Chapter 11: Saying goodbye to the person who removed my fear

It’s funny writing that I’ve been in Korea for nearly 5 months and really don’t consider it some kind of milestone. In fact it took a moment of random thoughts and staring at a calendar to remind me of just how long I’ve been here and just how fast time really does pass when you aren’t actively counting it.

I haven’t been actively keeping track of my days here in Korea nor have I been counting down the days before heading back to the states. I have not experience homesickness yet, nor have I become so fond of Korea that I do not wish to return. It’s not a year away from home to me and it’s not a vacation away from the US. It’s a new part of my life, a new chapter that I am currently living out and for the most part, enjoying it very much.

The last few weeks have helped to illustrate this point with two major events: one of first friends made in Korea leaving to go overseas and a trip to the ocean, two unrelated events but ones that gave me a new perspective on life and where I want to go with mine.

My friend leaving was a sad day for me, The first I have experienced in Korea. Charlie was a substitute teacher at the school I taught at and was quick to start talking to me the first day he started teaching there. His English was excellent and his personality was lighthearted and fun. Charlie was always quick to crack a joke whether it was through observation or mistranslation. He was also always there to give me a helping hand in my school work, translation and just someone to talk to during the day. Being a native English speaker and knowing very little Korean makes for very short and unfulfilling conversations, but Charlie was always there to say something.

When the teachers would leave for a gathering or meeting more often than not I was left behind as coming to the meeting in their eyes would be pointless if I did not understand what anyone was saying. In truth this made sense, but it didn’t make the isolation any less hurtful nor did it do anything to starve off the feeling that I was not an esteemed colleague, but rather an accessory to teach English.

I sat in the office alone, possibly for the rest of the day for all I knew.  As I sat in my chair staring blankly off into the distance, Charlie came in from the side, put his hand on my shoulder and said:

“Hey, it’s not bad that they left you, now we can go get ice cream and talk.”

We ate ice cream and talked. We talked about our families and about our most embarrassing moments. We talked about where we were going to go in our lives and what we wanted to see in the world. We talked about our ideal soul mates, the people we wanted to spend the rest of our lives with.

“I really want to be with someone who understands me. In Korea sometimes people are only after you for your status. I don’t care if she’s a doctor or trash collector, if she’s a good person who cares what she does?” he once told me

I was having my first substantial conversation with someone since leaving my home behind. It felt refreshing to be able to say these things and not feel the stigma of saving face or cultural boundaries. I smiled as I listened to Charlie’s hopes and dreams and slowly let the ice cream melt in my mouth and leave a cold trail down my throat. I usually was one to finish my ice cream as fast as possible but here I slowly let it melt instead. The cold sweetness was a physical compliment to mellow and blissful state of my mind. I was shocked at just how good conversation could feel after being devoid of it for so long.

Charlie was also one of the keys to getting to know other people in my little town better. While I was originally used to meeting the friends I had originally met outside of my hometown I had very little contact with the people who lived near me. When Charlie requested meeting the other teachers in town we suddenly became a lot closer. Charlie had a magnetic personality that was able to make even the shiest person want to sit down and talk with him. Our get togethers were becoming more frequent and soon we were getting to know each other better. I previously dreaded staying behind in my town for the weekend, but now looked forward to it. Slowly these people were becoming my friends. My family I could talk to when I needed help and my source of good conversation and happiness at a moment’s notice.

While Charlie was getting closer to everyone and helping everyone become better friends, he was also preparing to move further away than any of us. Charlie was preparing to leave Gimcheon to pursue a job overseas. It would give him the chance to do what he always dreamed of: travel the world and get paid for it. He kept it quiet not telling anyone any details until a few weeks prior.

At first I was slightly disappointed, I wanted Charlie to follow his dream and I wanted him to be happy but it seemed too soon too sudden. Charlie had just gotten to know us and find his friends again in Gimcheon, to leave that behind seemed a cruel twist of fate.

Charlie was never one to keep a sad situation that way so in an attempt to say goodbye and leave on a high note, Charlie decided to have two days of celebration. One day a barbeque cookout and one day a night spent in one of his favorite places, the city park.

