T A B L E_T A L K Where do you stay when you're flush? Discuss you favorite posh pads and ritzy resorts in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y Blinded in the desert By Andrew Bill Hospitality and hostility become blurred for a traveler stranded among Bedouins at the desolate tip of the Sinai (06/19/98) The Cup runneth over By Ethan Zindler At the World Cup, Scottish fans bare their behinds and French fans bare their prejudices (06/18/98) Mondo Weirdo A different kind of resort in Sri Lanka A reader discovers that an off-the-beaten-track resort offers a little less than it promises (06/17/98) Spiritual discomfort By Anne Cushman A yoga student discovers a real sadhu -- and spends the night in his cave in northern India (06/16/98) Adventures of my youth By Louise Rafkin Can midlife travelers recapture the carefree wanderings of old? (06/15/98) Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives		BY ROLF POTTS | On the afternoon of my first day in Korea, I exited a traditional restaurant to discover a very small boy clutching one of my shoes in front of his face, soberly staring at my size-13 loafer with great wonder and perplexity. "Shin-bal," he said to himself in a very clear, serious voice. "Shin-bal." In my best children's show-host manner, I motioned and asked him to please give me my shoe back, but he remained as transfixed as Hamlet gazing at Yorick's skull. "Shin-bal!" he intoned, as if pondering his own existence for the first time. I eventually got my shoe back, but the little boy's solemn one-word soliloquy haunted my memory for the next month. I found myself involuntarily repeating the word to myself when I was taking a shower or riding the bus: "Shin-bal!" Shortly before falling asleep or halfway through reading an e-mail: "Shin-bal!" Shopping for oranges or drinking a soju: "Shin-bal!" The word was like a creepy old Carpenters song stuck on repeat in my subconscious. I began to wonder what the word could possibly mean. Was it a sacred mantra from an ancient Buddhist liturgy? Was it the name of a big-footed monster from Korean folklore? Was it an intuitive child's warning of my imminent doom? Since I was living in a foreign land for the first time, my mind ran wild with possibilities. When I finally gathered up the courage to ask, a Korean friend assured me that -- in no uncertain terms -- shin-bal means "shoe." It was at this moment that I decided it was time to get off my ung-dungi and study the Korean language. Americans are notoriously bad language learners. Europeans get a kick out of attributing this trait to stupidity, but it's actually quite practical: The average American has no use for a second language. America is too big and influential to bother with learning Portuguese or Swahili or Mandarin. My own foreign-language track record is a testament to such ambivalence. When I was in high school I took Spanish because the teacher let us make tacos every Friday. When I was in college, I took French to impress a girl. To this day, I can count to 10 in both languages. Barely. N E X T+P A G E | Nuns don't have prayers ...