What started as a trip filled with anxiety became one of the most memorable chapters of my life. Heading into South Korea, I was thrilled, but also weighed down by worry over my lack of cultural and language knowledge. Although I am full Korean, outside of occasional conversations at home, my parents never formally taught me the language. Because of my limited skills, I feared it would be a lonely month, but it was because of this worry that I realized I needed to go.
Growing up, I was often judged by other Koreans for not speaking the language fluently, whether it be by elders at my church, or other kids my age purposefully talking behind my back in Korean, feeling this constant sense of humiliation.
So when I saw the opportunity to study abroad for a month, while having the chance to better understand my heritage and improve my language skills, although nervous, I was excited to step out of my comfort zone and finally start my journey in unlocking the other half of my identity.
Another reason that I felt the need to take this journey was for my family. I have many relatives in South Korea whom I had never truly connected with, largely due to the language barrier. So going on this trip wasn’t just about strengthening my speaking skills; it was about understanding the daily lives of the people who share my blood on the other side of the world.
Yet, as soon as I stepped off the plane, all the courage I had built up dissolved. The moment airport staff approached me in Korean, a wave of shame hit me. Although they were simply trying to be helpful, I felt degraded because they assumed I could speak fluently just by looking the part. In an instant, I had retreated back into the closed-off, insecure mindset I had been trying so hard to overcome.
The People
That anxiety started to melt away on our first official day. Our class was split into small groups and paired with students from Seoul Women’s University to explore local landmarks. That’s when I met my first friend in Korea, Seong-min.
To my surprise, she was dealing with her own anxieties about learning English. Yet, despite her self-consciousness, she didn’t let it hold her back, and when I mentioned that I was Korean but couldn’t speak fluently, she was incredibly understanding and genuinely excited, even suggesting that I could practice my Korean while she practiced her English with me.
With her patience and steady encouragement throughout the day, it helped me feel accepted and gave me the confidence to come out of my shell. By evening, when all the groups gathered for dinner, I was back to my cheery self. I found myself chatting happily with the other Korean students in my broken Korean, without a single care in how broken my Korean might’ve been. Through Seong-min’s kindness, I didn’t just survive my first day, but also created a lifelong friendship.
The next day, as we packed our bags for Daejeon, I felt that familiar knot in my stomach about starting over in an unfamiliar place, but the students at Hannam University welcomed us with open arms. From teaching us local slang to introducing us to the unique culture of Korean karaoke, they made us feel at home instantly. Beyond that initial introduction, my insecurities about my identity and language barrier completely faded, as I felt comfortable chatting with everyone one-on-one without fear of judgment.
By the time our ten days at Hannam ended, saying goodbye was tough. In just a short time, I had come to look up to them like older siblings. Leaving was bittersweet, but I left Daejeon equipped with newfound social confidence, a list of slang terms, and a community of friends I look forward to visiting whenever I return to Korea.
These friends I’ve made taught me that no matter where you go, it isn’t the food, the landmarks, or any of the souvenirs that you buy that makes the trip special. It’s the people that you spend that time with, and getting to make memories with these people are what I’ll be thinking about, while I’m back at home, reminiscing about my time in Korea.
The Culture
Beyond the connections I made, another part that made this trip special were the incredible cultural trips we witnessed across the country. My favorite trip that we had went on was visiting Gyeongbokgung Palace. Learning how it was burned to the ground during the 1592 Japanese invasion and later painstakingly reconstructed as an act of reclaiming national identity deeply moved me. As someone who often struggles with personal setbacks, seeing those restored palaces was inspiring, serving as a powerful reminder that while physical structures can be destroyed, the spirit of a nation cannot be erased.
Later in Daejeon, an hour-long bus ride took us deeper into the countryside to Gyeryongsan Ceramics Village. The moment I stepped off the bus, it felt like walking into a hidden paradise, with the mountain backdrop so breathtaking that time seemed to pause. There, we met a master artisan who had spent decades perfecting his craft. With his assistance, we even created our own traditional pottery. I chose to make a horibyeong: a classic gourd-shaped bottle historically used to store water, wine, or medicine. Getting the chance to take part in such an authentic, hands-on tradition was something I never could have anticipated, and getting to take home a piece I made myself was the perfect cherry on top.
Our final cultural experience was meeting the Haenyeo. These legendary female free-divers of Jeju Island harvested seafood like abalone, sea urchins, and conch without oxygen tanks. But tragically, this historic tradition is dying out due to demographic aging and economic shifts. During our time together, the Haenyeo shared one of their sacred rituals with us. We wrapped rice in traditional paper, made a wish, and cast the bundle into the ocean alongside an offering of alcohol. And although this tradition is soon to be over, it felt even more special, getting to see the final generation of Haenyeo pour their hearts out into the ocean and pay tribute to the waters that have sustained their livelihoods, identity, and community for decades.
Conclusion
Looking back at where my journey began, standing at the airport, overwhelmed by my anxiety and the weight of feeling disconnected with my heritage, I’m so thankful for the people that were by my side to guide me through this month. What started as a terrifying leap of faith, ended into a path of self-discovery. Through the amazing people that I’ve met through this journey, from my first friend Seong-min, to the warm hospitality at Hannam University, I learned that identity is not something you’re tested on, but a connection that you build through community.
