March’s word is 생명감, or “alive.”
During my first year in Korea, I was woken up one Sunday morning in November by a call from my friend Erik. "Wanna go bungee jumping today?" he said. A few hours later, surrounded by beautiful mountain scenery, I jumped off of a 160-foot metal tower with an elastic cord harnessed to my waist. I screamed bloody murder as I plunged toward the lake below, and then alternated between relieved laughter and shrieks until I stopped bouncing and was lowered into the boat waiting below. It seemed like it was over in the blink of an eye, but the adrenaline rush lasted for hours afterward.
Let me point out two things in regards to that adventure. One, I was (okay, still am, a bit) terrified of bungee jumping. I had never wanted to do it, and until about three weeks before that Sunday, when we all first talked about going, I didn't think I ever would. Two, the month leading up to that day had been all about taking risks. Conquering fears. Doing things I'd never done before, things I never wanted to do, and things I never thought I could do.
So I jumped.
It was all Korea's fault. Living here opened me up to so many new things, put me into so many tough situations and challenged me in so many ways; when I learned and grew in the face of those things, it drove me in turn to begin challenging myself. In the few months prior to bungee jumping in particular I had pushed myself to do crazy and/or scary stuff and put myself in situations that made me nervous, and it was amazing. Some days I still can't believe I came here, but that thought is always immediately followed by an immense gratitude that I did.
That's the kind of moment I love having in my life, and that I want more of. The alive moments, the ones in which you forget everything except that slice of time and just feel it. The kind of moments I wrote about wanting on the plane on my way here four years ago. It doesn’t matter whether the emotions are positive or negative--the beauty is in the immersion and in the complete release of whatever else you’re holding onto. My instinct is to say that it's easier to have those beautiful moments if you live in a foreign country, especially one so different and new as Korea. And I think I would believe that to be true if I had left after only living here six months or even nine months. But I can look at it from a different perspective after having been here so long. When I think back on my life experiences so far, the feeling of being so deeply alive has come in two ways: in the context of unexplored territory, as in the case of my initial period of time in Korea,or in the context of familiar territory encountered with open eyes and no mental blocks.
For foreigners in Korea, our lives are here. Our worlds consist of storybooks and board markers and pint-sized Asian children, of packed public transportation and a pervasive kimchi smell, of the random and the unexpected, of encountering the same strange things day after day and adapting to them. The things that were new when we arrived are now normal, a part of daily life. They can still give us that alive feeling, but only if we are open to that happening. What it comes down to is that the moments of feeling truly alive are only rare if we allow ourselves to slip into the mundanity of daily routine. If, however, we remember to see each day for what it is—an opportunity to learn and see new things (or see old things in new ways), regardless of how typical our days may be—the alive moments happen all around us. For example, one of the cooler things I've done is stand at the top of the Empire State Building at night, looking down at the city lights spreading out all around me. But I've met more than one New York City native who has yet to visit the Empire State Building, and it's because they live there. Their worlds are New York City, and the cool things about it that visitors want to see don't entice them. We get so accustomed to simply passing through life, just getting through the days so that we can get up and do it again tomorrow, that we become numb to our surroundings and the possibilities that lie in plain sight.
That exact thing happens to us foreigners here more often than we’d like to admit. Schedule changes every so often, new people coming in and disrupting the routine, and teaching and living here for a long period of time...we get exhausted, we get jaded, and we begin to hate that. The longer we are here, the more things feel old and seen and explored, and we have trouble finding the vitality in life. But we have to remember to give this time the best shot we can. If we don’t enjoy it fully, we’ll regret it when we’re gone. Whether we're here for one year or four, time passes quickly in Korea. Very often it feels like this peninsula is in some kind of weird time warp. It’s easy for our time here to be over in the blink of an eye, and to suddenly be leaving with the feeling that we didn’t do everything you wanted to do. The best perspectives to have here are that there’s always something new to see, do, and experience; or that we have the option to open our minds to finding newness in the old.
As always, I hope this finds you all happy and well! Once again I don’t have any links to photos for this post; March flew by with the start of a new school year and staff changes at my school. Next month, though, I’ll have lots of photos of my brand-new, super-cute kindy kids and the fun we’ve been having as the weather begins to warm up. Miss you all!
Love,
Heather
31 March 2012
29 February 2012
adaptation
February's word is 적응, or "adaptation."
What does it mean to adapt to something? Dictionary.com says that adaptation is “the modification of individual and social activity in adjustment to cultural surroundings,” and that it's usually a slow and unconscious process. I believe that there's an alternative to the latter portion of that definition--that while often times it is an unconscious process, adaptation is also a learned skill.
I came to Korea almost four years ago with no expectations and not much clue as to what the culture would be like. I really believe that that was the best way for me to come here, but it has been a crazy journey. I've gone through more mental tug-of-wars, more challenges to who I am, and more lengthy thought processes than I ever could have imagined.
My Nana asked me during my first year here if I was feeling more comfortable here than I had at first. I told her that that “comfortable” was a hard thing to define, because while I had created (and still have) a good life here, Korea did not (and still doesn’t, in a lot of respects) fit with who I am. The values are different here than everything I grew up with, everything I was surrounded with at home and even at college, and I've had to decide what things to which I want to adapt and what things I don't. Among the latter is the fact that much behavior here, specifically among the younger generation, is driven by a need to have a perfect appearance and the right status in society. But that’s a topic that will get its own post.
Moving to a new culture and making a life in it is a weird challenge to who you are as a person. No one wants to change aspects of who they are that they like, but you have to be willing to adapt somewhat if you want to truly live as part of the culture in which you've placed yourself. Korea probably represents a love-hate relationship for a lot of foreigners. It’s a country and a life in which we meet awesome people, in which we have crazy, stupid, unforgettable adventures, and in which there are some truly beautiful places. I love Korea for all of that, and it is, and will always be, a huge part of who I am.
However, we still have days that drive us nuts. There are days in which every minute, microscopic cultural difference gets under our skin and establishes residency--in which we probably shouldn’t carry an umbrella around, even if it’s raining, because we might just smack someone with it.
My instinct is to say that days like that are frustrating because they’re not a true representation of our experience here. A more true statement, though, is that life has days like that. Being here is not a singular experience in our lives; these are our lives right now. And let’s be honest, everyone has “I hate life” days. Everyone has days in which they just need work to be done so they can go home for the day or in which every person they encounter somehow rubs them the wrong way, no matter what continent you live on. And I’ve been here long enough that I know how things work. Four years in a place seems like plenty of time to adapt to the differences. It seems like people pushing to get into the subway before people have gotten out of it, or my boss waiting until the last minute to tell me about something I’m required to attend, or the cashier at Paris Baguette telling me I can’t get a certain kind of dressing with my salad because “it doesn’t go with that salad”, should be things that I am now used to and can handle as a part of life here. But that’s not always the case.
When I’m having one of those days, the way I’ve coped is to push back. To give the ajumma crowding the subway door a little hip-check on my way out. To tell my boss that I already had plans, even if I didn’t. To stand in front of the Paris Baguette cashier until she relents and lets me get the dressing I wanted. They feel like small victories and they make me feel better about the situation, but doing them has allowed me to become slightly bitter toward Korea, especially as I continue to be here longer. So this month I gave myself the goal of being nice to everyone, even those who are rude to me. It has been challenging to say the least; I get pushed around at least four times a day just during the subway portion of my commute to work, and it’s so hard not to push back. But as I’ve been working on this, and thinking about adaptation, I am beginning to see an alternative method of coping.
