Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Leaving Home (Again)

In exactly one month, Nissa and I will be moving out of Seoul. I can already feel my mind shifting into a different mode -- worrying about what lies ahead, thinking about everything I'll miss about this country, calculating all the different things we need to take care of before leaving. It's a strange feeling. I still surprise myself when I tell people I've been living here for more than two years. In some ways it really has felt that long. In other ways I wonder where all the days went.

I put together a photo album this week of our time here and it's really amazing to look back and see all the things we've done and the places we've been to -- especially when it's summarized in a breezy 50 some-odd pages. So much has happened since we quit our jobs and moved here that I never, EVER expected or could have anticipated. I hosted a radio show for three months. I met and interviewed Mayor Daley right before he retired. I lived out one of my dreams to do international correspondence and got stories on American radio. I taught English to a bunch of children and adults (and surprisingly, liked it a little). I saw more of Korea than my parents ever did, and then some.

That is not to say all of this was a glee-filled joy-ride. I have complained. A lot. So much that Nissa has painstakingly created a life-size wax figure of herself for me to file grievances with (I have to admit, it listens well). Whether it's about work or editors or feeling stuck in a country where I don't totally belong, there have been plenty of moments when I wished I was anywhere but here. I've gotten extremely homesick at times, missed my family and friends terribly, wanted nothing more than an Arby's Super Roast Beef sandwich -- but as you may know: there are no Arby's in South Korea (which is also the title of my upcoming travelogue). There have been times when, out of frustration and spite, I completely retreated into my own shell, wanting nothing to do with the world around me and rejecting whatever it may have had to offer, good or bad. Not exactly the best mentality to have while living in a new country.

But even in my darkest moments, when everything seemed to be going wrong, I never once regretted going on this journey. There have been times when I wanted to leave, sure, but never once did I wish I hadn't left. There have just been too many great things that have happened to me in the past two years. I am thankful for every one of them.

I think the frustration comes more from the fact that in order to live this way, I've had to make sacrifices. You always hear that phrase in different contexts, "make sacrifices", but it's such a difficult thing to quantify. It's like that old cliche of the boss telling his employees they're all going to have to make sacrifices during a tough financial period. No one ever knows what that really means until there aren't any donuts in the break room on Friday morning (true story). I think when we first left Chicago, I was like a naive employee working in a bad economy. I figured we would occasionally run out of printer paper and maybe the light bulbs wouldn't get changed as quickly as usual. I could handle that. No big deal.

I had no idea how much I would really have to give up in order to move here. My friends are having kids, getting married, and going on adventures of their own; my brother's dating a girl I've never met and becoming a doctor; my parents... well, they got a new laptop (I just wish I had been home to troubleshoot). It kills me to miss all these things. I'm sure it's a lot better than it was during medieval times, when moving halfway around the world basically meant never seeing or hearing from your friends and family again (also, potentially dying of scurvy along the way). Now there are phones, e-mail, Skype -- tons of different ways to stay connected. And that's great. But I do sometimes wish teleportation was possible. It'd be nice to sit down and have a beer with an old friend every now and again. (That reminds me. Dear Stephen Hawking...)

Of course, the same will be true when we leave Seoul. There are people and things I know I'll miss. I've grown especially close to my cousins over the last two years, to the point where it's weird to think about how poorly I knew them before moving here. There are a handful of good friends that I feel completely at home with, despite how briefly I've known them. My taste buds have grown accustomed to certain flavor biases -- namely spicy and salty. I can't imagine life without the subway. But just like before, I probably have no idea of how I'll really feel until I've left.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: traveling can be amazing. It does everything people say it does. It changes the way you look at the world and how you look at yourself. It broadens your perspective and tests your limits. It introduces you to a world that you never knew before, filled with possibilities and unexpected gifts.

At its best, it shows you what you're really made of and, sometimes, what you aren't.

3 comments:

  1. Lovely, Mike. Good luck, and I look forward to your next chapter!

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  2. Good post.

    PS, the new "true story" is "cool story, bro" or "realtalk."

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  3. We miss you and will be glad to see you both for a few weeks before the next adventure!

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