I have lived abroad for about two and a half years now, so I did have some value as a life coach. In her responses, she told me about the different options she was juggling. Some of them were mundane (working in a local school district as a sub) and others were exotic. She was offered assignments for the Peace Corps to work in countries most people couldn't find on a map. I had to Google 'Micronesia' in order to convince one friend that it was in fact a real place.
She ultimately decided on teaching English in Korea I spent my first two years abroad there, and it was convenient that she chose to move to a place where I still have many close friends. This was a place about which I could actually give practical advice. I made some suggestions on what to pack and promised to have friends get in contact with her when she arrives.
But I couldn't give her advice about the things that really matter. I still don't think I can, because I don't know how to express the ideas clearly. If I tried now, I think it would sound patronizing and simplistic. She wouldn't listen to that advice, and it wouldn't do her any good if she did.
I can't give her the real advice because she needs to experience life as an expatriate for herself. It's better that way. She needs to spend her own nights sleeping in hammocks on the balcony above a techno bar. She needs to befriend her own neighborhood coffee lady. She needs to do all of the idiosyncratic yet seemingly ordinary things that define life abroad. She needs to look through her own eyes at the world around her and think, 'Whoa, that's awesome.'
This is exciting. I think she is going to have some incredible adventures and make some unbelievably stupid mistakes. I'm looking forward to hearing the stories of both. I hope that I'll be able to refrain from judgement or jealousy.
For most of her high school and early university years, I was basically an absentee brother. I provided none of the support or guidance than a younger sister should get from her older brother. Conversations with her were terse, infrequent, and generally critical. I was a complete asshole.
Only after moving to Korea was this cycle really broken. From a distance, I could relate to her more easily. Enough of my self-absorption melted away that I could actually take an interest in her life. Which was great, because she turned out to be a pretty damn interesting person.
She double-majored in dance and education, worked numerous part-time jobs, and juggled a social schedule of obligations that would have left me passed out in exhaustion within a week. She went to festivals and took impromptu road trips. She studied abroad in Greece. She finally developed decent taste in music and film (in some areas at least). I learned all this and realized she had become a real person.
My god, am I proud of this person. When I visited the U.S. for my mother's surprise birthday party, I was amazed that my little sister was…well, an adult. She was responsible, thoughtful, caring and intelligent. She organized events and coordinated preparations and did the dishes afterwards. She knew how to talk to people, how to handle social situations, how to navigate the complex maze of familial relationships that offers so many opportunities for disaster. The girl knew her shit.
Which makes me glad as she gets ready to move to Korea. I know she'll get lost, mistakenly order disgusting food, maybe hop on the wrong train one morning and wake up hours from home and terribly hungover from a long night of partying. I know these things will happen to her because they happen to everyone. But I know she'll be OK. She'll survive.
Even though I know my sister is a competent and responsible adult, a part of my brain is hardwired for older brother over-protectiveness. I want to tell her to avoid the nightclubs of Itaewon because most of the dudes there are sleazy douchebags. Or to never drink somek because somebody always add too much soju and things get ugly fast. I want to warn her about lecherous old Korean ajussis and their collective assumption that all blonde foreigners are Russian prostitutes. I want to tell her to never trust a taxi driver at 3am. It'd be nice to convince her that visiting Vang Vieng (for the tubing) or Koh Phagnan (for the Full Moon Party) would be a terrible idea. That over-protective part of me is a compulsive buzzkill.
But I'm not going to do it. That's not fair to her. I hope that she does whatever the hell she wants to do (even if I don't always want to hear about it - just like Mom) and learns her own limits. And then maybe pshes them just a bit, because that's the best part of living in Asia. Your comfort zone expands so far it encompasses eating insect larva, guzzling backyard moonshine, sleeping on park benches or reasonably clean sidewalks, and being in most train stations.
She's going to do great in Asia, and I'm excited for her. She'll adapt and thrive, which is just what she does. She'll make dozens of new friends (some of them life-long, as the brochures say) and try hundreds of new things. She'll be independent and resourceful. She'll discover some wild and bizarre truths about life.
She's going to do it her own way, at her own pace, with her own style. I don't want to push any of my own preconceptions or biases on her. As her Korean adventure begins, I think this is the most useful thing I can share with her:
Congratulations on making the jump to Asia - don't worry about the visa stuff. It'll all work out fine. The universe usually does.
I'm your older brother, Lizzie, and I love you very much. Thank you for being patient and forgiving when I didn't show it. You have grown up to be an incredible young woman, and I'm proud of you. You've accomplished some remarkable things and you're going to accomplish a lot more before you're through. I can't wait to see the ways you'll make the world more beautiful.
I'm always here for you. When you want to talk, I'll listen. And when you want to listen, I''ll talk. Always confidentially, usually coherently. You can always count on me to bail you out of a jam, no questions asked. Please don't pull that card too ften. You can count on me to be your biggest cheerleader and supporter. Never feel like you are alone - if you need me, I'll be there. That's why God invented credit cards and airplanes.
I'll leave you with my favorite cliched lines from my favorite cliched book for young adventurers:
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
The world is yours, Liz.
Love,
Your older brother
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