Breaking the Ice

You remember how I said it feels like the Koreans threw the word “can’t” out of their dictionary? Well this is a philosophy I tried to adopt even before I came here. Trying to get rid of the negative in life and just focus on the positive. Those first couple of weeks alone in Masan certainly tested my new life motto. What with a washing machine that was broken, a stove that wouldn’t light, and taking cold showers every night cause I didn’t know how to turn the hot water on. And every one of these problems I would keep bringing up with my mentor teacher, my guide to this new life in Korea. And everyday my pleas of help would go unanswered... But, I would just think about my kids, picturing their smiling faces that would cheer whenever I arrived. Then it was like most of those worries really weren’t so bad after all.
     As I got more familiar with my kids, the older ones told me that they were so happy I was so nice. When I asked why they explained to me that their previous teacher wasn’t nice at all. She was very strict, never smiled, and avoided talking to the kids after class. That’s when I started to wonder, was the reason my teachers were acting so distant not because I was a terrible teacher in their eyes, but rather because they had a bad experience with the teacher who came before me. This whole time I had worried I had offended them all somehow, either by my lack of knowing Korean, being “late” for meeting the teacher at the bus stop, or maybe my towering height. That was when something happened.
     It was my last teaching day of that week and actually for a little while because Korean Thanksgiving or Chuseok was about to start. No school for a week for me! I had arrived at the school about an hour early and was wandering around my classroom, taking in everything I had. That was when a teacher came in with a cup of cold tea. She handed me the tea and explained in basic English and charades she was the 3^rd grade and history teacher who also had two children enrolled in the school. None of her kids, both her students and children could stop talking about me. And with a smile she insisted I drink the tea. I was stunned to say the least, but as she left me to my tea the biggest grin started to form on my face. My kids. They had done what I couldn’t. They were bridging the gap between me and my teachers, telling them how happy and kind and fun I was. Because I came to school positive, throwing all my negative feelings aside, the teachers were starting to warm up to me.
     A few days passed and I was enjoying my vacation chilling in my apartment. I really couldn’t do much else due to lack of Korean and that fear of venturing outside alone just felt stronger those few days. That was when I heard a knock on my door. I opened it, and who did I see but my mentor teacher AND the English teacher. Yes, you heard right. The ENGLISH teacher. Meaning, I could for once successfully have a conversation with my mentor teacher! I knew before she was going to drop by, but I didn’t realize she would bring backup. Or fruit. Yes, I was greeted with a BIG box of fruit, a gift for Chuseok. Picture apples and Asian pears as big as grapefruit. I was kind of dancing, not going to lie. But that wasn’t all. The two proceeded to fix my washing machine! For 2 weeks my washing machine had just spat water at me everytime I tried to do my laundry, forcing me to pull the plug on it and be grateful I brought so much clothing with me in the first place. It took them 2 hours, and calling one of the school’s repairmen to come to finally fix the machine. This whole time I was bowing like crazy, apologizing for being such an inconvenience to them. This was their vacation and they were spending their time helping me. But that was when the English teacher turned around and faced me.

     “No, we’re sorry. We didn’t realize you were one of us. A co worker. A fellow teacher, and we left you here alone to fed for yourself this whole time, when you don’t know the area or the language. We are supposed to help you. We failed in our duty. We’re sorry and if you ever need us, call us, e-mail us, talk to us and we will be by your side.”
     I almost didn’t know what to say. Of all the things I expected…that wasn’t one of them. So all I could do was bow as deeply as I could and thank them both profusely in English and Korean for everything. They just laughed and insisted they take me out to eat now that my machine was fixed, adding that they would find a restaurant that didn’t serve only hot, angry, spicy food. I tried to wave them off, saying that whatever they wanted to eat was ok, in which they just smiled and said, “We know you don’t like spicy food. You try to act like you like it, but we’ve seen your face at the cafeteria.” My acting talents are failing me! Either way, my stomach was very happy as they found a little hole in the wall place run by a sole Korean grandma who was more than happy to leave Korea’s true love, chili peppers out of the food. That was when my teachers gave me one last surprise, a card with $500 on it to spend on my apartment. $500! You mean my dreams of having an oven in Korea WILL come true!? When I asked about the money, where it came from, if it was ok to have it, they told me not to worry about where it came from. Just to get whatever my apartment needed before the end of the month.
     It took me two weeks. Two weeks of just being patient, staying positive, and meeting 70 energetic kids who were happy to meet me. That’s what it took for me to become the newest member of my school’s family. I think I could used to this.  