The other night OJ and I had some friends over for dinner, and the group was mostly foreigners. At one point in the night, the conversation shifted to things that annoy us or that we don’t understand about Korea/Korean people. This is pretty much the norm when you get a bunch of foreigners together; as a collective group, we tend to talk a lot about the cultural differences that affect our everyday life. That night, however, I noticed something that I’ve noticed before but haven’t given a lot of thought to: while we complain about these things, it’s also a source of amusement. We have the ability to laugh at the absurdity that is entwined with the frustration. That to me is a sign of the ability to adapt. Adaptation is always a balancing act and is at times a difficult task. Here in Korea, it is a balance between acknowledging the differences and letting go of our frustration so that we can enjoy life, and pushing back enough so that we’re not giving up all of who we are. And for us as foreigners here, finding the humor in the disconnect between our culture and this one--whether it’s how strange we are here or how strange here is to us--is a necessary skill to have in order to live our lives contentedly.
I haven’t gotten around to going through my latest pictures yet, but I will post them with next month’s blog. I hope that you’ve all had a good month and that spring gets to wherever you are soon :)
Love and hugs,
Heather
What does it mean to adapt to something? Dictionary.com says that adaptation is “the modification of individual and social activity in adjustment to cultural surroundings,” and that it's usually a slow and unconscious process. I believe that there's an alternative to the latter portion of that definition--that while often times it is an unconscious process, adaptation is also a learned skill.
I came to Korea almost four years ago with no expectations and not much clue as to what the culture would be like. I really believe that that was the best way for me to come here, but it has been a crazy journey. I've gone through more mental tug-of-wars, more challenges to who I am, and more lengthy thought processes than I ever could have imagined.
My Nana asked me during my first year here if I was feeling more comfortable here than I had at first. I told her that that “comfortable” was a hard thing to define, because while I had created (and still have) a good life here, Korea did not (and still doesn’t, in a lot of respects) fit with who I am. The values are different here than everything I grew up with, everything I was surrounded with at home and even at college, and I've had to decide what things to which I want to adapt and what things I don't. Among the latter is the fact that much behavior here, specifically among the younger generation, is driven by a need to have a perfect appearance and the right status in society. But that’s a topic that will get its own post.
Moving to a new culture and making a life in it is a weird challenge to who you are as a person. No one wants to change aspects of who they are that they like, but you have to be willing to adapt somewhat if you want to truly live as part of the culture in which you've placed yourself. Korea probably represents a love-hate relationship for a lot of foreigners. It’s a country and a life in which we meet awesome people, in which we have crazy, stupid, unforgettable adventures, and in which there are some truly beautiful places. I love Korea for all of that, and it is, and will always be, a huge part of who I am.
However, we still have days that drive us nuts. There are days in which every minute, microscopic cultural difference gets under our skin and establishes residency--in which we probably shouldn’t carry an umbrella around, even if it’s raining, because we might just smack someone with it.
My instinct is to say that days like that are frustrating because they’re not a true representation of our experience here. A more true statement, though, is that life has days like that. Being here is not a singular experience in our lives; these are our lives right now. And let’s be honest, everyone has “I hate life” days. Everyone has days in which they just need work to be done so they can go home for the day or in which every person they encounter somehow rubs them the wrong way, no matter what continent you live on. And I’ve been here long enough that I know how things work. Four years in a place seems like plenty of time to adapt to the differences. It seems like people pushing to get into the subway before people have gotten out of it, or my boss waiting until the last minute to tell me about something I’m required to attend, or the cashier at Paris Baguette telling me I can’t get a certain kind of dressing with my salad because “it doesn’t go with that salad”, should be things that I am now used to and can handle as a part of life here. But that’s not always the case.
When I’m having one of those days, the way I’ve coped is to push back. To give the ajumma crowding the subway door a little hip-check on my way out. To tell my boss that I already had plans, even if I didn’t. To stand in front of the Paris Baguette cashier until she relents and lets me get the dressing I wanted. They feel like small victories and they make me feel better about the situation, but doing them has allowed me to become slightly bitter toward Korea, especially as I continue to be here longer. So this month I gave myself the goal of being nice to everyone, even those who are rude to me. It has been challenging to say the least; I get pushed around at least four times a day just during the subway portion of my commute to work, and it’s so hard not to push back. But as I’ve been working on this, and thinking about adaptation, I am beginning to see an alternative method of coping.
The other night OJ and I had some friends over for dinner, and the group was mostly foreigners. At one point in the night, the conversation shifted to things that annoy us or that we don’t understand about Korea/Korean people. This is pretty much the norm when you get a bunch of foreigners together; as a collective group, we tend to talk a lot about the cultural differences that affect our everyday life. That night, however, I noticed something that I’ve noticed before but haven’t given a lot of thought to: while we complain about these things, it’s also a source of amusement. We have the ability to laugh at the absurdity that is entwined with the frustration. That to me is a sign of the ability to adapt. Adaptation is always a balancing act and is at times a difficult task. Here in Korea, it is a balance between acknowledging the differences and letting go of our frustration so that we can enjoy life, and pushing back enough so that we’re not giving up all of who we are. And for us as foreigners here, finding the humor in the disconnect between our culture and this one--whether it’s how strange we are here or how strange here is to us--is a necessary skill to have in order to live our lives contentedly.
I haven’t gotten around to going through my latest pictures yet, but I will post them with next month’s blog. I hope that you’ve all had a good month and that spring gets to wherever you are soon :)
Love and hugs,
Heather
30 January 2012
happiness projects
2011 was one of the best years in my life so far, and when I look back on it, I can see a few clear reasons why. I began a relationship with and fell in love with an amazing guy, I started a job at a great school that I like enough to continue for another year, and I’ve been surrounded by some pretty awesome people. Those reasons for such a good year were all results of my decision to spend a second year in Busan, but the actual happening of each rested mainly on others. That’s not a bad thing; I really look forward to all of those things continuing in my life. But I’ve been realizing lately that while it’s fine to let others make you happy, it’s not okay to rely on them to do so.
Something I feel like I failed at doing last year was challenging myself. In complete contrast to the year before last, during which I felt like every week there was some new problem to face at work (and during which I had to deal with them all in order to maintain sanity), life was pretty good last year and I didn’t make much of an effort to push anything. Rather than push myself to grow, I sat back and only dealt with the very few difficult things that came along if I felt like it. This year, I want that to change. Whether life’s crappy or awesome, full of new challenges or fairly smooth, I’m going to be pushing myself. I truly appreciate new situations and new places because they make me think, grow, and move forward. I’ve been in Korea long enough now that new things don’t always just happen regularly in the course of daily life. So it’s on me to create them.
In my search for ways to do that, I’ve gathered a few things so far. My wonderful friend Maddy gave me a book called The Happiness Project, which I look forward to reading, and sent me this list that included some stuff I really needed to read. On that website I found another list that I look forward to using this year.
One of my projects for this year is something I’m tying into my New Year’s resolution to write one blog each month (I realized while writing this that I haven't posted since April of last year...oops). Back when I was living in Seoul, I wrote a chapter for a book about Korea that a friend was putting together. I ended up not contributing my chapter but saved my work because I liked the idea that I had. Something I’ve found to be true about Korea is that this place, out of all the other countries I’ve been to, is the hardest one to explain to people who haven’t been here. The chapter I wrote for the book attempted to do so through sections of a Korean word (and its English translation) and what it’s meant to me and/or how I feel it relates to foreigners in general here. This the format I want to use for my blogs this year; in the past I’ve written a lot about my personal journey and got a lot of positive comments on that, but I want to convey more of this country and society that I’ve spent so much time in.
That said, January’s word is 외국인, or “foreigner.”
