A Stranger in Seoul
The airplane wheels screeched as they touched the runway, jolting Ama awake from her restless sleep. She blinked against the cabin lights, her heart pounding with the realization that she was no longer in Accra. The captain’s voice crackled through the intercom, announcing their arrival at Incheon International Airport. The words felt like magic: Korea. She was finally here.
Ama pressed her face to the window, her breath fogging the glass as she stared down at the sea of lights below. The city stretched endlessly, glittering like a necklace of stars. It was a sight she had only seen in K-dramas and YouTube travel vlogs, but now it was real. Her stomach fluttered with equal parts excitement and fear.
She clutched her small crossbody bag tightly as the passengers rose from their seats. Around her, she heard rapid bursts of Korean, a language that still sounded like a song she couldn’t quite understand. She whispered a silent prayer: God, let this be the start of something great. Don’t let me fail.
The airport was massive, its shiny floors reflecting her nervous footsteps. She followed the signs to immigration, trying to steady her breathing. When the officer scanned her passport and stamped it, she felt the official weight of her decision. There was no turning back.
Dragging her suitcase toward the arrival hall, Ama looked for the name on the cardboard sign she had been told to expect: Ama Mensah, Hankuk University Exchange. Her eyes darted anxiously until they landed on a tall young man standing stiffly near the exit. He held the sign with one hand, his expression unreadable. His dark hair fell neatly over his forehead, and his posture was sharp, almost intimidating.
Ama forced a smile and approached. “Hello. I’m Ama.”
The young man gave a curt nod. “Min-Jae.” His voice was low, polite, but distant.
For a second, Ama felt the awkwardness hang heavy in the air. She expected a warm welcome, maybe even small talk. Instead, he simply turned and started walking, leaving her to follow with her heavy suitcase.
“Um… nice to meet you,” she mumbled, half to herself.
The drive from the airport to the dormitory was quiet. Ama tried to break the silence. “Seoul looks so beautiful at night,” she said, gazing out at the neon signs and busy streets.
Min-Jae gave a noncommittal hum, his eyes fixed on the road.
Ama pressed her lips together, sinking into the seat. Maybe he was shy. Or maybe he didn’t like having to babysit an exchange student. Either way, she couldn’t let his coldness dim her excitement. She had dreamed of this moment for years studying abroad, living in the city of her favorite dramas, walking the same streets she had only seen on screen.
When they arrived at the dormitory, Min-Jae helped her with the luggage but still said very little. At the door, he finally spoke more than a sentence. “Orientation tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Okay, thank you,” Ama replied, grateful at least for that.
As she entered her small dorm room, she let out a long sigh. The room was neat and modern, with white walls and a single bed by the window. She placed her suitcase down and sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion crashing over her.
From her phone, a message pinged. It was from her best friend back in Ghana: “Safe flight? How’s Korea? Don’t forget to send pictures!”
Ama smiled faintly. She took a quick photo of the room and sent it, then typed back: “I’m here. It feels unreal. Pray for me, I think my guide doesn’t like me 😂.”
She set the phone aside and lay back on the bed. Outside, Seoul buzzed with life, but inside, Ama felt both thrilled and terrified. This was her new world, and she had no idea what awaited her.
For now, all she could do was close her eyes and whisper to herself, “Ama Mensah, welcome to Seoul.”
The morning air in Seoul was sharp and chilly, nothing like the humid dawns Ama was used to back home in Accra. She wrapped her thin sweater tighter around herself as she waited in the dormitory lobby. Her breath formed small clouds each time she exhaled.
At exactly eight o’clock, Min-Jae appeared, punctual down to the second. He wore a dark coat and a serious expression, his hair neatly combed. Ama quickly stood, brushing her braids back and smiling nervously.
“Good morning,” she said brightly.
He nodded once. “Let’s go.”
Ama tried not to feel discouraged by his coldness. She wheeled her small bag of essentials-books, notebook, a water bottle behind her as they stepped outside. The streets were already alive with people hurrying in every direction. Cafés buzzed with customers, buses rumbled past, and the air smelled faintly of roasted coffee and spicy food.
Seoul was overwhelming, but also beautiful. Skyscrapers towered above her, their glass walls reflecting the pale morning sun. Neon signs from convenience stores blinked even though it was daylight. Every corner seemed alive with possibility.
As they walked toward the bus stop, Ama decided she had to try again. “So, um… have you ever guided an exchange student before?” she asked.
“No,” Min-Jae replied flatly, eyes still ahead.
Ama’s smile faltered. She looked at him, trying to read his expression, but it was like staring at a locked door. Still, she wasn’t the type to give up easily. “Well, I hope I won’t be too much trouble,” she said lightly.
He didn’t answer.
The bus ride was crowded, and Ama held tightly to the pole as it jerked forward. She noticed the curious glances some passengers gave her. Her braids and dark skin made her stand out in ways she hadn’t fully anticipated. For the first time, she felt a sting of self-consciousness.
Min-Jae noticed too. He shifted slightly, as though trying to shield her from the stares, though he said nothing. It was a small gesture, but Ama caught it, her heart warming a little. Maybe he wasn’t as cold as he seemed.
When they arrived at Hankuk University, Ama’s breath caught in her throat. The campus was huge, with elegant stone buildings and cherry trees lining the paths. Even though the blossoms had not yet bloomed, the bare branches hinted at the beauty that would come.
Students hurried past in groups, chatting in rapid Korean. Ama clutched her notebook tighter, suddenly aware of how foreign she was.
“This way,” Min-Jae said, leading her toward the international students office.
Inside, Ama was greeted by a woman at the desk who spoke quickly in Korean. Ama froze, panic rising in her chest. She recognized a few words; passport, registration, name, but the rest blurred together.
“I..I’m sorry,” Ama stammered. “I don’t understand.”
The woman frowned slightly, repeating herself slower, but Ama still struggled. Her cheeks burned.
Then Min-Jae stepped forward, speaking smoothly in Korean. He translated for her, his tone efficient. Ama felt both relief and embarrassment wash over her.
“Fill this form,” he said, handing her a clipboard after the conversation ended.
“Thank you,” Ama whispered, avoiding his eyes.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of paperwork, signatures, and polite nods. Each time she stumbled, Min-Jae intervened. He didn’t complain, but his expression never softened either.
By lunchtime, Ama’s stomach was growling. She followed Min-Jae to the cafeteria, overwhelmed by the trays of food she didn’t recognize. Red, spicy dishes, noodles in steaming broth, side plates of vegetables and something that looked like pickled cabbage.
“Kimchi,” Min-Jae said when he saw her confusion.
Ama hesitated, finally picking a tray of rice and soup. She noticed Min-Jae’s tray was full, as if he knew exactly what to choose.
They sat at a corner table. Ama tried the soup and nearly coughed at the spice. Her eyes watered, but she forced a smile. “It’s… different,” she said carefully.
Min-Jae raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Ama stole glances at him as she ate. He was handsome in a quiet way, his sharp jawline and calm presence impossible to ignore. But there was a wall around him, and she wondered what it would take to break through.
When she looked away, her phone buzzed. A message from her best friend back home:
“Don’t forget to enjoy yourself, Ama! Live your K-drama dream 😂💕.”
Ama chuckled softly. If only her friend knew how far from a K-drama this felt.
Still, as she glanced again at Min-Jae who was silently eating beside her, something told her that her story in Seoul was only just beginning.
