what Gwangnaru means

One of the things I like to do whenever I visit (or move to) a new town in a different country is translate the name. Names tell you a lot about a place. In a nation as old, as storied and as historically rich as Korea, names give you a wealth of information about the origins and geopolitical importance of a place.

"Oh sure," you might scoff. "What can place names tell you in a country as small as Korea? It's all the same peninsula. The whole country's in a single time zone. It's a one-biome and one-climate country. Locations that are only 25 kilometers apart within it are going to have the same history."

Not true. Heck, you only have to travel 20 kilometers in Korea to hear dialectical differences in the language. Twenty kilometers! And I can confidently say that, in the culinary arena alone, Gwangnaru is worlds apart from Bucheon. I can only imagine the cultural, traditional and historical disparities that will come to light. I've already noticed that Gwangjin folk seem to prefer duck to chicken. Perhaps that has something to do with their proximity to the Han River...

But I digress. Let's talk about translating city names.

I started this tradition with Bucheon. Through a sinuous process of trial, error, ignorance, and liberal use of Google Translator, Miss H and I managed to figure it out. If we are correct (and we most likely aren't, since we haven't the knowledge or the resources to examine the name in Hanja, or Chinese characters), "Bucheon" translates to "Gold River."

Well, I kept this tradition up when Miss H and I moved across town to Gwangnaru, in the Gwangjang neighborhood of the Gwangjin ward.

Noticing a pattern here?

That's right. The syllable "gwang" appears in every one of those names.

Now, as with a lot of Korean words, gwang has its origins in Chinese. If I did my research correctly (and I probably didn't), "gwang" means "light" when written in Hanja. But like other languages that were adopted by other cultures and nations, however, Korean words' meanings and connotations have evolved from the mother tongue. The first and foremost definition that popped up in Bing Translate for "gwang" was "barn, shed, or granary."

Naru proved somewhat harder to translate. It's a fairly common word. It tends to show up a lot in business names: Gimbap Naru, or Sundae Naru. (Just so you know, "sundae" is not ice cream. It's bundles of Chinese vermicelli wrapped in cow or pig intestines. It's a popular snack food here.)

Thankfully the Internet is not my only source. I have the assistant director of the Sejong University's General English Program. At a meet-and-greet yesterday I asked him straight-out what the word "naru" meant. He's been living in Korea for more than a decade, and is married to a native Korean (they have two beautiful children). Rest assured that the A.D. is quite fluent in Hangeul. Without a moment's pause he informed me that "naru" is a ford or a ferry-landing.

Well, there you go. "Gwangnaru" translates to "Barn Ferry-Landing." For the sake of lingual aesthetics, let's shorthand it to "Granary Ford."

Hello, my name is (Professor) Post, and I live in Granary Ford, Snow Fence. (Gwangnaru, Seoul. Ha-ha.)

So from now on, if you hear me make a passing reference to "Granary Ford," don't be confounded. I'm referring to Gwangnaru. When the yellow dust clears up, I'll get you some pictures of the place. For now, enjoy your weekend...and this photo of my new building, Dongho Villa: