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Focus only on your own growth.
GapYear is a time for growth and happiness.
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Since I started traveling, I gained the courage to view the world more simply, thinking, "I don't know—what the heck, let's try it." Whenever I felt like giving up, I found myself unconsciously cheering myself on with, "I did tougher things in India, so can't I handle this?" and whenever a difficult moment came, I could push forward without hesitation by telling myself, "That's enough. This hardship is only temporary." - A writer's dream rediscovered in India / Seo Hyunji, gap-year participant / Total gap year: 6 months |
57th Gap-Year Tribe GapperSeo Hyunji
Gap year periods: December 2009 ~ January 2010 (2 months); December 2015 ~ March 2016 (4 months)
Gap year: traveled to 23 cities in India
Currently, in South Korea,
Each year 60,000 middle and high school students drop out, 346,000 people in their twenties are idle with no dreams, and the one-year turnover rate after employment has entered the 40% range,75% of college students are not satisfied with university life, and over 80% of workers do not feel happy.To solve this issue of many people being told to dream without practical methods or support,we aim to introduce the 'gap year' to South Korea.
'Gap year'is a time to set the direction for the future by either combining or temporarily pausing studies and work to engage in various activities such as volunteering, travel, internships, education, and entrepreneurship.It is a culture encouraged in the United States, Europe, Japan, and other countries.
*Check out various experiences on the Gap Year website!(Click)
# Twenty-three, my first gap year
I took two gap years in my life. One was in the winter when I was twenty-three, and the other was in the winter when I was twenty-nine. Seven years ago, I chose India as my first trip abroad for no particular reason. At that time, as a college student, the fact of going somewhere mattered more to me than the actual destination.
"I want to escape the cycle of grades, tuition, and part-time jobs, and live for a little while in a place where no one knows me," "I just want to get away from this tedious routine." That's what I thought. So while taking a liberal arts class called "Understanding Indian Art," I suddenly saw the Taj Mahal's snow-white dome and decided, "Yes, let's go there."
My first trip abroad. It was absolutely wonderful. I had been living breathlessly between school and part-time jobs on weekdays and weekends, Those were the first times in my life when I didn't have to worry about pocket money or watch my parents' reactions—when I could think only of myself—and those moments were truly precious to me.
When all those things that tormented my daily life disappeared before my eyes, the whole world looked different. My diary filled not with "3 PM exam" or "7 PM part-time job interview" but with new entries like "browsed the bracelet shop in front of the guesthouse" and "peanut curry is delicious." After spending such charming days, I boarded the plane back to Korea with my heart full of memories.
On the day I left India after placing the first pause in my life, I thought, "If someday I'm exhausted by life and want to let everything go, I'll come back here. I don't know when I'll set foot in India again, but I hope I'll be as full of happiness then as I am now."
# Thirty, leaving again
I wanted to make a living writing. I had consistently practiced composition since my school days, and I majored in Korean language and literature at university. So I naturally thought I would have a job that involved writing. But life didn't go as I expected. I struggled for a long time to do the work I wanted but ultimately failed, and I became an office worker a little later than others. On my first day at work, I vowed to try even harder because I was late and become a great professional.
But my body couldn't match that passion. I would start work at 9 AM and finish only around midnight. Often I worked until dawn without receiving overtime pay, and eventually warning signs appeared in my health. Since I sat at a desk all day and chugged strong coffee, perhaps it was inevitable. There were moments I couldn't see ahead, and living with migraines and gastritis made me feel like my body was crumbling.
As my body grew tired, my mind began to become ill as well. The boldness I had as a student, when I felt I could do anything, was gone, and all that remained was a withdrawn, shrunken Seohyeonji. One day, as my stamina waned and my spirit wilted and I was barely getting through each day, on my way to work with my aching body, I suddenly thought, "What will I gain by going this far?" A career. A savings account. Improved work skills... But when I considered whether those things were truly necessary even if they damaged my health and mind, I answered "NO."
It wasn't simply "I don't want to go to work," but once I became convinced that "there's no need to go this far," I began to look at my life more dispassionately.
I was the person who wanted to live a life of writing. But what about now? Since becoming an office worker, my writing has been limited to emails and reports to clients. After work I was so exhausted I couldn't even write a line in my journal and would fall asleep. Unlike before, when I felt I could confidently handle anything, now I find myself hoping "nothing happens tomorrow," and perhaps it's time to change that complacency.
So, after seven years, I decided to take another break. I had filled my late twenties as "office worker Seohyeonji," so I thought it might be okay to take a beat for myself. I wanted to reclaim the dream of being a writer that I had let go of when I joined the company, and recover the confidence that had hit rock bottom.
