Deciding if I actually needed those extra weeks in Brisbane

Landing in Brisbane with nothing but a carry-on

I remember sitting in my room in Brisbane, staring at the ceiling, wondering if the money I spent on that specific Brisbane language school was going to pay off. It felt like everyone I met had this grand, well-oiled plan—studying at Deakin or aiming for ANU—while I was just trying to figure out how to order coffee without the barista looking at me like I was from another planet. The initial buzz of being in Australia faded pretty quickly once the reality of rent and the price of groceries hit. I ended up staying in a homestay for the first month, which was fine, but the transition from a structured environment to actually managing my own schedule felt like jumping into a deep pool without knowing how to swim. My friends kept mentioning the graduation visa requirements, and honestly, the sheer amount of administrative paperwork was enough to make me want to fly back home.

The reality of balancing work and classes

It’s funny because, back home, I used to read these success stories about people working at Korean restaurants in Brisbane, clocking 18-hour shifts to save money before switching to full-time study. I thought I could handle that. Spoiler: I absolutely could not. Trying to maintain that 80% attendance rate for my student visa while working part-time hours in a kitchen felt like a recipe for a total burnout. There were weeks where I’d show up to class practically falling asleep in my seat, and the teachers clearly noticed. It wasn’t just about the English; it was about keeping my head above water. I looked at the SPC Cairns options briefly, wondering if being in a smaller city would have been cheaper, especially since those packages often hover around 2 million KRW per month, including the basics. Maybe the cost difference would have made my life easier, but then again, I was already here.

Dealing with the uncertainty of diplomas and future paths

I spent a lot of time looking into culinary programs, specifically the ones affiliated with Le Cordon Bleu in Sydney or Melbourne, since they aren’t even running the Brisbane campus for the 2025 intake. It felt like every time I got close to a decision, the goalposts moved. My parents were constantly sending me links to various overseas study fairs, pushing for a more ‘stable’ path like nursing. They’d mention the demand for nurses and the potential for long-term residency, but that’s not really what I was there for, at least not initially. I just wanted to survive the transition without losing my mind. Watching people drop out of their courses because the academic requirements were just too rigid was sobering. I think about that a lot, even now.

Why I still struggle to label the experience

It’s been a while, and people always ask me if I regret doing it. I don’t have a simple answer. The classes at the language school helped with my confidence, sure, but the real growth happened during those annoying hours spent fixing visa documents or figuring out why my bank account balance was dropping faster than expected. Sometimes I think I could have just gone on a working holiday and skipped the formal schooling, but then I wouldn’t have met the people who helped me navigate the city. Was the tuition worth it? Maybe. Or maybe I just paid for the experience of feeling completely lost for a few months. I’m not sure I’ve fully processed it, and I’m still not certain if I’d do it the same way if I were back at the starting line. Sometimes the most frustrating parts are the ones that actually make you stick around.