This is a word which has varied both in intensity of the feelings I have toward it and in meaning during the time I’ve been here. It’s a very widely-used word in the Korean language; it’s typical to pass a child and hear, “엄마! 외국인 입니다!” (Mom! It’s a foreigner!). During my time here I’ve gone back and forth between not really caring when I hear that and becoming really annoyed, almost to the point of saying, “한국인 입니다!” (It’s a Korean!) back to them. I think that is the case for most other foreigners here as well. What it comes down to, though, is that it’s not intended to be negative. It’s just how Koreans speak. For all their dislike of confrontation, and for all the ways they have to avoid being direct when it might create confrontation, Koreans call some things exactly as they see them. In terms of physical things, they will comment without the same regard for tact or subtlety that most Westerners use: they’ll exclaim to you about how tired you look, they’ll tell a friend directly to their face that they’re fat because they eat too much, and they’ll state an obvious fact (Hey, you’re a foreigner!).
The meaning that the word “foreigner” has to me was initially one of being, as in the direct translation, an alien. Korea has a culture entirely different from, and thus much more difficult to understand than, any other place I’ve been. With this being the case, a lot of what foreigners encounter when they first arrive here is strange, illogical, and/or frustrating. Some of those things will invoke those adjectives even if you’re here forever; some become amusements or sources of jokes the longer you’re here. In the former category: spitting in public being considered acceptable but not blowing your nose, finding out about work functions the day of when it’s been planned for over a month, or the complete lack of help for foreigners in labor disputes. In the latter: the inclusion of pickles with every meal at a Western restaurant, outfits on dogs, or guilt trips about taking sick days when they’re included in contracts. Those vary for everyone, but in general I’ve found that most foreigners here can think of a few things that fall into each category for them.
No matter where you live, there are going to be frustrations, and Korea is no exception. There are some things about Korea that will annoy people to no end no matter how long they’re here, but those things become part of life. And as they become part of life, our own countries can begin to feel more foreign than this one. Ask anybody who’s lived abroad for more than a year or two, and they’ll tell you--going back “home” felt really strange. Obviously there are things we miss about where we’ve all come from, but in most cases, we’ve made this new place our home. So when we leave, it’s not so much a reverse culture shock as an interruption of the life we’ve known here. And that is the other definition of “foreigner” that becomes true here--being as much a stranger in the new place as in the old.
I hope the new year has started off wonderfully for all of you! Below are links to all the photos since last time I posted (there are a lot, sorry).
Lots of love and hugs,
Heather
Some awesome coastal areas of Busan:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.524155327849.2022975.148800130&type=3&l=5f075ee0b1
Exploring Tongdosa Temple and Wolchulsan National Park:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.524167338779.2022984.148800130&type=3&l=371e46e2a3
Springtime fun:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.524174025379.2022988.148800130&type=3&l=e0bc241a03
Wandering around Gwangali Beach, Beomeosa Temple, and Nampo-dong:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.525021327379.2023250.148800130&type=3&l=8540cf496c
Weekend trip to Geoje Island:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.525686579209.2023525.148800130&type=3&l=5fd601bd5c
Summer vacation in China and Thailand:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.528822020759.2024213.148800130&type=3
Random collection from the end of summer and beginning of fall:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.531252944169.2024849.148800130&type=3&l=4576189286
Kindies from March through September:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.531286990939.2024862.148800130&type=3&l=ff451e1bd1
Naewonsa Valley, fireworks festival, and Geumjeong Fortress:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.532276088779.2025068.148800130&type=3&l=5f7684f8bf
Trip to the Philippines for Christmas (1st album):
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.535836049589.2025574.148800130&type=3&l=4545d600cc
Trip to the Philippines for Christmas (2nd album):
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.535837950779.2025575.148800130&type=3&l=409c48ab6f
Something I feel like I failed at doing last year was challenging myself. In complete contrast to the year before last, during which I felt like every week there was some new problem to face at work (and during which I had to deal with them all in order to maintain sanity), life was pretty good last year and I didn’t make much of an effort to push anything. Rather than push myself to grow, I sat back and only dealt with the very few difficult things that came along if I felt like it. This year, I want that to change. Whether life’s crappy or awesome, full of new challenges or fairly smooth, I’m going to be pushing myself. I truly appreciate new situations and new places because they make me think, grow, and move forward. I’ve been in Korea long enough now that new things don’t always just happen regularly in the course of daily life. So it’s on me to create them.
In my search for ways to do that, I’ve gathered a few things so far. My wonderful friend Maddy gave me a book called The Happiness Project, which I look forward to reading, and sent me this list that included some stuff I really needed to read. On that website I found another list that I look forward to using this year.
One of my projects for this year is something I’m tying into my New Year’s resolution to write one blog each month (I realized while writing this that I haven't posted since April of last year...oops). Back when I was living in Seoul, I wrote a chapter for a book about Korea that a friend was putting together. I ended up not contributing my chapter but saved my work because I liked the idea that I had. Something I’ve found to be true about Korea is that this place, out of all the other countries I’ve been to, is the hardest one to explain to people who haven’t been here. The chapter I wrote for the book attempted to do so through sections of a Korean word (and its English translation) and what it’s meant to me and/or how I feel it relates to foreigners in general here. This the format I want to use for my blogs this year; in the past I’ve written a lot about my personal journey and got a lot of positive comments on that, but I want to convey more of this country and society that I’ve spent so much time in.
That said, January’s word is 외국인, or “foreigner.”
This is a word which has varied both in intensity of the feelings I have toward it and in meaning during the time I’ve been here. It’s a very widely-used word in the Korean language; it’s typical to pass a child and hear, “엄마! 외국인 입니다!” (Mom! It’s a foreigner!). During my time here I’ve gone back and forth between not really caring when I hear that and becoming really annoyed, almost to the point of saying, “한국인 입니다!” (It’s a Korean!) back to them. I think that is the case for most other foreigners here as well. What it comes down to, though, is that it’s not intended to be negative. It’s just how Koreans speak. For all their dislike of confrontation, and for all the ways they have to avoid being direct when it might create confrontation, Koreans call some things exactly as they see them. In terms of physical things, they will comment without the same regard for tact or subtlety that most Westerners use: they’ll exclaim to you about how tired you look, they’ll tell a friend directly to their face that they’re fat because they eat too much, and they’ll state an obvious fact (Hey, you’re a foreigner!).
The meaning that the word “foreigner” has to me was initially one of being, as in the direct translation, an alien. Korea has a culture entirely different from, and thus much more difficult to understand than, any other place I’ve been. With this being the case, a lot of what foreigners encounter when they first arrive here is strange, illogical, and/or frustrating. Some of those things will invoke those adjectives even if you’re here forever; some become amusements or sources of jokes the longer you’re here. In the former category: spitting in public being considered acceptable but not blowing your nose, finding out about work functions the day of when it’s been planned for over a month, or the complete lack of help for foreigners in labor disputes. In the latter: the inclusion of pickles with every meal at a Western restaurant, outfits on dogs, or guilt trips about taking sick days when they’re included in contracts. Those vary for everyone, but in general I’ve found that most foreigners here can think of a few things that fall into each category for them.
No matter where you live, there are going to be frustrations, and Korea is no exception. There are some things about Korea that will annoy people to no end no matter how long they’re here, but those things become part of life. And as they become part of life, our own countries can begin to feel more foreign than this one. Ask anybody who’s lived abroad for more than a year or two, and they’ll tell you--going back “home” felt really strange. Obviously there are things we miss about where we’ve all come from, but in most cases, we’ve made this new place our home. So when we leave, it’s not so much a reverse culture shock as an interruption of the life we’ve known here. And that is the other definition of “foreigner” that becomes true here--being as much a stranger in the new place as in the old.
I hope the new year has started off wonderfully for all of you! Below are links to all the photos since last time I posted (there are a lot, sorry).
