. In other words, I needed a break. Surprisingly, the break brought me a nice break from the recurring nightmares as well.

From the beginning of this year, however, some other kinds of nightmares started visiting me. I dreamt about failing in a class. I forgot to go to classes, messed up on an exam and ended up getting an F. I would be frustrated and depressed. When I finally came back to the reality from the dream, I was so relieved that I would study harder. Luckily my GPA so far is at the opposite side of an F. Another type of a nightmare was losing my boyfriend. It was not from breaking up, but usually some kinds of accident. One night my boyfriend appeared in my dream, badly beaten up by someone. It turned out a crazy drunken Korean man attacked him because he was dating a Korean girl (my boyfriend is American). I cried a lot in the dream, and even when I realized it was a mere nightmare, I still felt like crying. I called him, even though it was the middle of the night, to make sure he was OK.

A few days ago, I had an interesting nightmare. The dream was fragmentary, but the pieces were somehow connected. At first, I was in a classroom. Apparently, I was doing fine as usual. Then I was playing a match. I don’t remember which tournament or who my opponent was, I was playing just terribly--so terribly that I was horrified by my own moves. I couldn’t stop making these bad moves, but could only watch, helpless inside my own body, as I lost the game. At some point I went back to the classroom again. It was the same class, but something was different. It felt as if everyone there was mad at me. The professor, about whom I don’t remember anything, asked me a few questions. I was silent, not knowing how to answer. He said I would fail the class.

Though I stopped studying baduk when I went to a college, I was still following nearly all the news about what is happening in the baduk community. It was handy to know the news when I talk with someone knows baduk well, but that wasn’t the only reason. I was genuinely curious. When I saw pictures of other players playing matches and doing a post-game analysis together I felt something green inside of me--I wish I was there too. When I thought about it, I found that feeling strange. I know that I have never been happier in my life than these last several months. I am living my dream life; studying in an international college while dating a wonderful man. Going back to my old life doesn’t attract me. Thinking about the nightmare I had a few days ago, however, I’ve realized that the problem was my fear; the fear of letting my baduk skill rust, the fear of losing myself and that goal for which I worked so hard. For 16 years, from 5 to 21, baduk was the absolute center of my life. You know, I am only 23 years old now, so I have to learn how to put other goals ahead of baduk. Leaving such a core part of myself shouldn’t be so easy, right?

My bad dream says I am afraid of failing in both fields. Yet, I know what I want. I am not giving up on it because I am afraid, or my dreams say I am afraid. My aspiration is to explore, experience and challenge the world, and later bring something to the baduk community that no other players can. Despite my bad dreams, I became a professional player. In the face of those nightmares, I got A’s in most of my classes, and my boyfriend is doing just fine. I am not worried. Whatever my nightmares say, I know that they only show me that which is most valuable to me. These goals are too valuable to give up because of my fear; they are worth facing and overcoming the fear to achieve. I will live my dreams, not my nightmares.

The Tipping Point of Baduk

Hajin — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 09:59:14 +0900

The Tipping Point is a sociological book by Malcolm Gladwell, who also has authored Blink and Outliers. As the title implies, the book analyzes the causes, components and processes of social epidemics using diverse examples such as fashion, crime, suicide, TV programs, books and even diseases. Using those cases, the author presents what happened, why that happened and what lessons can be taken from the situation, through analyzing it from various angles.

I opened the book as a business major in order to enhance my background knowledge outside the classroom. I neither knew much about the book, nor had any particular information that I wanted to find. Having sensed where the book was going, however, my baduk player self poked its head out from deep inside to show its interests in what the book had to say. Clearly the book was whispering, Let me tell you the secrets of social epidemics and popularity. Does that mean anything can tip? Can you tell me how baduk, too, could tip and gain worldwide popularity?

According to the book, there are three important elements in sparking a lasting social epidemic; the law of of the few, the stickiness factor and the power of context. Let’s go over them one-by-one and discuss how baduk may adopt these in order to tip.

The law of the few suggests that it’s only few influential people who matter in spreading something's popularity. In other words, it’s not how many people you convinced that counts--the question is whether the people you convinced include certain types of influential people, who will transfer the message to the public in their own ways. When the public gets a message from this type of person, the message becomes more powerful and convincing. The types of influential people are; those who know a lot more people than the rest of us (Connectors), those who know a lot more information about a specific topic (Mavens), and those who are more charismatic and persuasive than we are (Salesmen).

