That's the life

I've spent the last week or so making both mental and physical preparations for two changes: I moved apartments (again), and both James and Cherita left to go home this weekend.

I suppose it's the nature of people who move to a foreign country to be a bit transient, but it makes it doubly hard when you've made a strong connection with someone who leaves to the opposite side of the world. The ex-pat community is very tight here, both in Uijeongbu and around the country. It's difficult to make the transition into a completely different culture, and having a network of like-minded people makes it both bearable, and enjoyable.

I never truly understood why there were places like Chinatown, or other equally concentrated areas of immigrants living near each other. I always felt that if you were going to live in another country, you should be making every possible effort to learn about the culture and not only immerse yourself in it, but become a part of it (without losing your own heritage of course). I always thought that areas like this made it harder for foreigners to become acclimated to their new home. I now completely understand why these communities exist. Though you may have made a vow to become as enlightened and immersed as possible in your new culture, you will never really be an integral part of it. You will cling to your heritage and your culture, as much as you yearn to understand your new one. This can only be done successfully if you have a support system of people from your native country who not only hold the same general beliefs (and accents) that you do, but at the same time are open enough to want to experience as much of the new culture as they can.

So when the biggest part of my support system left me halfway though my contract, I feel like a large chunk of me has left with them. Though I have made several other friends here (two of which I'm going to Japan with. Wohoo!), the daily contact and closeness acheived with a coworker won't be easily replaced.

That having been said - I love my new apartment! It has a couch!!

Culture Shock, or the lack thereof

I had been warned by a few people that I would experience culture shock. According to wikipedia (not the source of all information, but still it's faster than most sites), culture shock consists of three phases:

shock (moving to a foreign country) often consists of distinct phases, though not everyone passes through these phases and not everyone is in the new culture long enough to pass through all three[3]:

The "Honeymoon Phase" - During this period the differences between the old and new culture are seen in a romantic light, wonderful and new. For example, in moving to a new country, an individual might love the new foods, the pace of the life, the people's habits, the buildings and so on.

The "Negotiation Phase" - After a few days, weeks, or months, minor differences between the old and new culture are resolved. One may long for food the way it is prepared in one's native country, may find the pace of life too fast or slow, may find the people's habits annoying, etc.

The "Everything is OK" phase - Again, after a few days, weeks, or months, one grows accustomed to the new culture's differences and develops routines. By this point, one no longer reacts to the new culture positively or negatively, because it no longer feels like a new culture. One becomes concerned with basic living again, as one was in their original culture.

Reverse Culture Shock - Returning to one's home culture after growing accustomed to a new one can produce the same effects as described above.

Last night I had a dream, where I was homesick. I couldn't get over the fact that I couldn't get frozen waffles, or read a menu in a restaurant. I missed being able to see my family, and trying on shoes my size, instead of 3 sizes too small. I missed the unconscious act of reading every single sign I passed by, instead of seeing symbols that I can barely pronounce, let alone read. I missed knowing that at a moments notice, I could hop in my car and drive to see my parents, or sisters, or friends for a special occasion, including the arrival of a new member into the family. I was crying hysterically, and flew back home immediately, just to hug my family. And then I woke up. It took me a minute to realize that I wasn't actually homesick. Yes, I feel frustrated at times that I can't read anything, and I can't shop for shoes within the country. Yes of course I miss my family and friends. I miss the independence of having a car.

But I don't miss the insurance bills, or the gas money. I've discovered the new independence of the public transportation system. I may not be able to tell where all the buses are going, but I know which ones to take to get me to the places I want to go. And at this point, that's all I need. And soon I will take the first bus that comes along and ride it as far as possible, just to see where it goes. The same with the metro. I don't miss feeling like I'm dragging myself out of bed in the morning to go to work, now I feel like I get to sleep in every day. The language is logical, and the grammar is simple. I'm excited to be learning a new and exotic language again, even though my mind constantly slips back into French when I try to speak it, mostly because it's the only foreign language I've ever known. I feel like I'm a student again, something I've missed for the past three years. I'm learning about a new culture, through total immersion. Yes, I am a foreigner here (they call it mee-gook). I'm reminded of it every day with the stares I get from people, and the lack of complete comfort in my surroundings.

But for some reason, I know that everything will be just fine. When I first arrived in Uijeongbu, I got off at the wrong bus stop. I didn't know a single word of Korean, despite my studying, and no one really spoke English. I didn't have any way to contact anyone here, aside from the fact that I'd never met anyone whose name I knew. I hadn't even written down the phone numbers of my contacts. But I still managed to get home and get settled. Without crying.

I think that first experience helped me to realize, once and for all, that no matter where I am, or what I'm doing, I can take care of myself. I can get to where I need or want to go, and I don't need anyone to help me do it.  Even in a foreign country. And now I want to continue to test my limits. See what I'm really capable of. I've become settled here within a month. I know I went through the 'honeymoon phase', because everything still fascinates me. Just because I can live my life on my own doesn't mean that I'm lonely, or want to spend the rest of it living by myself. But for now, I'm content with being independent, and exploring the new world that's been shown to me.