Readjustment

When you start calling a place home, it is difficult to forget what it taught you. After living in Korea for a year and a half, Korea became a place that left a deep impression on me and gave me habits that will never leave me. I never thought readjusting to American society would be so difficult.

Crowds I am used to, so trips to the mall or grocery store to pick up small things came with ease. It is things like driving and dressing that cause me the greatest trouble.

Crossing a street still takes 5 seconds of hesitation, making sure no one will run the red light and hit me. Traffic is now doable. I’m no longer constantly on edge for people looking for 5 feet to cut me off. But with every car’s swerve, I hold my breath, waiting for them to rush into my lane. I feel danger.

Dressing, I am finding, has become the hardest to get used to. There was not a day in Korea where I went without make-up. There was not a day where I did not dress my best to attend class or merely walk on the streets. But, amongst this sea of American students, I now stand out. My hair is neatly kept, a fresh layer of make-up is applied to my face, and of course, I am wearing fine clothes. I sit wearing these things amongst ranks of sweatshirt and pajama clad students. I am alone.

I walk through campus, amazed by the amount of space it takes up. Why does it need this much space? Why is it organized like this? Nothing flows. The buildings are harsh and obtuse, haphazardly placed throughout dusty ground with no consideration of how it fits in its surroundings. I cringe.

As I walk past campus food courts, I shudder, nearly pinching my nose shut. I am amazed at how fatty and fried the foods are. There is no consideration for health. The price shocks me even more. I can get a single sandwich for $5 whereas I used to be able to a get a full me with side dishes for $3. My wallet aches.

When classes begin, I find myself sighing with relief; there are quizzes AND homework assignments, not just 2 exams. I look at the students around me who groan about the course load, but I smile. I am a better student?

Korea is still in me. A month should have been enough time to adjust myself back into Western society, yet here I am, still stuck in the East. I am alone. I am singled out. I am special. I know the world. 

Packing for Home

They say that packing to go to your destination is the hardest part, but in reality, it’s packing to go home.

Coming to, you only have to worry about what to bring, and what ever is missing can be purchased upon arrival. But, packing to go home, whatever you leave stays behind. Whether that be a sock, a friend, a favorite coffee shop, or boyfriend. If these are not packed, they stay behind forever.

These things last as memories. They last a receipts kept in you wallet, ticket stubs tossed in your purse, pictures on your camera that you never got around to uploading. The strongest thing you have to keep is a memory of brilliant smile.

What I remember here? Who will I remember? Will I remember the feeling of 삼겹살 (samgyeopsal, pork belly) as it burns my tongue, the bitter taste of 소주 (soju, Korean vodka) as I do it in “원셧!” (One shot!), the sight of street vendors selling every knick-knack that you can think of?

As I pack things into my suitcase, I trace my hand across my Korea University shirts. At Texas Tech, I only own one shirt that I bought quickly before a football game, but here, I have over 6 shirts with Korea University proudly displayed on the front along with several sweaters of the same variety. Why have I collected these? Will these things be my memory of students who have given me my most cherished memories?

I can only hope as I pack my remaining souvenirs into my bag, that I will return to Korea one day. I have lived here for so long and have become so comfortable calling it my home. How can I not come back when this place has become all that I love and know?

The Last Day

I didn’t really think about. With projects and finals crushing down on me, I didn’t even have time to think about. Sleepless nights, caffeine overload, a burst eye vessel from too much studying—so many things to make you go numb to what you’re supposed to be feeling.

I raised my head from my desk as my 5 a.m. alarm went off, warning me that I was stupid and fell asleep while studying. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes, and stretched, cramming for the last few precious hours I had before my last final. As I slipped on fresh clothes and packed up my bag, I looked at my table and saw my camera. In an instant, emotion ran to the back of my throat—today was my last day at Korea University.

I began cursing myself, angry that I let myself get so overwhelmed with school that I didn’t let myself enjoy the last few precious moments that I had at this wonderful place. Before running out the door, I quickly snatched my camera; I don’t know why, the day was grey and I would be meeting no one since they were just like me, too absorbed in their books.

Rushing to the bus, I ran through cold air, trying not to think about my final, and least of all, my time coming to a close. When I arrived at the school, I sat in the business lounge, like I had so many times before. Seated in a plush red chair, I looked around at the astounding room. Glass reaching the ceiling three stories high, couches and tables neatly aligned for comfort and efficiency, students leaning over papers, desperately cramming in the final minutes before their test. I breathed deeply. Would this be my last breath here?

When the final ended, I walked out of class, thinking of going straight to my bus stop so that I could go home and get some much needed sleep, but I paused as I took out my gloves. I wanted to stay here, just for a little bit longer. So I shoved my gloves back into my bag and began to walk down Korea University’s famous underground passage. With each step I took, I inhaled deeply and memorized every detail that I could.

Will I remember how my shoes clack on marble floors? Will I remember the smell of books from the libraries that line the hall? Will I remember the intricate patterns on the floor that I have ignored so many times before? Will I forget the frustration every time someone suddenly stops in front of me? As I reached the end of the hall, I looked back at the crowd of students behind me, desperately trying to get into a study lounge. Will this be the last time I see it?

I left the warmth of the underground to the harsh cold outside, but suddenly, it didn’t feel cold. I felt so warm. I looked around me as I watched students run to their final and couples meander down the street. I thought of the times when these people who I barely knew helped me in my times of need, people who barely knew me who would smile and talk to me when they saw I was alone, people who filled the university with the love and warmth that Korea is famous for.

As I walked around every last inch of campus, I remembered all the friends who I had met over the last year and a half. Who would I remember them 10 years from now? Who would remember me? Will I ever forget this place that I have called my home for so long?

I sat down at the bench near the main gate, looking at the gorgeous architecture that Korea University possessed, and began to be filled with bittersweet thoughts. My time here was been a blessing. The people I have met, the places I have been, I do not have the words to describe how wonderful they are. My life here has been nothing short of amazing, and I find myself shocked with how comfortable I am calling this place home. But…

Will I ever come back?