What does this mean for baduk? It’s more effective to teach baduk to the right people and let them do the work than it is to try to teach as many people as possible by ourselves. Though I don’t believe we should seek out these types of people and forcibly recruit them, it would certainly help to bear in mind that these kinds of people may be more influential in spreading baduk.

Suppose you set up a booth, and taught baduk to 20 people. Does that mean there are now 20 more dedicated baduk players? It could be, but probably not. The stickiness factor is a quality that makes an idea remain in people’s minds, and possibly influence them in the future. The book introduces much research and many techniques for increasing the stickiness of an idea through the examples of Sesame Street and Blue’s Clues--children’s TV programs.

Reading this part of the book, I had two ideas. One is that it would be great if Baduk TV made an educational but entertaining children’s baduk program. Just as Sesame Street was designed to educate children to read and Blue’s Clues was for fostering reason and logic in children, the program could make baduk accessible and embedded in the audience's mind from an early age. As long as the program is well-made, producing DVDs, as well as dubbing or subtitling it into other languages wouldn’t be a problem.

My second idea is to set up a learner-oriented manual for teaching beginners. Looking at the extensive research and experiments those successful TV programs conducted, I thought the same rigor and analysis were necessary for baduk education and promotion. For instance, we might have a conference for baduk instructors all over the world on teaching beginners and how to make baduk stickier in them. Instructors would share their own ways discuss them in depth. After the conference, we publish a manual that introduces how to teach beginners in America when the learner is young, in college or in 50’s. Likewise, the manual should have cases for Korea, Thailand, France and so on. Through personalizing the manuals by countries or region, educators could tailor the techniques to be the stickiest possible for that area.

The third element is the power of context. The power of an idea to tip is dependent on the time and place it emerges. Korea has probably the best context in the world for baduk players. Virtually all Korean people know what baduk is even if they don’t know how to play. Many of them perceive the game as smart people’s entertainment, and agree that it has educational value for children. Occasionally, you find people playing in parks, and there are two university departments and two cable TV stations only devoted to baduk. Then, what can or should other countries do to set up such a powerful context for baduk?

The author suggests that certain groups may help. In the case of baduk, national associations, regional clubs and school clubs would be the groups that may fuel the spread of the game. When the groups settle, they also need to grow by welcoming beginners and motivating members with events, such as friendship matches between nations, regions or shcools.

Another idea for creating context is to have a You-Tube contest for baduk promotional videos, or fan-made commercials. Videos are easy to share with the public, often fun and interesting, and consequently they would help to increase widespread recognition of baduk. By tapping into the creativity and individual cultural contexts of baduk players around the world, we would utilize new media, and viral marketing techniques and encourage fans to promote baduk in ways we might never even think of.

Tipping baduk into a worldwide epidemic may require a great deal of human and financial resources without immediately tangible profits. For the game we care about, though, we shouldn’t fear this. We shouldn’t over-play, but under-play is not a solution either. As baduk players, we should start with using our skills and knowledge in a smart and strategic way. Utilizing the principles and ways of thinking that Malcom Gladwell elucidates out in this book might be a good first step in this direction.

Baduk and Relationship

Hajin — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 07:19:54 +0900

A few days ago, there was a graduation ceremony at my school, in which two close friends of mine officially received the permission to leave the school. I dressed up from the morning and gladly prepared two bunches of flowers, small gifts and congratulation cards. On the way to the school, I told myself that the ceremony would be interesting--full of touching speeches and meaningful moments. As I entered the auditorium, finding people in their graduation gowns and caps, the fact that they were leaving flooded into my mind. I knew it was a happy day for them. I knew I would see them again. I knew it was nothing new but things like that happened all the time eventually. And yet, I couldn’t help bursting into tears.

I felt sad that my close friends were leaving. I was especially close with one of them, who was going back to her home country, Thailand soon after the ceremony. In the baduk community, you are almost guaranteed to keep meeting the same people unless either of you quit playing. Before coming to Solbridge, virtually all my friends were connected through baduk, and I haven’t really thought about losing them. As long as we are both baduk players, which won’t change easily, I will probably have a chance to see them again.

In my freshman year in middle school, I had one best friend, who also graduated from the same elementary school as me. She didn’t talk much, but had a golden heart with a bright smile. We always had lunch together, and she helped me a lot with afternoon classes and homework because I left the school after lunch break to go to the baduk academy. Yet, she was so caring and helpful that I didn’t feel much difficulty about that. From some point, however, I started noticing that she was hanging out with other friends more often than me. I asked her if I did anything wrong to her. She said she couldn’t stand it any more that her only friend would leave the school after lunch and she was alone at the school afterward. I felt terrible. I couldn’t believe that the thought never occurred to me. After this incident, I decided not to have any close friends at school, which I kept until high school.