One day, just before turning thirty, I submitted my resignation without regret and set off on a trip. To the place that had been my first trip abroad—the land where I had buried all the passion and boldness of my youth. India.
I decided to invest in taking the first break of my life.
At twenty-three, the reason I could suddenly travel abroad as a college student was that a large, unexpected sum of money came my way. At that time I entered every contest I could—essays, poems, slogans, and so on. Earning pocket money from a part-time job that paid less than 3,500 won an hour, the only way I could make a lot of money was by winning contests.
Then one day I was lucky enough to receive notice that I had won first place in a talent recruitment contest held by a company. I was really happy to receive the large prize of 1,000,000 won. And as they say, good things come all at once,A few months later, I also had my name listed among the winners of a contest held by the Hangul Culture Alliance..
I was overwhelmed by the sudden string of good luck, and after much deliberation,I decided to invest that money in taking the first break of my life.To be honest, I strongly felt, ‘If not now, when will I ever travel abroad?’ So I bought a plane ticket determined that it would be my first and last trip. In this way, my first travel expenses were covered by money that seemed to fall from the sky one day.
When I planned my second trip to India I was already employed, so raising the funds wasn't difficult. And because India is such a cheap country, I wasn't overly worried about living expenses while traveling there.
However, there were other costs. To offer a bit of help to those planning a trip to India: first, visa fees are not insignificant. And if you live in the provinces you'll also incur round-trip transportation costs to the Indian Embassy in Hannam-dong, Seoul. I spent about 90,000 won for a six-month multiple-entry visa and 80,000 won on round-trip transportation to obtain the visa.
India is not free from risks such as mosquito-borne endemic diseases or rabies, so getting preventive vaccinations or prescriptions beforehand can be very helpful. Typhoid, cholera, and malaria are examples. I once visited Indonesia and nearly got into serious trouble after contracting dengue fever, so for this India trip I was meticulous about travel insurance and prescriptions.
In addition, I bought a new backpack and sleeping bag, and for safety I purchased items like pepper spray and a whistle, so I ended up spending more than I expected before departure. Preparation costs were almost as much as the plane ticket, so it was quite an expense. The preparation process wasn't easy, but I tried to pack just about everything to prepare for any emergency.
Don't be stingy with the time you invest in your dreams.
When I left for my gap year, what worried me most was, of course, re-employment and my career.So when I said I was quitting my job to travel, people around me didn't immediately support me. I wasn't exactly at an age of being endlessly young, and it's so hard to find a new job these days that everyone was worried.
"Do you really have to quit your job? What will you do after you come back?"
"You're almost thirty. Get a grip."
Of course, I wasn't completely oblivious. I'm not rich enough to live without working, nor am I in a profession like a doctor or lawyer that would allow me to get rehired at any time, so I couldn't help feeling anxious about the future.
However, before it got any later, I wanted at least once to make 'what I want to do' my job. The path of becoming a writer that I had dreamed of since my school days. The dream that had been pushed to the background while I built my resume and worked to earn money—this time, I decided to make it happen.
It didn't matter if I didn't earn a lot right away; if I had to hole up for a while because of money, that would be fine. I told myself not to be obsessed with reemployment and to live as a writer at least once before I die. 'Yes, one or two years in my long life—let's invest that time in writing!' Once I made up my mind like that, my anxious feelings gradually faded.That way, by steeling myself with 'Don't be stingy with the time you invest in your dreams!', I was able to overcome my anxiety about the future.
#My second trip to India gradually came together once I became the owner of my own journey.
I had set out on the trip to 'rest', but once I arrived I found myself wanting to see this and that. 'After all, I'm here, so I should see that.' 'Ah, no matter what, I should try buying that.' In the early part of the trip I think I ran around a lot. I was very tired, but since everyone else went to those places, I felt I had to go too, so I dragged myself around even when I didn't really want to.
Then, at a guesthouse in Hampi, I happened to meet two Korean women. They said they had left Korea together and that it was their 60th day of traveling the world. From the moment we met, we got along very well and spent the night drinking on the guesthouse roof until dawn, and then they had this conversation.
"Hey, what should we do tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? Hmm, what should we do? Want to go see the temple nearby?"
"No, I'm not really feeling it."
"True, I'm not that curious either. Let's just do nothing."
"Good! Let's do nothing."
Hearing that conversation between the two of them reminded me once again why I had started this trip. I had clearly left to rest, so what am I doing now? Why am I forcing myself to do sightseeing I don't even want to just because others do it? This isn't the trip I wanted. I could have just done nothing.
