I started looking for flights before I even knew if I wanted to stay

Deciding to leave felt less like a plan and more like a reflex

I remember sitting in my room, staring at the screen until my eyes felt like they were going to dry out. People talk about working holidays like they are these grand, transformative journeys, but honestly, mine started because I just didn’t want to be in my office anymore. I wasn’t running toward a dream; I was running away from the specific, mundane misery of a schedule that never ended. My friends were all talking about the COEX Australia study abroad fair, obsessing over which city to pick, whether to do an internship, or if it was worth the money to enroll in a university language center. I kept thinking about the costs, which were honestly hovering around 15 to 20 million won for a decent setup if you actually count the tuition for a language school in Melbourne or Sydney and the living expenses for the first few months.

The reality of the first week was just exhaustion

When I finally got on the plane, I didn’t feel the sudden rush of freedom that movies promise. I felt tired. My first week was mostly spent trying to find a decent place to live that didn’t cost a fortune. I had seen some online listings for shared rooms in Melbourne that looked okay, but when I actually walked into the apartment, the smell was weirdly dusty and the furniture looked like it had been salvaged from a basement. It was about 300 AUD a week, which felt like a lot for a room that barely fit a desk. I remember standing there in the middle of the hallway, wondering if I had made a terrible mistake. The excitement I thought I would feel was completely overshadowed by the immediate need to figure out where the nearest grocery store was and how to set up a local phone plan without getting scammed.

Language schools are not the magic bullet everyone claims

Everyone at home told me that if I just enrolled in a language school, my English would magically improve and I’d make a million friends. I ended up signing up for a short-term intensive course at a small school near the city center. It cost me roughly 400 AUD per week. The reality? I spent most of my time with other people who were also from Korea, Japan, or Taiwan. We were all there for the same reason—to improve, but we ended up just hanging out in our own language bubbles because it was comfortable. I’d walk out of class, go to a cafe, and spend another 5 to 7 AUD on a coffee just to sit there and wonder if I should have just spent my time looking for a part-time job instead. It felt like I was paying for a social club rather than an education, which made me feel guilty about the money my parents had helped me save.

The feeling of never quite belonging anywhere

There is this strange, lingering feeling of being a ghost. You aren’t a tourist, but you aren’t really a local either. You walk around these cities, seeing the same people every day at the same coffee shops, but you know your visa has an expiration date. I met someone who was on their second year of a working holiday, and they still looked like they were waiting for their real life to begin. I found myself comparing my situation to the people in those documentaries—the ones who seem to find themselves perfectly through travel—but I mostly just found myself worrying about my bank account balance and whether I’d ever actually be fluent enough to hold a ‘real’ job back home. It wasn’t the heroic story I wanted to tell, but it was just what happened.

Why I stayed even when it got boring

I didn’t leave when the money got tight or when the initial excitement wore off after the first month. I think I stayed because admitting that it was just… okay… felt like failing. I kept busy with small, menial tasks, sometimes working shifts at a local cafe that didn’t pay nearly enough to cover my rent. I kept reminding myself that I had a year. Now, looking back, I’m not even sure if I did it for the right reasons. Maybe I just needed a break, and that’s fine. But the uncertainty of not knowing if this ‘experience’ actually added anything to my life is something I still haven’t managed to shake off. It’s just one of those things you do, and then you come back, and you’re mostly just the same person, just with a few more weird memories of grocery store runs and rental contract stress.