Lots of love and hugs,
Heather
Some awesome coastal areas of Busan:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.524155327849.2022975.148800130&type=3&l=5f075ee0b1
Exploring Tongdosa Temple and Wolchulsan National Park:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.524167338779.2022984.148800130&type=3&l=371e46e2a3
Springtime fun:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.524174025379.2022988.148800130&type=3&l=e0bc241a03
Wandering around Gwangali Beach, Beomeosa Temple, and Nampo-dong:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.525021327379.2023250.148800130&type=3&l=8540cf496c
Weekend trip to Geoje Island:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.525686579209.2023525.148800130&type=3&l=5fd601bd5c
Summer vacation in China and Thailand:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.528822020759.2024213.148800130&type=3
Random collection from the end of summer and beginning of fall:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.531252944169.2024849.148800130&type=3&l=4576189286
Kindies from March through September:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.531286990939.2024862.148800130&type=3&l=ff451e1bd1
Naewonsa Valley, fireworks festival, and Geumjeong Fortress:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.532276088779.2025068.148800130&type=3&l=5f7684f8bf
Trip to the Philippines for Christmas (1st album):
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.535836049589.2025574.148800130&type=3&l=4545d600cc
Trip to the Philippines for Christmas (2nd album):
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.535837950779.2025575.148800130&type=3&l=409c48ab6f
06 April 2011
the truest form of happiness
I have been back in Busan for three months now, a period of time that has absolutely flown by. It’s done so due not to the strange time warp that Korea tends to put on life but to feelings of rightness, happiness, and contentment.
This third time here is, so far and with no signs of potentially changing, the one I needed. It is both the one I had to have to prove to myself that it was possible to have a truly good year, and the one I wanted to have to prove to everyone who says otherwise that Korea can be more than a year taken off from “reality,” that one can make a life in every sense of that word here.
The longer I am in Korea, the more I encounter people who refer to their year (typically ‘year,’ singular) here as a break from real life or an escape from reality. It’s a blanket statement for these people, a generality that they assume is true for everyone here. The longer I am here, however, the more I come to resent that. For them, maybe it is those things. But Korea has never been that for me. All of the time I have spent here so far has been the opposite of an escape; in fact, it’s been one of the most real periods of my life in terms of the experiences I’ve had and the feelings that have come along with those. For others to refer to time here as an escape negates my time here, debases it, reduces it to little more than a long-term vacation.
When I stepped off that plane back in January, I came home. This is not my only home, but it is one of them, and it’s the most familiar home that I have right now. In many ways it felt like I’d never left; I returned to friends that are like family and a city that I know and love. This place, despite (or perhaps because of) all its eccentricities, is where I am the most comfortable in my own skin. And that’s a feeling that lasts longer than any of the temporary good feelings that a vacation brings.
Since I’ve returned I’ve been discovering what I deem to be the truest form of happiness...it is equal parts appreciation for and contentment with what you have, a desire for more, and a deep understanding of oneself.
I have so much to be grateful for in my new-old life here in Busan: a school that is finally good about contracts and that has its stuff together, some of the most amazing friends and co-workers anyone could ask for, opportunities to do things I love, and a relationship that surprised me but is the best thing to happen to me in a long time. All of these things make me truly content and happy for the first time in a while, and I am being very conscious of not taking any of them for granted.
Alongside that conscious appreciation, however, is a desire for more. I want the good in my life to continue, but I also want to keep growing and challenging myself to move forward. The last thing I want is for contentment to turn into complacency, and to avoid that I have to know myself. Korea has taught me awareness of myself and everything around me, and the working relationship between the two. I know my strengths and what I am confident about, my weaknesses and my insecurities...if I am to continue holding onto the happiness I have and to move forward, I have to understand how to play to the former and work within the parameters of the latter.
I’ve written about balance before while in Korea, as it’s been one of the most difficult things for me to achieve. Life here tends to bring a lot of ups and downs, and balance has come and gone in much the same way. But when I’ve found it, it’s been amazingly rewarding. In the past, the balance I’ve aimed for has been in how I allocate time and energy to the different areas of my life; now, I want to achieve it within myself. Being happy is fantastic, but this new, deep happiness I’m feeling is dangerous because it’s scary. I feel like it’ll break if I hold onto it as tightly as I could, or it’ll slip away if I can’t grab on. This is the best kind of fear, though--it’s the kind felt when entering new territory, when standing at the edge of something huge about to jump off. You don’t know what’s waiting in the unknown, but you want to find out. This is something to learn how to handle, to accept and let live alongside the rest of what you feel. It’s so easy to let fear get in the way of good things in our lives, but if there’s one thing Korea has taught me, it’s the importance of the journey--seeing the path we’re on and knowing that it’s always leading us to where we need to be. This happiness is no different. Everything that’s happened in my life so far has been to bring me to this point. And this, right now, it’s leading me to whatever’s next. The key to really experiencing the depth of good in my life is to understand that and remember that everything unknown I’ve entered before has only caused me to move forward.
I hope that this finds everyone as well as I’ve been...you are all in my thoughts often. Miss and love you all!
-Heather
photos from since i’ve gotten back:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021813&id=148800130&l=c47daf382e
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021807&id=148800130&l=a2e1f49ebd
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021992&id=148800130&l=2030c7e132
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021998&id=148800130&l=2b886a0a98
This third time here is, so far and with no signs of potentially changing, the one I needed. It is both the one I had to have to prove to myself that it was possible to have a truly good year, and the one I wanted to have to prove to everyone who says otherwise that Korea can be more than a year taken off from “reality,” that one can make a life in every sense of that word here.
The longer I am in Korea, the more I encounter people who refer to their year (typically ‘year,’ singular) here as a break from real life or an escape from reality. It’s a blanket statement for these people, a generality that they assume is true for everyone here. The longer I am here, however, the more I come to resent that. For them, maybe it is those things. But Korea has never been that for me. All of the time I have spent here so far has been the opposite of an escape; in fact, it’s been one of the most real periods of my life in terms of the experiences I’ve had and the feelings that have come along with those. For others to refer to time here as an escape negates my time here, debases it, reduces it to little more than a long-term vacation.
When I stepped off that plane back in January, I came home. This is not my only home, but it is one of them, and it’s the most familiar home that I have right now. In many ways it felt like I’d never left; I returned to friends that are like family and a city that I know and love. This place, despite (or perhaps because of) all its eccentricities, is where I am the most comfortable in my own skin. And that’s a feeling that lasts longer than any of the temporary good feelings that a vacation brings.
Since I’ve returned I’ve been discovering what I deem to be the truest form of happiness...it is equal parts appreciation for and contentment with what you have, a desire for more, and a deep understanding of oneself.
I have so much to be grateful for in my new-old life here in Busan: a school that is finally good about contracts and that has its stuff together, some of the most amazing friends and co-workers anyone could ask for, opportunities to do things I love, and a relationship that surprised me but is the best thing to happen to me in a long time. All of these things make me truly content and happy for the first time in a while, and I am being very conscious of not taking any of them for granted.
Alongside that conscious appreciation, however, is a desire for more. I want the good in my life to continue, but I also want to keep growing and challenging myself to move forward. The last thing I want is for contentment to turn into complacency, and to avoid that I have to know myself. Korea has taught me awareness of myself and everything around me, and the working relationship between the two. I know my strengths and what I am confident about, my weaknesses and my insecurities...if I am to continue holding onto the happiness I have and to move forward, I have to understand how to play to the former and work within the parameters of the latter.
I’ve written about balance before while in Korea, as it’s been one of the most difficult things for me to achieve. Life here tends to bring a lot of ups and downs, and balance has come and gone in much the same way. But when I’ve found it, it’s been amazingly rewarding. In the past, the balance I’ve aimed for has been in how I allocate time and energy to the different areas of my life; now, I want to achieve it within myself. Being happy is fantastic, but this new, deep happiness I’m feeling is dangerous because it’s scary. I feel like it’ll break if I hold onto it as tightly as I could, or it’ll slip away if I can’t grab on. This is the best kind of fear, though--it’s the kind felt when entering new territory, when standing at the edge of something huge about to jump off. You don’t know what’s waiting in the unknown, but you want to find out. This is something to learn how to handle, to accept and let live alongside the rest of what you feel. It’s so easy to let fear get in the way of good things in our lives, but if there’s one thing Korea has taught me, it’s the importance of the journey--seeing the path we’re on and knowing that it’s always leading us to where we need to be. This happiness is no different. Everything that’s happened in my life so far has been to bring me to this point. And this, right now, it’s leading me to whatever’s next. The key to really experiencing the depth of good in my life is to understand that and remember that everything unknown I’ve entered before has only caused me to move forward.