When my mind came back to the present after this quick trip to the past, I started going back in my mind to see if I had close friends who were non-baduk players in my life. None. The two friends I've had at Solbridge were the first ones. I mean, I did have friends here and there, but they were never as close.

Anyway, thinking about my relationships with non-baduk players, I suddenly wondered how playing baduk could affect people’s personality or behavior in terms of the relationship. There is a saying in Korea that playing baduk brings you good friends. Considering the many players I have met, who were genuinely nice and friendly, it’s quite convincing. Also, I saw many cases where baduk players were actually very close to other players. Yet, a part of the reason people connect this way could be that baduk is such a rare hobby, especially in Western countries. Therefore, it’s not surprising that baduk players in the same town or club would become close friends. What I am interested in, though, is if there are other factors that distinguish baduk players from non-players as companions or friends.

First of all, the obvious message that baduk gives is that we are all independent. As you know, once you start playing you are not allowed to ask anyone else for advice. Everyone makes his or her own decisions and is responsible for the outcome. Consequently, baduk players tend to be independent even if they are as young as preteens. In my case, I left home and my family when I was 9 years old to learn baduk professionally. Needless to say, it would have been much more difficult baduk had not already taught me to be independent since I was 5.

In many senses being independent is desirable. It forms responsibility and maturity, and it also leads people to be proactive and positive. It is questionable, however, whether it has only an upside. For a long time I had believed that not asking for a favor or help was important in building or maintaining a good relationship. Yet, on the contrary, I’ve realized recently that people sometimes want to feel needed by their family, friends or girlfriends. Therefore, we should be aware that being too independent may make your people feel distance from us.

Do you know what one big commonality of most Korean professional player is? They don’t talk much. Though admittedly there are some exceptions, most of the players to whom I have personally talked were very quiet people. When I say quiet, I don’t mean they don’t like talking or have depressed personalities. On the contrary, they are usually bright people, who enjoy listening to others. It’s probably because playing baduk doesn’t require any talking. Thinking about it, professional players are the ones who have always played baduk since they were little kids. As you would easily assume, baduk players are usually comfortable with silence.

Again taking my case as an example, I don’t talk much either especially when I am with strangers or people with whom I am barely acquainted. Though I speak more when I am with people with whom I feel comfortable, I still don’t talk that much. Also, I tend to talk more in a smaller group, like two or three people including myself. Therefore, I prefer having a few close friends to many casual friends. Considering what I have seen so far, most professional players in Korea are not far from this.

Nevertheless, I am thinking the biggest difference between baduk players and non baduk players is nothing else, but baduk. Other than that, players are in the end still people and very similar to non-players. They may have a few unique characteristics. Yet, I believe any group of professionals or amateurs who have been doing one thing for long enough would share a few specific personality traits as well.

All this thinking about friendship and relationships doesn't mean I will miss my friends any less when they leave. Trying to analyze my feelings and past relationships is my way of trying to deal with the loneliness I will feel when they are gone. So, I wanted to say this to my friends who successfully graduated. Thank you for the wonderful time. I was really lucky to befriend you and befriended by you. You have made my school life much more memorable. I wish you the best in your life.

Expectation Magic

Hajin — Mon, 16 May 2011 16:25:30 +0900

A university is a strange place. You study about the world; what other people have established so far. And yet, there is an invisible, but strong force that makes you think about yourself. Maybe it’s because in university you make choices that affect the entire future direction of your life and work. Or maybe it’s because you start seeing the world through your own eyes, without the sunglasses your teachers and parents put on you. Anyway, something pushes me again and again to ask this.

Who am I?

Why should I do what I am doing? What do I want to do in the future? Why? What are my abilities? Why do I feel what I feel? Why am I happy? Why do I get frustrated? Why am I satisfied?

At some point in my college life, I found myself asking those questions more frequently than before. Logically I should know all the answers. If you don’t know why you want what you want, who else would know? Right? No. I came to realize, after some time, that I don’t know about myself clearly. That’s probably why sages like Socrates or Lao Tzu said it was important to know oneself first.

Usually introspecting helped me answer a question each time. But, what I really wanted to find was how my brain and emotions worked. Though I believed that frustration and sadness have their own value, such as adding more dimensions and depth to my character, I still looked for the answer as if an alchemist would seek for the perfect formula. Then, one day, I found a magical element that substantially influences my feelings.

