In 2014, I went to South Korea for a six-month exchange program, bringing with me much uncertainty and anxiety. I didn't speak a word of Korean, and for many of my friends back home, South Korea only conjured images of sporting events. Because of this, I faced a lot of skepticism. Four years have passed, and looking back, I've always felt that despite the many setbacks I faced in South Korea, those were the days when I truly understood my own limits.
When I arrived that first week, I had to take a bus alone to a campus 40 minutes away to find a Chinese-speaking Korean teacher to help me with scholarship paperwork. At that time, I only knew basic Korean pronunciation, so I relied on pre-written Korean directions, was pushed onto the bus by a Korean person, and spent the entire ride comparing station names on signs, before I finally arrived successfully.
Because I knew my shortcomings, whether after class or on weekends, I spent almost all my time at cafes memorizing vocabulary and studying grammar, learning everyday Korean phrases in the most elementary way possible.
Of course, I didn't waste any opportunities either. I traveled alone by bus to national parks to photograph autumn leaves, and with friends I hiked for four hours in -2 degree weather.
Over these four years, I've always felt that my time in South Korea was my freest, richest, and most abundant period so far. Whenever I think back on those days, my eyes still well up. For a while, I kept wondering whether I loved South Korea or loved this kind of freedom. Eventually, I came to understand that what I loved wasn't South Korea itself — what I loved was challenging my own limits, freely planning my own schedule, and those days when no one could stop me from doing what I wanted. I temporarily set aside all my worries, freely spent time with myself, lived freely, and didn't have to care about others' opinions.
Whether you study abroad or work abroad, it's only by stepping outside your comfort zone that you discover how capable you truly are. When you don't know the way and ask for directions in broken Korean, even struggling to express yourself while Korean people can't understand you, but eventually your abilities improve to the point where a beauty shop employee in Korea asks with confusion, "Wait, aren't you Korean?" — that kind of affirmation of your own performance brings incomparable joy and happiness. Because I know that my efforts bring proportional rewards. No matter how hard or exhausting it gets, my spirit is incredibly fulfilled.
Over these four years, I have never again experienced this kind of "true spiritual freedom and happiness." Many people say I can never go back, and indeed, I feel I can never go back. But I think everyone works so hard precisely to experience this kind of life — spiritually fulfilled, free time. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much effort is required, if we endure this painful period, then after being thoroughly battered by life, work, and money, we might finally see clear skies ahead.
This is why stepping outside your comfort zone is so important. If you don't leave, you have no opportunity to hone yourself. If you don't leave, you have no opportunity to grow. If you don't leave, you can only maintain the status quo, forever remaining the person you most want to escape from.
Below is a reflection I wrote three years ago, and I'd like to share it with everyone.
This is what I wrote when I first arrived in Busan:
"This is the runway of a plane departing from Busan, and it might also be the starting point of someone's dreams. The arc of the plane's descent traces a new chapter in my life.
I never imagined I could actually study abroad for six months. It's not a Western or English-speaking country that everyone admires, nor is it Japan that most people aspire to visit. It's even a country that some Taiwanese people get angry about when it's mentioned (or they simply don't mention it at all).
Before departure, I faced all kinds of doubts and confusion. But actually, I want to say that I never cared about these, and they weren't important to me. Because no matter where you are or what language you speak, as long as you do what you love and what you want to do, even if you must face countless difficulties and endure various hardships, it feels worthwhile and fulfilling, and it's a form of growth. It's just about whether you're willing to let go of others' opinions and pursue your dreams.
Let go of yourself, walk into unfamiliar places, step outside your comfort zone, and forge your own path in life. Though I don't know where I got the courage to venture alone into a country where I couldn't speak the language, I had many friends supporting, believing in, and encouraging me along the way. I met so many new friends here. Though only a week has passed, I believe this will be a very enriching life journey.
And so, stumbling along the way, I gathered many lessons and came back from South Korea.
For more details, please refer to: http://blog.yam.com/ierne05032/category/4849880
Emotional transformation is very important, so I want to share this with everyone.
Exchange student life seems colorful and fun — you can play constantly and seemingly don't have to worry about assignments. But beneath that cheerful surface, there are many difficulties to face: the hesitation and anxiety when preparing to apply for an exchange program, not knowing if the decision was right or wrong, uncertain whether there would be real gains, doubting whether delaying graduation was worth it.
After successfully applying, I was overjoyed and could barely imagine that I was actually going abroad. But facing the unknown journey before departure, complex emotions surfaced. Even packing each item into my suitcase felt like an act of anxiety.
When I arrived in South Korea, at first because of the language barrier, I could only eat at fast food restaurants, pointing at pictures to order. Combined with all-Korean instruction, I struggled to keep up with the classes at first. During language classes, I often had to ask my neighbor what the teacher was saying. After class, when I reviewed the material, I often couldn't remember vocabulary or got grammar wrong. I felt really discouraged then, thinking I was putting in so much effort without any return, and I wanted to leave quickly.
Fortunately, I made many friends from Taiwan and had a wonderful roommate. We studied Korean together, went out together, and gradually got more accustomed to Korean life. After two months of exchange, as brilliant fireworks burst across the sky, I felt the urge to stay in South Korea.
After that, my Korean improved somewhat. I could travel on my own, shop on my own, and frequently encountered Korean people starting conversations. When shopping, Korean people would often compliment my Korean. Gradually, I became more confident in my Korean ability and wanted to learn more, which motivated me to actively study Korean beyond what was in the textbooks. Usually, I supplemented my learning through Korean dramas and Korean songs, as these contain more colloquial expressions. Of course, from this I also came to understand how powerful the Korean entertainment industry is.
From resistance and frustration to actively learning about Korean culture in the later period — this was a clear change in me. Before going abroad, I barely knew about Korean celebrities or had only watched a few popular Korean dramas. Now I can introduce others to which Korean entertainment companies are famous and the situations of their artists. But the biggest surprise for me was being able to understand Korean dramas without subtitles. Though I don't understand everything, being able to feel my own progress was truly moving.
As it approached time to return to Taiwan, the thought that emerged was actually "Do I really have to go back to Taiwan?" Everything felt like a dream. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back, but it was absolutely clear that I had to. The feeling was somewhat helpless, but parting was truly unavoidable, and it was quite an ordeal.
The friends I made in South Korea included people from Taiwan, China, Vietnam, and Korea. I also had a very good relationship with my teachers. When I thought about parting, not knowing when (or if) I'd see them again, my eyes couldn't help but well up. But learning to say goodbye is also an important process. When you're wrapping up everything for the last time, you make extra effort to remember. The last time eating together, the last time going out, the last time singing karaoke — these all become special memories. Especially when they say "we must meet again," you feel a bit uncertain and doubtful in your heart, but you sincerely hope you will. These emotions can't be truly understood until you're in the moment.
After returning to Taiwan, I deeply felt that going abroad is like Mario jumping into a green warp pipe, collecting plenty of coins, and returning to the game fully rewarded to face more levels. Except we're not facing a game but life itself, and there are no retries. No matter how many challenges life presents, we still have to come back and face them. Exchange is only a small part of life, but the exchange experience gave me countless insights and helped me grow and mature. If you have the chance to study abroad, you must seize it well.
Be clear about why you want to go abroad. No matter which country you go to, once you're abroad you must make the most of it and not give up easily. There will definitely be setbacks, but as long as you endure those setbacks, you'll become stronger.
Ending with a photo of my beloved Busan seaside.