The barbeque started out horribly. It was raining all day and everywhere was thoroughly soaked. The wind picked up when it was time to start grilling and despite having a ton of food to eat, we lost most of it due to the rain water and the meet sitting out uncooked. Despite the miserable atmosphere the party was a blast.  Charlie was happier than ever and when combined with our good company we were able to take the ugly and cold day and turn it into an experience of drinking, laughing and playing games. We were freezing and soaked to the bone but still happy.

The final day was spent in the city park, drinking beer, eating chicken and talking. It was the small intimate events that were we’re most used to and in a way, liked it better that way. We didn’t have the pressure to meet expectations or satisfy the need to be over the top and extreme.  We were a simply able to talk. To share and listen. To learn more about each other.  It was a mellow end and a quiet way to send Charlie off on his way.

Before leaving that evening Charlie told me goodbye.

“You’re a good friend Kyle. I will miss you but don’t worry I will be back someday, you can never get rid of me forever,” he said, flashing that same stupid grin he always did when saying something serious and heartfelt.  “Also, don’t worry too much about things in life like your job and relationships. All these things just happen when ready. Sometimes it is just best to not worry about planning and just react.”

These were the last words Charlie spoke to me in person. They still stick in my mind days after he has left, they were simple but poignant words. Their meaning now embedded in me.

Up to this point in Korea, I had been banking on a master plan hoping that everything would work out in my favor. My whole life had been one master plan after another. Even when I told myself I was being open minded I was lying to myself. I always wanted a result, an end to what I started. Not having things finish or leaving things without a clear idea always made me nervous. Not nearly as much as previously in my life, but still enough to linger in my mind and cause me a growing sense of dread when the unknown popped up.

Charlie taught me to forget all that. He taught me the freedom of not having all the answers and not knowing how the story would end. I learned that sometimes it was good to just let things go as they did, that everything would happen good or bad and that no matter what the result, it was always a good thing to embrace the adventure in my life.

The last of my fear had finally disappeared. Thanks to Charlie, I had truly become free.  

Chapter 10: Small town living, big life lesson

I have always been drawn to the big cities. The bustling metropolises and the frantic city life was an exciting invitation to someone who spent a good portion of his life in the suburbs, reading about the concrete jungles from socialites who roamed the city like some predator traversing the jungle with ease. I had decided at an early age that the city life was for me, I liked the chaos. I liked the nonstop nature. I was going to live there one day. It was only a matter of time.

This love affair continued, as I grew older. I was lucky enough to spend two summers in Tokyo, Japan, one of the largest and busiest metropolises in the world. It was a city that never stopped moving and always had something to do. Tokyo solidified my love of the big city. I was convinced that I was going to live here for a very long time.

Events occurred and eventually the option of Tokyo was no longer a viable one. Like a love that was never meant to be, Tokyo was a city that I loved dearly, but knew in my heart at the time, was something that would just not work out.

I turned my sights to Korea, once again aiming to work in a big city, and immerse myself in the bustle and breakneck speed of daily city life. Again, it was not meant to be as, my location chosen for me was not the sprawling city that I had envisioned, but rather the town nestled in the center of Korea. A town called Gimcheon.

Gimcheon at one point had actually been the second largest city in the Gyeongbuk province of Korea. Eventually however, its industry and economy slowed down and the once bustling metropolis became a slow paced shell of its former self.

My initial reaction was one of slight disappointment. Despite being one of the largest districts in Korea, a majority of it was farm land. The actual city portion could be walked within an hour. It was a city in name only; to me it was a town, a town just like the one I grew up in my entire life. It seemed that no matter where 

I went, the small town life was set to follow me.

Many weekends were spent outside of Gimcheon. I used the weekend opportunity to travel to the bigger cities around Korea as often as possible, not a difficult feat due to Korea’s excellent transportation system that could you get you from one side of the country to the other in a matter of minutes. Sprawling cities like Seoul, Incheon and Daegu were my homes away from home on the weekend. Sundays were always looked at with slight apprehension, the adventure of the city would have to wait until next weekend, and my small town needed me back again.

The past weekend was out of character for me. I had spent a majority of my weekends trying to get away from Gimcheon and explore but this weekend I had felt compelled to stay. Perhaps it was my mind telling me to take a break from exploring. Perhaps it was a need to become more accustomed with my own area of residence. Nevertheless I didn’t purchase tickets out of town like normal. I didn’t pack for the weekend Thursday night. I simply went home on Friday and stayed in.