Bottle of Sunshine

     To say these past few weeks have been hectic would be an understatement. I thought college was hard, with its constant tests to study for, homework to do, and essays of death to write. That was until I was sent to live alone in Korea. That’s hard.

      I was dropped off at my cute little apartment by the sea, told through the limited English of my mentor teacher that I started work on Monday, 6 days from now. I was grateful, seeing the next 6 days as time to adjust to my surroundings, shop for any essentials my apartment needed, open my bank account, ect. What I didn’t know was that I would have to do this, alone. I kept in touch with the other TaLK teachers, everyday coming on Facebook to hear how their teachers threw them a welcome party, showed them around the area, helped them with their bank account, and so on. I kept waiting for the day when my mentor teacher would return to do the same for me. After two days went by, I e-mailed her. By day four I knew she wasn’t going to answer. I was stranded in Masan, knowing maybe ten Korean words, with no clue exactly where I was, and hours away from my friends.Now, some of you may be ok with being alone, seeing it as the ultimate freedom. But for me, as much as I like having time for myself, unless someone is by my side I never venture outside. I have a terrible sense of direction and a horrible fear of getting lost. Why go outside? You’ll just walk 50 feet, get hopelessly confused as to where you are, be unable to ask for directions cause you don’t know the language, and then die. How I die, no clue. Maybe Korean mafia, or a crazy bus driver. Either way, ultimate doom always is my end. But it dawned on me more and more that if I didn’t go outside and explore and at least find food, I might still come to an ultimate doom. I finally calmed myself down, put on my shoes, and went outside. “Just go straight,” I encouraged myself. “If you ever want to go home, just turn 180 degrees and go straight again.” Very easy sounding, I know, but to me that meant a lot. I came up with daily goals for myself. Walk one way for 30 minutes. For an hour. Till you can’t go straight anymore. Find a grocery store. The bank. Police station. Karaoke place. All simple, little goals, and with each one I accomplished, the more confident I grew. I was out here, alone, in a country that doesn’t speak English. And I was just fine.

