Sofia Gomez ’26 shares her experience studying in South Korea as a recipient of the Don Reid Sogang University Scholarship. Learn about the program »

When I imagined South Korea, I thought of neon-lit nights in Seoul, the energy of K-pop pulsing through the streets, food steaming on every corner, and a blend of tradition and futurism in daily life. I wasn’t wrong – those things were there. But what I hadn’t anticipated was how much the slower, quieter moments would leave their mark too: a kind gesture from a street vendor in Incheon, the peaceful rhythm of Sokcho’s seaside town, or the way classmates from five different countries could laugh over the same inside joke.

 

 

As a Don Reid Scholar, I spent four transformative weeks at Sogang University, enrolling in two courses: Beginner Korean and K-pop and Cultural Studies. Both challenged me in ways I hadn’t experienced before. The Korean class was immersive and fast-paced; we covered a semester’s worth of material in just a month. The pressure was real, but so was the reward. I gradually moved from deciphering the alphabet to forming sentences, ordering food, and holding basic conversations. There’s something deeply satisfying about feeling your brain stretch like that.

My K-pop and Cultural Studies course was equally engaging, but in a different way. We peeled back the layers of Korea’s most famous export, examining everything from fan culture and media representation to gender politics and globalization. The class had no single cultural majority, which made for lively, honest, and at times surprising discussions.

Our field trips to Everland, Incheon, Sokcho, and the DMZ gave the experience dimension beyond the classroom. Everland was the kind of chaotic joy only a theme park can offer: screaming through roller coasters one minute, eating cotton candy the next. Sokcho, by contrast, was slow and calming – the breeze off the ocean, fresh seafood stalls, and sleepy streets felt like a pause in the middle of everything. And the DMZ, with its strange mix of hope and history, brought us face to face with the emotional weight of the peninsula’s past and future.

Still, the core of this experience was the people. I didn’t just study abroad – I built a community. Late nights with classmates blurred into a mix of flashcards, instant noodles, and nervous rehearsals. The night before our Korean final exam felt like a pressure cooker of broken grammar, nervous laughter, and collective encouragement. We quizzed each other until we forgot what language we were speaking in – and yet, even in that anxiety, we bonded over shared panic, progress, and the ridiculousness of trying to sound fluent after just four weeks.

 

 

I came to Korea expecting to study. I left having lived something much fuller. Returning to USF, I bring back more than knowledge; I carry the memory of that makeshift community, the thrill of growth, and the understanding that education is just as much about people as it is about content. South Korea didn’t just expand what I knew – it expanded who I thought I could be.

 

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