I awoke Saturday morning feeling refreshed and optimistic. Saturday mornings were usually met with a few seconds of apprehension as traveling and working the night before would usually leave me exhausted. This was one of the first times I had slept in my own bed on a weekend. It felt good, it felt comfortable, it felt uncharacteristically inviting compared to the hard floors and stiff mattresses of hotels and jimjobangs I had become accustomed to.

That afternoon I received a call from some other foreign teachers in Gimcheon. They were planning on spending a night out in Gimcheon and I was invited along. These were people that I knew fairly well, but not as well as other people I traveled to visit. They were acquaintances in my town that I enjoyed being around, but never spent more than a few hours with.

I met up with the group of friends and after a nice dinner, we ended up walking around the middle of downtown. The sidewalks were filled with people and couples happily going about their business. The small shops were lit with bright lights and loud music. School children, free from the burden of school and studying ran in the street, some of them with ice cream in hands all of them laughing and seemingly happy to be free of the pressures of school if only for a day. As I continued to walk and observe the other people a sense of comfort and content begin to come over me. I was walking with good company, on a warm and breezy Saturday night. The sky was clear; the streets were brightly lit and bustling. It was an idyllic evening in my town of Gimcheon. Never before has a town looked more peaceful and happy. Never before did I feel more at home while being so far away.

I still love the big city. I love the busy lifestyle. I doubt that I will ever fall out of love with it. However, that night time stroll in my little town made me fall in love with a different kind of living, a life less frantic, but one more comfortable. Life doesn’t always need to move fast, and this is the town that told me that. 

Chapter 7: The Problem Process

When a problem or conflict erupts in Korea, the process to resolving the situation is done in a much more structured way than I am used to. We are taught in America to go through a chain of command, to take our complaints to the appropriate party and allow them to contact their appropriate party until the problem reaches the right channels. This practice is taken to new levels in Korea and it is a method that at first tried my patience.

I never realized how impatient I can be about certain issues until having to take an extended amount of time dealing with them. One of the most eye opening lessons here so far is that while problems are unavoidable, the process to fix them takes time. Sometimes days and in the case of large problems, weeks.

While this was a major thorn in my side at first, the time it took to deal with the issues actually helped me to appreciate the situation from a new perspective. It gave me time to think about how I looked at my problems and how I looked at the process I used to deal with different issues.

Being patient and going slow was more beneficial than I initially thought. By the time the issue had come to resolve itself, the outcome was well thought of and was something all parties could have agreed on in the end.

One of the biggest changes in Korea is being patient during times of need and times of stress. Getting mad over many issues in Korea seems like a logical and natural choice in times of stress, but when looked at from another view I came to this conclusion.

I am a visitor in their country. Whatever preconceived or familiar notions I had in the way tasks were completed would have to take a backseat to the way tasks were actually completed. This is Korea. This was their country. I am a visitor and in many ways, a guest being entrusted with the education of their children and their future. I need to think differently. I need to play by new rules.

Some people learn Korean while spending their year in Korea. Some experience new foods, travel to new places or meet new people. We fall in love and we fall out of love with places, people and things. We leave with a slew of photographs and memories of a year in a new country.

The people will not be here forever. The pictures can become lost overtime. Even our memories can become distorted and clouded as the years go on. The lessons learned here, the ones that change your perspective and change your views on living your life will always remain. They become a part of you, ingrained in your being. These are matter the most, and will follow you everywhere.

I am lucky to take these lessons and add to them everyday. I live in a country and with a job that requires one to learn from their mistakes and realize the importance of becoming a wiser person.

Even during times of stress and worry. When I am angry and not willing to do a task due to exhaustion or apathy, I stop and think about why I am here, how lucky I am to be in such a giving and dynamic country and wanting to not waste a moment on negativity.

In the end, you tend to remember good times and the lessons that came with them. The bad times tend to fade much easier and become much harder to remember.

So I don’t waste my time on them, I go and live. Learning something new everyday, becoming a little wiser and a little more like the person I aspire to become.