Monday came and it was time for my first day of teaching. I was stressed to say the least. I had no idea what my kids would be like, what their English level was, what my classroom had, ect. And yet again I was watching my TaLK friends on Facebook get grand tours, specific teaching guidelines, and escorts to school for the first day. Well, at least I got an escort. However, I had no idea where I would meet my escort, or even what they looked like. And so, I attempted to e-mail my mentor teacher again, telling her if I heard nothing back I’d wait in my apartment. The clock ticked on, and still no e-mail back or a knock on my door. Then I started to worry. What if they didn’t know where I lived? What if they were waiting downstairs or at the bus stop? What if I were late for my first day? I flew out of my apartment, figuring that even though I didn’t know them, they would easily spot the insanely tall foreigner that dressed funny. And she did.
     As she came out of the elevator she said, “Hello, Lauren. You’re late.” You know how first impressions are lasting impressions? Multiple that by a billion in Korea. Then add in how being on time is actually late in Korea. Yeah. This was NOT the impression I wanted to make. What was worse was her English was as good as my mentor teacher’s, despite her perfect, “You’re late.” So any hopes of explaining that I had been waiting for her for the past 4 hours went flying out the door.
     When she took me to the school via city bus, I tried my best to memorize the landmarks so I would know how to get to school alone the next day. Problem was my escort insisted she explain the bus schedule to me, in Korean, figuring that if she talked slow enough I would totally understand those strange noises she was making. When I reached the school, she introduced me to other teachers. I bowed as deeply as I could, not knowing who were my bosses and who were my partners in crime which earned quite a few laughs from them. Good. Maybe if I’m cute and funny enough they’ll forget the unfortunate lateness. That was when I met my kids…
     Have you ever seen a cartoon where a character is walking and sees something they can’t believe, but still keeps walking only to plow into a wall? Now imagine kindergartners through 6^th graders doing this. Over and over and over again. Clearly they weren’t expecting me, the exotic giant of a foreigner. That was when I waved and said, “Hello.” You’d think I told them I bought them a puppy, the lights in their eyes. They started to jump and chant, “Hello!” back. And when I mimicked their energy that only made their smiles wider. I didn’t know it then, but I had made my first allies in this bizarre place.
     Classes came and went, and soon it was the next day. I was struck terrified again because not only was I being forced to leave my apartment alone, but I had to navigate the buses alone. What if I got hopelessly lost, trapped in the middle of a rice field that went on for ages, only to be preyed on by wild cows? Yes, I have a very active imagination. Besides the point, I did get on that bus, armed with a secret weapon. The address of the school. I figured if worse comes to worse the bus driver would know where I was going and tell me the stop when we got there. Said driver throwing me off the bus however, was not part of the plan. Seeing the terror in my eyes he called me back, and soon I understood what he meant. To those who know Korea better than me, why the kimchi does the SAME number bus at the SAME bus stop at the SAME arrival time go to DIFFERENT stops. I’ve been riding the bus for two weeks now, and despite appearing to be the same, I have been dropped off in two completely areas. Thankfully both are within my sight (it’s awesome how it’s at the base of three big mountains), but still. Explain this to me.
     Regardless, I arrived at my school, paranoid as all get out that I was late AGAIN and would soon be asked to leave the school and Korea as a whole. But that was when I heard them. The kids. No…my kids. I had made it with 20 minutes to spare, my kids running around during their lunch break. The moment they saw me, they dropped whatever they were doing and RACED to me, all of them chanting “Happy, pretty, beautiful, blue eyes, tall Lauren teacher!” I don’t think I’ve gotten that many compliments all at once in my whole life. And they barely knew me!
     It was time for my fellow TaLK teachers to be jealous of me now. How did I get my kids to love me so much? Was I giving them candy? Did I know more Korean then I let on, thus was able to talk to them more? No. I was just…happy. Kids are like sponges. You might not be able to say a single word they’ll understand, but they understand a smile, a wave, a jump of joy, a hug. Though we could barely communicate, my kids knew I was happy to be there to teach them, and they fed off of that, making me even more happy and energetic. These kids get me out of bed now. Make me explore past my apartment. Become a better person, as cliché as that sounds. Because, they aren’t wearing masks. What they say they feel. And they feel happy that I’m here with them. I told them, “I’m American,” but my older kids shook their heads and said, “No. Not American. You’re Korean now.” Despite the loneliness and coldness of my teachers, I can do this job. I have about 70 very important supporters behind me.

You're Not Eating that WHOLE Brownie, Are You?

     Before I came to Korea, I could only guess what its cultural quirks would be. Would any of my knowledge I obtained in Japan and China help me, or would Korea continue to mess with me by being “Asian” and yet not the Asian I’ve come to know. Thankfully, orientation was able to prepare me for the more common cultural dos and don’ts. So without further ado, I give you Korea Culture 101, part 1.

