I never thought my parents would actually let me go to Oregon

Leaving for a place I only saw on a map

I remember sitting in my room in Seoul, staring at a brochure for the University of Oregon. It felt surreal, like I was picking a vacation spot rather than a place to live for years. My mother was surprisingly calm during the entire application process, but the moment I was about to board the plane, she held my hand so tight my knuckles turned white. She didn’t cry then, but I could feel the weight of it. Looking back, I think she was just as nervous as I was about sending me off to a place like Eugene. I remember packing way too many winter coats because I had this vague idea that all of the US was freezing, only to realize later that Oregon winters are just endless, damp shades of gray.

The reality of living in a college town

Eugene isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. I remember my first week being completely overwhelmed by how quiet it was compared to the nonstop noise of Seoul. I had this expectation of a grand American campus life, maybe something out of a movie, but the reality was more about figuring out the local grocery stores and trying to understand why the bus schedule felt so loose. I spent about 1,200 dollars on my first month of rent for a shared apartment near campus, which felt like a massive amount of money at the time. I wasn’t used to managing everything on my own—no more convenience stores downstairs, no more late-night deliveries.

Dealing with the local cultural quirks

I didn’t expect to find people so interested in things like mahjong, but I kept hearing about how it was connecting different age groups in the local area. Annelies Heinz, a historian there, had some interesting things to say about how these games act as a bridge for communities. I mostly stayed in the library, though. Studying at the University of Oregon was demanding in ways I didn’t anticipate. It wasn’t just the language barrier; it was the way people expected you to participate in class. In Korea, I was used to listening, but here, sitting quietly was almost like being invisible. I had to force myself to talk even when I felt like I was stumbling over every other word.

The strange connection to the Denny Document

One of the most random things I learned while I was there was about the Denny Document. It’s sitting right there in the university archives. It’s weird, you know? To be thousands of miles away from home and suddenly stumble upon something that connects back to the history of the Korean flag. I walked past that building a hundred times before I realized what was stored inside. It makes you feel very small, realizing how long these connections between places have existed before you even showed up.

The lingering question of what happens next

Now that I’m looking back, I’m not sure if I actually enjoyed the process or if I was just surviving it. I see friends back home trying to navigate things like the USMLE or applying to MBA programs at places like the University of Wisconsin or UIUC, and I feel like they have a much clearer plan than I ever did. I was just following a path that started with my mom’s shaky goodbye at the airport. I don’t regret it, but sometimes I wonder if I spent too much time worrying about the small stuff—like the cost of hosting server data for research projects or figuring out if I should move to a bigger city for a career. The uncertainty never really leaves you, even after you get the degree. I’m back in Korea now, but a part of my brain still thinks in Oregon time, wondering if it’s raining in Eugene again today.