Seoul, South Korea

Seoul, South Korea

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Sunday, April 20, 2014

Ferry Sewol



Recently, I was sitting at my desk here in Junggye while working.  Scrolling through facebook in my free time, I saw a news post from a friend about a ferry that had sunk.  I clicked and started reading.  Little did I know, this article would lead to a huge emotional sweep in my foreign home, and within me. 
For those not aware, on Wednesday, April 16th, a ferry carrying over 476 students and teachers was making it’s way to Jeju Island in the south of Korea.  There were kids from a high school in the south of Seoul, kids the same age as the ones I had taught my first year here.  Only 174 students and teachers were rescued, with 248 students still missing.  These are kids, 16, 17, 18 years old, with their entire lives ahead of them.
Some believe they may still be alive, as the captain coldly told them to stay.  Stay, in a sinking ship, in their cabins, and they listened.  These kids, young innocent children, messaged family members, while the ship sank, saying “We are okay.  We are staying in our cabins like the captain said.  Don’t worry.”  No one knows if they are still alive, but they could be, possibly.
The next day, six of my advanced students walked into my TOEFL class.  They sat down and said “Teacher, we are mad.”  When I asked them why, they proceeded to go into the topic of the ferry sinking.  Sensing that this anger was genuine, I allowed my kids to just talk to me.  They told me about the kids, how they were abandoned, how angry they felt about what the captain had done, how slow the rescuers were moving, the frustration over the loss of life for kids so young.  This is one of the largest losses of life in Korea since the Korean War (or 6/25 as they call it here), and it has rocked their small worlds.  My kids are only in 5th grade, their English of the same level as kids in America, and they had never experienced this before.  I realized that this was similar as 9/11 was for me, them not understanding how such a loss of life could occur, especially for those who are innocent and young, the same as them.  They were searching for a way to understand, a way to grasp how such an atrocity could occur, for it was beyond their capacity of understanding being still so young. 
While talking with my kids, I realized that I felt pulled by this too.  Not just in a human, compassionate sort of way.  More in the sense of genuine anger at the captain, true sadness and worry for the children who may or may not still be alive and trapped inside that ferry and frustration over the entire incident.  My heart honestly feels heartbroken over this event, and talking with my kids made me realize this.  (Even now, while writing this, I find myself tearing up.)  It struck me as odd, as I didn’t expect it to happen.  Granted, I have lived in South Korea for 3 years almost now- but it is still a bit unexpected that I am able to feel so close and connected to students and people here, feel like one of them, desiring to yell at officials who move to slow, to pray for the students and want nothing more than to swim out to that ferry myself and try to save the innocent students.  I feel like a member of Korean society, rocked by this event, too.  Having grown up in America, I never realized or even knew that this could happen.  When the Boston Marathon Bombing occurred, I felt distant from it.  Not to say I didn’t care, because I did.  Yet there was a space, gap, between me and my friends in the States who were saddened.  I didn’t feel the true impact of what happened, it didn’t sink in and hurt me as deeply.  I’m not sure why.  Yet here, now, these kids, these innocent young students, I feel drawn to them. 
Today, and over these next few weeks as they continue to recover the bodies and attempt to raise the ferry up from the water, I stand with my students and other Koreans.  I light a candle for the poor souls who perished unnecessarily.  I say a prayer for those who may remain living, trapped in a watery coffin.  I stand vigil with everyone here, hoping beyond hope, praying to God, that somehow, someway, they can find and rescue anyone still alive.  Bring a miracle to the families so unnecessarily ripped apart, answers to parents and siblings missing loved ones, grant peace to teachers and friends who lost individuals that they love.  I know for a fact, if I had had a single student on that ship, I would be scared, worried, and saddened beyond belief. 
So I ask you now, on Easter Day when all Christians are supposed to be rejoicing in Christ arisen from the dead, that you say a prayer for those who are lost to the world, buried beneath the harsh waves of the cold ocean water.  Pray that they too, can be risen up and granted a second life too. 
Rita