     First off, Koreans do bow. You have no idea how relieved I was to hear that. After being obsessed with Japan since childhood, I have developed a compulsion to always do a little head bob of a bow to everything. Compliment me, head bob. Borrow a pencil, head bob. Get directions from a teacher, head bob. And I honestly can’t stop myself unless I concentrate on it. This convinced all the Chinese I met (who don’t bow much anymore) that I was Japanese in descent, and when I corrected them with American they said, “You don’t have to claim you’re American to be cool. German Japanese is something to be proud of too.” When I went to Japan this head bob tick just got worse cause hardly a day goes by when you don’t bow at least 20 times a day. And so, when I was told Koreans bow as well, it made me relieved that I wouldn’t have to constantly smack myself every time I bowed, or learn how to explain why I bow while I comment about the weather.

     Something that does throw me off however is how Koreans must do everything with two hands. If you are giving or receiving anything, from a gift at your birthday party to money at the convenience store, give and receive with two hands ALWAYS. You’ll be considered rude and uncivilized if you don’t (though being a foreigner will save you). I constantly have to tell myself to do this, mainly when I’m buying things. I have an affinity of having my wallet out when I’m paying for things, and it’s not very easy to take the change with two hands when a fat wallet occupies your left hand. You also have to shake hands two-handed, or at least, never shake with your free hand chilling by your side. I’ve been shown two ways of doing this, either by taking your free hand and holding the wrist of your shaking hand, or wrapping your free hand around your waist. Very different, but I’m sure after many shakes I’m going to have to break this habit when I come home.
     Another custom that my Japanese side throws a fit over is eating. In Japan, eating is considered a ritual where all you should think about is eating. In Korea, eating is a time to spend with your friends and family while talking about your day. This means talking with your mouth full, something that would get you ninja smacked if you tried it in Japan. On top of this, Korea is a very communal place where relationships with others are very important. So much so, that in Korea when eating food you actually share your food. All of it. So, let’s say you go to Dunkin Donuts with your friend and buy a chocolate brownie to go with your coffee. You better not think about eating that whole brownie by yourself. The moment you agreed to eat with your Korean friend, you opened yourself to sharing everything with them, mainly food, and you’ll probably get the evil eye if you scarf that chocolate deliciousness down without even saving a crumb for them. I’ve also been told that it’s so common for Koreans to eat with each other that many can’t recall a time when they ate alone. When I told my Korean friend how I often eat food alone in my apartment she flipped out, vowing to find me Korean friends to eat with. To her, my solo eating was one of the most depressing things she had ever heard. To further illustrate this, another friend of mine went to a restaurant by herself to check the food out. She ate alone, enjoying the food, but the waiter kept watching her and the door, as if concerned. Finally they approached her, asking when her friend was coming because obviously she couldn’t be eating alone. You can imagine their surprise.

     And these are only a few of several cultural differences. In my next cultural entry, I will cover one quirk that needs its own entire post, Koreans and dating, AKA Couple Culture (or even better described as, Twin Culture).

Somewhere, Beyond the Sea

     

     To think, 3 weeks ago I was getting off a plane in South Korea. As cliché as it sounds, it feels like yesterday and yet, it feels like a lifetime ago. This whole time I’ve been in orientation, going to class after class to learn about Korea, its culture as well as how to teach. I was so afraid I had bitten off more than I could chew, and the people that surrounded me were intimidating with how they seemed to just fit in amongst the landscape. But with each class, something was changing.

     Before I knew it I was greeted by my mentor teacher, the first person I’m supposed to communicate with should I have any questions or concerns. I was nervous as all get out, chugging sugary coffee like I was about to be shipped to backwater China, hoping to settle my nerves. I dressed in one of my nice skirt outfits from Japan, praying that my gut was right and that Korea and Japan had similar dress etiquette, and when her name was called I greeted her with a smile and a polite bow I also hoped Japan and Korea shared. She smiled warmly and awed at my clothes, making me take a deep inner sigh of relief. Thank you Japan for saving me once again! But that was when she spoke. “I don’t know English.” I listened to the sounds of my fellow TaLK scholars merrily chatting away with their mentor teachers, some in English and some in Korean since they knew it, and just kept smiling. “I don’t know Korean,” I greeted back.

