My time in Toronto felt like a blur of subways and overpriced coffee

Trying to figure out the transit pass situation

When I first landed in Toronto, the sheer scale of the city hit me harder than I expected. I remember standing at Union Station with my oversized luggage, staring at the screens like they were written in ancient code. Everyone seemed to have this urgent, purposeful walk, and there I was, still trying to understand the difference between the TTC and the GO Train. I ended up paying around 150 dollars for a monthly pass that I probably didn’t use efficiently for the first two weeks. It was one of those minor, annoying expenses that you don’t really account for when you’re looking at tuition fees or rent. You think you’ll just walk everywhere, but then the wind kicks in, and suddenly waiting 10 minutes for the streetcar feels like a Herculean task.

The reality of finding a decent place to live

I spent hours scrolling through Facebook groups and classified ads trying to find a room that didn’t cost a fortune. I had this romanticized idea of living in a cozy apartment near the university, but the reality was mostly damp basements or shared spaces where the kitchen always smelled like someone else’s curry. I eventually settled for a spot that was a forty-minute commute away. It wasn’t ideal, but it was at least quiet. I remember visiting one place downtown where the landlord wanted an extra 300 dollars a month just because I needed a parking spot I didn’t even have a car for. It’s strange how quickly you stop caring about aesthetics and just start looking for a place where the heating actually works in November.

Missing the routine of a proper convenience store

There is something about the way Korean convenience stores operate that you don’t realize you rely on until it’s gone. In Toronto, trying to grab a quick snack or a basic necessity at 11 PM isn’t quite as seamless as it is back home. I found myself walking into Shoppers Drug Mart more often than I’d like to admit, mostly just to wander around and feel like I was accomplishing something. It sounds trivial, but those small cultural shifts—like not being able to find the exact brand of ramen you like, or realizing that certain things are just consistently more expensive—really add up in terms of homesickness. You start comparing everything to how it was back in Seoul, and it’s not always a fair comparison, but you can’t help yourself.

The academic pressure versus the social expectation

People back home always talk about Toronto as if it’s this land of endless opportunity, especially for students. They mention the prestige of the programs or the international experience, but nobody mentions the loneliness of studying at a library where you don’t know a single soul. I joined a few social clubs, thinking it would be a great way to integrate, but honestly, it mostly felt like I was trying too hard to participate in conversations that didn’t really resonate with me. It’s not that the people were unkind; it’s just that there’s a gap between being an international student and actually feeling like you belong in the community. You’re there, you’re paying the fees, you’re passing the tests, but you feel like a ghost passing through.

Why I still look at flights even though I’m done

Even now, months after returning, I find myself randomly checking flight prices to Pearson International. It’s not necessarily because I miss the city itself, but because I’m still trying to process whether that version of me—the one trying to navigate a whole new world with a heavy backpack—actually existed. I keep checking those fuel surcharges that always seem to fluctuate, wondering if it would be cheaper to visit now that I know how the transit system works. I haven’t bought a ticket, and I probably won’t, but the habit of looking is still there. It’s a weird, lingering sensation that I didn’t quite finish what I went there to do, though I’m not entirely sure what that ‘something’ was supposed to be in the first place.