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

A drop in the ocean

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time.  I know everyone does, so I guess this makes me no different from others.  I don't want to relive everything, just some of it.  Bits and pieces.  You know?  Those perfect moments, forever etched into my mind.
I guess this is where the catch 22 comes into play- we only know a moment is perfect after the fact really. Very rarely do we know the true depth of what a single moment will mean while it is occurring.
Last year was very hard for me.  I was broken up with, rather suddenly and coldly to be honest, said goodbye to a best friend who left Korea, struggled with finances through graduate school, was living below the poverty line really for a while, said goodbye to another friend, and then found out I was lied to by someone I trusted.  It was a long year, and I'm only now beginning to regain my strength.
It wasn't all bad, don't get me wrong.  I completed an entire year of graduate school, paying for it by myself the whole way.  That gave me a huge sense of accomplishment that nothing can take away.  I began volunteering with some pretty awesome kids out in Ilsan, who I have come to love dearly.  At some point I also was able to visit home for my Dad's birthday.  It was the greatest gift I could have given him, and it gave me a chance to get away from everything in Korea.  One of my two "perfect" moments during the year 2013 were from that trip.  I'd like to share one with you now.
I flew out on a Saturday evening.  Living on the east coast of the US makes traveling back to the States a long and arduous trip.  My flight departed somewhere around 5:30pm, with an expected finality in my neck of Florida around 10:30pm after a short layover in San Fran.  My layover was delayed multiple times, until finally it was changed entirely.  Before my trip, I had been working double time in grad school to finish before my trip, to make sure I would have no work while home.  The exhaustion, mental and physical, was starting to get to me, I was fighting a cold, and felt irritated that I had made it half way back home only to wind up stuck in Cali.  Don't get me wrong, I love Cali, but it sure as heck ain't home.  Landing at 2 o'clock in the morning on Sunday, I felt tired from my travels, exhausted from school, and emotionally over-stimulated at seeing my Dad after a year away.
After so long of trying to stand tall on my own, I ran straight into my fathers arms, hugging him for the better part of a minute, letting the crowd flow around us like rushing water in a river.
That same day, I joined my family for church before attempting to enjoy lunch at a Mexican place.  After leaving, I met up with my oldest friend who I have known for 13 years or so now, A, and her boyfriend, A. We walked, talked, and just enjoyed each other's company.  I told her everything in complete trust, and she me.  As our time drew near, I said goodbye outside of Steak and Shake where we had been.
Turning away from saying goodbye, I prepared to say hello again to another dear friend.  Waiting, standing just as eagerly, nervously and anxiously as I felt, was my friend A.  A and I met at a swing dance exchange in South Carolina, and though I noticed him for his seriousness, he noticed me for my smiling.  After leaving for South Korea, he reached out to me.  Our friendship grew into a strong bond that still exists today.  He doesn't speak much, which works great, since I don't always know what to say and just need someone to be company with.  A goes with the flow, likes to be a bit crazy, and couldn't care less what people think.  Mostly, I am usually the opposite or more toned down. Yet somehow, our friendship balances out.  When we hugged, it felt amazing.  Being reunited with my best friend, feeling him wrap his arms around me in comfort, knowing that all of my fears and doubts that he, unlike so many other friends back home, had in fact never forgotten about me for one second, equated to a huge weight being lifted from my shoulders.  In fact, he missed me just as much as I missed him.  We walked to his car, he asked where I wanted to go, and I told him, "I don't care where I go, or what I do, I just want to spend time with you in person."  So off we went, me not knowing our final destination, him playing some music in the background, leaving everything behind as we drove down the road.
I slipped my shoes off, curled up for the beautiful ride through wild Florida everglades, and bounced between staring out the window and poking fun at him to make him smile.  About 45 min later, we pull into a parking spot, both of us slipping our shoes off, and walk towards the beach.  He lays a blanket down for us while I roll my pants up.  I walk out to the ocean edge, close my eyes, and breath in the open air.  When I open them, I see the expanse of blue before me, feel the sand below my feet, watch the storm clouds play lightening across the sky on the horizon, and turn to my left.  There, right by my side, is my best friend A. In that moment, I felt infinite, perfect, whole, accepted, loved, and calm.  I hadn't felt that way since my boyfriend broke up with me and my whole world came crashing down.  It brought me such peace to experience that after so long. Having him there, not needing to speak, knowing that someone sees me, cares, and will stand by my side while I take as long as I need to breath, brought me such comfort.
I'm not sure why I feel like talking about these things, and I'm not sure where I am going with this.  As my coworker has helped me to learn, sometimes we need to talk just to be heard.  So here I am, being heard by whoever reads this.
This next year will present more struggles for me.  I have started the third of four semesters for graduate school, will be leaving Korea (and with it, my family of friends I have come to love and cherish dearly), moving to China, and starting my next adventure.
Saying more hello's.
Whispering and hugging more goodbye's.
2013 was the hardest year of my personal life.  I've been through many hard years with my family due to medical issues relating to my brother, but for me personally, that was my worst.  Though this year will be equally difficult in some regards, I know that if I survived last year, I can get through this one too.
"Do not turn away, through cowardice, from despair.  Go through, pass beyond . . .  on the other side of the tunnel, you will find light again." ~Andrew Gide
Sometimes bad things have to happen to us, and we need to live through the difficult moments that life presents us, but it doesn't mean that that is all life holds either.  The bad moments can build up, weigh us down, at times feeling like it's trying to pull us under the tide.  What makes it even more difficult is that, for each bad moment, we need seven good ones just to balance it.  Balance- not outweigh it.  Pretty scary when you think about it.
I have found though, that sometimes, a single good moment can be powerful enough to take away from the bad.  One moment may be small, and appear incapable of great things; but often it is the unsuspecting and quiet moments that can yield the greatest strength.
That moment was merely a drop in the ocean, but honestly I know, it was the drop I needed that kept me sane, happy, whole, and from wanting to give up.
What moments have been the saving drop for you?
Always,
Rita

