Welcome to The Soju Diary. If you are considering moving from New Jersey to South Korea, this raw, personal essay captures the exact emotional and chaotic reality of leaving the Garden State behind for an unexpected family mission in Seoul.
It’s 2007, January the sixth officially, about one in the morning. My mom’s upstairs in the kitchen making my father’s lunch for tomorrow. She’s all jetlagged, just got back from visiting my brother in Korea, trying to bring him back from the brink of insanity. He decided that he wanted to become an English teacher instead of going to law school like he said he would–and she was none too happy about it.
“He’s crazy!” Mit-cheo-suh!
James went from Boston College to doing one of those victory tours of the Motherland. His pilgrimage to the peninsula began innocently enough. He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, and had actual dreams of practicing taekwondo on a mountain for the rest of his life. Best of the Best, if you get that reference. Or more like This is Better Than That, in regards to the notion of chaining himself to a library desk for another three or four years.
Aptitude testing and debt acquisition, the rite of passage for any Korean American first-born son.
Now I was the one being sent. The ticket was purchased without my consent. I wasn’t even addressed, really. Mom was sending me to get my brother and bring him back from the edge of calamity. Dad was surprisingly more on the fence, shrugging his shoulders and saying that James would come back when he was ready.
Well, Mom was a lot noisier about it, so Mom won.
Send in Agent Danny.
Mission: Bring James’ Ass Home.
I’m not sure what this extraction process is going to look like.
Am I the right man for the job?
Presently, while writing this journal, I’m starting to feel the waves and the wah-wahs of the universe speaking to me. The mushrooms are kicking in.
I’m in my parents’ basement, splashing acrylic around on a piece of plywood, doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing post-graduation with a BFA from Rutgers:
Nothing.
I guess I could spare some time to visit Korea.
It’s always been a distant memory for me though. Last time I went, I was eight years old. It was really fun to hang out with my cousins on the other side, but what I mostly remember is the smell. A Korean smell. One that was a mixture of pollution, smog, humidity, kimchi, garlic, mildew, and bad plumbing.
It was summer, and it was hot.
This time I’ll be arriving in winter. I might as well go and pen a “Dear James” email on the old laptop before the shrooms make every word a swirling incoherent rhizome shining with the ecstasy of existence. Oh fuck, it’s starting to kick in.
Dear James,
Dad’s pretending the heat isn’t broken again. We sat at dinner with winter coats on…
I’m imagining this in a British orphan’s accent. James will get the joke.
Forget it.
I have to finish this painting before take-off. Leaving in T-minus ten hours. I’ll be soberish by then.
I’d decided to paint a picture for Nikki. It’s her birthday next week. I may never see her again. She wanted a Gucci bag, but this is the best I could do. Funds are tight. Mushrooms don’t grow on trees, you know.
Nikki is my homegirl from college. We used to work weddings together, the cake station. We’d take bets on whether we thought the bride and groom were going to make it. True to the stats, it was about 50/50.
She’s laid beside me in her bra and panties, analyzing my dreams. I guess I fell in love, or at least felt inspired enough to lay a painting on her before I vamoose and make like the wind. I mean, there’s a lot of unfinished business there, words that we never said, and this silly little painting will have to suffice, left on her doorstep and all. This is how I say goodbye. To her, to New Jersey.
Because did I mention? I’m probably never coming back.
Not that I have a hard-on for Korea or anything. Not like James.
But you know, if you get a chance to get out of the Garden State, you take it.
You take it and you never look back.
- If you enjoyed this diaspora story, check out our other literary pieces like Just a Souvenir and explore more thoughts on cultural identity on the Kimchi x Kafka Blog.