It may already be a well known fact for some people: it’s expectation. I realized that I was happy to be with my boyfriend for two hours if I was expecting to have about that amount of time or less. However, I would be sad to have two hours with him if I thought we would have more time together than that. I was disappointed to get 91/100 in a Marketing exam after I thought I did well on the exam, but I was quite satisfied with 25/30 in Statistics because everyone agreed that the exam was extremely difficult. It was like expectation magic. Everything was judged or evaluated by the imaginary standard that I unconsciously set in my head.

Expectation plays with baduk players as well. I noticed that when players expect to lose, they don’t tend to try as hard to win the game. When they think they are stronger, or expect to win, however, they hardly ever give up on the game. Also, players often feel proud of themselves when they do better than what they expected rather than based on any certain specific performance.

Naturally, the next question came across to me was that, “Will I be happy and satisfied all the time if I keep my expectations low?” “Will I try hard all the time if I always expect to win?” Not surprisingly, my answer was “No.” First, I will be dissatisfied with myself if I set my standards lower than what I know about my capabilities. Also, I would be so discouraged that I wouldn’t want to really try at all if I expected to succeed all the time. Then what should I do with the magical element that I found out through repeated introspection?

I think the key is to be honest and transparent with oneself. Doing so should be easy (or at least it sounds easy), but, again, I learned it was not. On the contrary, I am good at making up excuses, rationalizing my reasons, and sometimes relying on luck more than my rational self would allow. So, I decided to try to accept myself as I am, other people as they are, and the world as it is. I haven’t practiced this much yet, but it seems to work quite well so far. I am happy, less stressed out and more relaxed with my life.

Isn’t it magical?

Professional's Degree

Hajin — Sun, 01 May 2011 11:25:13 +0900

Last night over dinner I had an interesting conversation about being a professional baduk player. My company was two young and pleasant gentlemen, one from the US and the other from the UK. They said in America or Europe, “professional” indicates full time paid jobs. Also, no matter how skilled you are, if you love doing so but do not get paid for it, you are an amateur player. Concerning players who have other jobs but still play for a part-time job, people would call them “semi-professional”. It’s clearer if you think about the origin of the words. The word “professional” stems from “profession,” which means it’s your job. On the other hand, the “amateur” comes from the Latin “amatus,” meaning “love” or “having been loved.”

One example they used was professional tennis players. Tennis players don’t have special qualifying test to become professional, but they would be considered as professional if they perform in major matches and get paid for them. If they stop playing actively, however, they would be either semi-professional or retired professional. Also, the players whose full time job is teaching tennis may be considered as a kind of professional as well.

Being a professional player in Korea Baduk Association (also in Japanese, Chinese or Taiwanese association), however, is more like having a degree such as Master’s or Ph.D. It’s honorable and prestigious. Once you become a professional player, you are professional until you decide to retire. Yet, since no one has a right to tell you to retire, it would be safe to say that you are a professional for a life time. In fact, many players would retire only when they think their life is almost at an end.

Like almost every policy, the unique professional system of baduk has both good and bad sides. As a good side, it makes highly desirable to become a professional player. Though your income may not be stable, your status is secure. Also, it allows professional players to explore other worlds. For a good example, it would have been much more difficult for me to become a full time college student, if I had to give up professional status.

However, if you look at this from the baduk fans’ point of view, the system causes the professional world’s stagnation. Because players retire so late, KBA can afford to accept only a limited number of new professional players every year. It’s also true that many players believe that the strength of Korean professional players comes from the difficulty of becoming professional. Yet, the obvious consequence is that, many prodigies, who have as good of skills as the majority of professional players, end up giving up on their life dreams after several years of intensive study. It results in both diluting the competitiveness in professional tournaments and taking away places for “pure amateur players” in most amateur tournaments.

If I think only about my interests as a professional player, I want the current system would stay for a long time. As one baduk player who wishes prosperity for the entire baduk community, however, I want it to take the best for itself. What do you think? Is it good to keep the traditional system or should they reform regarding the new age?

Insecurity

Hajin — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 22:46:23 +0900

Jack Welch, the former CEO of General Electronic, writes in his book Straight from the Gut, “Outwardly, I had a pretty good dose of self-confidence, and those who knew me would have described me as self-assured, cocky, decisive, quick and tough. Inwardly, I still had plenty of insecurities.” Rationally, I understand that everyone has a certain degree of insecurities. Yet, it just didn’t feel real that someone like Jack Welch also needed to hide his insecurities. Then I wondered. What kind of insecurities would he have? What was his secret to keeping them inside, somewhere that no one else could see?

