Expectations

I had a lot of expectations about moving to Korea. I expected to be lonely. Homesick. Scared. I expected I wouldn't make friends for a long time. I expected to feel extreme culture shock. I expected to feel lost and confused in a strange country where I don't speak the language. I fully expected I would panic upon arrival and regret my decision to move 5500 miles from everything I know and everyone I love.

And I did feel all of those things. However, it was not when I expected I would. Instead of it all hitting me as I was leaving, it happened several weeks prior. I spent ten gut-wrenchingly miserable days trying to think of any way to get out of it, convincing myself that I was making a huge mistake. All I could do was obsess about how I wasn't brave enough to make such a big change in my life. I told myself that I would be okay if I didn't go. I could still live with my parents and work 12 hours a week as a janitor. Even though I literally wasted the last year of my life, depressed over being unemployed and nearly friendless (thank you everyone for moving out of Oregon), I tried to tell myself I could still continue do it. That I could find a job. That the last year and 75 denied applications were just a fluke.

But I made it through. Talking to current teachers helped, but it didn't pass until what I knew overcame what I felt. I knew I should do this. I knew it would be amazing. I knew that I couldn't pass this up because I scared. I became ambivalent about going, mentally exhausted from too much research and too many emotions. I was distantly anxious, but I didn't have it in me to care enough. Even at the airport, as I left my family and friends behind at security, I wasn't engulfed in the clammy fear I expected. When I left for my trip last year, I spent the first 30 hours feeling like that. But this time I knew I would miss them and was okay with it. I was sad, but not consumed.

Now that I have arrived, I am still waiting for those feelings. Perhaps it is because I have done little solo wandering, but so far I am almost unphased by the differences. I have experienced zero culture shock. Everything has fascinated me. It is so different from anything I've experienced, but I love it. Admittedly, I've been really lucky. I have been placed at a wonderful school with helpful teachers and a caring boss. I was able to talk to some other foreign teachers before arriving, so it's not all new. The foreign teachers I've met have all been welcoming. And I know that not everyone has had it so easy.

Since it has been so easy, I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. My life is a balance and I don't know if I've reached the correct balance yet. Is this smooth transition making up for my pre-departure freak-out? Or because it was so easy, is there something terrible in store for me?

Please don't misunderstand me. There are hard spots. I have to learn a completely new job. This is probably my biggest worry. I don't know the system, I don't know how to teach, I don't know anything about kids. But it feels like the struggle to learn any new, difficult job. I have to make a completely new set of friends, but the teachers I've met so far are great. I know almost no Korean. I haven't slept much since arriving, which I think is a combination of jet lag, nerves, and the cement mattress in my hotel.

And I know that this excitement I feel now will fade to acceptance and finally annoyance. The bright lights and crazy traffic, which I love now, will start to irritate me. Real homesickness will set in and I'll desperately want to see my family. The kids will eat at my soul. But by the time that happens, I expect to be prepared and have to tools to handle it.

Greetings from Korea!

I have made it safely to Daejeon!

I arrived at PDX at 5.45am, Sunday morning, with my family and Val in tow. We were met at the airport by Emily and Sean, who are such wonderful people that they woke up at an ungodly hour and drove up to see me off. I'm so lucky to have friends like them. And I do have many fantastic friends who have been great helping me prepare for this journey.

After many tears and more hugs than I've willingly given in the last six months (outside of goodbye hugs, of course), I went through security and to my gate. This took me to the bowels of the Portland airport, to the end of the terminal and down a flight of stairs to a place I didn't know existed. This is where commuter planes live. I don't think it could hold more than fifty people. It didn't even have room for carry-ons. I had to give it to the attendant before boarding.

So I flew to San Francisco, went through security again, and found my gate. I wasn't looking forward to the twelve hour flight to Seoul. It was long and uncomfortable, especially since I was in a middle seat. When the meals came, I tried to eat t-rex style, keeping my arms in as much as possible so I didn't elbow those next to me.

The flight wasn't all bad. I was fortunate enough to be seated next to someone also going over to teach. What are the chances? There must have been 350 people on that plane, although upon exiting, I discovered there were a few other teachers. But it was great to talk to someone about to embark on the same adventure. He also kept me from another freak-out, bless his heart. While I didn't even feel the stirrings of a panic attack, imagine the annoyance of those around me if I had spent the entire flight crying.

I slept a good part of the flight, but it too uncomfortable to be restful. And there was turbulence towards the end, which nauseated me to the point of wanting to vomit. However, I could only wake up enough to acknowledge it, register how miserable it felt, and fall back to sleep. When I finally did wake up for our second meal, just the smell of the food brought it back again.

After landing, I breezed through customs and picked up my luggage, still accompanied by Awesome Plane Friend. It was in the Customs line that I met Airport Friend, who, with the help of her friend, helped me figure out how to get to the right bus and use an ATM. I handed out my email like it was going out of style. I would rather have someone think I'm an overeager creep than miss out on making new friends.

I got on the bus and headed to Daejeon. I wanted to watch the scenery, but it was dark and misty, so I didn't feel bad about sleeping through most of the drive. When the light came on and woke me up, I wasn't sure where we were. I briefly saw a flash of the Daejeon city logo and knew I needed to get off at the second stop. I did so and still wasn't sure if I was in the right place. But after about twenty minutes (my bus arrived early), my director found me and took me to a hotel. I believe I am in a fabled Love Hotel. My room is normal, but the hallway has a sweet glow in the dark ceiling. I don't immediately go to bed, but once I did, I slept like the dead for a solid four hours.

And that, dear ones, is the tale of my journey to Korea. Tune in next time for "My First Day in Korea!"