After realizing I was doing a tour rather than traveling, I decided from that moment to travel according to what my heart wanted, not 'because others are doing it'. I stopped the food-spot tours and historical site sightseeing I had been doing and began spending my days 'spacing out by the lake' and 'sitting on the guesthouse roof until sunset.'
I think my true 'gap year' at thirty began at that moment. When I stopped forcing myself to do things, peace came to my heart, and only then did I gain the space to reflect on myself. Doing things you don't want to because of what others think was already enough during my time at the company. From now on, I decided that my travels would be made by me.
Thus, my second trip to India gradually came together as I became the owner of my journey. When I wanted to rest, I rested; when I wanted to have fun, I wandered to my heart's content. That's how it was.
# Whether that person remembered me or not, I was truly grateful simply that they were still there.
(23 years old)
(30 years old)
I had so many happy moments throughout the trip. Among them, what I remember now is the moment when I met again at thirty the guesthouse owner I had first met at twenty-three. When I was young and had been scammed and was crying, he helped me get back on my feet and encouraged me so I could travel again—he is a truly precious person.
When I decided I would travel to India again, I ran to a bookstore and opened the Varanasi section of the guidebook first. I worried, "What if that guesthouse is gone... then I’ll never see that man again." But contrary to my worries, the guesthouse was just as steady as it had been seven years ago, and so one winter as I approached thirty I was able to meet my dear friend again.
Did he remember me? No, of course not. It’s a very popular place with dozens of guests coming and going every day.But whether he remembered me or not, I was simply grateful that he was still there.I had been very afraid I would never see him again—afraid I would never see someone precious to me—but the moment I saw him again my heart felt at ease, like taking a sip of warm water.
Compared to the days when my English was limited to just "see you again!", at thirty I could talk with him a bit longer, and thanks to that I was able to add another beautiful memory on top of my recollections. On the day we parted, I told him: I'll definitely come back someday, so don't go out of business—keep running it for a long time.
The hardest memory was being taken to the emergency room in Pondicherry. About a month and a half after I started traveling in India, one morning I woke up with terrible stomach pain. At first I thought it was just an upset stomach and took antidiarrheal medicine I had brought from Korea, but by the evening the pain became uncontrollable along with a high fever and nausea.Worried, "Surely I’m not going to die like this," I fell asleep, and when I came to I was already in the hospital emergency room.
As my condition worsened, the companion who was with me took me to the emergency room and stayed by my side all night, being bitten by mosquitoes. Tests showed I had food poisoning. The beef steak I had eaten the previous day had caused the problem.
My companion used an electronic dictionary, looking up words one by one to communicate in English on my behalf while I was unconscious. That younger person, who was so shy he was embarrassed even to offer a brief greeting in English, must have struggled with the medical staff all through the night—it brings tears to my eyes to think about it.
Alongside gratitude, I felt overwhelming guilt. As much as this trip was precious to me, each day was likely precious to that person as well, and the thought that I made them waste two days because of me was heartbreaking. More than the physical pain, it weighed on me heavily that I had become a burden to this person, and I felt so sorry.
After that day in the emergency room, I paid extra attention to my health throughout the rest of the trip. I vowed that no matter who I travel with in the future, I may not be able to help them but I must not be a burden. I think I'll never forget that night in Pondicherry, when my body suffered and my heart suffered even more.
# I believe that what changes after travel is not the 'circumstances' around me, but our mindset in facing each moment.
여행을 다녀온 후, 많은 분들이 이 질문을 하시더라구요.
"Did anything change after you returned? Does the world look completely new or something?"
In short: YES!
Honestly, I tended to worry before starting anything. "What if I try it and it's not good?", "If I fail, won't it be embarrassing?" I tormented myself by imagining things that hadn't even happened yet.
But once I started traveling, I gained the courage to look at the world more simply, thinking, "I don't know—what the heck, I'll just try it." Whenever I wanted to give up, I found myself cheering myself on with, "I did tougher things in India—can't I handle this?" And when hard moments came, I could push forward without hesitation, saying, "Enough. This hardship is only temporary."
Of course, whether you travel or not, your situation doesn't change that much. Students will still be students after traveling, and workers will return to the ordinary routine of commuting to and from work after the trip ends. However, as many gap-year travelers including myself have experienced,If you try new experiences, your attitude toward today definitely changes.In the end, what changes after travel is not the 'circumstances' around me but our mindset in facing each moment. That's how I see it.
#I wonder if this is what happiness really is.
It's been three months since my gap year ended and I returned to reality. To keep my promise to myself to try living a life of writing, I'm writing a travel essay based on what I saw, heard, and felt in India. I'll be starting a crowdfunding campaign in July, so I'm very busy.
▶ Continue reading Seo Hyun-ji's gap year story(Click)