“Are You Ready?” — A Bajan in Korea
Because I’m too jetlagged to give proper context, let’s jump right in, shall we? (I’m gonna make a vlog about this trip soon, worry not.) Also, I wrote this on the 13-hour flight from Toronto to Seoul, half a flight before I decided I don’t ever want to see the inside of a plane again unless I absolutely have to. Take this enthusiasm with a grain of salt.
I’m currently somewhere in the very cold air over Western Canada, making my way to South Korea to start a year of Korean language school ahead of a two-year graduate degree I’m getting to pursue as one of the two Barbadian recipients of this year’s edition of the Global Korea Scholarship. It’s cold, but this flight’s been remarkably more comfortable than the ZR experience from Barbados to Toronto. The food’s good, the plane’s more than half-empty, there’s much more legroom, and even a free blanket and pillow! And after spending an overnight layover stuck in an icy cold airport terminal with nowhere to sleep and shower, I’m grateful for the chance to catch a few minutes of shut-eye over the last eight hours of the flight to Seoul. I’ve got AKMU’s latest album in my ears and I’m finally getting a chance to process the last 36 hours. Hence whatever you’re reading now.
If there’s one question I’ve been hearing over and over in the last week or so counting down to this trip, it’s “are you ready?” or some similar variation. I’ve given everyone the same answer, something my dear friend Carrie told me one night two weeks before I left Barbados: “yuh doan eva be truly ready, but yuh does get on that plane and yuh does go.” She’s right.
There’s not exactly any foolproof way to be prepared to stuff your life into two suitcases, fly halfway around the world to a place whose language you barely know, let alone on your own (well, I have a study buddy, but wunna know wuh I mean). Now I’m actually in the process of doing exactly that, I sort of want to slap the seventeen-year old version of myself that thought I was even remotely ready for any kind of long-term overseas move without my friends and family. Girl, you had absolutely no idea what you were talking about. Count your blessings that you had sense and waited another four years. As my mother always says, nothing comes before its time, and what is for you, you will get.
There’s not exactly any foolproof way to be prepared to stuff your life into two suitcases, fly halfway around the world to a place whose language you barely know, let alone on your own.
Am I ready? Kinda. My mum basically made sure my carry-ons could function as a miniature supermarket, pharmacy, office and closet all at once — and I’m not even getting started on the big stuff. In the most practical, tangible sense of the word, yes, I guess you could say I’m ready.
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Emotionally and mentally though? Das uh whole different kettle uh fish. The last month or so has been one of the roughest in my life. It’s been a bit of a mess up there in the old noggin. I’ve found myself having to detach from “sentimental” clothing items. I’ve also spent an entire night crying about not feeling qualified enough to be doing what I’m doing, even though the logical part of me knows better. Imposter syndrome keeps rearing its ugly head every now and then, and Lord knows I’m driving it right back to the pit of hell where it came from. Being confronted by the consequences of taking what is easily the biggest risk I’ve ever taken in my life, even though it technically turned out well, has been much more harrowing than I imagined it would be. Throw in the fact that the last few months have been extremely difficult for me as I still to wrap my head around my aunt’s passing, realizing some ugly truths about some of my “friendships” and struggling to define myself outside of the roles I’ve had to relinquish or resign from, and it’s just been a lot.
Being confronted by the consequences of taking what is easily the biggest risk I’ve ever taken in my life, even though it technically turned out well, has been much more harrowing than I imagined it would be.
The last half a year has been a serious test of my faith, resilience and identity. I asked God for two things at the beginning of this year — to teach me to be more disciplined, and to give me the courage to take risks. I guess I forgot to add on the “not like this” clause, because in the last few days, I’ve found myself questioning just what on earth I’m about to do with my life. But better God planning than me, cause He wud gaw know. I know I don’t. I’m hoping I get a little more insight as the days go by. Till then, I’m trusting that this is all happening for a reason, and all working out for my good.
I’m eight hours (and a domestic flight) away from starting something new. From taking a whole new set of risks, making harder decisions, and learning how to trust myself enough to make them. The anxiety’s normal. It’s not the crippling fear I experienced a week or so ago, and behind the obvious uncertainty and two rather frazzling airport experiences so far, there’s a hint of excitement rising up in my chest, a spark I’m increasingly willing to flame. I’m going to study something I’m passionate about in a country I’ve wanted to visit (and now get to live in) since I first got into the music and culture four years ago. I’m getting to learn a language I find fun and interesting to learn in an immersive environment, and I’m getting to do what I do best — learn and explore multiple perspectives on just about everything.
I carry with me the hopes and expectations of a family (biological and found) that calls me brave for doing this. I represent a tiny island that’s always defied the odds and punched above her weight, and I take that responsibility seriously. I’m setting a new course, and hopefully a good example. And in the midst of it all, I’m slowly realizing I’ve got more people in my corner than I think. And I’m getting ready to start discovering who I am on my own, and as daunting as my head makes it seem, I’m starting to get the feeling that maybe it won’t be as bad as I think it will be.
So, sitting here in a ridiculously comfortable seat on my first ever long-haul flight, I’m trying let the worries and anxiety about the logistics of landing in Seoul and getting to Jeju Island shift themselves to the back burner. Baggage claim, clearing customs, getting through quarantine, switching airports, all of it. As I squint through a window covered in condensation from the freezing air above the Arctic Ocean, I find beauty in this big vast, amazing world I’m getting to see. I gain a greater appreciation for the plethora of experiences I’m going to encounter with every step forward. And I’m really looking forward to finally being able to take a real proper shower once we make it to the quarantine hotel. I can’t wait to sleep for a week.
Til then though, I gine be good.
Now on to the next adventure.