Lee Changho 9P, Lee Sedol 9P, Gu Li 9P and others of the world’s top players always look so confident. Although they usually behave or speak in a modest way in public or in interviews, I have never seen them looking nervous or worried before or during matches. Does that mean they don’t feel insecurities though? No. Probably not. Controlling insecurities is one skill. They are just good at managing or not showing their insecurities, like Jack Welch. In fact, I believe playing baduk is a good way to learn how to deal with insecurities. Let me give you two most common insecurity issues in baduk.

Defeat

There was a time that I was so afraid of losing I didn’t want to play at all. Sun Tzu, the Chinese philosopher says, “Attaining one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the pinnacle of excellence. Subjugating the enemy’s army without fighting is the true pinnacle of excellence.” (The Art of War) I would have worked really hard, if I had thought there was a way to win baduk without playing. Unfortunately it wasn’t quite possible though. So I had to find another solution.

When you are afraid, worried or frustrated, it’s important to know why in order to overcome the feeling. In my case that I mentioned above, the problem came from caring about the results too much. Because I cared--because it was so important for me to win--I couldn’t bear the feeling of being defeated.

Today- young players are different, but until recently top players often said “I will try to make a good kifu (game record),” when they were asked about upcoming matches. When I was young, whenever I heard the cliche, I thought they were just being humble or trying not to offend their opponents. Having experienced as a professional player myself, however, I realized that the best way to get over the fear of defeats was to forget about the result. All you should do is to find the best move at a time. In other words, you don’t go after victories, but try to make a good kifu. Then victories will find you.

Reverse

One day, an amateur player came to me and asked, “Have you had any kind of psychological training for baduk?” I replied, “Um... no, I don’t think so, why?” “I have a problem. Whenever I think I am ahead, I get so nervous and start making terrible mistakes.” At the moment, I didn’t know what to tell him. So I just said, “Don’t worry, it’s very common. I believe everyone experiences that.”

The fact is, I, myself am a big victim of the “having-advantage-nervousness.” When I was 15, I grabbed an opportunity to play the last match to become a professional player. In the game, I played very well in the beginning and the middle stage. As the game was heading for the end, though, I felt extremely nervous. I knew what winning the game meant, and I couldn't suppress the excitement. I started playing "safely" as a euphemism for submissively, and eventually lost the game by a half point. It was a good lesson, but such a devastating experience.

However much you are ahead, you don’t win the game yet until the game ends completely. Therefore, there is no reason to freak out in the middle of a game. Think and read as you did at the beginning of the game. And leave the excitement until after cleaning up the board. As long as you remember this, you won't be troubled with the issue that much.

Nelson Mandela, the former president of South Africa, once said, “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” Through playing baduk during almost my entire life, I also learned that confidence was not the absence of insecurities or anxieties, but the triumph over it. The winner is not the one who does not feel worried, but the one who conquers that insecurity and gives his best shot. You may still lose games, but you certainly will learn something baduk has to teach about life.

Writing a Poem

Hajin — Sat, 12 Mar 2011 08:05:45 +0900

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrY-V_NBPwE

I wrote a poem in English for homework of Music class. The assignment was to choose any music, listen to it everyday, and write anything I want. So, I've asked my friend to give me some music files. Though I had many music files too in my laptop, I wanted to work with a music that I've never heard before. He gave me a few albums, and I picked the one that I posted above (youtube link).

As the title 'Oceanic' implies, the music sounds like water. Also, I thought the overall atmosphere was very dreamy as if I was wandering in a dream. So with the two inspiration of music and dream I decided to write a poem.

A Song of Water

I was there, out of nowhere
Trees were still, water stayed silent
The air was chill, the dark remained prevalent
I was there, all alone at the strange place

You came there, from nowhere
Trees started dancing with a beautiful song of the water
The air became warm with the shiny rays of the sun
We loved there, all of the dreamy place

Travel to Hong Kong

Hajin — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 00:32:26 +0900

I like travels. I like traveling so much that just thinking about going somewhere far and exotic already excites me. Then when it comes to a real travel, there is much more to it than an excitement. Language, architecture, food, and even the time is very often different. You put yourself in a totally different environment, and enjoy the package of new experiences that a different culture offers. There, you are living a dream, not the reality.

“You are very lucky.” People would say, when I tell them that I have been to many other countries and cities. I must admit. I was lucky to get these opportunities. My family is not rich. Neither am I. Yet, I was at the right place with the right skills, and willing to risk a new world. Then Hermes, the God of travel, smiled at me.

