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Here’s what I think happened:
After 36 hours of nonstop traveling (a dear friend driving me to the airport in Philadelphia, catching a flight to Atlanta for a layover, 14+ hours in the air to Incheon, arriving at 4:00 a.m. KST, switching airports in Seoul via the metro to puddle jump down to Jeju Island only to end with an erratic, hour-long cab ride to the very southwest point of the island where I live…)
… my body and brain were so tired.
And unprepared.
It’s not just that I didn’t give it a second thought: “It” being returning to Korea to begin year 4 of residency -
- after all - I’d already spent the past 3 years painstakingly figuring out how to live in a different country. Right?
… It’s also that I didn’t clock just how quickly I fall back into the ease and all-encompassing familiarity I feel when being back in the States. Why would I? Things that are easy hardly ever cross our minds in an intentional way.
What’s become an annual tradition I refer to as The Whirlwind Friends and Family Tour each summer, I hardly have time to think at all as I hop from home to home, meal to meal, catch-up to catch-up around Pennsylvania. I don’t say this as a complaint. It’s the most privileged thing in the world to be wanted and taken care of so seamlessly by so many people each summer.
The not thinking part feels so decadent. Reading this, I’m sure you’ve also hardly given any of it a second thought: any of the things you can easily do if you speak the same language as everyone else.
When I’m back in the States, it just IS so easy. I can sell a house, open and close bank accounts, transfer money to different institutions, call customer service if I have a question, know exactly where I can get something if I need it, make reservations, and navigate complex scheduling situations with dozens of loved ones without much effort or a second thought.
And then I walk into my tiny apartment on Jeju Island after limited sleep and literal trains, planes, and automobiles behind me, to find mold on my couch and in my car from sitting for a summer in the island’s humidity. A fridge full of perishable foods that my house sitter forgot to discard of before he left a month before, a gas range that didn’t work right away, online bills that gave me error messages when I tried to pay them, and food deliveries that took too long for the chicken to arrive still frozen, which meant lots of unexpected freezer meal prepping while still painfully jetlagged and solo parenting.
Traveling so far means feeling discombobulated (a word not used nearly enough) by where my loved ones are in the world and what time zone they’re in. You were only 3 hours behind me and now you’re 14. I’m now starting my Sunday when most of you are just beginning your adult beverage consumption on Saturday night.
I’m staring at the puffy clouds out my window while the sun is setting over there.
And everything is good. It simply took me a bit of time to readjust.
Year four in Korea: it took 2 full weeks to get reacclimated to the cozy, precise life I’ve built for myself here.
As I sat in those two weeks of struggle - a thin veil of it blanketing everything I do here as someone who looks like she belongs but doesn’t quite fit in - I was taking for granted tasks and moments that come easily to me in one place… while also being a bit too arrogant about how far I’d come in another place. Living in Korea - it’s taken literal individual baby steps of understanding life as a non-native speaking foreigner
on an island
in a country
on the other side of the planet.
No one likes to feel incompetent, least of all me. Being in a foreign country is at least a 4.5 on the struggle train at all times.
But here’s the good news:
It was a readjustment. But it wasn’t starting from the beginning.
Immediately, close friends Kylie and JaeHee helped me navigate paying some bills and figuring out a government website to book some ferry tickets for Chuseok. They each put dates on my calendar so we can spend time together, which means the world to me on this quiet island.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly eased back into a routine of things I have learned. I knew enough to head down to my neighborhood 5-day farmers market to pick up about $60 worth of produce for only $27. An upholstery cleaner showed up less than 36 hours after I ordered it, and I Tom Sawyered my kids into helping me clean the couch. My bills are now paid. My car is now clean (the car wash is only $2.75), and that first weekend back I went out with the Jeju Island Korean adoptees - a small group of us who hold on to one another in this beautiful, secluded existence we’ve found ourselves in here in Korea.
Soon, the man I love will visit me and my kids in Korea, and my autumn will be filled with travel, friends, and an international conference that will bring Korean adoptees from all over the world to Seoul.
Things may not always be intuitive, easy, or so natural that I take it for granted. No. Not here. Not in Korea.
But the intentionality behind moving about my day, taking literal steps to put effort into activities, people, and moments that are worth the tiny bit of extra effort.
As I start year 4 here in Korea, I’m reminded of just how far I’ve come. A little bit of ongoing struggle goes a long way in knowing I’ve made it all happen.
And who am I to question the life I rebuilt just for me?
Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, or learn about my professional background on LinkedIn or Linktr.ee. Questions? Comments? Leave a comment here and I’ll respond to it on my Spotify Podcast: Exploring with Jenna Lee Kim in an “unplugged” and unscripted way! You can also email me at jenna.tae.hee.kim@gmail.com
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