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Back from South Korea

7 years ago2,636 words

I've returned from my month in South Korea. I'd hoped it might be an escape from the despair of the usual rut, but I'm reminded of the line "wherever you go, you are there"... Still, overall I'm glad I went, and I feel I might have grown at least a little bit as a person, which was my main reason for going.

While researching the country before I went, I came across several travel blogs where people talked about their stays in various parts of the world, including South Korea. In general, the blogs seemed... well, like the sort of things that outgoing people would write, which I suppose makes sense since outgoing people are more likely to go out into the world. Posts were positive, focused on fun and experiences and exciting scenery they'd seen and all that stuff. Lots of people liked them, too; there were many comments by people who'd travelled to the same place sharing similar experiences, or others who found it enjoyable to hear about somewhere they'd never been.

I can't fully understand what it's like to be like that. So positive, so excited about the idea of travel for its own sake, of seeing pretty scenery and attending lively events. Do such people write about their travels in that way because they feel they must? Because we're all expected to be happy and fun and positive about everything? Or because they genuinely feel that way? I wonder.

The biggest thing that I learned was that my depression follows me wherever I go. I 'knew' this already, but there was the hope deep down that maybe getting out of the dismal doldrums I was in would lead to some drastic change in my inner weather. That maybe being around people every day, in a warmer, brighter country, with things to do every day, would all help me feel a bit happier. Or at least feel something.

But I suppose instead I gained a greater understanding of how people can be depressed despite the outer ostensible pleasures that they have. I'd always thought that if I found something - usually a partner - then my circumstantial despair would dissipate, that I'd have a light to guide me and would at the very least feel less lost... But I suppose it doesn't work that way.

"Wherever you go, you are there". A bleak thought; you can never run away from yourself. Not really. I talked about that in ∞ my very first post here ∞... Feels like things don't change.

But anyway. South Korea. That's where I went. As I said in other posts, I was there for a month-long international summer school exchange programme thing, so my days involved attending classes and studying for those in preparation for exams and such. That wasn't exactly barrels of fun, but it was something that gave structure to the trip.

I stayed in a dormitory, which I'll miss because it was quiet, cosy, and convenient. The dorm building separated girls into one 'tower' and guys into another of the same building. I didn't appreciate the split, but at least being so close like that meant that it was easy to meet up with my friend, who I'll again refer to as B, every day to go to classes or get lunch or things like that. There was a shop downstairs between the towers, too, which sold food... I'll miss that in particular because it's a long trek to any shops where I am now.

The dorms didn't have kitchens, so we either had to go out to eat, or we could use some microwaves on the ground floor or an instant boiling water dispensing machine (so much more convenient than boiling a kettle!) to prepare simple food. Most of what I ate was instant ramen (of which there are literally aisles full in shops there; it's more of a staple food than the fare of poor students), and B and I went to a Dunkin' Donuts fairly often and ate the mediocre 'burger'-like things from there (how exotic). I did try some Korean food at least, and it was okay; I'll miss the sticky rice balls covered in seaweed.

We only went out for a proper meal in a restaurant once, which was nice both because the food was good (and I say this as someone who normally doesn't care at all about food), but also because I've feared going in restaurants for a long time because it's just not something I've ever really done before, and I don't know the etiquette so I fear doing something wrong and embarrassing myself. Being with B and figuring out what to do in a foreign restaurant, realising there's nothing really to it, nothing to be afraid of, did feel like breaking down one of the many, many fear barriers in my mind that so often hold me back from experiencing life. I only wish we'd gone to restaurants more often, but the opportunity never really arose again.

We visited the capital, Seoul, several times, and saw places, museums, markets, things like that... I found it mildly interesting, I suppose - especially drinking in the cultural differences - but mostly I noticed that the majority of my mental attention was on the fact that I was actually able to enjoy another person's company; that I didn't have to go to places alone. I feel so much more confident with company, because being able to comment to someone makes me feel less foolish, less vulnerable. If I mess up, I can joke about it, and the embarrassment disappears rather than festering and poisoning my thoughts and mood.

So the places themselves were very much a minor part of the experience; I could never travel alone because I wouldn't really care enough about seeing things to do that. The only stimuli that are actually salient to me these days are social. Overall, the trip was 'enjoyable' because B and I did essentially everything together, and I never really had to be alone.

I say 'enjoyable' like that because I spent much of the time in a negative mood, or fearing something or another. And of course there was the incident that I wrote about in my previous post. But being with another person every day made life feel more bearable, less empty. It lent support to my desire to have a partner; though depression may make good days rare, having constant company prevents me from being trapped in my own head and being destroyed by the demons in there.

I'll have to spend the next five weeks alone though... I don't know how I'm going to get through that. I've had some thoughts and the beginnings of plans, but I'll write about those in another post.

One of the biggest reasons I went on the trip was to improve my social skills, or to challenge distorted and hindering beliefs that I have about myself, such as that I'm off-putting or that I don't get along with other people. What I found was... mixed.

There were about eighty other people on the international exchange programme, from countries all over the world. About ten from my university, loads from America, and I think maybe also a small number from places like Hong Kong or something. Mostly it just felt like the rest of them were Americans though. I didn't intermingle very much, at all. Mostly I just stuck with B, though I at least exchanged words with a few strangers during the various classes and activities and things.

