I seem to be in a regular state of confusion about whether or not this is actually my life.
Some days come and go with little to nothing of interest to note. Wake up. Eat. Go to school. Teach. Eat. Brush teeth. Teach. Go home. Eat. Sleep. Rinse. Repeat.
Kimchi on my lunch tray, hangul on my computer screen, stickers on my notebook, mychews in my drawer... Yep. I'm definitely in Korea.
But am I in a foreign country anymore?
The food has become familiar, the streets and bus routes recognizable... The cultural quirks and formerly bizarre practices all seem so normal and second nature for the most part. Routine sets in, and it is like I've lived here forever.
What's more, I can often walk down the street or sit in a coffee shop without anyone looking at me like I'm different. For once, I look like everyone else, and no one tries to recruit me to join the ethnic diversity club.
Sometimes people can tell--especially if I try to speak Korean. But it's becoming less and less obvious. Last week, a woman complimented me in Korean on my excellent English pronunciation. I thanked her with a smile. I get a lot of practice where I'm from...
The dichotomy of my life as a hyphenated American, particularly in this new home away from home, has quickly come to fascinate me in a way before unrealized. I've been called "Korean" my whole life, having worn the face of a Korean person since, well, infancy. But only a couple of years ago did I start to learn the language, and only a few months ago did I begin really trying to understand the culture.
For twenty-three years, I've looked the part. I wonder if this is what it's like to actually feel it.
8 years ago