     The two hour car ride to my apartment consisted of me whipping out my Korean phrasebook and taking a crash course on learning how to speak and read Korean. I had studied some whenever orientation calmed down enough to where I could squeeze in some language learning time, but honestly I only knew how to say, “hello,” “thank you,” “yes,” “no,” and “I’m hungry.” You can only get so far with those words. By the time we reached the apartment, I had thankfully upgraded to being able to say various question words, if I liked or disliked something and basic directions thanks to listening to my teacher’s GPS voice system throughout the drive. Thank God I did because when I got out of the old elevator and walked into my new home…I could turn around and tell my teacher how much I loved it.

     I had an image in my head this past month of where I’d live. I pictured a hut in the middle of a rice field, the stars being my light, the river being my bathtub and my only link to civilization being the wireless internet that flows throughout all of Korea regardless of how boofoo you are. But I also had another image, one of what my dream apartment would look like, a cozy thing with a kitchen and full of flowers. I would have a balcony looking out at the mountains Korea’s covered in, and at nightfall see the city lights dance like stars alighting from the sky. And in the morning I would be able to walk down to the nearby fresh market and taste the salt in the air from the nearby ocean, listening to the sounds of trains whizzing by just begging me to ride them to places unknown. When I walked into my apartment…I almost started to cry. I didn’t get the hut in the middle of a rice field. I got my home by the sea.

     I couldn’t stop dancing. I twirled and twirled, not caring how dizzy I got as I squealed again and again in Korean how it was so CUTE, how I LOVED it, how thankful I was that this was where I would live. My teacher just laughed, looking at me in absolute amazement. In her accented English she said, “But it’s old.” To which I answered, “That’s part of its charm.”

     The whole affair wasn’t perfect. We quickly learned that my internet wasn’t working, and at first she was just going to leave me there stranded till I started teaching on Monday. But, I held my ground and politely asked her for help, explaining via phrasebook that without internet I’m truly alone and won’t be able to call for help if anything happens (since I don’t have a phone and my Korean is lacking). Thankfully she stayed and several phone calls later got the internet working before finally insisting that she needed to go. Since then, I’m still a bit in shock, trying to get my bearings as I learn how to live here. Thus far my only major problems are I don’t know how to turn on my hot water, nor my gas stove, but those are hardly worries on my mind. I just have to look at the flowers on my wall and the nightscape out my window and a content smile rests on my face. It’s only been a day and I already feel at home, in my cute, flower apartment between the mountains and the sea.

Yes I Can

     If any of you know me, you’ve probably wondered why I’m in Korea. Usually I’m carrying on about Russia or Japan, the two loves of my life, with Korea merely being a side note attached to the end of a footnote next to an asterisk. I’ll admit, Korea’s not the first country that comes to my mind, nor has it ever been despite me being a lover of the Pacific Rim. But then again, as awesome and successful as Korea is, they really do like to keep it quiet. They’re like a hole in the wall diner serviced by your secret grandmother, offering delights your taste buds couldn’t imagine, but the only way you can find this place is by knowing someone. My someone is the TaLK program as a whole, as I’ve been involved in a month long orientation to teach me about Korean culture, history and everyday life. But why would Korea spend that much time on me before sending me out to teach its children? And why would they want them to learn English in the first place? I thought Korea was just like Japan, requiring everyone to study English as part of their general education. But there was more.

     If I could sum up what Koreans are after being here for under a month, it would be passionately hopeful. Some 50 years ago, you would find a Korea divided and ravaged by war, its people some of the poorest in the world while their resource poor country was a mangled mass of overturned dirt and leveled towns. But now when you look at Korea you see Samsung phones, Kpop bands and the 2018 Olympics host. In such a short time Korea has become a leader in economics and education, even giving my love Japan a run for his money when it comes to technology. Koreans don’t say this was a work of luck, however. Rather, they say every single success they have they owe to the blood and sweat of the Korean people as they tirelessly strove to do what the rest of the world thought was impossible. I’m honestly convinced the word “can’t” doesn’t exist in their dictionary.

