Summer 2021: Saying Goodbye to Korea
one last trip to gyeongbuk-gung
Another edition of my monthly series, Monthly Updates, in which I update about my little life in South Korea.
Which is now, I should say, is now done. As this is being posted, I am boarding my flight back to the US (for a brief three weeks before Spain).
This post will cover the past three months—I kept trying to post updates, but I’ve been so busy. As you can imagine. Turns out, moving your life across the world—twice over—is not so simple.
This summer was...in a word? So-damn-busy. Luckily, the dreaded summer rains lasted only a week or two. I traveled a lot which ate up my wallet: Seoul thrice over, Busan, Gunsan, Gyeongju, the DMZ, bam bam bam.
For Pride…I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even have time for art. Okay, that’s not true, I did make some Mass Effect fanart and we all know how gay Mass Effect is, right?
Well, in the name of Pride, I did:
Watch my friend get dragged in Itaewon by gay bartenders and patrons alike because she didn’t know the difference between a martini and a tequila sunrise (yes, she deserved it).
Get a new tattoo this month, and after, a bartender said to me, “Girl you got a naked man on your arm!…I love it.”
Get a discount from the very pretty (and maybe queer???) piercer at Charms. Also I got a daith piercing which hurt like a mf.
Most of my outings were before cases really skyrocketed this past month in July. Now we’re at 2k cases per day, and at Level 4. This means we couldn’t have more than 2 non-family people together after 6pm, and no groups of larger than 4 before 6pm. We made it work, but it chafed knowing we couldn’t have any big, long goodbye dinners.
But at least there’s goodbye brunch.
To compensate for bleeding cash, in June I sold my body to Chungnam National University Hospital. Okay, I know how that sounds. One morning my coteacher asked if I’d sign up for a clinical trial. The vice principal’s brother was a doctor and he was looking for foreign participants. They offered…a lot of money. So I did it!
It was a weird experience. Mostly boring.
We (two English teachers and a few KAIST students) passed the time by playing cards. The nurses drew lots of blood after we took the trial medicine. I had zero side effects from the drug, HOWEVER I couldn’t drink caffeine for three days nor take painkillers, and of course I had the worst headache of my life. I’ll spare you the details of how sick that made me. Anyway, I survived and made a D&D-loving friend out of it.
Speaking of health-related matters, I GOT THE VACCINE!!!
I got my first dose of Pfizer on July 28th, the first day available to teachers. I had no major symptoms besides muscle aches and relief that I’d finally gotten it.
The second dose was then pushed back—Korea had run out of vaccines. I asked my doctor if they could make an exception since I was leaving. With a lot of effort on his part and luck on mine, it worked! I’m extremely grateful. Because I’ll only be home for three weeks, this will let me see my family (including grandmas and the new babies) without fear.
The students learned I was leaving on a day I was not prepared to tell them.
Saying goodbye brought on three majors emotions:
Regret. I hate that I’m leaving in the middle of the school year. They seem so shocked. I should’ve told them earlier. I wish I could see the 6th graders graduate. I wish we had had more time together, but COVID stole it.
Insecurity. Do they even care? Will they miss me? Did I make an impact?
Gratitude. I can see how much they love me. I know how much I love them. I am so grateful and proud of my time here.
They asked me so many times when I’d come back and I said no, you don’t understand. You’ll get a new English teacher. It was a total shock, I think. I’ve been here three years, and for some, I’m the only English teacher they’ve ever known. My coteacher said she can’t imagine English without me. I feel for the new teacher, but at the same time, I have some insecurity the kids will forget about me.
But then, I look at my pile of letters. I got dozens and dozens of letters from my students, covered in adorable drawings and heartfelt, scraggly words. So many of them reminded me: I love you Ariel teacher. We won’t forget you. Don’t forget us either!
So, it’s been painful for me. Devastating. Goodbyes are always bittersweet, but I’m not sure how to stomach these many, many goodbyes.
It hit me around the end of June. I could feel the strings of my everyday pulling apart, the mood shifting, time slipping away from me. I already began to mourn the friendships that have become the bedrock of my adult life—they won’t end, I know that, but they are changing. I’m both thrilled with the change—no stagnation, no fears of complacency—but terrified of it.
Well…we all knew this day was coming.
I spent the last month selling literally everything in my apartment. I donated over half of my closet, much of which I still genuinely loved but just could not find a way to take with me. Because of COVID, the boats were closed, meaning I couldn’t send any packages home.
I stuffed everything into two large suitcases and one small. I wrapped my gaming pc in styrofoam and bubble wrap, and I prayed to the computer gods it’ll be safe. (It’s going in the carry-on, don’t you worry.)
I did nearly everything I wanted to do in Korea. If this were a video game, I’ve cleared the map.
The entire summer had been nothing but Lasts and Goodbyes. And then suddenly it was my last day. I said goodbye to every teacher in the school with pastries.
My coteacher brought egg tarts, because I had been sad I’d miss the egg tarts the lunch ladies were serving the next day—my favorite dessert.
I tried holding it together, I really did. I broke down saying goodbye to my first class.
And leaving? Ah. I sobbed the entire way home.
Leaving my apartment was no easier.
This place didn’t impress me on first view, but it became my home, my safe space, my little art enclave, and my own food lab. I spent many Saturdays curled up playing video games. In this little room, I watched 58 episodes of Critical Role. I danced and did my make-up and even got broken up with once here (lol). Hard to believe I’ll never see it again.
As I left, my landlady gave me the most beautiful pen set. She said “I’m so blessed to know you. You met my son and now I feel like you’re my daughter.” That surprised me—how strongly she felt—and also, I guess I’m married now?
On August 25th, a generous friend drove us to Incheon. I sat in the back with my friend’s cat, holding the suitcases at bay so they wouldn’t squash us both.
I said goodbye to Abbie. Then the next day I said goodbye to Dom.
And then I had one more day left—one I spent in Seoul, wandering Itaewon and Hongdae, trying to tether myself to that scared young woman who came here in 2018.
I asked Dom what she’ll miss most about Korea. Her answer was “routine.”
That’s my answer, too. I am so excited for what’s next, but I know it will be a long time before I can truly rest again.
That’s all for now, friends. Thank you for being on this journey with me, whether you’re my grandma or you found this blog last week.
I made a reflection video, in which I reflect more on my entire three years in Korea—why I came, what I learned, and why I’m leaving. I hope you enjoy.
See for the next monthly update—in the US and Spain!