Upon graduating I knew I wanted to live abroad. After considering a few options, I decided to get my Teaching English as a Foreign Language certification to teach English overseas. In the end, I chose a position in Busan, South Korea. After five months here, I still find myself needing to pause and digest: “I live in Korea.” I remain thankful for those moments because they remind me of two important things: 1) I am incredibly grateful to have the opportunity to be here, and 2) I am an outsider.

The first is easy enough to understand. Anyone who has been abroad has probably felt the same. I can’t think of anything more challenging and rewarding than opening oneself to a new culture, new ideas and new surroundings.

The second is more complicated. Since coming to Korea I have had moments of alienation, anxiety and frustration. I’m studying Korean, but it’s a slow process. People seem glad I’m trying, but trying doesn’t mean communicating. At first, I was relieved to be able to get by thanks to the many English signs here, but it didn’t take long for me to start feeling uncomfortable with how easy it is for expatriates to manage without learning Korean. I am an outsider, but I can be conscious of that and make an effort to adapt rather than waiting for Korea, or the world, to adapt to my language, my culture and my comfort zones.

Part of adapting to life here has been finding something that feels familiar — like the owner of the coffee shop around the corner who knows my order — but more important are the changes I’ve made. Before coming here, I’d never eaten meat because I was raised vegetarian. To demonstrate my commitment to life in another culture, I decided to push my boundaries and change my diet.

On Christmas, while wandering through the fish market, my friends and I were presented with the chance to try sannakji – a small octopus, either freshly cut or swallowed whole. Since I’d impulsively tried beondeggi (silk worm larvae) the night before, I figured it was a weekend for spontaneity. So, I grabbed chopsticks, picked up a freshly chopped, bite-sized tentacle, threw it in my mouth, chewed and swallowed. Immediately I felt like a new person. I never imagined I’d step so far outside my comfort zone, but on Christmas, more than 10,000 kilometers from my family and their Tofurkey dinner, I knew I had to live in the moment and do something I certainly wouldn’t be doing anywhere else.

In addition to trying new foods, I am learning to play the kayageum, a 12-stringed instrument. One of my personal reasons for coming here was to study traditional Korean music. In the beginning, my teacher spoke very little English and I spoke no Korean. In four months, we have both improved our language skills. Still, music transcends the usual communicative boundaries, and it’s been great to have a place to form a connection that doesn’t require spoken language.  

Beyond eating octopus, playing a new instrument and learning a new language, I’ve also had time to reflect on what I’m doing here as an English teacher, to really appreciate how privileged I am to be living and working in a different country and to let myself feel comfortable with calling this home, even as I am aware that my presence is incongruous with many of my surroundings. I wish I spoke more Korean and could show that I’m not just here to make money and leave. However, I also wish I attracted fewer stares, I wish I could fit into Korean clothes, and I wish vegetarian food didn’t often come with ham. While those things remain obstacles to adapting smoothly at times, there are pros and cons to living anywhere. Korea has helped me to slow down and appreciate my daily life more and to pay more attention to living in the present, with all of the daily ups and downs.

Kendra Sundal ’09  is teaching English at the Chungdahm Institute in Busan, South Korea. E-mail her at kmsundal@gmail.com.