I hope that this finds everyone as well as I’ve been...you are all in my thoughts often. Miss and love you all!
-Heather
photos from since i’ve gotten back:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021813&id=148800130&l=c47daf382e
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021807&id=148800130&l=a2e1f49ebd
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021992&id=148800130&l=2030c7e132
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021998&id=148800130&l=2b886a0a98
13 October 2010
catching up on correspondence
In recent weeks I have struggled quite a bit lately with Korea, with who she is and who she is to me. There are several things which have annoyed, frustrated, and offended me, and I’ve found it hard to get past these things. I think this is only natural--Korea on the surface as a lifestyle for foreign English teachers is fairly blissful; however, the things you find underneath if you’re open to understanding this culture and society are of a flavor that’s rather unsavory to a Western-bred palate. As I’ve now been here for two-plus years, during which time I’ve tried to get to know Korea and to understand this place I’m calling home, I’ve gotten to the under-layers and I’ve not liked everything I’ve seen. This has caused some anger within me, not in the least because of how said under-layers have been demonstrated repeatedly, sometimes on a daily basis. All I’ve wanted to do lately is give my director a piece of my mind, push back at every Korean who elbows me out of the way, and scream “Who ARE you people??” at the top of my lungs...this is no way to live but it’s how I’ve felt and I haven’t been able to get past it.
Then three things happened to force me into a mental shift:
1. I saw a link my friend posted to an essay called “The Awakening.” As I read through it, I felt like the author was speaking directly to me in several places, penning sentences that I need to hear now more than ever and countering every one of my angry thoughts with a “but have you thought about it this way?” Because I’ve come to feel like Korea is my home, I’ve started to take the things that bother me about it as personal offenses. This isn’t right--while I don’t understand the why of things here sometimes, I know the how of things, the way things are. I know that things are never done in what my mind considers to be a logical manner. I know that things I see as simple are very rarely seen the same way by those with whom I interact. And I know these two things to be true: that accepting these things makes life flow much more smoothly and that I can only compromise so much. The latter is the issue preceding all the others--that the longer I am here learning and getting to know what “here” is, the more I’ve had to compromise my feelings and perspective to keep the peace, with little to no compromise from what I’ve viewed as “the other side.” To view it as “the other side,” however, is not the way I want to view it. Yes, there are cultural and societal differences, but at the base we are all humans.
2. I had some ridiculously amazing times with my friends here that more than cancelled out the mess that’s been my school lately. I may not ever have gotten any compromise from my director in return for all the concessions I’ve made for her, but balance does exist. And it exists in the happiest form here, with some of the most awesome people I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. They have truly made this a year that I won’t forget anytime soon.
3. I was reminded by a friend back home during a conversation about me coming back to Korea that “sometimes things do go well.” This is something that I’ve not been able to accept given how thoroughly cynical I’m feeling after a year under an extremely incompetent and disrespectful boss. But life’s looking up--I’ve almost officially (waiting for immi to come through with a visa for me...fingers crossed!) been hired at a school that I think will be the exact opposite of my current school in several ways. I’ll be working with two awesome guy friends and living around the corner from the school in an area that’s closer to everything I want in my life here. I’m also waiting to see if my director has paid up on the nine or so months worth of pension she owes. Two days till I hear about that. I’m trying to think positively about both of these things instead of worrying that things won’t work out. I’ve spent 11 months worrying about job issues; my last week here should be free from that kind of thing.
All that said, as I sit here--a week from being on a plane back to the States for a bit--there are a few letters I’ve been meaning to write...
Dear certain Korean hagwon directors,
I wish there was a course which you were required to take before being allowed to open an academy here, one that included the most basic of information on how to run a business and how to interact with people. So many of you are so painfully uninformed on these things and it makes it very, very hard to a) trust you as a boss and b) stay motivated to do our jobs.
Yes, we make a choice to come here, but that choice exists because you’ve created it by inviting us. We come to provide instruction as native speakers of English; that’s the cover story, anyway. We all know full well (or we learn rather quickly) that we’re really here to be a pretty face for your academy and to keep the parents happy and the money coming in. We get that, and we come here accepting it. Although there’s a huge variance in how involved we get in the culture and in society once we’re here, at the very least we come to work, do what you ask of us, and go home. Some of us go well beyond that into studying Korean, making Korean friends, and trying to understand the way things are here. Whatever our degree of involvement, however, we compromise a lot of who we are as Westerners and the way we are used to doing things in the name of avoiding tension.
We adjust to fit your culture and your hierarchical social system--we defer to ajummas and ajosshis because they’re older, we acquiesce to you as directors because you’re “right” even when you’re not...and for what? In return you often treat us like dirt, you decline to give us the smallest shred of respect, you make no effort whatsoever to understand a little bit about who we are. I’m not sure you’re aware even in the tiniest regard how many of us are turned to cynics and how many of us leave hating you (and not entirely sold on Korea as a country) due to our interactions with you. In a place where so much is different from what we know, we want our job to be the one consistent thing--the one piece of stability in our otherwise crazy lives. When it instead is the thing that causes the most stress in our lives, well, that definitely doesn’t make us very motivated. If you’d make the smallest effort to understand us, or at least show that you’re willing to try, it’d have a bigger impact than you could know. And maybe you honestly don’t realize this--I’m willing to accept that as being the case, as we often don’t realize how you work either--but foreign teachers have been coming here for years, we’re going to be here awhile longer, and there needs to be a shift in the mentality toward us if we’re all to coexist. Can we break the vicious cycle?
Dear Koreans who have understood me, stood up for me, and been a breath of fresh air from the issues I’ve encountered here this year, and everyone at home who’s supported me across 7000 miles,
Thank you. It has meant more than you can know.
Dear Busan,
당신 내 도시 이에요--사랑해요. 내가 곧 다시 올 거에요.
Dear Hadan family, Gwangali volleyball crew, and everyone in between,
You are truly fantastic people who have made my life here the best that it could be. I am so glad to have met each of you, and know that our paths will cross again in life, if not when I return in January. I have some of the best memories ever from time spent with you all this past year and wish you all the most happiness possible along whatever path you’re traveling. I love you guys.
And some links to recent photo albums before I sign off for the (temporary) last time in Korea:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020217&id=148800130&l=0b9169e802
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020387&id=148800130&l=b91239cde9
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020422&id=148800130&l=15c27f8d1f
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020423&id=148800130&l=1872f172ab
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020541&id=148800130&l=1a30c9ab03
Chau for now,
Heather
Then three things happened to force me into a mental shift:
1. I saw a link my friend posted to an essay called “The Awakening.” As I read through it, I felt like the author was speaking directly to me in several places, penning sentences that I need to hear now more than ever and countering every one of my angry thoughts with a “but have you thought about it this way?” Because I’ve come to feel like Korea is my home, I’ve started to take the things that bother me about it as personal offenses. This isn’t right--while I don’t understand the why of things here sometimes, I know the how of things, the way things are. I know that things are never done in what my mind considers to be a logical manner. I know that things I see as simple are very rarely seen the same way by those with whom I interact. And I know these two things to be true: that accepting these things makes life flow much more smoothly and that I can only compromise so much. The latter is the issue preceding all the others--that the longer I am here learning and getting to know what “here” is, the more I’ve had to compromise my feelings and perspective to keep the peace, with little to no compromise from what I’ve viewed as “the other side.” To view it as “the other side,” however, is not the way I want to view it. Yes, there are cultural and societal differences, but at the base we are all humans.
