Living in Korea has been a lot of things – adventurous, insightful, frustrating, exciting – but certainly not easy. I didn’t expect it to be, but I also didn’t expect homesickness after just three months. I missed my family, my friends, and my country; without something to distract me, my time in Korea would have been unbearable. So, in place of worrying about more important matters, I spent my energy debating ski resorts, season passes, youth hostels, and storage lockers. Maybe it was ridiculous to care so much about skiing, but it was better than crying about what really hurt. And in the process I not only found myself in familiar territory, but I learned to articulate something more meaningful than just the ski life: I learned to articulate the Korean life.


Korea has come a long way in a short time

Sixty years ago, the effects of the Korean War were evident in the people and on the land. Monuments were gone. People were gone. The northern half of this country was gone. While developers built ski resorts in America, Koreans were rebuilding their homes and families. Korea was a poor country, blasted back to third-world status. The idea that anyone could ski here was absurd, as was the idea that it would one day host the Olympics. Sixty years later, resorts are everywhere, everyone is skiing, and Korea is making a name for itself in the international community. Having just hosted the 2007 Interski Congress (occurring once every four years), Yong Pyong Ski Resort (Pyeong Chang City) is one of three cities bidding for the 2014 Olympics (as are Salzburg, Austria and Sochi, Russia). Surely Korea is a serious candidate because officials hope to spotlight peace in the only divided country in the world. Just as likely, however, is that Korea has earned the attention on its own accord as it becomes richer, smarter, and faster than ever before.


Korea is all digital, all the time

In the bathroom, on the chair life, and even on the slopes, Koreans are on the phone. Whether texting or chatting, whether they are five or eighty-five, Koreans are obsessed. There is nowhere a cell phone isn’t allowed and they will stop short of nothing to answer. At first, I was shocked. Cell phones were ubiquitous and seemed to disrupt a significant amount of time. But soon after I started skiing at Yong Pyong, I too found myself texting at the top of a run or chatting on the gondola. Likewise, I became used to the digital billboards, soundstages, and strobe lights flooding the mountain all day and all night. In that respect, Korea is truly unique in the ski world. At night, in fact, Yong Pyong looks more like the busy streets of Seoul than a cozy mountain retreat. But one of the refreshing things about Korea is how little it tries to be like anyone else. It may not be the biggest or the best, but in its own way, it’s the brightest.


Status and appearances go a long way

I used to think America had the most appearance-obsessed culture. Then I came to Korea where there are more mirrors than windows, where all women wear make-up to work out, and where owning an authentic Louis Vuitton bag is just as important as owning a car. At Yong Pyong, it is no different: status and appearance are everything. Contrary to snooty articles in ski magazines, skiers in Korea do not wear used ski clothing from the 80s. I saw no one-piece snowsuits or magenta ski boots. Instead, Koreans of every age looked stylish and important. Everyone had matching jackets and pants in complimentary colors. Everyone had the newest ski goggles. Every man, no matter how old, looked like a twenty-something in crisp jackets and baggy snowboarding pants. Every woman was a perfect snow bunny in pastel, her long hair flowing beneath a perfectly fitted hat. Occasionally, silly trends, like stuffed-animal hats, took over the mountain, but even then, it was new and everyone was doing it. After all, in Korea, being a good skier isn’t nearly as cool as looking like one.


Korea has come a long way, but it’s got a long way to go

The last time I went skiing, my friend Eric and I laughed about Yong Pyong ever hosting the Olympics. In comparison to Rocky Mountain or Alps resorts, YP isn’t worth mentioning. With the exception of four fairly good runs off the gondola (which aren’t always open), most of YP is like skiing in Wisconsin. The slopes aren’t long enough or steep enough, there’s too much ice and not enough snow. And sometimes there are so many people that runs actually become suicide alleys.

I may sound like a ski snob, but I assure you, I am not. No, I’m merely skeptical that the best skiers in the world will find YP adequate, just as I doubt that most of my friends would ever want to visit Korea. Yong Pyong, and Korea, are certainly worth a trip, but they are not tourist destinations in and of themselves. Most foreigners living in Korea are teachers or military, and therefore most tourists are visiting friends and family. The truth is, no one is going to travel seven thousand miles to sight-see in Seoul or to ski a sub-par “mountain.” Instead, people are going to travel seven thousand miles to check out world-famous powder in Hokkaido and breath-taking skylines in Hong Kong. As a result, Korea has to try twice as hard to entice visitors to its country. Although not impossible, it’s quite a project, and Korea still has a long way to go.


Korea is a friendly place

Every day I teach English to students and teachers alike and often find myself frustrated with the inability to communicate with those who don’t know English. But if it weren’t for the Koreans’ patience with my lack of Korean language skills, my life here would have been difficult and unenjoyable. While I skied, Koreans talked to me in lift lines and on the gondola, even when they didn’t talk to each other. Korean skiers showed me the resort and took me to coffee. Yong Pyong workers spoke English whenever they could, always bowed to me in the lift line, and helped me whenever I looked lost, even if they spoke no English. Yong Pyong may not be the greatest place I ever skied, but it was definitely the friendliest.



When I look back at my one ski season in Korea, I will remember that it was a worthwhile distraction. It gave me something to do in December when I missed Christmas cookies and family time, it was somewhere to go when all my friends were away, and it gave me a reason to get out of Seoul. More than a distraction, though, my time at Yong Pyong has left me with a better sense of who Korea is and where it is going. And for that, skiing wasn’t just a distraction. It was a once in a lifetime experience.