Friday, April 11, 2014

How I came to have itchy feet

Ever since I was little, I watched my father travel all over the world. He visited countries like China, Indonesia, Germany, England, and so many more.  By the time high school rolled around, I had a pinboard in my room full of photos from places I hoped to visit to some day, was reading travel magazines frequently, and watched way too many travel shows. Even more, I was selecting only universities that offered study abroad programs.  (though this later never became a reality, as we didn't have the money for me to afford it)  At the age of 18, I went on my first international trip to Spain and Morocco.  Sorry to say for my folks, I caught what is commonly called the travel bug, and I caught it bad.  My feet discovered what it meant to wander the roads of new countries, meet new people, try new foods.  And the desire to feel that again hasn't left since the fateful day I stepped foot in Madrid, Spain.

For many folks, traveling is something they do for fun, as a vacation, to get away for a few days.  For me, it is in my blood, in my bones, and feels as essential as breathing air.

After graduating college, I couldn't find work.  One year of life trapped at home with my parents was enough to drive me up the wall and back again.  I vowed to not live another day so dependent upon them, and more importantly, without work.  On facebook, I was friends with a girl who was finishing a two year run in South Korea as an English teacher.  I wasn't dating anyone, had no job prospects, and had always wanted to live abroad.  Basically, it boiled down to: why not, what have I got to lose?
Off I went, taking the plunge into the scariest pool I've ever encountered, and moved my life half way around the world.  It only took four months for me to try my hand at traveling by myself, and once I did- I was done.  I couldn't get enough after that.  All I wanted to do every month was go somewhere, and I took every excuse to do so.

Five day break?  Search where the cheapest plane tickets are to.
Three day weekend?  Let's go to another city in Korea.
Two week vacation in July?  Time to plan a big trip somewhere.

Setting foot in another country is the most exhilarating and refreshing feeling I have ever encountered.  A smile enters my face that doesn't leave during the entire trip, and will last for days, or even weeks, after.  A bounce appears in my step where none was before.
It feels as if pure happiness has been pumped into my veins, and without it, I begin to shrivel and die.
Traveling has become a life force, and the best anti-depression drug a psychiatrist never thought to prescribe.

I have been unable to travel beyond three minor trips for the past two years.  Mostly due to financial reasons, but also graduate school obligations have gotten in the way.  In my heart and soul, I can feel the boredom, sadness, and unhappiness that comes with being stagnant for so long.  All I long to do is walk through Incheon International Airport again, fly away to any country really, and get lost for a week or two.
My father is an extremely loving man, and has regularly told me all my life to do what makes me happy.
Well . . .
Traveling makes me happy.

  • It keeps my depression at bay.
  • Grants peace when sorrow overwhelms me.
  • Fills me with wonder and a feeling of oneness with the world.
  • Bestows hope when I feel downtrodden.
  • Shows that I am capable of so much more than I knew.
  • Grants perspective into my true strength lying within.
  • Allows chances to meet people from around the world.
  • Teaches me more about other cultures and societies than any book ever could.
  • Opens avenues to connect and learn from those who have so much to share.
  • Fuels my soul and refills my spirit when I am running low on hope.

It is one of the most important things I need in life to feel true happiness.
And I never want to give it up.

Next spring I hope to go on my first international trip in nearly three years.  I want to go backpacking across China, through Nepal, down into India, and then end in Thailand.  My feet are aching to get going, my heart is eager to feel the exhilaration, and thrill of venturing to somewhere unexplored, my mind longs for the exposure of a new society, and my soul is ready to discover different lands.  The fear, rush, excitement, nervousness, and joy of going to places I've never been are emotions and sensations I am ready to feel again. 
Curiosity has always been in my nature, and as time has worn on, that curiosity has shifted to exploring this world that we live in. 
For many, traveling is a chance to relax.
For me, and some others I've encountered during my life, it is a chance to feel alive again.

Love,
Your Wandering Swing Dancer,
Rita