2. I had some ridiculously amazing times with my friends here that more than cancelled out the mess that’s been my school lately. I may not ever have gotten any compromise from my director in return for all the concessions I’ve made for her, but balance does exist. And it exists in the happiest form here, with some of the most awesome people I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. They have truly made this a year that I won’t forget anytime soon.
3. I was reminded by a friend back home during a conversation about me coming back to Korea that “sometimes things do go well.” This is something that I’ve not been able to accept given how thoroughly cynical I’m feeling after a year under an extremely incompetent and disrespectful boss. But life’s looking up--I’ve almost officially (waiting for immi to come through with a visa for me...fingers crossed!) been hired at a school that I think will be the exact opposite of my current school in several ways. I’ll be working with two awesome guy friends and living around the corner from the school in an area that’s closer to everything I want in my life here. I’m also waiting to see if my director has paid up on the nine or so months worth of pension she owes. Two days till I hear about that. I’m trying to think positively about both of these things instead of worrying that things won’t work out. I’ve spent 11 months worrying about job issues; my last week here should be free from that kind of thing.
All that said, as I sit here--a week from being on a plane back to the States for a bit--there are a few letters I’ve been meaning to write...
Dear certain Korean hagwon directors,
I wish there was a course which you were required to take before being allowed to open an academy here, one that included the most basic of information on how to run a business and how to interact with people. So many of you are so painfully uninformed on these things and it makes it very, very hard to a) trust you as a boss and b) stay motivated to do our jobs.
Yes, we make a choice to come here, but that choice exists because you’ve created it by inviting us. We come to provide instruction as native speakers of English; that’s the cover story, anyway. We all know full well (or we learn rather quickly) that we’re really here to be a pretty face for your academy and to keep the parents happy and the money coming in. We get that, and we come here accepting it. Although there’s a huge variance in how involved we get in the culture and in society once we’re here, at the very least we come to work, do what you ask of us, and go home. Some of us go well beyond that into studying Korean, making Korean friends, and trying to understand the way things are here. Whatever our degree of involvement, however, we compromise a lot of who we are as Westerners and the way we are used to doing things in the name of avoiding tension.
We adjust to fit your culture and your hierarchical social system--we defer to ajummas and ajosshis because they’re older, we acquiesce to you as directors because you’re “right” even when you’re not...and for what? In return you often treat us like dirt, you decline to give us the smallest shred of respect, you make no effort whatsoever to understand a little bit about who we are. I’m not sure you’re aware even in the tiniest regard how many of us are turned to cynics and how many of us leave hating you (and not entirely sold on Korea as a country) due to our interactions with you. In a place where so much is different from what we know, we want our job to be the one consistent thing--the one piece of stability in our otherwise crazy lives. When it instead is the thing that causes the most stress in our lives, well, that definitely doesn’t make us very motivated. If you’d make the smallest effort to understand us, or at least show that you’re willing to try, it’d have a bigger impact than you could know. And maybe you honestly don’t realize this--I’m willing to accept that as being the case, as we often don’t realize how you work either--but foreign teachers have been coming here for years, we’re going to be here awhile longer, and there needs to be a shift in the mentality toward us if we’re all to coexist. Can we break the vicious cycle?
Dear Koreans who have understood me, stood up for me, and been a breath of fresh air from the issues I’ve encountered here this year, and everyone at home who’s supported me across 7000 miles,
Thank you. It has meant more than you can know.
Dear Busan,
당신 내 도시 이에요--사랑해요. 내가 곧 다시 올 거에요.
Dear Hadan family, Gwangali volleyball crew, and everyone in between,
You are truly fantastic people who have made my life here the best that it could be. I am so glad to have met each of you, and know that our paths will cross again in life, if not when I return in January. I have some of the best memories ever from time spent with you all this past year and wish you all the most happiness possible along whatever path you’re traveling. I love you guys.
And some links to recent photo albums before I sign off for the (temporary) last time in Korea:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020217&id=148800130&l=0b9169e802
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020387&id=148800130&l=b91239cde9
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020422&id=148800130&l=15c27f8d1f
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020423&id=148800130&l=1872f172ab
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2020541&id=148800130&l=1a30c9ab03
Chau for now,
Heather
11 August 2010
the things that follow
I spent the last week of July on vacation in China; it was the first time since returning to Korea in October that I'd left the peninsula, and it was good. I knew I needed out of my Korean life for a bit--I'd needed out of it for several weeks--but the escape ended up pushing me into thought rather than, as I’d expected, allowing me to just zone out. The things that I’d been dealing with and working through back in Busan went and followed me to Beijing. I realized this and thought, “No. I'm going to just be here and enjoy here, because who knows if I'll make it back to China?” Easier said than done, however, so I found myself thinking and processing on top of the Great Wall...in a corridor in the Forbidden City...by a lake in the Summer Palace...
The truth of travel, which I understand more fully the longer I do it, is that it more often than not ends up bringing us deeper into ourselves. The new things, the absurdities and differences (big and small) that I encounter while away from what I know...they contrast with how I am who I am regardless of my environment to force me into facing myself. Annoying? A bit. Challenging? Usually. Necessary? Absolutely. And I think all of that is why I love traveling so much--it gives me the changes in surroundings that I need in order to grow while allowing me a home base for the continuity that I need in order to relate that growth back to something.
That week, while it wasn’t an escape from thoughts, was still an escape. A change in environment is what I needed, and Beijing was that. It looks and feels different from Busan in many ways; between all the smog and chaotic traffic lies a certain feeling (“international” is the word that comes to mind, but I’m not sure that’s entirely correct) that is noticeably less existent in Korea. It hit me soon after arriving in Beijing--foreign residents and tourists everywhere, tapas restaurants and hookah bars lining an old street around the corner from the Forbidden City, and a visible lack of conformity to what is “right” or “proper” or “expected.” At the same time, though, China felt much more Asian to me than Korea really has. By that I mean that there is an undercurrent of history and identity running below all the modern buildings and the millions of people going about their lives. China is a country who knows who it is (for better or worse), and that is something with which Korea struggles. To go from a country that is like a rebellious teenager, having been in existence for such a short time and wanting desperately to become like all the cooler older people around it, to a country that is more like a grandmother, having had a long life and knowing and accepting herself...it provided a lot of food for thought about my own identity and the things that (I allow to) shape it, and for how I live my life.
I have struggled lately with truly being where I am. The other day I found myself wishing that it was a couple weeks from now so that I could know what was happening next and so that a few situations bothering me would no longer be relevant. I heard myself saying that, though, and had to take a step back. I’m repeatedly getting smacked in the face with the fact that I need to work on being. here. now. It’s a lesson I’ve been trying to learn since I got back to Korea in October, one that I know is necessary but somehow have failed to let fully sink in and put into practice the way I’d like to. Life is nothing if not continually moving, though, and I want to continue to move with it and keep learning. I’m less than three months from the end of my contract, and these last few months have the potential to be amazing. This is probably the best possible time I could have been reminded (yet again) of this lesson; I want life here to be as great as it can be right now, and I’m the only thing that’s going to stand in the way of that. My reactions to situations, my feelings about life and about uncertainty...I need to get past those to a place where I just live.
