Korea: The Unexpected Breath of Fresh Air in The Land of Morning Calm
By: Nayaka Abyan
(Siswa SMA Nasional KPS)
SEOUL– I wasn’t expecting anything. When I boarded the plane to Korea, I wasn’t dreaming of a life-changing trip or dramatic revelations. Honestly, I was just happy to leave. Balikpapan had started to feel suffocating. Don’t get me wrong—I love my hometown. But years of the same routines, the same streets, the same school halls… it was getting to me. Add in some not-so-great moments with certain teachers, and you’ve got a recipe for a teenager desperate for change. So, when the chance to join a student delegation to Korea came up, I took it. No grand expectations, no overthinking, just the idea of stepping into a world that wasn’t mine.
The moment the plane touched down at Incheon, any idealistic notions I had about international travel were quickly cut short by immigration. Long lines, too many forms, and an intense atmosphere that made me hold my documents like my life depended on them, well at the very least well hidden in my vest’s pocket.
When it was my turn, I approached the counter and met the serious gaze of the officer. He fired off a series of questions: Why was I here? How long would I be staying? Who was I with? I did my best to answer with confidence, even though inside, I was praying everything would go smoothly. When they finally stamped my passport and waved me through, relief entered and I finally made it.
Walking out of the airport was like stepping into a different season, not like I’m well versed in many seasons, I live in a 2 season country afterall. The cold air wrapped around me, crisp and sharp, and it felt incredible after years of Balikpapan’s relentless heat. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could just breathe. That chill carried something with it, and I was excited to really know the place.
Enter Seoul
The drive into Seoul was like watching a slideshow of differing buildings. Towering glass skyscrapers stood alongside with centuries-old palaces. The streets were alive with movement, people rushing to catch subways, taxis going around through traffic, and store signs lighting up the fire in the night. Coming from the slower, more laid-back pace of Balikpapan, it was a lot to take in, but there was something bright about it to say the least.
My first real glimpse of the city came as I wandered around that evening. Everything felt so alive. Even the smallest details stood outIt wasn’t just different; it felt like the kind of place that could change you, if you let it.
The Simple Freedom of Walking
One thing I didn’t expect to love so much was walking. Back home, walking was just what you did when you had to, it wasn’t something you’d go out of your way for unless you’re me. But in Seoul, walking was everything. The city was designed for it, with wide sidewalks, pedestrian crossings that actually worked, and parks where you could wander without feeling out of place.
During the day, I got lost in places like Myeongdong, where the streets were packed with vendors selling everything from steaming tteokbokki to tiny souvenirs. The air smelled like grilled meat and sugar, and there was this constant hum of activity that made you want to dive right in. I couldn’t help but stop at almost every stall, trying snacks I couldn’t even pronounce and just being starstruck at how different, yet oddly familiar, it all felt.
But it was at night when the city truly came alive for me. Seoul’s neon signs lit up the streets, casting everything in a soft, colorful glow. I remember walking along the Cheonggyecheon Stream one evening, feeling the kind of calm that sneaks up on you. The stream wound its way through the city like a quiet secret, and even though there were people everywhere—couples strolling, kids laughing, street performers entertaining—it never felt crowded. It felt peaceful, almost like the city was inviting me to just be.
And that’s what I loved most. Walking in Seoul didn’t come with expectations. No one was watching, no one cared what I was doing. It was the kind of freedom I didn’t know I needed, and it made me realize how much I’d been craving a space to just exist without judgment. Back in Balikpapan, walking around school or the city sometimes felt like everyone had an opinion. Here, I was just another face in the crowd, and I liked it that way.
Another Day, Another Stage
One of the most nerve-wracking yet exhilarating moments of the trip was our visit to a local Korean high school. The plan was for each of us to share something from our culture, and I had decided to sing, but something inside me kind of struck an idea, a speech. Public speaking had never been my forte, and the thought of addressing a room full of students in a foreign country was definitely a pretty bad idea. But I wanted to challenge myself, to step out of my comfort zone because “Hey? When else am I going to be able to do stuff like this without any lasting consequences? I mean it’s not like I’m seeing them everyday.”.
I stood backstage, waited for my turn, I could hear the murmur of the audience, couldn’t really tell if they were gossiping or not, a mix of curious whispers and occasional laughter. My heart raced, and I could feel the familiar feeling of anxiety tightening in me. I took a deep breath, I’ve been getting a lot of inspiration from others and I wanted to share that message, “Be who you want to be.”
When my name was called, I walked onto the stage. I got a good look at the audience, all unfamiliar faces, couldn’t back down now even if I wanted to. I began my speech, now it wasn’t all that great. In fact no one in my class really cared, not even the principal batted an eye. I was a bit embarrassed, but I did feel that maybe, just maybe someone was inspired.
To end it off, I decided to sing “My Way,” a song that had always resonated with me. The lyrics spoke of facing challenges head-on and living life on your own terms, messages I hoped would inspire the students. When I finished, there was a moment of silence before the room erupted into applause. I was actually happy this time, since at the very least they didn’t laugh.
Friends
I was never particularly good at making friends, but surprisingly they were quite active in asking my friends and I about us, and I ended up making a friend, we weren’t all too different in fact he was an exchange student, I learned quite a bit from him, about his school, about his culture, apparently it gets really hard for some subjects there, but they all manage through it one way or another, and I even met some people that really enjoyed my short speech, so I’m really glad that I ended up doing it.
