People tend to have a tiny brain short-circuit when they hear their native language coming out of a foreigner.
Korean airlines sometimes play Disney music in the background on planes.
I’m going to miss the artificially warm toilet seat and the fact that it flushes itself. The massive panel of buttons next to it? Not so much. One look and you just know it’s you versus them.
In Jeju there are museums that are both incredible and… questionable.
If you don’t explicitly ask for your food not to be spicy—even if it doesn’t say so on the menu—you will discover that they really, really like making things spicy. We had to practically beg a woman not to.
“A little?” she asked, probably fearing the wrath of her ancestors would strike her down if she didn’t add at least a gram of deadly kimchi to the dish.
But we thank her. Thank you, ma’am. I will remember you forever.
Even if you say “I don’t speak Korean well” in the most flawless Korean you can possibly muster, people don’t seem to interpret that as you actually not speaking it well. They’ll keep asking you all sorts of things, fully expecting answers in this language you would love to speak fluently but absolutely cannot.
However, thanks to this language barrier, I was able to say “I got my period” in a crowded café like I was casually commenting on the weather. It was spectacular.
Me: I want to do something special for my last day in this city.
Sky: I think I’ll rain now.
Taxis were a very useful survival method, one we depended on heavily. Except in Jeju—everything was pretty close there.
It’s hot. But sometimes cold. But hey! It’s always raining.
I felt—feel—very proud of my first conversation in Korean with a taxi driver.
Water is free in restaurants. Fancy.
I got a piercing, and it hurt the entire trip. For various ridiculous and accidental reasons. But now, when people ask me where I got this magnificent hole in my ear and whether it hurt, I can proudly say: “I got it in South Korea, the lady pierced straight through the cartilage in five seconds.”
Although I do slightly regret choosing a red earring. With my ear basically the same color from all the accidental hits it took, it just looks like a massive, shiny pimple.
The trees in Jeju reminded me why green is my favorite color.
I woke up between one and three in the morning most days. The time difference was brutal.
I’m of legal drinking age, and I made full use of it.
There is no number 4 in elevators.
Everyone looks so young and pure it makes you wonder if you’re the one who somehow aged ten years overnight.
There will be older ladies who look at you like you are the literal embodiment of the 14th-century plague.
It is not easy to get a cat to approach you in a cat café. Not easy—but not impossible either. I have photographic evidence to prove it.
Samgak-gimbap, aka rice triangles, were my passion and my love. They always will be. Amen.
That concludes my report. Have a wonderful day, everyone.
