Having spent almost 21 out of my 23 years in the United States, the two weeks I spent in Korea on the Holt Motherland Tour this past June and July left me with some new ideas about myself.

   While I was in Korea, I regressed back to the age of four, or so it seemed. Like a child, everything was new and for the first time. Like a child, I could not read anything (although there was English in a surprising amount), nor could I freely express myself in the vocal language, and so I had to resort to the universally understood body language. By the end of the day I was exhausted, if not from the hiking, then most definitely from the aerobic workout of asking where the bathroom was at least six times.

   Like a child, I was a little awkward and self-conscious of myself in unfamiliar surroundings. I became aware of my American-ness, more profoundly than ever before. I realized that I did not hold hands with my friends, I did not cover my mouth when I laughed, I walked with long strides and swinging arms, I did not bow upon meetings and departures and perhaps most telling of all... I carried a camera at all times.

   With this awareness came many mixed emotions. I observed Koreans observing me, and felt simultaneously proud to be who I am, and frustrated at my inability to express that pride to them. I felt proud to be an American and fortunate to have the choices and resources available to me as an American. After seeing Korea I am also proud to be Korea; proud of the beauty found in the people, the country and its history. My frustration is with myself for not being appreciating this half of my person until now, and for actually resenting it at times. I am also frustrated at my inability to speak Korean. My Korean friends tell me that I must lear about Korea, and that I must learn the language because "it is a part" of me. But on the heels of this frustration is an indescribable excitement at finding this part of myself. There is so much more I wish to learn about Korea; the first chance I get I plan to enroll in Korean language classes, and I have started to surround myself with books about Korea; it's art, food and history. The discovery of this half of myself has made me more aware of who I am as a whole.

   I am also relieved to find that I am not alone in all these discoveries and emotional roller coasters. My mother always told me, "You're not the Lone Ranger," a refrain she still sings to me. Growing up in a small, homogeneous, midwestern town, I never needed to be reminded of what I was not. Having come back from my motherland, Korea, I now have a firmer grasp of what I am. Like a child, I experienced Korea with a wide-eyed wonder, and like a mother, She welcomed me back with open arms.

   On my last of too many flights back to Chicago, I got to talking with a woman sitting next to me. I told her briefly about what I had been doing for the last two weeks. When I finished, she asked me, "So, did you find your parents?" I smiled. "No, I told her. They found me and I can't wait to tell them about this trip."

Karin Warch
Chicago, IL
From Hi Families September/October, 1996
©1996 Holt International Children's Services