Running Toward the Blank Canvas

September 4 will be my final teaching day in Korea. After six months here, I will leave the country and travel to Switzerland.

The Swiss Alps have called to me for as long as I can remember. As a teenager during the Gulf War, I learned that Switzerland had remained neutral during World War II. I have always advocated for peace, and its neutrality came to represent the strength required to resist being pulled into conflict. My teenage understanding was certainly simpler than the full history, but the impression stayed with me.

My interest is not entirely geopolitical. I also want to stand on a Swiss mountaintop and spin around like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. Yes, I know that was Austria. Depending on how badly the trip goes off the rails, I may end up channeling Clark W. Griswold in European Vacation instead.

The Alps have been calling for a long time.

Now, I am picking up the phone.

Being in the mountains revitalizes me. The air feels cleaner, my thoughts feel clearer, and the grandeur of nature puts everyday concerns into perspective. Mountains remain vast, powerful, and partly untamed—indifferent to schedules, emails, and human expectations.

I do not simply want to see the Swiss Alps. I want to feel small inside them, breathe deeply, and remember that life is larger than the routines that so easily consume it.

This morning, I started packing my fall and winter clothes. I packed my business-casual clothes too, although I do not know when—or whether—I will need them again. I threw away a few things and began clearing the drawers.

Packing made my departure real in a way that calendars and countdowns have not. With each folded shirt, I felt myself moving closer to my final day and whatever comes afterward.

I was filled with relief.

Saying goodbye to my students will be harder. Yesterday, I witnessed another teacher’s farewell and the emotional toll it took. I am ready to leave Korea behind, but I am not ready to leave my students. Their love, trust, and innocence have made my time in the classroom meaningful. Saying goodbye will hurt, but that sadness can exist alongside the relief of leaving a country where I no longer want to stay.

For a while, I thought about my departure mainly in terms of what I was escaping: stress, exhaustion, frustration, the language barrier, and a daily life that has not felt like mine.

Now, I see it differently.

I am not merely running away from something.

I am running toward something.

I just cannot see all of it yet.

Switzerland is the first destination. After that, Europe opens into possibilities—cities I have never walked through, landscapes I have never seen, and versions of daily life I cannot yet imagine.

Travel offers an escape from the mundane routines of everyday life. In a new city, everything deserves attention. I notice the architecture, public spaces, small shops, signs, sounds, and details that local residents may pass without a glance. An ordinary place becomes extraordinary simply because it is not yet ordinary to me.

That fresh perspective makes me feel curious, alert, and alive—less like I am sleepwalking through a life organized around getting through one day so I can begin the next.

For now, my future is a blank canvas.

At first, that blankness felt overwhelming. A clear plan offers comfort. Without one, every possibility can feel like a decision that must be made immediately.

But a blank canvas is not an empty life.

It is space.

Switzerland will be the first color. Other places and experiences will add more. Some will be bright: beautiful landscapes, unexpected cities, new friendships, and quiet mornings. Others will be darker: mistakes, disappointments, and places that feel entirely wrong.

The darker colors will not mean I chose the wrong canvas. They will give the picture depth.

I do not know whether the finished picture will include another classroom, a different kind of work, a longer stay in Europe, or something I have not yet considered.

Soon, I will say goodbye to my students and close the door on a country I am ready to leave. Then I will step into a future that remains uncertain, unwritten, and completely open.

For the first time since coming to Korea, I am excited to see what I put on the canvas.