Wonder

 

My hagwon is very special- I am required to read and teach about Newberry Medal winning books to kids.  For this, I love my work.  I have read some boring books, to be sure, but I have also read some amazing books as well.  One of those amazing books is called Wonder by R.J. Palacio.
Over the years I have read countless books.  If I had to make an estimate, I'd have to guess vaguely that it is somewhere above 400 or 450 (assuming around 25 books a year, and that I started reading on my own at 8 years old).  Though to be honest, it's probably way more than that.  In all that time, I have never read a book like this.
There have been stories that moved me to tears, swept me off my feet, carried me away to the past or shot me forward to the future.  Taught me about economics, psychology, or history.  Granted me a view of what the world would have been like with one or two key changes.  In all of those books, this is the first to touch on a topic I've never known another author to- and for that reason, I am recommending it to you.
Let me explain my background a little to you, so that you can understand why it stands out so much to me.  I am from a family of four: my mother, father, brother and myself.  Everything about my family was normal (my parents worked, my brother and I went to school, we had a house with two dogs, a cat, fish, I was in girl scouts, etc), except for one thing.  My brother is mentally disabled.  I don't mention him much, simply because I am a very private woman and believe it is no one else's business basically.  I am also extremely protective of him.  Though I've improved greatly, when younger, all the way up until college honestly, I would become very upset and angry at those who made "mentally retarded" jokes, and it took an ex and two very dear friends, J and K, to help me learn to not take it so personally.  Although other familys with children who are disabled do exist, most of them only have one child to speak of.  I know, I've met many of them over the years at my brothers private schools he attended, or at volunteering with the kids.  Though I never felt alone as a sibling to a mentally disabled brother, it has remained a part of my life many don't understand. On the few occasions I allow the topic to be talked about, I usually end up getting the pity look.  Folks would nod their heads like they understand, and say how sorry they are.  Or how hard things must have been for me and my family.  It frustrates me.
When I picked up the book Wonder to read for work, I didn't know what it was about really.  It became obvious pretty fast that it is about a kid, August, who has some facial deformities, with the main story centering around his first year at a real school.  It was a dull read at first, moving pretty slow, and I have to say I wasn't too impressed.  Then the section written from August's point of view ends, and we are introduced to the same world from his sister's point of view.  Reading her first page made my heart start beating fast and attention become tunnel-like.  I couldn't believe it- the first ever book where a character has to process and deal with being the older sibling to someone with special needs.  It was overwhelming at first.  Not everything that happens for the sibling, Olivia/Via, is the same for me, but much of it is.  The way that the family revolves around the brother August, how genetics is something she will one day have to worry about, feeling guilty for wanting to have a normal life away from her brother, knowing and being unable to help when your brother has to fight against being aware that he is different from others, feeling pure anger towards those who would and do make fun of kids with disabilities- it hit close to home in a way no story ever had before.  There are books out there about every topic under the sun, and maybe I simply hadn't taken the time to look, but I have never come across another story like this one.  I have to tell you, it felt good to be understood, and to understand where this character, Via, was coming from. 
Wonder is not the best book you will ever read, and it probably won't change your life.  It will though, help you understand a world that many people are still afraid of.  If you would like to know what it is like to be someone with a disability or physical deformity, how different life is for the entire family, and for siblings like me, read this book.  It will grant you a very rare glimpse and give you a small fraction of an idea of the world that other people live in.
If you do read it, let me know what you think.  I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Always,
Rita

Preparing to Let Go

As with many new transitions in life, everybody loves to discuss the good, but nobody is willing to mention the bad.  This is true for when you turn 18 and can start driving, when you turn 21 and can start drinking, and when you move away from home for the first time to attend college.  It is also true of the life I have chosen to live for the unknown future: being an expat.  One aspect I was never aware of, that no one mentioned and I didn't have the foresight to read about, was how hard and often I would have to say goodbye to those I have come to love and cherish.  I never knew that every few months, there would be someone new to let go.  A person I had only really begun to know, but that had become part of my social network, support structure, and dear friend.
While talking with a friend a long time ago, we were discussing this very topic.  They shared a magazine article they had read while on a flight somewhere that analyzed the differences between friendships back home and friendships overseas.  In a home country, on average, you have an indefinite amount of years (theoretically) to get to know someone, and develop a friendship.  You can take years to become close and get to know someone.  (With this, I believe many people are hesitant to push the friendship too fast, in fear of appearing needy.)  In comparison, generally the opposite is true for expatriates.  I know for me, I have found friendships develop at a much different pace entirely.  We know that there is a clock hanging above our heads with a count down that will start at some point.  Though it is not always known when, every person is aware of its existence.  Therefore, when we meet a person who we connect with, enjoy their company, and have fun with, we are not shy about contacting them right away to hang out every single weekend, or propose the idea of having a weekly dinner for example.  Within only two or three months, for those that I have genuinely hit it off with, I find that they become one of my best friends here fast.  It takes months, instead of years, to develop a close bond where we share everything, and we allow them to view us at our worst and weakest points.
Now granted, this is simply from my point of view, and it is one coming from an introverted and very shy women.  I have always been slow to trust and open up to others, so my perspective will be different from some of my friends who hit things off much faster than I do.  But, for me, the speed at which things work in Korea, as compared to the United States, is one I find truly shocking and a wonderful difference.
With this though, comes the aspect that I discussed earlier, of saying goodbye.  It is always hard to let go, though for me it seems to become more difficult the older I get.  Possibly the main reason is that with the friends I have developed here, they are people who have shared an experience with me that only other expatriates will understand.  Sometimes they are even from other countries (such as my friend S, who is from South Africa), which adds to the difficulty of letting go.  I never know when I will see them again, and that fear reduces me to small, curled up bundle crying my eyes out the night they leave.  Time eases the pain, and technology reduces the hardship of staying close.  I email, facebook, kakao, skype, google +, and tango with everyone I love as often as I realistically can, and stubbornly refuse to let the friendship wither away.  More often than not, if the other person cares as much as I, the time differences and physical space do little to diminish what we shared.  It is not the same though, and never will be till we are laughing and sharing together in person again.
Tomorrow I will depart for Incheon International Airport, sitting side-by-side with one of the best friends I have made during my time here.  He is one of three people that I meet within the first month of moving here who still remained (for those of you who are counting, I've been here 2 years and 4 months now).  We met randomly, purely by chance, with fate obviously working hard to ensure that we stopped and talked that day.  I am the last person he will see, and I feel beyond blessed and loved that he wants it that way.  When I have to walk back on that train, look up, and see in the glass that I am alone this time, it will be beyond hard for me.  It won't be the end, and it is never goodbye forever . . . but the pain, the unknown forever separating me from a person who I love, care for, and have shared so much with, reminds me how real, true, and deep the connection is.
I may not know when life will bring me together with every friend I have made here as an expat, but I know I will see them again someday.

Hello.
Goodbye.
Welcome to the expat life.

Always,
Rita