Revelations

My first few days back home were disorienting. I was wondering if I would experience a kind of reverse culture shock, like I did when I came back from studying abroad in France 6 years ago, and I definitely did.

I’m actually amazed by how acclimated to Korea I’ve become in just one year. Things that were normal to me for 25 years seemed strange and foreign, at least for the first few days.

I felt giddy when I got off the plane at Chicago O’Hare, being on U.S. soil for the first time in a year, and when I got to the counter at immigration, my first inclination was to give a slight bow and say “Annyang Haseyo,” the polite, friendly greeting that is custom here in Korea. When it dawned on me that I didn’t have to do that, I smiled and uttered a cheerful “Hi!” instead. The guy checking my passport didn’t even respond; he gave me my stamp and shooed me on my way. At that moment I was like, oh yeah… people here aren’t all polite and formal all the time. No one is going to bow to me!

Bowing is something I’ve come to appreciate about Korean culture. When I get to school in the morning, many of my coworkers and students give a slight bow when saying hello, and to the adults, I give a slight bow back. It’s a nice form of acknowledgement, and it’s definitely something I will miss when I leave this country.

Another thing I noticed right away was a case of beverages for sale at the airport. Not only was the selection dizzying compared to Korea, but the bottles of Pepsi, Mountain Dew, etc. were at least twice as big as they are in Korea. Everything seemed big; the people, the airport, the open SPACE between buildings. My friend Matt and I were on the same flight from Seoul, and while waiting for our flight to Minneapolis, we were laughing and joking about how Korean we’ve become. Like when I got up to buy a Diet Coke, and I automatically placed my right hand on my left arm when handing over the money, another customary sign of respect in Korea. Actually, I couldn’t shake that habit the whole time I was home. We were so absorbed in such observations that we missed the boarding call for our connecting flight, but luckily we were able to jump on a flight that left an hour later.

But perhaps the most disorientating moment was visiting the shampoo aisle in Target a few days later. Two giant aisles chocked full of every sort of hair product you could imagine. I just stood there like an idiot for few minutes trying to compose myself; I didn’t know where to begin. In Korea, the shampoo aisle is a fraction of the size, with only a few brands of products to choose from. It makes the decision process a lot simpler. The same thing happened in Express; I hadn’t been surrounded by that many pairs of jeans that would fit me, in that many styles and colors, in a year, and I was overwhelmed. The array of choice we have in the United States is mind-boggling after a year in the Far East.

Another revelation occurred when my mom asked me what kind of food I wanted while I was home, since she was going grocery shopping. I thought about it for a moment, and the two things I really wanted were nangmyeon and Indian food, two things I eat regularly in Seoul. Two things I had never really eaten before I moved here. I realized that America, or Minnesota anyway, hadn’t changed at all. Everything was exactly the same as when I left, but that I had changed. My tastes have changed, my lifestyle, my way of thinking, etc. I guess I should have expected that, but it really hit me those first few days at home; how much I've experienced and grown and changed in the past year.

Lately I’ve been fantasizing about volunteering in India or Africa or Rio de Janeiro after my current contract. I subscribe to a few teach/study abroad e-mail newsletters, and I spend a little too much time at work entertaining the possibilities of my next step. It’s strange, because I used to panic about not knowing what lie ahead, but now it’s kind of exciting not knowing where on the planet I will be next spring.

I think going home gave me a renewed sense that Minnesota will always be there. I can always go back home and figure life out from there. But I won’t always be able to be nomadic like this, and I feel like I need to milk it while I can.

Loyal readers of my blog (Love you, Nat!) may notice that this is a running theme in my posts, and maybe I'm being a little bit redundant. But when all my friends back home are getting engaged, buying houses and dogs and doing other grown up things, it's hard to not feel like maybe I'm being crazy, and maybe it's time to follow suit. Deep down I know I'm not ready for that, but it helps to be reminded occasionally that there is no rush to "settle down."