Hong Kong trip was a surprise. Thus far, most of my trips were thanks to baduk or the combination of baduk and English. This time, however, my school offered me the trip for being a good student, which had nothing to do with baduk. The school provided the selected students with plane tickets, hotel rooms, and a little money for meals. The main purpose of the trip was to take 40 hours’ Effective Professional Communication in English course of Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Everything went well. The hotel was fancy and neat, the classes were helpful, and the weather was good enough to go around for sightseeing without a big problem. I visited many popular places in Hong Kong, and even went to Macau one day. Yet, what I really gained from the travel was none of these. Rather, many students who drank overnight and didn’t come to the class or one student, who giggled at me for saying that I was planning to go to a public library made me think, and think again. And from there, I found one interesting aspect of the travel that I overlooked before.

A travel shouldn’t be a dream. It should be real. People often over spend money, drink too much or do irresponsible things while traveling, because they are in a dream. They are somewhere far from the one reality to where they belong. And that encourages people to do things that they wouldn’t do otherwise. Yet, what is a travel for? What do you want to know about the place? If you live a dream, you would only see the illusion of the place. The illusion that business people built, aiming at tourists. You should remember that the place is another real world for other people. It’s someones hometown, neighborhood or workplace just like yours, in your world.

It’s also another reality of your life. If you went there as a student, be at the class room. If you were invited as a professional player, stay at the venue while the tournament is going on. It’s not losing time for anything. This is a real way to experience the place. We would see the genuine face of the place only if we appreciate the people, and their lives there. Then, be yourself. Why can’t I go to a library when I like going to libraries? Is it really important that the library is not the best-known place of the region? Do I want to go shopping just because it’s world’s popular place for shopping, even though I have no interest in it?

Looking back, the Hong Kong trip was bittersweet. It was sugar coated from the outside, but the inside had a strong and deep flavor that pushed me to reconsider the whole thing. Yet, I am glad that it opened my eyes to see a travel from another angle. Some may say that traveling is to dream, a dream to be someone else in a strange world. I would say, however, it would be too sweet. Too sweet to be real or too sweet to be healthy. I want my travels to be rather realistic. A bit of sweet, sour, bitter and maybe spicy. And for that, I will like them even more.

My Best Friend's Wedding

Hajin — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 10:03:52 +0900

It was about a week before folding my living-alone-life in Seoul, and moving to Daejeon, in where my family was living. I met one of my best friends, Eun-sun, at a café to talk about many things as usual. We were a bit down then, because we both knew that we wouldn’t be able to see as often once I move to the parents’ place. Daejeon is about two hours away by car from Seoul. Though it wasn’t that far, it wasn’t close either to come all the way for a small chat. Also, the transportation fare was another problem. Therefore, we came to a conclusion that we should do something memorable together. I don’t remember whose idea it was, but we started talking about going on a short travel. Tomorrow. It was completely spontaneous; we would go traveling together sometimes, but we usually planned everything ahead of time. Leaving spontaneously sounded very exciting however. So, in the very place, we picked a place to go (by beach), time (tomorrow), and period (one night, two days). Then Eun-sun asked her boy friend to join us (and drive us), and we called three other our close friends (Only one of them made the trip though). Like this, we left for a beach at the last moment of my life in Seoul.

Eun-sun got married to her boy friend, now her husband, on January 8th. I introduced the travel briefly, because this was the travel that I realized they were meant to be each other. It was so sweet to see how both of them care for each other.

She is my first friend to get married. It feels strange to see a friend getting married. On one hand, I am really happy for her. She looked happy and excited about everything. Also, I have known her husband for a long time, and am quite sure he is such a perfect man for a husband; caring, understanding, protective, warm-hearted, and diligent. On the other hand, however, I felt as if I was seeing my friend to enter a total different world that I couldn’t reach. She would talk about her family-in-law, housings, wedding affairs and such. Well, I know that I would (probably) go there someday, too, but that definitely wouldn’t be any time soon.

On the wedding day, I had this ambivalent feeling inside me. Yet, observing everyone being so glad and happy helped me cheer myself up. Well, after all, what can I do? I will just wish all the best and happiness for my best friend.

Oh by the way, (Kim) Eun-sun is a 3 dan professional player, and her husband is Park Byoung-kyu, 7 dan professional.

