The Surprising Three-Letter Lesson I Learned About Culture Shock

Since moving to Korea in August, I’ve learned that absolutely nothing comes from sitting around and waiting for life to happen to you. Zilch. Rather, you’ll grow complacent, lazy, and stagnant. I know, because this happened to me.

When I arrived in South Korea, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I was in store for a jarring surprise. Simply put, I was not ready.

That’s not to say I hadn’t checked all the literal and figurative boxes — packing list, vaccinations, teaching job secured, etc. Rather, I was not prepared for the dramatic adjustment period I was about to undergo.

 

While moving from South Carolina to San Francisco after college had taught me how to navigate change, that was a junior varsity move when compared with relocating to Asia.

From the language and culture to my new teaching job in a country where I knew nobody, my life had been flipped upside down. 

At first, I struggled to navigate this time of constant turmoil. Admittedly, I spent a lot of time in bed. I also listened to far too many fantasy football podcasts (although it did bring me my first championship).

Distraction was my drug. 

Anything to avoid dealing with the stress and complications of adjusting to my life in Korea. Living in an unfamiliar town with no family or friends nearby, I found myself in a month-long rut.

 

All it took was a simple, three-letter word to dig me out of it.

Try.

 

Once I started trying, things took a positive turn for me. Stuck in my routine of being overwhelmed and doing nothing about it, I chose to make a conscience effort moving forward.

Those attempts at progress centered around three things: my remote location, my non-existent social life, and my inability to communicate with those around me. 

Three months later, I’m reaping the benefits of my resolution.

I tried to explore my town.

 

Frankly, I live in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town is a few miles away and certainly not within walking distance. While my school is located directly across the street from me, that’s about it. When in my post-move funk, I felt confined by my secluded locale. Without an accessible grocery store, I ate ramen noodles four nights in a row during my first week alone.

 

I had no eggs for breakfast, and my cafeteria lunch made up the majority of my weekly diet. I was down seven pounds and was not doing well, physically or mentally.

Desperate for real food and suitable transportation, this trend continued until I started trying.

 

After following up on a Facebook ad, I was able to contact a U.S. soldier stationed nearby who was looking to sell his moped. $400 for a way to get to the freakin’ grocery store?! Done deal.

 

With the moped, whom I’ve since named Strawberry, I gained access not only to meals with nutritional value, but also to a town full of restaurants, shops, and character. Additionally, it boasts a train station that I was previously unaware of — who knew?

 

The result — a world of opportunity just a hop and a scoot away.

Nowadays, the grocery store clerks greet me by name. 

Not only that, I know exactly when the next train should be coming. And most importantly, I no longer feel trapped in my apartment, my body falling apart from sodium consumption.

 

No — I’m actually eating a little too well and having a little too much fun zipping around on Strawberry. Moreover, I know the route into town like the back of my hand.

 

Having the freedom to explore has changed the game, and all it took was a conscious effort. And, admittedly, about half of my flight reimbursement check. Worth every penny. Try.

I tried to make friends.

 

During the week, I found myself bored of the routine: Go to school, teach English, come home, peruse the ‘gram, repeat. Without realizing it, I was desperate for human interaction.

 

Anything to get me out of the trap that my head had become.

 

None of the other teachers at my school speak conversational English. Plus, there is nobody my age living on my quiet, little street. Even if there was, where would I meet them? Outside of two convenience stores, there is no feasible location where I would bump into a local and magically befriend them.

During this time, most of my conversation was directed at Alexa — my Amazon speaker.

“Nobody lives near me.”

 

“Nobody speaks English.”

 

“There’s nothing to do here.”

 

These were the excuses I used to justify my lazy, detached lifestyle. It’s crazy how much of an impact trying had on turning these excuses into minor obstacles.

Last week, I made my first Korean friend since moving here. I met him on a language exchange app that I downloaded in an effort to connect with locals nearby. We had a blast shooting the breeze and getting to know one another over a beer. On top of that, we sang “Hello” by Adele at the top of our lungs in a noraebang (Karaoke room) after a meal of chicken and soju.

 

If that wasn’t enough, we’re also meeting up this week. Our night out was just the first time I’ve met up with a local my age, but it has quickly become one of my favorite memories since moving here. That one encounter already has me beaming at the prospect of meeting more individuals like Dohan.

 

Imagine if I had never downloaded that app. The impact of trying.

I tried to learn Korean.

Easily the biggest challenge I’ve faced since my arrival, the language barrier is huge. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to be so massive. Partially due to my rural placement but also a consequence of not living in, well, America, it’s safe to say English isn’t getting the job done here.

 

No kidding.

While I should have expected this challenge in the months leading up to my move, I did not properly prepare for it. And by “properly prepare”, I mean “did not learn a lick of Korean.”

 

Why? Basically, because I didn’t feel like it.

 

A completely different alphabet with new sounds and difficult words intimidated me. “I’ll figure it out when I get there,” I told myself.

 

Well, I got there. And I still wasn’t learning any Korean.

There I remained, in my rut, bewildered as to why I felt so lonely.

Ninety days later, and I’m taking one Korean lesson each week. Every day, I have the opportunity to practice what I learned with everyone from my students to my friends at the grocery store. They love it — they’ll even teach me some slang I may not have picked up during my lesson.

Talk about immersion. 

Consequently, I’ve gone from being intimidated by the sound of Korean to enjoying every little interaction where I’m able to practice it.

 

And that’s a start.

 

Momentum builds in your favor once you make the active decision to try.

I didn’t have to do much.

 

I located a scooter. I downloaded an app. I found Korean lessons on the internet.

 

But the results of that tiny bit of effort have been enormous. Since trying, I am enjoying my life abroad far more than when I chose to sit on the sidelines and make excuses.

By putting myself out there and trying, I’ve

found that life rewards me for my efforts, and then some. 

You. Have. To. Try.

 

Nothing will magically come to you without effort on your end. It’s that simple. Whether it’s finding a way to get to the grocery store or simply making the effort to learn Hangul, progress is a two-way street. As cliché as it may be, you get out what you put in.

If you throw flour in the oven, you’re not gonna get a cake after 30 minutes at 350 degrees. 

Similarly, you cannot expect to better yourself without putting in the work. The best part is, it doesn’t take much.

 

Just three letters.

Try.