Something frustrating that I found was that I just don't like most people. I don't mean that I'm a raging misanthrope who hates everyone (though I feel I went through such a stage when younger), but rather I feel no real attraction to most people because I doubt that we'd be able to see eye to eye in such a way that we'd click, have chemistry, feel like kindred spirits. I wonder whether most people do feel a sense of rapport with a wider variety of people than me, or if they don't even expect to and get something out of others' company even when it's absent. I don't, though; if I interact with someone and that spark isn't there, I'm constantly looking forward to the conversation ending, or I look for an escape. Partly it's because I have the deep-rooted belief that they don't want to be talking to me anyway, so I should get out of their hair, but it's also because I just... don't find them interesting? Not because there's anything objectively bad or wrong with them... It's all about connections, rapport, something ineffable.

The people were mostly girls, but the only one I found even remotely attractive was B. Not just physically - though that too - but in terms of attitude, apparent personality, the vibes they gave off. There was another girl B and myself spent time with on occasion - I'll call her S again - and I liked her, felt I got along with her, but she's not someone I'd imagine pursuing a romantic relationship with (though it did surprise me to find out she's never had a partner herself). This is frustrating... I long to find my other half, someone to complete me, but even when I'm around people I'm just not drawn to the majority of them. I wish I met more people I'd actually want to pursue. Oh well.

A particularly notable part of the trip was spending a night in a Buddhist temple, along with around twenty or thirty of the others. It was nestled in the mountains, and looked quite beautiful:



I've considered becoming a monk if my life in the world didn't work out, if I couldn't ever find love or a job or anything like that, so I was curious to see what life as one was like.

It's dull, I think. I wouldn't want to do it.

It isn't all about sitting around meditating. There's a lot of prayer, too (though that's largely due to the type of Buddhism practised at this temple), and religion. We passed through the gates to the temple, and our guide commented on statues of angry-looking men who are apparently guardians who fight off evil spirits or something. Their breath is a thousand times more powerful than the wind!! Or something like that. It sounded like the sort of thing a seven-year-old boy would dream up in his pretend games, all about power and fighting, and it felt embarrassing to think that people who are supposed to be pursuing something transcendent would truly believe something so rooted in puerile power play.

There were huge statues of the Buddha and his various divine helpers/followers/whatever too, to which the monks prostrated themselves in fawning veneration far too many times. Shouldn't we all be as equals? Isn't putting some particular person on a lofty pedestal and treating them as in some way your saviour just a way of devaluing your own potential? I mean, they say enlightenment is available to all, but then treat this one legendary figure as so far above them that it feels no different to Christans with God. I get that it's like veneration for a teacher or master who'll guide you along the way, and there's humbleness in that and arrogance in claiming to be on the same level... But I suppose it just gets to me how people seem to want to put others higher than themselves, to essentially beg someone else for something rather than trying to achieve it themselves. Or something. It's hard to put what I mean into words without it just sounding annoying or like I'm misunderstanding something.

I don't fault the monks for devoting their lives to that, but it's definitely not for me. I couldn't do it, or find it fulfilling. It also seemed that the monks tended to be people who'd been pressured into that life by family at an early age, rather than people who'd come to the monastic life when the world failed them. If anything, they seemed quite sheltered and naive. I can't help but feel that they're missing out on what the world has to offer. But then so am I.

Most of my time at the temple was again spent focused on social factors, though. Trying to stick with B, feeling anxious and insecure when she obviously wanted to talk to some other people from my university who I feared were 'better' than me. I wonder what it's like to just be comfortable, secure; to not constantly worry about losing what little you have, or about being far inferior in terms of social desirability compared to most people you come across. Hmm.

I wanted to find out on the trip whether I was as socially inept as I believed... and as I said, I had mixed findings regarding that. People weren't immediately repulsed by me before we even had a chance to talk, so that challenged the belief that I'm utterly off-putting. But it was clear when I talked to people that they felt uneasy around me; that I made them uncomfortable because of my word-fumbling and general neuroticism. I mean, I tried to be friendly and as 'normal' as I could... It's just that I lack experience, so obviously I'm never going to come across as socially fluent.

Also, B - during the first week, when I suppose she was going through a dark patch herself - told me that sometimes it's 'excruciating' being around me because of the socially inept things that I do or say. So it's not all just in my head.

The trip as a whole did reinforce my beliefs that I don't get along with other people. That in turn reinforces my desire to die... but I'm trying to cope with those thoughts, somehow.

When we arrived back in the airport in the UK, B was picked up by her boyfriend, while I was picked up by my mother. This gets to me a lot. Comparing positions in life, social achievements, connections, things like that. I'm older than her, but less 'successful'. I resented it, envied it. Got depressed on the plane because I felt that she was going to be excitedly reunited with her beloved while I would be met by a reminder of how little I've grown in a decade, at least in terms of external accomplishments.

I've since found out though that her reunion with him felt like nothing, that she cried on the way back home. She's depressed too, and I suppose that's what depression does. It numbs you to what should be pleasant... Hearing that transformed my envy into empathy, sympathy; I wouldn't wish for anyone to suffer through this world-numbing mental fog.

I'm back home now, trying to readjust to British time. I'm looking for a place to live for at least part of the next five weeks so I don't have to be at home... but I'll have to be there alone, and money is an issue since I don't really have a proper income. Hmm.

I think I'm going to update this more often over the next few weeks, because there are a few things that I want to write about. Though I don't know if depression will allow me to do that as often as I want. We'll see.

Thanks to those of you who commented on my previous post. Sorry that I haven't replied to all the comments, but I read them all, and they all made a big difference to me. They made me feel like perhaps it's worth clinging to life for a bit longer after all.