Between Modesty and Confidence

Hajin — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 08:10:57 +0900

As a young prodigy, who is supposed to pursue the ultimate level of baduk, I was taught much more about baduk than being a kind of board game. Playing a game was not only about winning or losing, but more like performing an academic demonstration under the right manners and forms based on what I learned, studied, and achieved. Apart from the technical part; greetings, the way of delivering and putting stones on a board, appropriate behaviors both while and after playing are a few examples of the manners that my teacher has emphasized as much as the game itself. For example, you must bow to your opponent before starting a game, you shouldn’t put stones either too strong or too weak, you shouldn’t look at your opponent, and also you should not express directly your emotions such as happiness, anger or frustration after a game, especially in your opponent’s presence. Moreover, the teacher used to tell a great deal about the importance of being respectful and polite, which present themselves as “modesty.” In other words, I have learned that being a great baduk player means not having to say, “I am strong”, “I won because I played well” or “I defeated him,” unless someone asks and expects to hear a quite honest answer. Consequently, being modest or hiding my confidence has become one of my characteristics, with which I feel comfortable.

Being outside of the baduk community, however, I realized that I am nobody unless I stand for myself. Other people will simply think I lack of confidence and have nothing special if I hide confidence and try to be modest. For instance, if I say it’s not a big deal to be a professional baduk player, non-baduk players will believe it without questioning much. Let me put it in this way; when I was a frog in a well or a kid in a small village, a loud voice could be a noise, but in a bigger world as one of the million, I should have shouted to be heard.

Thus, I am thinking about a way of being modest while somehow showing confidence at the same time. There should be a middle point, which suits both baduk and non-baduk world. Maybe I can act differently according to the context or the listener. Yet, I would rather be myself, who may be perceived as a confident baduk player to non-baduk players, and as a modest person to baduk players.

PS. I suppose many of you are wondering if I started translating Lee Sedol 9P's baduk books. And.. the answer is, no, I didn't. They informed me that they decided to postpone the translating job for some personal reasons.

My Theory regarding what happened in the Cheongkwanjang Cup

Hajin — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 22:27:40 +0900

Last Friday, I won the final round of the preliminary tournament, and qualified for the main competition of the Cheongkwanjang Cup. This tournament may be difficult to pronounce and relatively unknown to Western players, but is the only international championship for female professional players, which has been held annually for 8 years. Consequently most female players, especially those who newly entered the professional world aspire to play on this stage. Thus, it is needless to say that many female players study hard, waiting for this tournament. Yes. This is the tournament I’ve just passed.

Now, you may wonder how I have made it in spite of all the distractions; being a college student, teaching Go in Europe, studying Spanish, spending time on emails, blog, facebook, twitter and so on. Frankly speaking, even I never expected to make such a good result since I decided to do something else with my life other than focusing on Baduk as a professional player. The decision was made at the end of last year, when I had to choose between entering a college and joining a special training team for Asian Games. And, as you all know, I followed the former option. It was partly because I had a deep demand of knowledge and experiences of “the outside world,” and also because I thought I would be a “bigger” person in this way. Primarily what I thought was that I would be a leader of Korea Baduk Association and work for the Korean and global Go community.

As I was studying in a college, I felt happy like never before. I enjoyed attending classes, listening to professors and asking questions. It was just my dream life. Though Go was still the top priority to me, I even dared to miss some matches for getting a good grade. My life has changed a lot, and so did I.

Surprisingly, it also changed my Baduk style in two ways. First, it has allowed me to play “interesting looking” moves instead of “proper looking” ones. I guess it doesn’t sound hard to you, but I couldn’t imagine playing that way. Throughout my Baduk life so far, I never turned my back on the moves that I thought proper. I also want to confess that my only goal of playing Baduk was to win. (Teaching games don’t count) Yet, after I came back from Poland this summer, I noticed that I was free to experiment any moves in my matches. I was no longer afraid of loosing or regretting. Second, it has made me to reduce the degree of willingness to win matches. Last year, I was so badly eager to enter the Korean team for the Cheongkwanjang Cup. But this time, I thought I had no hope. All I wanted to do was to enjoy the tension, the thrill, and Baduk itself.

Therefore, my theory is that those two changes confused my opponents, and I luckily qualified for the main stage. I don’t expect this luck to last long though. I have set my direction anyway, and am quite satisfied with what I am doing so far.

Please notice the purpose of this diary and take it away with you; my having entered the Korean team was neither because other Korean female players were weak nor I was so genius that I didn't need to study :P

NY Times Article

Hajin — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 15:27:08 +0900

New York Times (Date unknown, 1892)

New Publication

GAMES PLAYED IN OLD TIMES.

GAMES ANCIENT AND ORIENTAL AND HOW TO PLAY THEM. By Edward Falkener, New York: Longmans, Green & Co.

