“Congratulations! You have been accepted!” The screen blinked back at me, as I tried to process the words floating on the monitor. Korea University. Not only a prestigious institute (I mean, SKY, come on!) but also over 8.5k kilometers away from home. Despite growing up in a changing environment, with my father being in the U.S military, and all, moving across the world alone was still a big deal. Something that required some convincing to the parents of 4 children, whose youngest had just graduated high school at 17 years old. Though, I wasn’t even sure if I was quite convinced myself. Never having lived away from family before, moving to a new continent seemed a bit extreme. I’d only ever spoken Korean to the nice restaurant owners the town over, with 2 years of TalkToMeinKorean lessons under my belt. How was this going to work out?

Despite my fears, in my excited frenzy, I still decided to post on Twitter, celebrating with the couple hundred strangers I’d become acquainted with within my time on the app. That moment seemed to be what solidified everything for me. A tiny decision that really changed my life. Searching in the app “Korea University”, I came across other posts similar to mine, of newly accepted students. Innocent comments on each others’ posts turned into a small group chat, which, in the span of a couple of weeks had over three dozen freshmen chatting daily. “When is everyone arriving in Korea?” “What dorm room are you in?” “We should totally meet up as a group sometime!” So many plans were made, and we were all excited to start our new lives as ‘20.5-year KU students; Courtyard picnics; Noraebang festivities; KoYonJeon spirit; Ipsilenti memories. Even just the thought of walking the campus streets, trying to make it to class in time, while still catching up with a friend you ran into on the way. There was so much waiting for us just one plane ride away!

Yet reality had a bit of a different plan. Though we were all vaguely reminded of COVID-19 in the back of our minds, the excitement overshadowed any sensible thought about our upcoming situation. Landing in Incheon was a shock; a wake-up call almost. While I’d watched, re-watched, and analyzed a fair share of “Flying to Korea in a pandemic” videos, that still didn’t compare to the reality of standing in line at immigration, mask on for about 15 hours at that point, about to board a bus heading to a COVID Testing Center. Hand sanitizer bottles almost outnumbered living bodies, in the scarily vacant airport. And, mind you, half of those bodies could be described more easily as blue plastic blobs, in their safety hazmat suits. Getting my first emergency alert notification was also a shocking encounter. “If you’ve been in XX area, please get tested immediately, as someone has been confirmed positive for Corona.” To say these alerts didn’t make me at least a little paranoid would be a lie. Not only that but trying to survive 14 days of quarantine without going crazy, or forgetting to log my temperature twice a day… the joke of “what if I get deported?” started to feel a bit more threatening. This new expectation of my time in Korea was a stark contrast to my excitement before, and it scared me a lot. But, to be honest, it was probably just my quarantine craze exaggerating everything, plus the additional this is my first time in a foreign country alone fright.

Now, over a year later, and a lot a bit wiser, I can say this new reality is far more similar to my initial hopes and dreams of moving here. Of course, the COVID obstacle still stands, which limits us a bit, but at the end of the day, I have absolutely no regrets about following through with my big move. In fact, I think it’s the best decision I could have made. The friends I’ve made and the memories we share are priceless. While Korea may be very different from what I imagined, I still managed to fall in love with the city, and I’m happy to be here.

About the Author

Desiree is from Germany, and she is a sophomore at Korea University who majors in English Language and Literature.