Life altering trip leads to questions

I left for Korea nearly two years after first conceiving the idea to teach English abroad. Too much of my time then felt like a stacked deck of cards that kept drawing on, without any sense of accomplishment, just going through the motions of a four year degree. So last May marked my graduation date and departure from the United States for the first time in my life.

Travel is a funny thing compared to what it must have meant years ago, before the Internet and social networking, because just going the distance doesn't feel so remarkable. That's largely because despite living so far from home, it's possible to exist in a bubble where you shut the door to the outside, and through the speakers and monitor of a computer, you hold on to everything you left. Not only that, but there is a McDonald's here, and they even deliver.

My intention to live out here in Korea was kind of a modern day Henry Thoreau type deal, with some notable exceptions. Instead of wanting a more objective perspective on society, I wanted to know what there was to myself with the kind of clarity only living apart from home and friends can provide. However, with no disrespect to Thoreau, I wasn't about to live in the wilderness in a self-assembled shack -- though maybe I should have, because I was guilty of creating the kind of bubble I previously described. 

Not only did that defeat the purpose of my journey, it also put me in a bad spot where I wasn't satisfied with what I was trying to stay connected with, and I was also isolating myself from the country I was living in.

If I kept that up, I wouldn't have lasted long here. Even worse, I would have been pretty bitter returning home to everything that had sabotaged my career in Korea (by no fault of its own). So I disconnected, regrettably not as cleanly as I should have, but I had to commit to something, or was about to be torn apart.

Language acquisition has never been a strength of mine. Living in a country without learning the native language is similar to watching a foreign film without subtitles. Yeah, I could I manage without it, but I'd be missing out on a lot. It's a matter of practice and persistence, making mistakes repeatedly and getting to be familiar with awkward situations.

More important than learning the language, was simply putting myself out there. I've had some pretty good back-and-forths on economy ticket trains that keep the country very accessible. You meet all types of people on trains: adolescents enjoying the simple fact of traveling with their parents supervision, the military guys hanging out together going to or back from assignment, the working class in suits and ties, the hikers with metal drinking cups dangling from backpacks, and even a few  ‘waygookin,' foreigners like myself trying to place ourselves in relation to everything else.

I sought out the places the natives will go. I stood in the glow of a cavernous Buddhist temple that was silent and still, except for the subtle movement of paper lotus flowers suspended from the ceiling and candle light, and in the more dimly lit and cigarette smoke-filled, high-speed PC rooms. I went to a Korean bath house on Christmas and it was hard not to feel a sense of camaraderie, despite the cultural barriers, with the spirited company of Asian men in that shared pool of hot water.

The English academy that employs me and sponsors my visa is a journey in and of itself. Managing my classes is a learn-as-I go-experience, and teaching them is a test of attrition. My Korean co-teacher simply tells me I have yet to find my way as teacher, and that I must accept the students' problems as my own. That advice wasn't so comforting the first time I heard it, but it has become encouraging in a nausea inducing kind of way.

Korea has been a lot of things, maybe most of all a lesson in humility. I know I am not the first person to go out on a limb to see what kind of character he is, and then deal with the disappointment of not being nearly as strong or as good as he once thought. There have been difficult weeks I've seen turn into months. Every now and then, a lesson plan goes well or there is a three day weekend, and if only for a moment, I'm back in tip-top shape.

I often think about the good friends I haven't seen, and the relationship I ruined by committing to Korea. Although some important things to me haven fallen apart, it's given me the opportunity to piece many things together. 

Maybe a year from now I'll tell you if it was all worth it.