To me these interactions were more than just small talk, they were moments of actual connection. They taught me that while our backgrounds and experiences might differ, our hopes, dreams, and fears are often the same. It was a sort of reminder of our humanity and the bonds that can form when we open ourselves up to others.
Dealing With Faith While Abroad
Traveling as a Muslim has its rather unique challenges, usually in countries where Islam is a minority religion to be more specific. In Korea, I quickly realized that maintaining my religious practices would require more adaptability and resourcefulness. Everyday a quest for halal food became a daily challenge not to mention me being a rather picky eater that led me to explore various parts of the city in search of suitable dining options. This journey not only satisfied my hunger but also gave me more understanding of Korea’s cultural landscape. It wasn’t just about the food itself; it was about making sure I stayed connected to who I am. At first, it felt frustrating walking past restaurants that smell incredible, knowing I couldn’t eat there. But eventually, it became part of the experience. I found small halal spots hidden around the city and even came across stores selling halal-certified ingredients. It felt like discovering little treasures scattered throughout Korea.
One of the most memorable experiences was visiting the Daejeon Islamic Center. Tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the center was modest in size but rich in community spirit. Upon entering, I was greeted by a diverse group of worshippers from countries like Bangladesh, Pakistan, and I believe I saw someone Indonesian leaving in a rather rush. Despite our different backgrounds, we were united by our faith, creating an immediate sense of belonging.
During my visit, I had the opportunity to speak with a fellow student who shared his experiences of practicing Islam in Korea. He spoke candidly about the challenges of finding halal food and prayer spaces, but also gives us a look the resilience and adaptability of the Muslim community. His information offered a perspective on the importance of faith and community support in unfamiliar environments.
The Seoul Central Mosque
One of the most memorable moments of my trip was visiting the Seoul Central Mosque in Itaewon. It’s the biggest mosque in Korea, and as soon as I stepped inside, I felt a mix of amazement and comfort.
I got the chance to meet Dr. Hj. Mohd Hizul Azri, a scholar who wasn’t just teaching about Islam but actively working to make a difference through his NGO, MyFundAction. We talked about what it means to live your faith, not just in rituals but in action. He shared stories about the projects his organization was running, helping people in need, providing education, and working on humanitarian efforts around the world.
What struck me the most was how grounded he was. He wasn’t just talking about big ideas; he was living them. “Faith isn’t just about what you believe,” he said. “It’s about what you do with that belief.” That hit me. It made me think about how I could take what I learn and turn it into something meaningful for others, whether that’s in my community back home or somewhere else in the future.
Dr. Hizul’s work with MyFundAction showed me a whole new side of faith, one that’s not just personal but also has the power to reach across borders and help people from all walks of life. It wasn’t just about being Muslim in Korea; it was about being part of something bigger, something that connects people no matter where they’re from.
The mosque wasn’t just a place for prayer; it was a gathering spot for people from all over. There were Muslims from Indonesia, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and other countries, all coming together to pray, share stories, and find community. In a country where Muslims are a minority, it felt comforting to know there was still a space where everyone could feel at home.
This visit wasn’t just about practicing my faith—it was about seeing how faith adapts and grows in different environments. The people I met, the stories I heard, and the lessons I learned made me realize that faith isn’t limited by location. It’s something you carry with you, something that grows stronger when you’re open to new experiences.
The Pressure of Korean Society
During my stay, I couldn’t help but notice the intense pressure that permeates Korean society, especially in education and work. The students I met were often stressed about exams and future prospects. Many attended hagwons—private cram schools—after regular school hours, leaving them with little time for rest or leisure. This relentless focus on academic achievement has been linked to high levels of stress among Korean students.
Similarly, the work culture appeared demanding. Conversations with locals revealed that long working hours were the norm, and there was an unspoken expectation to prioritize work above all else. This culture has contributed to significant workplace stress, with surveys indicating that a substantial percentage of Korean employees experience high levels of job-related stress.
Observing this made me reflect on the importance of balance. While ambition and hard work are commendable, it’s crucial to find time for oneself, to rest, and to pursue personal interests. This realization has influenced how I approach my studies and future career, reminding me to strive for excellence without compromising my well-being.
Learning To Appreciate
Being in Korea, with its bustling cities and fast-paced lifestyle, made me reflect on the more relaxed atmosphere of Balikpapan. Back home, life moves at a slower rhythm. People take the time to greet each other, and there’s a sense of community that’s deeply ingrained in our daily lives. While Korea’s efficiency and modernity were impressive, I found myself missing the simplicity and warmth of my hometown.
In Balikpapan, it’s common to see neighbors chatting over fences, children playing in the streets, and families gathering for meals. This sense of closeness and community is something I took for granted. My time in Korea made me realize how much I value these connections and the slower pace that allows for meaningful interactions.
Experiencing a different culture gave me a better perspective of the uniqueness of my own. It made me proud of my Indonesian heritage and its values. The focus on community, respect for people even if they may not respect you, I learned to better understand these values and cherish them in my own way, albeit a strange way at that.
Well, I believe the message that I preach is the best way to end this journal so, I want to share this message with fellow students, young readers or anyone that wants it. Don’t be afraid of what you don’t know, and even if you are, don’t let it stop you. Embrace new experiences, embrace your dreams, and let them shape you into a better version of yourself. “Be good, do your best, and be happy,” my dad always says. Now, it’s time I add my own “The fight for a better tomorrow never stops, and the tomorrows keep coming. So, keep pushing forward.” Lastly, to everyone I met along the way in Korea let me say this with all my heart:
