Heart, Mind, & Seoul: 100 Days

After 3 months of officially living in Korea, a day that was commemorated by a bungee jump, I can actually say that I've built the foundation of a life here. Things are more familiar, I have daily/weekly routines, I can navigate the subways without a map, I get suggest areas for sightseeing/shopping/eating.

As busy as I am--I work monday through friday with korean class for 2 hours on monday, wednesday and every other friday--I also feel like my life is settling down, which is nice. It's nice because it means I'm not this frantic visitor who is trying to cram everything down into an itinerary. It means I have begun growing roots to this place. It means I've taken the steps in calling this place, this city, my home.

And yet.

It's strange because I also feel that as my life settles down, and to a certain extent, slows down, I find myself wanting to speed things back up again. What more can I do, I ask myself. What new adventure can I tackle this weekend? What else can I experience to make myself feel that newness--that fresh excitement--that I once felt when I first came to this amazing country? The more I settle in, the more I feel like I want to pull myself out of that comfortableness--to remind myself, perhaps, not to take this time for granted, and to make the most of everyday.

Because I can feel myself grow, well, not exactly lazy, but maybe just accustomed. I feel like I need to be more proactive about things. I used to plan out my weekends in advance, writing lists of places to go, things to see. These days I don't really plan for anything, and it doesn't bother me. There's still a lot I want to see and do, so I wonder why it is that I'm not being more proactive. Where is the art class I wanted to take? What about getting that conversation partner? The hiking trips? The cooking lessons?

Why am I content with idle days when there's so much out there!

So I've decided to become more proactive. This is a must. Because while it's nice to have roots here in Seoul, I can't also let time here slip by where I don't do anything/go anywhere.

Also, I think this will also help me as I go through this supposed second phase of living/teaching in korea. I think the "honeymoon" phase--where everything is shiny and new and amazing and mind-blowing and special and korea can do no wrong--is just about over. The next phase is characterized with the thought that Korea can only do wrong, and intense longing for home. Things have lost their luster, and you spiral into this homesick depression. Or so I've been told. I've spoken to some NETs (native english teachers) who have never experienced it and have been here for months/years.

The last thing I want to talk about for today is the fact that while being a foreigner in Korea can have its struggles, it also has its rewards. And the tight-knit, supportive group of foreigners--living in korea, not merely visiting--is one of them. I can't begin to explain how wonderful it is to have this network of people, how incredibly comforting it is to have people going through the same experience as you. We walk our individual paths, but we walk along with each other. And because it is so amazing, when its time to say goodbye, it's also amazingly sad.

That's the other thing about living in Korea, or I suppose, any other country. You're always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's great to have friends here, but the downside is that we're all so temporary. Our lives here are temporary and fleeting. It's like we live in this dream world where we play and exist only in the bounds where nothing is permanent or real. The reality, then, comes when we must part.

And it's horrible.

When someone talks about going home/leaving/not renewing their contract, we're immediately forced to acknowledge our own impermanence, our own temporary condition. It's like we're shadows living among the living, and we hate to think of just how shadowy we actually are.

And it applies to everything. Can I justify this purchase of a smart phone/couch/desk/chair, etc., knowing full well that I may not have that much time left? That one day I'll have to leave it/them behind? Is it worth it to buy? To make friendships? To invest emotional energy?

Because one day, someday soon, someday far, we'll stop being shadowy dreams and go back to our real lives in our real hometowns with our real jobs.

And Korea, this time, this experience---this will be the thing that will feel like a dream.

It's odd, knowing that I've been here for 3 months already. Time is flying by so fast. 3 months is 1/4th of my contract. I want to take hold of time, make it count, and commit it all to memory.