Because I'm Hungry

It’s 3 a.m. I’m up late because it will hopefully help with jet lag (and because I have terrible sleep habits). In a few hours, my mom will drive me to the airport, where I’ll board a plane to Incheon International Airport. And it’s all because I’m hungry.

 

I absolutely love food. I love so many cuisines that it’s hard to pick favorites, but I have Asia to blame for my obsession. Specifically Thailand. 

 

One summer, a friend texted me out of the blue and asked if I wanted to go to Thailand. Not in a few months. In three weeks. I had never even been to an Asian country before. It was completely unrealistic.

 

I bought my ticket later that day. Hey, it was 700 bucks round-trip. You can’t blame me—that’s a great price.

 

I traveled with two friends who were both serious food lovers. Although I wasn’t as passionate about it as I am now, I was still deeply interested in Thai cuisine. We only had three weeks to plan, and we didn’t waste them. Our goal was simple: use every minute of the trip seeing, smelling, and tasting as much as possible. 

 

The first bite of food I took in Thailand changed the chemistry of my brain. There were dimensions to flavor I had never experienced before. I could identify every taste in each dish, yet everything worked together in perfect harmony.

 

On the flight home, I wondered how I would function without food like that. I decided then that I would search for the best food wherever I was. When I returned to the Bay Area, I searched. When I got to Boston for my second year of college, I searched again. Every dish became a lesson. I talked to chefs about their food, where they were from, and where I should go next. Some restaurants were just stops along the way, but restaurants I came back to became like family to me.

 

As I learned more about flavor, I started sharing my discoveries. My friends began asking me for recommendations. Eventually, I even led a hidden-gems food tour in Boston for one of the clubs I’m active in, and the participants loved it. Trying and reviewing food was amazing, and I was getting good at it. But I missed the feeling I had in Thailand. Not just the food itself, but the culture around it. That feeling became one of the reasons I started considering studying abroad.

 

After Bangkok, I knew I wanted a huge city—somewhere so big I could never run out of new streets. My choices narrowed to Tokyo and Seoul. At first, the decision felt obvious. I love Japanese food. I listen to Japanese jazz and city pop. I watch anime and read manga. Tokyo felt familiar, exciting, and comfortable. I knew I would meet people with the same interests and have an amazing time.

 

But something about that bothered me.

 

When I thought about Seoul, I realized how little I knew. I wasn’t into K-pop. I hadn’t seen any K-dramas. I had barely explored Korean food. But it wasn’t because I disliked Korean culture...I had just never given it a real chance. Then I thought back to Thailand. That trip had changed me, and yet I had known almost nothing about Thai culture before going. I had stepped into something unfamiliar, and it had changed my life.

 

I realized that this type of change is what I want from a study abroad program. 

 

I chose Seoul because it’s somewhere I’m completely unprepared for. Instead of knowing the culture beforehand, I’ll discover it firsthand. My first bowl of sundubu-jjigae will be in Seoul, not in the U.S., and that excites me.

 

I wanted to share all this because I’m sure many people wonder whether it’s a good idea to travel somewhere that challenges them. I would’ve wondered the same thing before Thailand. But that trip showed me that the places that challenge you are the places that change you.

 

I look forward to sharing and recommending new types of food in my future blogs. I don’t know much about Korean cuisine, but I don’t need to know it to know I’m hungry.