Day 0 I arrived in Korea blearily, rubbing my eyes and cursing the airplane seats for being so unreasonably uncomfortable.
 
I met my coworker and bossman with a huge smile, which immediately faltered as I was promptly ordered to "practice traversing the subways by myself." Against the odds and my utter navigational incompetence, I arrived in Itaewon two hours later, with most of my dignity and a deep fondness for T-mobile's roaming plan. 

​After determining that my coworker's Korean was indeed survivably-fluent, I set off to exploit his linguistic abilities and tumble awkwardly through (at least some of) all of Korea's wonders. He would only be there for 9 days, and I would be damned if I didn't make use of his convenient presence. 

Day 1 My coworker took me to a Cat Cafe, where I spent two hours being rejected by my feline lovers.

Day 2 I pulled together my meager self-esteem and visited (and slept in!) a jimjilbang.

​Day 3 I explored the ex-pat wonderland of Itaewon, and fell into dislike with the Line Store. (Do not go alone. It is a haven for couples, and lonely, bitter souls travelling alone will feel their despair plummet to the bottom of the ocean).

Day 4 I had some pretty bomb katsu because my Korean co-worker, who is Korean, hates Korean food. 

Day 5 I hid from the world.

Day 6 My guide ditched me (cough David), and I lined up at any food stall with a reasonable line and mastered the art of pretending-to-understand-Korean-or-Chinese-or-even-Japanese.

Day 7 My guide ditched me (again), and I visited Bukchon Village while clutching my dear camera in hopes it would make me look a little less alone.

Day 8 I fulfilled my two-month old dream of going to the Trickeye Museum, and confirmed that cheddar cheese and/or onion are not good macaron flavors.

Day 9 I pretended that I knew how to have a social life, and hit the clubs as a final farewell to my co-worker (May You Remain Forever a Ditcher). 

It’s 2 AM. I’m in my dorm, presumably studying for finals (but actually on Facebook), when I receive a call. Fast forward two weeks, and I’m boarding a plane to South Korea. I am now the Director of the Global Mentorship Initiative. I can only imagine what the title means.

As a barely literate foreigner who renounced his Korean citizenship, I already feel uneasy about being back in the homeland, and the lack of information doesn’t help. The night before I start, my phone pings with the message, “Let’s meet at Gangnam station… Near exit 5 downstairs”. I meet up with Zubair, and we head to our office space, open our laptops, and begin working.

Days later, I’ve reached over 7000 students on Facebook. However insignificant the interaction between us, I have impacted their lives. And now that I am two weeks in, I can only describe my work as meaningful. I can’t reduce my responsibilities to a list, but I don’t want or need to. I still have trouble commuting to and from work, but I’m slowly learning. My workload might subject me to sleepless nights and bouts of confusion, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love what I am doing, whether I’m creating content for GlobalMI, running our Facebook page, or even just coming up with ideas. I love what I’m doing; the eight-hour work day seems to melt away (but whether I’m productive or not is another question). This year is going to be a good one, I can feel it.

David is freshman at Amherst College studying sociology and economics. He is passionate about transforming education policy to tackle socioeconomic issues on a global scale.