     What does this have to do with English, though? The answer is everything. Korea believes that one reason they’ve come so far is because they pushed their children to learn English, one of the most widely spoken languages of the world, particularly in the business and technology fields. As much as the Koreans love their language, they know that Korean isn’t going to become a world language anytime soon unless they start having kids like rabbits and find room to place all these said bundles. And so, the Korean government started a national curriculum which included English. With English it’s believed that Koreans can go anywhere and do anything, thus making them more competitive on the world stage. This has caused English language fever in Korea, with the government spending 1/5^th of their ENTIRE budget on education, particularly English. This has led to the creation of “global villages” where native English speakers are hired to live in towns where they speak English to Korean children who sign up, several TV shows and internet websites 100% devoted to English language learning, and programs like TaLK bringing native speakers over and into the classroom. Parents are so driven for their children to succeed in English (and ergo have a better life than them) that some will spend thousands of dollars a MONTH in after school classes and tutors. This has unfortunately created a gap between the rich and poor classes when it comes to getting into college (there’s an English language requirement) and so the government is trying to even the odds by sending more native speakers into the rural areas (i.e., me). Korea didn’t become great because of a select few, so why have a select few succeed purely because they can afford it. It took the hope every Korean held that things would get better. All you have to do is forget, “I can’t.” Not a bad mindset, if I do say so myself.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

     When I first headed off to Korea, I was full of excitement. It’s been over a year since I’ve been abroad, and that inner travel nut was going mad with withdrawal. When I reached O’Hare airport in Chicago, I had the most ridiculous smile on my face as I listened to airlines calling for people to board their flights in thick, heavy accents, or would catch snatches of Russian as a Russian family whizzed past me. There’s just something about airports that make me feel so excited and at ease, like I’m going home after a long stay away.

     When I reached the international terminal, I was most amused by a grand hallway of various flags of the world, their colors seeming to greet my arrival. I was even more amused when I spotted the Korean flag right next to Russia’s, hopefully the next country I will study in. When I found Korean Air to pick up my ticket, I was greeted by four young, well dressed guys, all of them working the graveyard shift for this final midnight flight to Korea. I asked, “Which one of you would like to help me with my ticket?” And how did they respond? By the traditional game from their youth, rock, paper, scissors of course! Asia just loves that game. After catering to my every need, I began to wonder if Korea might just one up Japan in my head as the best place for customer service. When I got on board the plane, it was no longer a wonder but a fact. Cute flight attendants constantly checking to see how you’re doing. Warm, succulent meals always proceeded by warm towelettes. And slippers. Yes, I flipped out over getting comfy slippers for my 14 hour flight. I was very entertaining to the flight attendants, let me tell you.

     An overnight flight later and I found myself in Seoul, South Korea, or rather a tiny island just off from it where Incheon International Airport lies. Our flight had arrived early, but even at 3 am in the morning you still saw people going to and fro, businessmen catching early flights, janitors tidying up the airport, and a handful of fellow internationals also teaching whether it be in Korea or neighboring China. Having beaten the TaLK people I plopped down next to a big TV and felt nothing but nostalgia as Detective Conan, an extremely popular Japanese anime, played in Korean. I was so close to Japan, I could almost taste the melon soda and hear the merchant’s cry of “irrashaimase!!!” But this is Korea, and it actually wouldn’t be wise of me to just spout off in Japanese. Unfortunately the two countries haven’t had the happiest of histories as whenever Japan starts getting those urges to become a military power, Korea is usually the first place it invades. And Korea being the knowledge loving, farm driven, peaceful nation was always turned into sashimi. Just think Athens and Sparta, but more Asian and less naked men. However, they are trying to make amends, and seeing a Japanese anime playing in Korea is just one small sign of that.

