At last the long awaited finale to Adventures in Korea [parts 1, 2 and 3]. So much time has now passed since I gathered the notes for this piece that any similarity between what is described here and the truth is purely accidental.

Christopher W Linfoot; February 3rd 2000

We take up mere minutes after we left off last time. If you didn't read part one, part two or part three, you may want to do so first...

4. By any other name

Jeng ordered us back to the taxi rank and found a convenient, empty car. As luck would have it, it was the same conveyance as had recently and miraculously transported us from airport to ferry terminal.

We settled back into the sliding palm frond seats while Jeng devised an itinerary with the driver.

After we set off, I sought relief from the stress of what was likely to be a long and perilous journey by devising a game.

As a child, you may have played games while travelling in a car. Count all the red cars. Count mark one Escorts. Count Volvos displaying the mysterious warning, "Caution - Show Dogs in Transit". That sort of thing. Modern children, I am told, spot Eddie Stobart lorries. My game was a minor variation on this tired old theme.

During our stay in Korea, I had begun to notice the names of cars.

Well over 90% of the population of Korea has little or no grasp of English and yet, inexplicably, every car produced there or imported has a name inscribed, embossed or printed on its boot lid comprised entirely of latin characters.

This may be a variation of the Japanese phenomenon, that English text, though illegible to most Japanese, sells when used in advertising. During my first trip to Tokyo, a campaign was running to encourage Japanese smokers to switch to a brand called Lark. The posters all showed a very distinguished looking, mature Japanese gentleman striking the sort of pose favoured by Herbert von Karajan on the cover of 1970's Deutsche Grammophon LPs of Beethoven symphonies. The caption was always the same, a simple imperative - "Speak Lark!".

I am painfully aware that observations similar to the one I am about to make could fairly be made of almost any European auto maker, but there is the question of scale. No - there is the question of why?

You see, the game I invented for myself was to list every Korean car name that seemed to step beyond conventional linguistic boundaries.

Now, there are those Korean car names which have been derived the European way, by reaching for an English / Esperanto dictionary and creating, using a selection of random syllables from said dictionary, a new, hybrid word which (we all sincerely hope) does not mean "rat's bottom" when reaching the ears of, for example, a Lithuanian.

Into this category fall cars like Leganza, Lanos and Matiz - all Daewoos. Daewoo also offers the Nubira, which seems to me to be on its way to being nubile, but perhaps I am being harsh.

Many more car names in Korea have been derived using the Japanese (let us call it "Speak Lark") method; by the selection of a word or words solely for their mellifluous sound in the Korean ear - and to hell with the meaning. And so, to a short but worthy sample of names, which I enjoyed, and which numbed the pain of the taxi journey to hell.

We have the regal Prince (a sedan), the divine Grace (a small coupe), the understated Grandeur (a four by four), the stately Brougham (also a sedan), the admirable Crichton (OK, I made that one up), the stolen Avant (not a Citroen), the curiously festive Carnival Park (a people carrier or minivan for American readers) and the bizarre, but probably immodest Galloper Exceed (another, much larger four by four)

[Memo to Hyundai - I will buy a Carnival Park if you will import them here and keep the name.*]

Noting these names did indeed keep me from dwelling too intensely on the fleeting nature of life and the chaotic influences that surround us, embodied in this case in a humble taxi driver. We arrived at the monastery, set back from the main road via a long, winding and well maintained stone paved driveway.

The monastery was a mile or two inland, in the foot hills above Pusan and, although we were less than 1,000 ft above sea level, we could not see the tops of the hills. The ban on the helgi trip was manifestly justified.

This was the first of a series of excursions to be shown cultural artefacts over the next few days. Perhaps I will write about those sometime too.**

* They did import it. They didn't keep the name and I never did buy a Carnival park

** I never did write more either (applause).

Copyright notice. This piece is copyright © 1999-2004 by Christopher W Linfoot. All rights reserved.