At the moment I am entirely unsure where I will be when my contract ends in ten weeks. I was going to do another year in Korea, and maybe I still will, but I am thinking long and hard about whether or not this is the best place for me right now. I’m waiting to hear about jobs as well, and probably won’t know about those until sometime in September. That’s frustrating, but I can’t change it. What’s there to do, then, but soak in everything I can about life here and be as present as possible? Said in terms of weeks, the time I know for sure that I have left here feels like nothing. There are reasons for everything we feel, everything we go through--I’m realizing over again as I write this that the crazy amounts of “meh”ness I’ve felt toward life and its seeming inability to get itself sorted in the time frame I think it should were partly based on there being no limit to it, no set end point. The way I was feeling was indefinite in that I didn’t have something to motivate me out of feeling that way. There was nothing that made me smack myself in the face instead of waiting for life to do it for me. Now I’ve got that motivation, and I’m beginning to actually understand the importance of truly being present rather than just seeing it and thinking it looks like a nice way to live. What I now see is the contrast, and that makes me appreciate the change so much more.
This post has been in process from the day I returned from China until now, and has gone through several edits in that time. As I read back over it, I see that I’ve come full circle from where I wanted to be mentally while in China to where I actually am now mentally back in Busan. The fact that traveling and returning has given me the insight I needed only proves to me again the necessity of flowing with life and being present on the journey--there is much to be learned and appreciated in every place to which we take off, every base to which we return, and everywhere in between.
I hope this finds you all well and in places that are considerably less typhoon-y than Busan is at the moment. Links to my recent photos, including those from my trip to China, are below (sorry, there are a lot). Enjoy!
Annyeong,
Heather
Apparently I've taken a lot of pictures lately...
From the neighborhood:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017405&id=148800130&l=d9f86ffc99
Fun around Busan and elsewhere on the weekends and in between:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017693&id=148800130&l=20d3392977
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017715&id=148800130&l=b51f1300aa
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017716&id=148800130&l=5f1de8234c
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017958&id=148800130&l=ca8493c43a
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017959&id=148800130&l=6389c89972
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017961&id=148800130&l=1edc7a21bc
Mudfest:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018081&id=148800130&l=b427594ac4
China:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018253&id=148800130&l=e3e66c2958
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018258&id=148800130&l=e722f6d7d2
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018259&id=148800130&l=1f76fb44c8
The truth of travel, which I understand more fully the longer I do it, is that it more often than not ends up bringing us deeper into ourselves. The new things, the absurdities and differences (big and small) that I encounter while away from what I know...they contrast with how I am who I am regardless of my environment to force me into facing myself. Annoying? A bit. Challenging? Usually. Necessary? Absolutely. And I think all of that is why I love traveling so much--it gives me the changes in surroundings that I need in order to grow while allowing me a home base for the continuity that I need in order to relate that growth back to something.
That week, while it wasn’t an escape from thoughts, was still an escape. A change in environment is what I needed, and Beijing was that. It looks and feels different from Busan in many ways; between all the smog and chaotic traffic lies a certain feeling (“international” is the word that comes to mind, but I’m not sure that’s entirely correct) that is noticeably less existent in Korea. It hit me soon after arriving in Beijing--foreign residents and tourists everywhere, tapas restaurants and hookah bars lining an old street around the corner from the Forbidden City, and a visible lack of conformity to what is “right” or “proper” or “expected.” At the same time, though, China felt much more Asian to me than Korea really has. By that I mean that there is an undercurrent of history and identity running below all the modern buildings and the millions of people going about their lives. China is a country who knows who it is (for better or worse), and that is something with which Korea struggles. To go from a country that is like a rebellious teenager, having been in existence for such a short time and wanting desperately to become like all the cooler older people around it, to a country that is more like a grandmother, having had a long life and knowing and accepting herself...it provided a lot of food for thought about my own identity and the things that (I allow to) shape it, and for how I live my life.
I have struggled lately with truly being where I am. The other day I found myself wishing that it was a couple weeks from now so that I could know what was happening next and so that a few situations bothering me would no longer be relevant. I heard myself saying that, though, and had to take a step back. I’m repeatedly getting smacked in the face with the fact that I need to work on being. here. now. It’s a lesson I’ve been trying to learn since I got back to Korea in October, one that I know is necessary but somehow have failed to let fully sink in and put into practice the way I’d like to. Life is nothing if not continually moving, though, and I want to continue to move with it and keep learning. I’m less than three months from the end of my contract, and these last few months have the potential to be amazing. This is probably the best possible time I could have been reminded (yet again) of this lesson; I want life here to be as great as it can be right now, and I’m the only thing that’s going to stand in the way of that. My reactions to situations, my feelings about life and about uncertainty...I need to get past those to a place where I just live.
At the moment I am entirely unsure where I will be when my contract ends in ten weeks. I was going to do another year in Korea, and maybe I still will, but I am thinking long and hard about whether or not this is the best place for me right now. I’m waiting to hear about jobs as well, and probably won’t know about those until sometime in September. That’s frustrating, but I can’t change it. What’s there to do, then, but soak in everything I can about life here and be as present as possible? Said in terms of weeks, the time I know for sure that I have left here feels like nothing. There are reasons for everything we feel, everything we go through--I’m realizing over again as I write this that the crazy amounts of “meh”ness I’ve felt toward life and its seeming inability to get itself sorted in the time frame I think it should were partly based on there being no limit to it, no set end point. The way I was feeling was indefinite in that I didn’t have something to motivate me out of feeling that way. There was nothing that made me smack myself in the face instead of waiting for life to do it for me. Now I’ve got that motivation, and I’m beginning to actually understand the importance of truly being present rather than just seeing it and thinking it looks like a nice way to live. What I now see is the contrast, and that makes me appreciate the change so much more.
This post has been in process from the day I returned from China until now, and has gone through several edits in that time. As I read back over it, I see that I’ve come full circle from where I wanted to be mentally while in China to where I actually am now mentally back in Busan. The fact that traveling and returning has given me the insight I needed only proves to me again the necessity of flowing with life and being present on the journey--there is much to be learned and appreciated in every place to which we take off, every base to which we return, and everywhere in between.
I hope this finds you all well and in places that are considerably less typhoon-y than Busan is at the moment. Links to my recent photos, including those from my trip to China, are below (sorry, there are a lot). Enjoy!
Annyeong,
Heather
Apparently I've taken a lot of pictures lately...
From the neighborhood:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017405&id=148800130&l=d9f86ffc99
Fun around Busan and elsewhere on the weekends and in between:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017693&id=148800130&l=20d3392977
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017715&id=148800130&l=b51f1300aa
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017716&id=148800130&l=5f1de8234c
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017958&id=148800130&l=ca8493c43a
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017959&id=148800130&l=6389c89972
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017961&id=148800130&l=1edc7a21bc
Mudfest:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018081&id=148800130&l=b427594ac4
China:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018253&id=148800130&l=e3e66c2958
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018258&id=148800130&l=e722f6d7d2
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2018259&id=148800130&l=1f76fb44c8
08 June 2010
the ninth cloud
There's been a warmth in the air and in my soul lately, and I can't help but feel like I've finally arrived...arrived in Busan, at my happy place in Korea, in the life that I've needed to find. It's been, as my good friend Alex called it, "springtime of the soul," and it feels so good. This is what I've been waiting for, what I think I expected to have way back in October when I physically arrived here. It's now seven and a half months from then and I don't even care that it's taken so long. This feeling was worth the wait. This is true happiness and a sense of life in its purest form--in which I am experiencing, feeling, processing everything--and a deep gratitude for having arrived at this place extends to the very core of me.