Mr. Edward Falkener has pursued a curious study in tracing back the antiquity of certain games, and in the pages of this interesting volume writes of his hopes of offering to a present age amusements which were in vogue during the remote past. If Queen Hatasu, 4,000 or more years ago, played her little game of draughts in Thebes, why might we not resuscitate her ganie and push the men across the squares in New-York, just as if we were Pharaohs?

His researches have not been archeological alone. It has not sufficed him to study an old stone picture and make out its hieroglyphs, but with infinite patience and philosophical turn of mind he has reconstructed games, solved the problems which were played thousands of years ago. He has been, as it were, a Cuvier. Paleontological checker boards have been re-established, from a single square or a single piece. The theory of development in games we have no doubt with hold its own, and so from Fox and Geese we rise to Kriegs-spiel. From the simple we have gone to the complex, though the reverse might be stated, as far as Oriental checkers go – for who would like to play the old Chinese “Wei-Chi,” with its innumerable squares and 400 men?

When you write of these games in the past you mix with a noble company, for Kings, Emperors, Shahs, Sultans, Princes, conquerors, and their noble captives have played them. Games are not uncommon as pictures on the walls of Egyptian temples and tombs. The Egyptians believed that in the playing of various games they would find bliss in their future state. Birch, Lepsius, and Wilkinson give illustrations of the games in vogue in old Egypt, and Brugsch the translation of one of the most important inscriptions, having to do with “Tau,” a game of checkers not unlike the Roman Latrunculi or Game of Robbers. What, however, was the absolute game and the machinery of it were not known exactly before the draught board and the draught men of Queen Hatasu, B. C. 1600 were discovered, a few years ago. The board was broken, but the men were there. The board itself was made of porcelain squares, with hieroglyphs on them. The men were of wood, ivory, and baked clay, covered with enamel. Birch’s surmises as to the character of the game were found to be near the facts.

Mr. Falkener wonders why the game of tau should have fallen into desuetude. The Romans took it from the Egyptians, and it was known by the Latins as the Ludus Latrunculorum. The Etruscans played the game, and so Greece knew it. Gradually the form of men changed, and they lost fixed characteristics, until somewhat the shapes of our checker men were used. In a tomb of Cuma are the checkers all ready for the amusement of the departed. How the author reconstructed Queen Hatasu’s draught board is highly ingenious. It was a complicated game, having 144 squares. Studying the Egyptian and the Latin text, the author has succeeded in actually playing the game.

The game of “Seega” of Egypt of to-day, an account of which is due to Dr. Carrington Bolton of New-York, bears a strong likeness to the old and remote “Senat.” The Egyptian of the Pharaonic time wanted to play Senat in the future state. It was not chess, but a kind of draughts. There were different boards, so that with the same general principles a longer and more complicated or a shorter and simpler game could be played. In studying the two games there can be no question but that the author has got to the bottom of the Roman Ludus Latrunculorum, which has been heretofore the puzzle of antiquarians.

To-day in New-York streets we see Italian urchins playing mora. This is the Egyptian atep, the dactylon epallage of the Greek, the micatio, micaro, digitis morare of the Roman. Over a picture of two Egyptians may be read the group of hieroglyphs meaning “Let it be said?” an equivalent to our “Guess?” Being a game with fingers only, it possibly has not changed at all during 6,000 years. Some of the Egyptian methods were ingenious, as two figures shown playing back to back, or a group of three figures, where a recumbent figure is used as a table. One vase painting of an early Greek period is charming for its grace. It shows two ladies playing moira. In order to keep the count the same staff is held by their unoccupied hands, and there must have been cut notches in the staff to indicate the right has the better of her adversary.

The chess problem is one too long to be presented. There is Indian chess, (chaturanga,) Chinese chess, and Japanese chess, the last seeming dreadfully complicated. Burmese chess and Siamese chess have their eccentricities, though showing the influence of, the modern European game. Tamerlane’s chess, or great chess, is vaunted by the Persians, and an old Persian wrote a book about it and said that his labors would be rewarded by a seat in Paradise, for “God had assisted him in his play.” With infinite patience Mr. Falkener has played Tamerlane’s chess, and he prints a number of games.

The Wei-ki of the Chinese and the Goof the Japanese seem to date back in China from time immemorial. Go is a game where the object is to inclose your adversaries, men, not in one camp, but in several. We should be inclined to think that a sight alone of the diagrams Mr. Falkener presents would be enough to frighten even the most zealous of draught of chess players. Efforts to introduce pachisi to civilization have not been successful. Perhaps the grand style in which Akbar played it might bring it into fashion. At his palace at Futteypore he had a great courtyard laid out as a pachisi board, and young slaves at the word of command hopped about from square to square.

Viewing the article; the third column