Elizabeth Strout ’25 shares her experience studying in South Korea as a recipient of the Don Reid Sogang University Scholarship. Learn about the program »

A few years ago, while browsing through the Gleeson Library catalog, I encountered a collection of translated poems called Back to Heaven by Cheon Sang-byeong. Intrigued by the title, I checked it out. It was a humble, golden book bound in linen with a card pocket that signaled its age. But it was beautiful. I was captivated by the heartbreaking prologue on the poet’s story, the simplicity of his prose, and the notes on his poems at the end, which I photographed and saved to my phone to look back on. When the chance arose in a class last spring, I used the collection’s namesake poem for a poetry analysis essay.

The same spring, I saw an advertisement for an inaugural scholarship to study in South Korea. The Don Reid Sogang University Scholarship announcement arrived with the sort of unreality that young girls imagine a prince will show up one day, complete with the dreamy opportunity to study the Korean language and take a class on “K-pop and Cultural Studies” — very much in line with my other interests in linguistics, music, and overthinking. I decided to shoot my shot and apply.

I couldn’t believe the news at all when I got the email that I was accepted. I called my friend immediately and later remembered something familiar from that book of poems. I went back to the library to check it out again and confirmed; the translator, Brother Anthony of Taizé, had once taught at Sogang, the university I would be attending to study that summer. So I looked him up online and sent an email, expressing appreciation for his translation and asking if it would be possible to meet and chat about his work. To my surprise, he replied yes within a few days.

 

 

Soon I was on my first flight to Seoul, where I took a few days to settle in before orientation to Sogang University’s International Summer Program began. The next month became a rhythm of language classes in the morning and afternoons comparing East and West with K-pop as a jumping-off point. The cross-cultural semiotic analysis felt like an academic version of what I do daily living in a mixed family, and the validation of that mundane experience was exhilarating.

I was also able to meet the translator twice for tea and conversation. I was inspired by his presence — the kind one can only acquire from the contemplative sort of life he chose — and dedication to public service. Learning more about Brother Anthony’s life and academic journey, I felt that we shared a lot of interests, and a similarly focused literary path might be one I want to emulate. It was a true honor to meet someone whose work I’ve long admired and the highlight of my month in South Korea.

 

 

In Seoul, everyday life took on a new density. It felt like a vivid dream because half the time I didn’t know what was going on; grasping for meaning took a lot more intention with less vocabulary and cultural comfort to work with. But as the days went by my confidence grew stronger, with cafes and classrooms as my practice spaces. And in my confusion there was actually a new euphoria, almost a permission to be childlike as an adult.

Being non-Korean in Korea offered me a liminal space to observe the daily life of locals in Seoul and reflect on the values that informed my own, without being strictly held to social standards in South Korea due to my appearance as a foreigner. In this innocence I felt I grew a lot as an individual.

Like a first love, I’ll never fully get the magic of my first time in Korea back. But it’s an experience I will always cherish, and I do hope to return back to Korea — or back to Heaven? — in the years to come.