This feeling is a product of more than one thing for sure: the longest winter ever (in a literal and metaphorical sense) and its subsequent coming to an end, an open mind to the reasons for the way things are, finally learning to accept what I can't change. When I came back to Korea, I knew there was a possibility that the crap I dealt with the first time would come up again, and I wanted to know if I could handle it better if that was the case. It did, and I have. I'm still figuring out exactly what that looks like, but it feels good to know that I am able to see all the stupid stuff here as something other than ridiculous; as, instead, a chance to practice cross-cultural understanding and interpersonal relations. Don't get me wrong--there are definitely moments in which I'd really love to throw up my hands and get on a plane back to what I used to know as normal. But those are just moments now, instead of the days (or sometimes weeks) that they were last year, and they're coming fewer and farther between. And that realization proves to me that coming back here was a good choice...a realization I needed to have which makes the processing of the first several months back here settle more quickly. I know that even if I hadn't arrived at this amazing place mentally/physically/emotionally, I'd still be able to find value in the struggles of the past seven months. But I think it would have been much slower in coming. Last time, a lot of the processing I did that allowed me to find value in my experiences (both good and bad) in Seoul happened well after I'd returned to the States. Some even took until this return to Korea to occur. This time around I'm doing so much more of it while I'm here, and it's such a good feeling because I know I'm growing here, and as I do that I know that it's in more ways than I ever could have hoped.
Life isn't perfect here, of course. Nowhere is that the case, and there will always be a little bit more that we wish for. But here it's finally gotten pretty darn close. My past six weekends have been spent almost entirely on Gwangali Beach, playing volleyball with a group of awesome people, under gloriously blue skies filled with sunshine...a routine I've been waiting for since I got here in October. My first and closest friend in Busan, Carly, has returned for a second contract after being gone for six weeks. The kids have been off the wall but I haven't cared. My new good friend Candace and I have been having hilariously awesome times while settling into our beach bum routines. If the only things I could really ask for are pension and a pay stub, I think life's pretty good.
If I could bottle up this feeling and send everyone a little taste of it, I would. It's sunshine and sandy toes and warm breezes and pint-sized smiles. There is a beautiful contentment in my soul and I am happy.
So may your worries, may your worries never fall too loud
May you stay here, may you stay here
Happy in your own skin, on the ninth cloud
Oh, to every warning
where these ships had passed through, years before
Bolder now, than a brand new morning
the sun on your face, the bruise and the breaks of these careless arms
...So hold your body, hold your body strong in these winds of life
This life'll move you with every step outside...
This life'll move you as graceful as a tide
Oh it's alright it's alright
Loosen the fears that bind you, loosen the fears that bind you
-a few lines from "cloud nine" by ben howard
I'm now only four and a half months from the end of my contract, and what to do next has been on my mind a lot recently. The first two decisions I made regarding Korea (the initial choice to come, and the subsequent one to come back) were made completely on what felt right, and this one is no different. I have felt more than ever lately that Busan is where I am supposed to be right now. This place, through everything it's been for me over these past seven and a half months, has affected my perspective on myself and everything around me and has pushed me to step outside of who I thought I was into who I am becoming. And this is not where I'm going to be forever, but it's where I want to be for awhile longer. That idea scared me a bit when I came back for the second time, because I was very aware that life in Korea doesn't just flow through time like in the States, where you have a job, you have a life, and you just live it until you change things. Here, by default, is broken up into sections that you have to string together if you want to create some semblance of what used to be normal. It's a connecting process that happens on a mental and emotional level to transcend the twelve-month contracts and temporary friends, and it's something that is difficult to do. But I feel like I am finally learning how to settle into that flow; it's a good thing that I am not ready to disrupt. And so here I sit looking at a third year in Korea, completely surprised and yet, somehow, entirely not.
Despite how great things are here, I do miss you all and want to remind you that the door to my apartment is always open for overseas visitors :) Below are links to my recent photo albums; more should be coming within the next few weeks as well. Love and hugs to everyone!
Annyeong,
Heather
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016971&id=148800130&l=6c4d383c7a
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017288&id=148800130&l=1cc25523a4
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017290&id=148800130&l=285b6548fb
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017405&id=148800130&l=d9f86ffc99
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017471&id=148800130&l=8c90d321df
This feeling is a product of more than one thing for sure: the longest winter ever (in a literal and metaphorical sense) and its subsequent coming to an end, an open mind to the reasons for the way things are, finally learning to accept what I can't change. When I came back to Korea, I knew there was a possibility that the crap I dealt with the first time would come up again, and I wanted to know if I could handle it better if that was the case. It did, and I have. I'm still figuring out exactly what that looks like, but it feels good to know that I am able to see all the stupid stuff here as something other than ridiculous; as, instead, a chance to practice cross-cultural understanding and interpersonal relations. Don't get me wrong--there are definitely moments in which I'd really love to throw up my hands and get on a plane back to what I used to know as normal. But those are just moments now, instead of the days (or sometimes weeks) that they were last year, and they're coming fewer and farther between. And that realization proves to me that coming back here was a good choice...a realization I needed to have which makes the processing of the first several months back here settle more quickly. I know that even if I hadn't arrived at this amazing place mentally/physically/emotionally, I'd still be able to find value in the struggles of the past seven months. But I think it would have been much slower in coming. Last time, a lot of the processing I did that allowed me to find value in my experiences (both good and bad) in Seoul happened well after I'd returned to the States. Some even took until this return to Korea to occur. This time around I'm doing so much more of it while I'm here, and it's such a good feeling because I know I'm growing here, and as I do that I know that it's in more ways than I ever could have hoped.
Life isn't perfect here, of course. Nowhere is that the case, and there will always be a little bit more that we wish for. But here it's finally gotten pretty darn close. My past six weekends have been spent almost entirely on Gwangali Beach, playing volleyball with a group of awesome people, under gloriously blue skies filled with sunshine...a routine I've been waiting for since I got here in October. My first and closest friend in Busan, Carly, has returned for a second contract after being gone for six weeks. The kids have been off the wall but I haven't cared. My new good friend Candace and I have been having hilariously awesome times while settling into our beach bum routines. If the only things I could really ask for are pension and a pay stub, I think life's pretty good.
If I could bottle up this feeling and send everyone a little taste of it, I would. It's sunshine and sandy toes and warm breezes and pint-sized smiles. There is a beautiful contentment in my soul and I am happy.
So may your worries, may your worries never fall too loud
May you stay here, may you stay here
Happy in your own skin, on the ninth cloud
Oh, to every warning
where these ships had passed through, years before
Bolder now, than a brand new morning
the sun on your face, the bruise and the breaks of these careless arms
...So hold your body, hold your body strong in these winds of life
This life'll move you with every step outside...
This life'll move you as graceful as a tide
Oh it's alright it's alright
Loosen the fears that bind you, loosen the fears that bind you
-a few lines from "cloud nine" by ben howard
I'm now only four and a half months from the end of my contract, and what to do next has been on my mind a lot recently. The first two decisions I made regarding Korea (the initial choice to come, and the subsequent one to come back) were made completely on what felt right, and this one is no different. I have felt more than ever lately that Busan is where I am supposed to be right now. This place, through everything it's been for me over these past seven and a half months, has affected my perspective on myself and everything around me and has pushed me to step outside of who I thought I was into who I am becoming. And this is not where I'm going to be forever, but it's where I want to be for awhile longer. That idea scared me a bit when I came back for the second time, because I was very aware that life in Korea doesn't just flow through time like in the States, where you have a job, you have a life, and you just live it until you change things. Here, by default, is broken up into sections that you have to string together if you want to create some semblance of what used to be normal. It's a connecting process that happens on a mental and emotional level to transcend the twelve-month contracts and temporary friends, and it's something that is difficult to do. But I feel like I am finally learning how to settle into that flow; it's a good thing that I am not ready to disrupt. And so here I sit looking at a third year in Korea, completely surprised and yet, somehow, entirely not.
Despite how great things are here, I do miss you all and want to remind you that the door to my apartment is always open for overseas visitors :) Below are links to my recent photo albums; more should be coming within the next few weeks as well. Love and hugs to everyone!
Annyeong,
Heather
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2016971&id=148800130&l=6c4d383c7a
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017288&id=148800130&l=1cc25523a4
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017290&id=148800130&l=285b6548fb
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017405&id=148800130&l=d9f86ffc99
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017471&id=148800130&l=8c90d321df
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