there are very few days between now and when i'll take the bus to the airport to fly home. there is only one more monday after today, playing with the kids and crossing language barriers. there are very few days left of kimchi, hot soups in the summer, humidity that makes my hair absolutely wild, being called a foreigner, and trips on the train to seoul. this is the end. the end of my time living in korea. the end of my time climbing these lush mountains and smelling the salty seas. the end of traipsing through rice paddies that are wonderfully green. the end of having misunderstandings and miscommunications every day. the end of being the only blondish brown in school. the end of this little apartment with my treadmill and pink bathroom and no counter space. the end of teaching english to my little nuggets. the end of quite an adventure.
there are many things i'll miss. many i won't. but this place has been so good to me. so good for me. this place has stretched and smoothed and roughed up and changed me. i've gotten stronger and bolder and wilder. i've grown into myself, i think. i've been forced to be alone, a lot. i've been forced to be uncomfortable, to feel unsteady, to stay connected, to turn to nature. i've climbed a lot of things, seen far and wide, tasted everything under the moon (and some i will never ever taste again). i've tried silkworm larva and tentacles and sea creatures. i've enjoyed radish and kimchi and seaweed soups.
but i'm ready for a change, and i've been ready for a few months now. but these months of readiness have been good, too. they've helped me detach and part ways with things. i'm not being ripped from this place, i'm slowly digging out each root carefully and painstakingly. i started saying goodbye a long time again. probably around the end of february, when the last semester was starting and everything was changing. when i started trying frisbee, and running races, and making more effort to go places. i'm mostly packed now, a lot of my things are in my suitcase. my walls that were once full of quotes and pictures and tapestries are now bare (as bare as korean wallpaper can be). there isn't much left to fit into the small spaces that remain.
the next month: soon, i'll move home, just to move away again. this time to minnesota to start school again. for a while, i was worried about repatriation and reading every article i could get my hands on. i was worried about coming back changed and finding things hadn't (or had) changed as well. i was worried about not being able to relate, and people not trying to relate to me (or not being able to). i was worried that i'd be overwhelmed by it all. and i was, when i went home in june. i was eavesdropping on everyone, and i couldn't choose a tomato soup from the many, many options in meijer. i was overwhelmed by people understanding me, but not understanding my experiences. not knowing what i'd seen, or what i'd eaten. so i'm throwing myself into a new thing: public health school. in a new city, in a new state. i think it'll be good for me to not stop moving, because if i stop or slow down too much, i think i'll worry, and stress, and overthink things. the transition wouldn't be smooth.
moving to: the bike paths of mpls, the lakes around my apartment, the brewery down the street, the outdoor concerts, the fresh air, the hours of studying, finding nooks and crannies that feel comfortable, exploring something unknown again, to ride public transportation and commute on green paths, see old friends and make new. and welcome people into my new place.
