At university, I roomed with Korean students. They were my first introduction to Korean language, culture, and food. While studying for my Linguistics degree, I learned about teaching English abroad and realized it might be possible to live in the country I’d come to love through my uni friends.

When I moved to Daegu, South Korea in 2019, I thought I’d work there for a year and then maybe go to London for grad school. Two and a half years later, I was still in Korea. I left for the first time a bit battered and bruised and with lingering survivor’s guilt as I traded lockdown and restricted Korea for the less rigid USA. I couldn’t get Korea out of my head and heart and 9 months later I was back, this time in Seoul. It was familiar and comfortable to be back in South Korea. Seoul felt like a second home and with restrictions lifting, it was easier to connect with others without the fear that had hung thick in the air for the past few years. Soon after I moved, I attended 체린 (Cherin)’s evening yoga class.

I remember cautiously walking into the studio, nervous about whether I had signed up for the class correctly and how I would go about explaining why I was there with my broken Korean. Cherin greeted me with a smile and showed me to the mats. The room was peaceful and quiet and her presence filled the space like a warm hug. We talked shyly as our languages haltered back and forth but with an eagerness to share. Sometimes you meet people and know you are, even if for a moment, connected in some way. Before every class she wrote down quotes in English or Korean for us to think about and meditate on for the evening. This one I remember vividly:

“When you sit, you are coming back to yourself, to your body, your feelings, your emotions, and your perceptions in order to take care of them. That’s good news.

Thich Nhat Hanh

At the time, there was a quiet hush of “oh!” as the other students and I took photos of the quote and listened to her explanation of it.

Life got busy and I couldn’t fit yoga classes into my schedule as often as I’d like but I kept up with Cherin through Instagram. The next Spring, she traveled to Europe. First Portugal, then Spain, then… what? Hiking in so many beautiful places?! Where is she? I saw the words “Camino de Santiago” appear on one of her beautiful photos. What is that? A quick Google search and I was sold. I too will walk the Camino de Santiago one day.

An incredibly meticulous planner with a “yolo” approach to life in general, I found myself a year later settling on the French route, booking a wild string of flights, rolling the dice on getting to stay with a friend in London, and taking off for Europe after finishing some contract work I picked up after leaving Korea yet again. When telling people along the way that I, an American, found out about the Camino through a Korean, they laughed at how strange it was or nodded, telling me of a famous book written by 김효선 (Kim Hyo-Sun) that had increase the number of Korean pilgrims throughout the years.

I’m in awe to think that had I never transferred to UGA and randomly moved in with Korean students, decided to lived in South Korea not once but twice, and just so happened to attend the yoga class of an instructor who walked the Camino a few months after I met her, the chances I would be writing this are minimal at best. A world of coincidences. Everything falling into place at the right time. Another lesson I would eventually learn on the Camino.

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