In this blog post, I’ll share my experience of rethinking the meaning of life and happiness through my first solo trip, which I took later in life.
People travel—sometimes with friends, sometimes with family, and in some cases alone—to escape their daily routines and relax. One of the greatest joys of travel is relieving the fatigue and stress accumulated from repetitive daily life, taking time to recharge, and experiencing a new world that’s hard to encounter in everyday life.
Unfortunately, however, I had rarely embarked on such trips of my own volition. Of course, I never missed the group retreats or field trips organized by my school, but since we followed a set itinerary and were surrounded by the same friends and teachers I saw every day at school, it was difficult to fully experience the joys of travel I mentioned earlier. After entering college, I went on several orientation trips with my classmates, but the trips I experienced were closer to the original meaning of “Membership Training”—an opportunity to build camaraderie with my peers and test each other’s drinking limits—rather than a chance to encounter something new. Due to my personality, I never joined any clubs or other organizations, so I had no opportunities to travel with others, and since my family members were all busy with their own lives, it’s been over a decade since we last went on a trip together. And so, I lived my life without really feeling the meaning or necessity of travel. I thought that simply spending time in front of the computer whenever I had free time was enough to recharge.
After entering college, I spent five semesters nonstop, drifting along as it were, before enlisting in the military. Due to the nature of my duties during my military service, I had to study national maps every day. At first, I looked with interest at how familiar places—like the area around my house or my school—were marked on the maps. However, looking at familiar places gradually became boring, and instead, I began to feel curious about the places on the map I had never visited. One day, as I was getting used to military life and feeling a sense of ennui set in, I was talking with a civilian employee I worked with about the names of places in a certain region. When he asked, “Have you ever been there?” it led to a conversation about travel. When I mentioned that I had hardly ever traveled, he replied, “Studying is important, but you need to have that kind of leisure time too,” and began telling me stories about the places he had visited. That encounter suddenly sparked a desire in me to “go somewhere.” Thinking about the life that would resume once I returned to school, I realized that the time I could spare for travel would likely grow increasingly scarce, making the brief period after my discharge feel all the more precious.
So I vowed to myself that I would definitely go on a trip once I was discharged. Some people went on overseas trips starting with the summer break after their first semester of college, and many others set out on backpacking trips or cross-country treks right from their freshman year, so I was definitely a latecomer. At the time, there was the Korea Railroad Corporation’s “Nae-il-ro” unlimited travel pass, which significantly reduced the financial burden, and this program was also one of the key reasons I decided to travel. Furthermore, as someone who is very conscious of others’ opinions, I chose to travel alone because I believed that—even if it meant being a bit lonely—I would find greater satisfaction in planning my own itinerary and acting freely without having to worry about anyone else’s expectations.
As the day I had set for my post-discharge trip drew closer, I began making travel plans to prepare. Given the limited timeframe of one week and the requirement to travel primarily by rail, planning the trip wasn’t as difficult as I had expected. The process of creating an itinerary that would bring me the most satisfaction within these temporal and spatial constraints—without a set destination—was as intriguing as solving a problem I had set for myself. Combined with the excitement I felt just imagining the places I would visit before actually seeing them, the time spent preparing for the trip became a great joy in itself.
When the day of departure finally arrived, I packed my bags and headed to Yongsan Station. My first stop was Gwangju. This was where my parents had first settled down after getting married, and it was the only day on my itinerary when I could catch a home game of the baseball team I support. Although the team lost the game, the experience of cheering from the home stands for the first time—after always cheering from the away section—felt very unique.
Next, in Jeonju, I had the chance to visit Jeonju Stadium, the former home field of the professional baseball team, the Ssangbangul Raiders. At first, the entrance was closed, so I couldn’t get in, but after walking around the soccer field right next to it and coming back, I found the gate open and was able to go inside. Others might ask, “Why go to an old stadium with nothing in it?” but for me, as a fan of professional baseball, the mere fact that I could step onto the very field where players once competed—even if it was a relic of the past—was an incredibly thrilling experience.
In Suncheon, the view I saw while walking through the vast reed beds of Suncheon Bay remained the most memorable scenery of this trip. Being able to observe mudskippers and crabs up close in the tidal flats was also a truly fascinating experience. The panoramic view of Busan from Yongdusan Park and the majestic coastal cliffs of Taejongdae were also so beautiful that they will stay with me for a long time.
The local cuisine in each region was also a major highlight of the trip. Tteokgalbi in Gwangju, stone-pot rice and bean sprout soup in Jeonju, along with moju; and pork soup and seed-filled hotteok in Busan—tasting regional dishes that are hard to come by in everyday life at every meal provided a joy completely different from my usual routine of eating at the school cafeteria or having meals at home with familiar side dishes.
After seeing and experiencing these small yet diverse things throughout the trip, I realized that I had been living a very passive life up until then. From elementary school through middle school and high school, and even during my college years leading up to my military enlistment, I had prioritized grades and GPA over my own enjoyment or satisfaction. I felt regretful that, throughout that time, I had either not even considered other values in life or failed to recognize their importance. If I had to pinpoint a reason, I could cite the mindset that confined me to financial constraints due to my family’s modest circumstances; yet, what I regretted most was that during my college breaks—when I had far more freedom than before—I let time slip away without even considering experiences like this trip. Although it’s late, the fact that this trip allowed me to engage in such self-reflection was the greatest takeaway from the journey.
Grades and GPA may be important factors in gaining recognition from others. However, they alone do not necessarily lead to happiness. Everyone has their own life, and the form that happiness takes varies for each person. Ultimately, you must find your own happiness. For me, this trip was the first step on the path to finding that happiness. To put it simply, it was a trip that inspired me to embrace the mindset: “Even if I live a little more modestly, let’s live a little more joyfully!”
