I handed my boarding pass to a pretty woman named Jessica. She scanned it and said "Have a nice flight."

I nodded and smiled. I continued down the caterpillar like corridor and boarded the plane. Heaving my suitcase over my head, I stuffed it in the carry-on compartment and took my seat.

I could feel my entire body trembling. My eyes were wide open, energized by adrenaline while my stomach clenched and churned.

I couldn't believe I was actually on the plane. Ever since I was young, I had loved new things and since discovering the Asian culture, I became enamored with it. At first it was Japanese entertainment; manga, anime, and so on. But somewhere along the line I discovered Korean pop music and later, Korean dramas. Needless to say, Korea quickly became my new fascination. And after practically begging my parents, I was on my way there as a foreign exchange student.

I glanced around me and noticed there were mainly Americans on the flight. It was to be expected since our first stop was in New York.

"This is going to be a long two days," I thought. I popped a piece of gum in my mouth and leaned my head back, preparing myself for the first take-off of many to come.

My mind began to wander. I thought about all the Korean people I would get to meet and speak with. I was glad I had spent so much time learning Korean; I was at least confident with that. I began to wonder what people would think of me. Would they think I was weird?

I suddenly felt very sick, wondering what in the heck I was thinking. But as I put my hands up to my glass window, the plane took off. “Me and my surges of unbacked courage…” I mumbled. I tried to clear the thoughts from my head. “Besides,” I thought, “there’s no turning back now.”

After connections in New York, London, and Beijing (that was the cheapest ticket my mom could find), I finally arrived at the destination of my dreams: South Korea.

The plane touched down smoothly. A woman over the speakers made an announcement in Korean and English that said phones could be switched out of airplane mode at that time. I pulled my own phone out of my pocket and did so. After a few seconds, multiple messages flooded my inbox.

I replied to my mom telling her that yes, I had made it there safely and I said the same to my grandma as well. Finally I opened the message from my best friend Cameron (Cam for short).

Hey Aila. Did you land yet? If you spot any hot Korean guys you have to take pictures for me! Cam wrote.

I shook my head and laughed quietly to myself. She was the only one who understood my passion for all things Korean and felt the same, albeit not always on the same level. Although her tastes in music and men were a bit different from mine, as long as it had to do with Korean we always agreed. She had biases from groups and my bias was always someone else; we were a perfect match as far as friends went.

Fifteen minutes later, I finally emerged from the plane and entered the Incheon airport. I was stunned. Now, coming from a small town in the U.S., not to mention Oregon, you didn’t see a whole lot of what you’d call city. Sure, I had been to New York before, but not even the Newark airport could compare to this. The ceilings were so high that I felt like I was walking in open air. It was so spacey and modern. I stared around in awe for a couple seconds but then realized I was in the way of other people. I pressed on until I found a woman holding a sign that read “Aila Rose.”

“Annyeonghaseyo (hello),” I said to her in Korean and nodded.

“Ah, you’re Miss Rose?” she said.

“Ne (yes),” I answered.

“My name is Goo Hyejin. You will be living with my family while you are here,” she said.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” I said as I bowed slightly.

“Do you need some help carrying your things?”

“That would be great, thank you. I have another bag to pick up at the baggage claim.”

“I hope you will enjoy staying with us,” Hyejin said as we waited for my bag to come.

“I’m sure I will. Thank you for your hospitality. Ah, there’s my bag.” I raced over to grab it off the line.

I went to reach out for it, when suddenly a man asked in perfect English, “Is that your bag?”

“Yes,” I said and before I knew it, he pulled it off the cycle, set it down and raised up the handle.

“Here you go,” he said with a smile.

I realized in an instant he was younger than he had sounded , probably only a high school student like myself. He had white blonde hair, large dark eyes, and soft baby cheeks. As his face relaxed into a more serious face, he almost looked intimidating. He was wearing a leather jacket, ripped up jeans and a large chain hung around his neck. But when he smiled he looked as harmless and adorable as a newborn kitten.

“Kamsahamnida (thank you),” I said and bowed.

He just smiled again and walked away.

“What a nice guy,” I thought, “and so good looking too…” The way he looked and the contradicting way that he had acted made me curious. As he left, I could barely make out the name embroidered on his backpack. It said: Kim Namjoon.