Unaware

It's been over a month since I left Korea for the second time.

As the Mosaic Tour came to a close, we (the Tour Participants) did everything we could to keep the magic alive. There was a sense of pervasive longing to hold on. We had all just experienced the most therapeutic, educational, and often times painful journey together. We laughed and cried as one. Sometimes simultaneously. While, of course, there were times when I was alone, there was never a time when I felt lonely. Not once. Our shared fears, curiosity, and willingness to embrace the unknown, this nation and culture that pushed us away a lifetime ago, cemented relationships in a way I have never experienced. I doubt I will again.

One evening, during a group session about midway into the Tour, I remarked that the biggest surprise for me so far was that all of these beautiful people, my brothers and sisters, existed. While gaining a birth family and reconnecting to my Korean roots after a lifetime of ignorance is certainly impressive, even more so was spending time with all of these folks. It was the biggest gift of all.

The first official night of the Tour, we were asked, "What are your expectations for the Tour?" Mine was to learn about Korea so that I could pass it on to my son. Unlike me, I want him to grow up feeling proud of his history. I was unaware that the Tour would fill a void I never knew I had.

In Paju, on the Wettest Day. We had just traversed the longest suspension bridge in the country and were thoroughly drenched. We basically felt like warriors.

I've never had other Korean adoptees (KADs) in my life. Though I've met a few here and there, before the Tour, I'd never had a meaningful conversation about our shared history with another Korean adoptee. The ways in which we are unique cannot, I believe, truly be understood by others. While I've read and participated in Facebook group conversations with other KADs, it doesn't replace watching a face that resembles your own morph from anger to profound sadness, all the while, perfectly understanding the reasons for this transition.

This was a pretty rough day. This was the day I met my omma and discovered the truth about my relinquishment and birth family. And after a pretty rough day, we did what most Koreans do - get lit. Here, we are showing off our exquisite squatting talents. Unbeknownst to me until recent months, squatting with the ease and grace pictured above is not a natural ability for most. 

Never before had I connected so quickly, intrinsically, and deeply with another group of people. Though many of us shared quite a few commonalities (care-taking professionals, 30-40 years old, with families of our own, and roots in the Midwest) these surface connections belie the unanimous truth of our KAD experience. And even if we didn't have much in common in our "real lives," our overlapping childhood circumstances surpassed any differences. When we talked, it was as if I had known them my whole life.

Brendan, AKA, Not Peter. I was excited about his Coheed and Cambria shirt because my friend Mike back home was a huge fan, too, and I had to show him. Brendan kicks ass at norebang. Also, he's a giant. We would learn that lots of Koreans are tall, incidentally.

To say that I am thankful for the Tour itself is an understatement. The hidden gifts, though, were, "Our eyes look the same!" said from one KAD to another with wonderment and excitement at this novelty. The nodding and complete acceptance when revealing painful truths. The hysterical giggles at the confusing mess of a sentence created by a translation app. The tale of "Big Size" and all subsequent "Big Size" references that followed. (There were many. So. Many.) Unlocking achievements via superfluous meals. Ryan, and other Kakao Friends. The intensely dramatic DMZ video. (Death! Bombs! Starvation! But also rainbows! Deer-creatures! Look at the pretty flowers!) The near-death experience climbing back up the Third Tunnel. "I think of you every time I drink alone." The guffaws that followed my keen observation of Professor Lee's lips. The many weather apps on my phone and how I use them. The thing that happens when you desperately need a maxi pad but you can't speak Korean to the pharmacist. (Spoiler alert: you get adult diapers.) The feeling of deep, collective shame when a 4'10" ahjumma (probably) curses out all 27 of you out because you're too loud on the subway, and maybe you wet your pants a little because she was a teeny bit scary. "Under the Sea" on a norebang bus. Speaking and listening to Korean so much that it starts to feel a little like home. Having three other people besides you wear a black and white striped dress on the same day. Standing in two lines and making a tunnel with our arms for someone special to run through while we chanted their name. Slipping and sliding on wet walkways but always having someone to grab onto.

Lovely Abby, sharing a bit of her loveliness with me on the way to Gongbukgyoon Palace.

Paul, my West Coast brother from another mother. In our case, some portion of that might actually be true. 

Jenny, who radiated warmth and energy to all.

Without Snapchat filters, it wouldn't look like we were having nearly as much fun! Rebecca, whose ahjummosis waned a bit this night.

Jeannie from Maui, who I believe is Maya Rudolph's clone. Such warmth and depth.

Becky and Corey, the former my bus buddy, and the latter another brother from another mother. Bless his heart, he called me "Amy," but even still, I think he's the best.

What I wouldn't give to spend another day with these two.

Pretty sure this isn't my picture, but these lovelies, Emily and Shayna, seem to be surrounded by an angelic glow - how fitting.
Photo Credit: some awesome person

I have no clue why their hands are thrown up like that. Did I even take this picture?
Photo credit: Maybe me?

Victoria and the Derp.

Feeling the tranquility with Heather, Emily, and Mioka.

Chicken Lickin', on our last night together. 

There is no way to remember every single detail, but I want to remember as much as I can. The feeling of shared discovery at seeing how tidy and nice the mini-mall at the highway rest area is, and then buying your family gifts at said rest area. "You got a perm???" "Look at my eyebrows - See?" "Ahhhh. . ." Taking a picture of a dude who fell asleep while he was getting a digital perm, then getting shamed for taking that picture. A birth mother's gift of japchae. Another birth mother's gift of face masks.

Turtle Chips.

This was love and safety as I'd never felt before.

I want to seal it up tight and keep it safe.