      Several hours and a couple of thoughts of, “Am I the ONLY TaLK scholar here?” later, a mob of TaLK scholars appeared along with Koreans who were in charge of getting us to our orientation location at Korea University. I don’t know if this is a Korean thing or a Korea University thing, but these buses are some of the most tricked out buses I’ve seen. Not only did we have a flat screen TV and a water dispenser, but all the seats and roof of the bus were decked out in fancy silk fabric and tassels. Then, when the bus took off, the ceiling lit up with several tiny, multicolored lights dancing about. I have officially dubbed these the magical nightclub buses, and keep waiting for a disco ball to appear one day.
     Jazzed up buses aside, other things I instantly noticed about Korea was the smell. In China it smelled like thick petroleum. In Japan it smelled normal. In Korea, be still my heart, but it smelled like food, the scent of red chilies and marinating meats wafting in the air. Korea is a foodie country if their ever was one, something I could get used to real quick. Korea also drives on the right side of the road, something that actually threw me off. My mind was already prepped for Korea to be like Japan and basically every country not the US where they drive on the opposite side of the road. Guess I won’t have any of those moments where I’ll be watching a car drive by and wonder why in the world that 5 year old kid is driving. And laughing his head off. And not watching where he’s going. However, I have noticed unlike here traffic seems to not pay attention to stop lights, the rules of the road being dictated by the immediate four cars around you as it is in China. They didn’t even bother with putting stop signs in.

And so, already a few hours in, Korea is becoming this strange place that at times feels like Japan, then at other times China. However, I have the feeling that as I immerse myself into it more, those almost comforting familiarities will fade away, being replaced with this so far alien country. Korea. Land of the Morning Calm. And magical nightclub buses.

Just Jump

     Have you ever jumped off a cliff, or just anyplace high? You climb up, thinking how fun it’ll be when you reach the top, but with each step you take you feel a fear growing in the pit of your stomach. What if I slip? Don’t look down. You’re not going to fall. Just don’t look down. Then you reach the top, the whole point of the climb being so you can enjoy that thrill of jumping off it. But then that feeling in the pit of your stomach finally overtakes you, and you freeze. Even breathing becomes difficult as you worry just one little move will send you over the edge. Jumping doesn’t sound like so much fun anymore. It’s falling. A fall that maybe you won’t get back up from. Then you hear voices, the voices of your friends and family who have already jumped or are right behind you. You’re going to be fine, just jump. Even if it stings when you hit the water, just jump. You worked so hard to climb this far, just jump.

     When I reached Seoul, South Korea, waiting alone for my ride from the airport, that’s how I felt. I was frozen. I had come here as a TaLK (Teach and Learn in Korea) scholar, being paid by the Korean government to teach English to children in rural communities. I had been excited when I heard I made it, literally dancing and screaming in joy the second I got the e-mail, and the day I left for Korea couldn’t come fast enough. But then, when I got here, surrounded by a language I didn’t know and a culture I had barely studied, I really started to question whether I could do it or not. Did I climb too high?

     I have been to Asia before, China for 5 weeks and Japan for a year. Those countries I knew before I arrived, having studied their history and fallen in love with their languages and cultures long before. But Korea was always that other country, the country drug into my Chinese and Japanese history books before breaking free from their grip to continue with their peaceful way of life. I knew kimchi was all the rage, this angry red mass of cabbage and chilies being Korea’s version of French fries and pizza when it came to popularity. I knew Taekwondo was the national sport that I could have studied in my home town and learned how to kick really high. And I knew the Korean alphabet, a jumble of circles and lines. Short from that, I knew squat about Korea. But that’s why I came.

     If I’ve learned anything from my travels it’s that no matter how much you study the country, you can never really learn about it until you actually go there. And so, though frozen on top of that cliff, I knew I would have to finally jump. Maybe I had climbed too high and my landing wouldn’t be the most graceful, but I would learn from this jump. I would experience having jumped. And when all is said and done, at least I jumped in the first place. I’m a TaLK scholar in Korea, the Land of the Morning Calm. Care to jump with me?