9-28, 29

The sounds of cars whizzing pass in a unending waterfall of mechanized movement. The neon lights glowing, like Vegas everywhere, but written out in an alien language, with strange shapes, images and locations. People. Communities. History. A homogenous society of industry and production - where ancient hierarchies and traditions find a place among a young and globalized generation. Welcome to Korea (or at least my first impression of it).

Day 3 of my life here in Daejeon is just now coming to an end. I feel like right now, in this moment, I have finally obtained enough peace and clarity with my mind and soul to write a semi-coherent blog post.

On Friday, I landed in Incheon International Airport, just outside of Seoul around 5:30 pm Korea time. The 13-hour flight from San Francisco was mostly uneventful. As I drifted in an out of a restless sleep, I slowly began to realize just how far away from my home and comfort zone this plane would be taking me.

A long 4-hour bus ride later, through holiday traffic, I soon found myself sitting with my two bags of luggage in the middle of the Daejeon bus terminal. As I held my luggage close, I began to look around at the bustling, crowded and completely foreign-to-me scene taking place around me. It was at the moment when Joseph, my main contact person for my school, tapped me on the shoulder asking me, "Brett Johnson?"

I said yes, and followed the man into his Hyundai SUV, one of what I would guess to be about 500,000 in this city of 1.5 million. Hyundais, Kias, and Daewoos. Tons of them. Everywhere. I had really never seen traffic like this before. After a hectic and speedy drive through the city of Daejeon, Joseph quickly dropped me off at my current apartment, informing me that this would be just a temporary location. It was a Friday night, and Joseph said he would see me on Tuesday for my first day of work. I stepped inside, closed the door, and took a big sigh of fatigue and shock.

It was at that precise moment when the wave hit me. What. Did. I. Just. Sign. Up. To. Do. Homesickness is not an easy thing to describe. I'm sure it's different for anyone who goes through it, but I can't imagine anyone ever describing it as a pleasant experience. As I stepped further into my temporary Korean apartment, a wave of numbness began to cascade down my body. I took a gulp, and another one, and another one. Panic struck me like a bolt of lightning. I was completely alone, in an a completely unfamiliar city, and in a completely unfamiliar culture.

Culture shock, homesickness, jet-lag or whatever you want to call it, is a painfully holistic experience. It is a disease of the mind, soul, and body. It is an illness that cripples and paralyzes. It is a close cousin of regret and contempt. It is the antagonist of proactivity. It is a cancerous sore of the heart, and once it spreads to the mind, it only grows and grows. What can I say? The first two days in Korea were two of the most challenging days I've gone through in a long time. Then came Sunday.