Alone, but not lonely: An international student in Korea shares how she navigates her first Christmas away from home
It's my first time to be living on the other side of the world. Well, it’s not exactly on the other side of the world. From where I am, it’s an hour ahead of Philippine standard time.
With a four-hour flight distance from home, I’m not that far from home—yet far enough to make me daydream about the familiar embrace of my bed, the comforting sound of my mom calling me for dinner, and the shared family meal with my dad and our dogs.
Despite the occasional bouts of longing for the life that I temporarily left behind, living in South Korea has been pretty exhilarating so far.
I’d be lying if I said I’m not thrilled about the fact that I’m breathing the same air as my favorite Korean stars because I do. Or even just waking up in the morning and walking the picturesque streets of Seoul as if I’m the lead character of a K-drama.
I remember crying during a live performance of one of my favorite K-indie bands, tears washing my eyes in disbelief that they were actually right in front of me. Or the memory of me, standing in the middle of a hundreds-strong crowd during a school festival all captivated, watching our university’s cheering squad dancing a la Cheer Up onstage, only in uniforms of a different color.
There’s a tingle of joy in talking to locals, the subtitles in my head floating and shaping understanding in my head. There’s happiness in exploring the city and other towns during my solo excursions, vibrant and breathtaking.
While I enjoy the highs of being in a new environment and starting on a clean slate, living on this side of the world, though, isn’t entirely all magic.
Back to reality: School
I moved to this country last September to take my master's degree in Literature under a three-year-long scholarship. I’m currently in a language school in preparation for my graduate studies coming next year’s fall term, and it’s nothing short of thrilling.
The experience of returning to a school setting is, in itself, a huge adjustment for me, and proved to be challenging: from long hours listening to lectures to participating in class, working on essays and presentations to reviewing for examinations. For someone who’s been used to the work setting for close to a decade, transitioning back to the student mindset requires a conscious effort. But thankfully, I am not alone.
While I enjoy the highs of being in a new environment and starting on a clean slate, living on this side of the world, though, isn’t entirely all magic.
Together with my co-scholars, classmates, and friends I met in school, bearing the weight isn’t as bad. Having a good support system—people who never fail to offer a smile or helping hand, people to eat lunch and exchange funny and frustrating stories with, people who share the burden and empathize—allowed me space to breathe and take it one step at a time. Coming from different backgrounds isn't an issue for me because we get to share our cultures and learn from each other.
I realized though that while our university may have large spaces to stroll in, school is never just a walk in a park. This taught me how taking my time and feeling the ground where I’m growing—with some good company in tow—is an essential part of the process.
(Not just) sweater weather
Almost four months in and the shift had been pretty manageable, except for one major thing: the cold.
Last year, I was able to get a taste of South Korea’s infamous chilly winter for vacation, but it’s different to be actually living through the season. Even before the first snow fell (which happened so early in mid-November this year!), I found it impossible to leave our room with just two layers of clothing. A week later, I head to class in my long-padded coat and thick socks to keep me from freezing.
Still, despite my disdain over the frosty weather, there’s no other way to live life well than to see the good in things. There’s beauty in trees shedding their remaining leaves, in my breath forming fog whenever the temperature hits low, and in wrapping a scarf nicely around my neck.
A girl from the tropics will always yearn for warmth, so I try to find even just a little of it everywhere—perhaps from a steaming cup of Americano or freshly-cooked bungeoppang, or the golden sun rays hitting my face during our lunch break walks.
When the snow piles up early next year, I’m sure it’ll be a sight to behold, too. I’ll probably curse a lot as my teeth chatter in the biting wind. But amidst the discomfort, a strange sense of realization washes over me. This is my first of three winters here, away from the warmth and familiarity of home.
(First) White Christmas
A White Christmas is a dream for many, but not for me. As the Yuletide season approaches, instead of dreaming of the first snow with my crush (did not happen, by the way), I recall our merry celebrations in the Philippines.
My first Christmas away from home is filled without any plans, unlike my usual holiday calendar in the Philippines. But perhaps more than my almost-empty winter break schedule, it’s the fact that I won’t be spending it with my family and friends that adds gloom to an already melancholic season.
We can make up for the distance with a video call, of course—and for now, that would suffice.
I admit I’m used to being alone and like spending time in solitude. But I, like many Filipinos, grew up celebrating Christmas as an affair observed with our loved ones. I’ll probably fake a smile while I hold the tears back as I stare at my parents’ faces and my dogs’ wagging tails on the screen.
Lonely as it sounds, though, don’t mistake me—it’s nothing that a big bite of fruit cake and a whole piece of chicken leg for myself can’t cure. That, and hearing my loved ones’ laughter and singing through choppy cellphone audio while I snuggle in my thick, cozy comforter. And maybe those bright Christmas lights, beautifully displayed all over the city, will spark some joy in the night.