Culture Shocks] From Seoul to Toronto to NYC to London: Making Sense of My Journey Across Continents

Hi All,

Today I wanted to share something very personal. I wanted to invite you to make sense of my upbringing with me — to share some of the observations and culture shocks I’ve experienced as I moved across continents: from Seoul, South Korea, to Toronto, Canada, to New York City, and now London, the UK.

These are reflections I’ve been collecting over the past two decades. I was inspired to finally write them down after watching The American Countess — one of those shows that makes you laugh while also making you think about how cultures collide and mix. The Diplomat and Emily in Paris are others that always make me smile when they explore the subtle nuances of cultural difference, but this time I wanted to share my own notes — in a more lighthearted, personal way.

Have you ever lived abroad or worked with people from very different cultural backgrounds? What was it like? What moments surprised you, or changed the way you saw yourself and others?

Where I Started

I was born in Seoul, South Korea — one can argue it is a relatively homogeneous society with a unique, uninterrupted 5,000-year history. Family trees are carefully recorded; if you’re curious enough, you can easily find your ancestral lineage without relying on ancestry.com or DNA tests.

China and the Mongols could never fully conquer the Korean peninsula, and until Japanese colonization for 36 years in the early 20th century, Korea remained independent. It was never colonized by Western powers.

Perhaps because of that long continuity, moving abroad — and encountering different ways of life — brought one cultural shock after another. Over the years I’ve lived and worked with people from every corner of the world: the US, Europe, Latin America, Africa, and the Middle East.

The Journey Begins

I left South Korea alone to study abroad at age 14 or 15, and grew up in Canada, living with German and Israeli host families. My high school was a microcosm of the world: half Jewish, a third Hong Kong families who had emigrated after 1997, another third Muslims from Afghanistan and the Middle East, and the rest Russian, Indian, Pakistani, Irish, and Scottish descendants.

I became an honorary Muslim and an honorary Irish person — celebrating every cultural event along the way (my only acceptable alcohol at the time was Guinness). Because so many students and teachers were Jewish, the school observed both Jewish holidays and Canadian national ones.

In grocery stores, every product was labeled in both English and French. From a homogeneous society to an Anglo-Saxon plus Franco multicultural one, my Canadian experience was truly transformative — it was my “zero to one” moment.

When I later moved to New York City, the multicultural theme continued — only this time with a Spanish twist instead of a French one. My apartment was near the UN, so I was surrounded by diplomats, their families, and staff. I joined ShARE, a global university club with chapters in over forty countries, and spent time with friends from across Europe, Africa, Asia, and Latin America. During this time, my best friends were from the Netherlands and Brazil and three of us pretty much traveled around the world, visiting each other and also going on new adventures. My life constantly felt like a small UN gathering — loud, lively, endlessly diverse.

Then, in 2017, I moved to London. Continuing the thread from my high-school days, I had German flatmates and friends from Austria, Italy, Switzerland, France, Sweden, and beyond — people who introduced me to the Alpine culture. In London, I also began to learn about colonization, empire, and migration through my African, Caribbean, and Indian-descendant friends, whose perspectives helped me understand history — and myself — in a new light.

Everyday Realities (As I Experienced Them)

*Germany/Israel: Based on host family experiences during high school and as flatmates—not full residency.

What Stands Out to Me Now

• The coldness: I learned bone-chilling coldness in Canada. South Korea has four distinct seasons and winter is cold (-10 to -20°C) as wind comes from Siberia. But in Ontario, there are no major mountains in sight, so when it rains or snows, it's gusty—gusty wind on relatively flat plains. Nature is beautiful though.
• The cultural coexistence. When I stayed with my German host family, I used to eat cakes with them at set times. Later with my Jewish host family, I would celebrate all their holidays and family traditions, including Shabbat, Yom Kippur, etc. In high school, kids from everywhere just... got along. Everyone honored their home culture.
• The labels: In the US, "Asian" means Northeast and Southeast Asians. Indians are called Indians. In London, "Asian" means Indians and others—not East Asians at all. Same word, completely different meaning.
• The energy: NYC is very dynamic, very masculine. People are hustlers and at times you may feel like you're in a fish market—dog eat dog. But you get what you put in. Lots of social mobility. It's the gem of America's identity as the country of immigrants. You see the juxtaposition of homeless people and millionaires taking the subway together. Lots of tourists everywhere.
• The rules: You cannot drink or buy alcohol on the street in Canada—you have to buy alcohol in designated stores with your government ID. This was such a shock coming from Korea.
• The French everywhere: Because of French influence, every product has both English and French descriptions at least in Ontario. But once you go to the French district Quebec, everything is written in French, including road signs. You'll be sorry unless you speak French.
• Weather in London: It's just... different. That's all I can say.

Why I’m Sharing This

After twenty-two years abroad, I finally feel comfortable sharing my own point of view and voice. I’ve been in London for eight years now. As I learn more about colonization, the British Empire, and migration — and how these legacies shape the places we live — I’m also learning how they shaped me.

These reflections are not academic. They are lived experience.

My transition from South Korea to Canada as a teenager was a big jump, but easier than expected — Canadians are as kind and inclusive as their reputation. Moving from Canada to NYC was also relatively smooth; every move is difficult, but in hindsight, the energy of New York felt familiar and alive.

The hardest move was from NYC to London. It took years of inner work to understand my experience — to see beyond sensitivity and learn to hold complexity without feeling defensive or victimized.

In the U.S., people are openly friendly, eager to connect. In London, the social rhythm is different — fragmented, multilingual, filled with quiet reserve. As an introvert, that atmosphere sometimes left me feeling “othered.” