My experience traveling to Korea was long, intense, and made me want to turn right around and go home. Normally, the travel process wouldn't be so bad, but I decided to move to Korea during the Covid pandemic. In addition to the normal stress of moving to a new country, I had to take special quarantine buses and trains to reach my apartment in Ulsan to begin my two week quarantine. My experience traveling to Korea might have been insane, but I made it in one piece and don't regret going at all.
My first flight was a five hour flight from Orlando to LAX with an hour layover before a thirteen hour flight to Incheon Airport. In hindsight, LAX was a terrible choice, but because I booked my flight very last minute I didn't have a lot of options. LAX is massive, and the trek from the domestic to the international section was long and incredibly confusing. I found other travelers who were also lost, and we worked together to navigate the airport. Luckily, I made it to my gate in about a half hour, giving me plenty of time to spare until boarding.
I flew with Asiana, and because of Covid they only seated one person per row, so I had three seats to myself. Those seats were filled between my neck-pillow, blanket, backpack, and purse. Not to mention the carryon suitcase I had stowed away. Right when I got on the plane, I filled out paperwork declaring what I brought into the country. Then I ate dinner and passed out for a good seven or eight hours, sprawled out along the seats. I was awake for the last several hours of the flight watching movies and wishing I could sleep several hours more. The second meal was served at 1:00 AM Korea time, and our plane landed at 4:00 AM. My excitement to be in Korea was dulled by dreams of a soft bed.
Next was customs where I filled out quarantine registration papers, took a photo, and handed in my declaration form. I just followed through the line, only half-awake. Once I finished, I knew I had to find the quarantine train to Ulsan but was lost and wandering like a lost child. Finally a worker asked something along the lines of "bus or train?" in broken English. I said "train!" and was pointed over to a seating area with a dozen other people. Time passed slowly. I sat staring at my phone for what felt like ages. I wondered if I was actually in the right place. With the Papago app, I translated all of the signs around me and more or less figured this was where I was supposed to be. Later on I realized the buses and trains probably weren't running at four in the morning.
I think we got on the bus around 6:00 AM. I hadn't factored in that I would have to take a bus ride to Seoul Station to get on my train, which was about an hour drive. By this point, I was starving, but there wasn't anywhere to stop and eat. We were isolated to the quarantine sections every step of the way.
Other than my hunger, the worst part was how much luggage I had. I had brought two overweight suitcases, plus my carryon suitcase, backpack, and miscellaneous carryon items. I wasn't prepared for the amount of dragging, lifting, and maneuvering I had to face. Bumps in the stations for blind people were impossible to wheel my suitcases over. I lifted them one by one, falling behind my designated group. Instead of elevators we took multiple escalators. Maneuvering them was tricky, and my suitcase went tumbling down around the third flight down. The man leading our group was moving so quickly that I could barely keep up. Everyone was side-eyeing me, the foreigner with way too much shit.
Finally we were waiting at the train station. I got my ticket for Ulsan and waited another half-hour or so before the train arrived. My bottle was empty, but it felt like fountains just didn't exist. The bathroom sink had to be good enough for me. The one vending machine taunted me with snacks and cold drink, but no matter how much I wanted it to, it just wouldn't work. One man was kind enough to try and help me, but it was no use. I was doomed to starve.
Getting on the train was a struggle. I couldn't lift my bags more than a few inches off the ground. Thankfully kind souls exist. A few men put my bags into place on the rack while I settled in to relax for the roughly three hour train ride from Seoul to Ulsan. At this point, my stomach was an empty pit and my head was pounding. But I was almost there. One more stop, or so I thought.
At this point I started contacting my manager, who thought I could take a taxi once I got to Ulsan. She didn't realize the full quarantine process meant no outside contact and therefore no taxis. The school I was going to teach at was a brand new branch of a growing company, and I was the first teacher to arrive. The process was new for everyone. As we got closer, I kept Kakao Maps open on my phone and kept checking the signs to make sure I didn't miss my stop. I spent so much time worrying about finding the right stop that I wasn't worried about the most important part: actually getting off of the train.
I stood up as the train was slowing down and immediately panicked: my luggage was on the highest rack. I started pulling and pulling and I couldn't get it to budge. The train stopped, and I was sweating. Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me. At the last minute, someone ran from the back and flung my suitcases off the rack and into my arms on the platform.
Without a chance to catch my breath, I immediately had to start running to catch up with yet another group with yet another angry leader that was leaving me in the dust. The man was shouting at me, "빨리, 빨리!" which was one of the few words I knew. "Quickly, quickly!" Hurry up you stupid, slow foreigner with way too much luggage!
More escalators. More yelling. More bumps for blind people. More wishing I had packed light. Anxiety and exhaustion took over. and I just started sobbing while trying to had it. I followed the group to a tent where I had the joy of my first Covid test, saw we were all waiting for something, and stumbled to the bathroom to try to get my shit together. One of the nurses was really sweet and kept checking on me, and I eventually went back out to sit with the group, no longer outright sobbing but still teary-eyed. By this point it had to be at least ten or eleven in the morning. Hours had gone by of moving and sitting and waiting and following orders, all the while having no idea what was actually going on.
Then we were moving again. And once again we were brought to a bus. Everyone loaded their luggage one by one, but I had no strength and this time no one helped me. The angry leader with a stick up his ass just stared at me and yelled, "빨리, 빨리!"while I struggled. Eventually, somewhere in my body I found the strength to heave my bags onto the bus and do the walk of shame to an empty seat.
I was sobbing again, and now I was more confused than ever. I texted my manager, "I don't know what's happening. I'm on a bus."
"You're on a bus?"
...
"Can you call me and hand the phone to someone?"
...
I couldn't respond right away. My focus was straight out the window, on a point that wasn't moving. Nausea overtook me, but I refused to throw up. My mind was empty, only repeating the words you're okay, you're okay, you're almost there.
I sent a quick reply about trying not to vomit and focused my breathing. Looking around, I realized from context clues that they were calling names at each stop and dropping them off. Every time we stopped, I listened for my name and then went back to my mantra. You're okay, you're okay, you're almost there.
The bus stopped. My name was called. All of a sudden I was dragging my suitcases off the bus and it zoomed away. Rain sprinkled onto my face. I'm in the road. Get out of the road! Between me and the sidewalk was a row of mud. The light turned green. This was a busy road. A massive road. I dragged my suitcases one by one through the mud, dropping my blanket and my bottle. Everything I owned was caked in mud. And I had no idea where I was.
I was on the corner of what looked like a major road in a downtown area. The area was bustling, even in this weather. I was looking for a road sign, a building name, anything, but all I could do in that moment was stand there and catch my breath.
Then, once again, I was saved my a kind Korean man. A young guy came up to me and covered me with his umbrella, offering me his spare one in English. In my desperate need for help and kindness, I handed this stranger my phone to call my manager and give her my exact location. I thanked him, he left, and I never saw him again. I can't even remember what he looked like. But he saved me in that moment.
In just a few minutes, a woman came darting around the corner. She took one look at me and hugged me. "Are you okay? I was so worried!" She brought me around the corner, her and her husband helping to bring my bags into an apartment and up a few flights of stairs. When she opened the door, I almost cried with joy.
I had done plenty of research before moving to Korea. It may not seem like it based on how unprepared I was for my quarantine trip, but I had watched countless videos of moving guides and studio apartment tours. This apartment, my apartment, was a studio but was bigger than I expected. The kitchen was separated by a little sliding door, and inside was a spacious room with a big window, an extra room for laundry, and a comparatively large bathroom. There was no furniture, just a large box with a mattress that I would roll out as soon as I was alone. But it was mine.
This was my first time living alone, my first time having a space that wasn't shared with my family or roommates. After a long day of travel, I wasn't in a hotel room or in a dorm or a plane. The day was over, and I was home.
My manager said she would get me food and asked what I wanted, but at that point I couldn't think straight. "Anything. Something simple." She came back with a burger, fries, and a soda from Lotteria, a fast food chain in Korea. While I scarfed down my food using my mattress box as a table, she went shopping for groceries and supplies for my apartment. An hour or so later I opened my door to bags of chicken, veggies, frying pans, and cleaning supplies. She had gotten everything I asked and more as she thought of all the things I would need in my new, empty space. With that, I took a shower and finally laid on my new bed, ready to start my two week quarantine.
I was so lucky to have my manager. My story could have ended so many different ways. I was half way across the world, exhausted, in a country I had only read about with a language I didn't speak. I have heard horror stories of people coming to Korea and finding no support, no help from their managers or co-teachers to get settled. I was mentally prepared to take care of myself. But I am so lucky that I didn't have to. She was there for me, and I really needed her.
I am still friends with all of the staff and my coworkers from that school. We spent many nights eating Korean BBQ, drinking soju, and singing karaoke. We all banded together and helped each other through opening a new branch of a fairly new school, and we helped each other when that company ultimately screwed all of us over. Despite how much I thought I had made a mistake on that first day, I wouldn't trade my time in Korea for the world. It brought such incredible people into my life, gave me my first taste of personal freedom, and opened my eyes to an entirely new way of living. Korea isn't perfect, and my experience wasn't perfect, but it quickly became a place I felt I was meant to be.
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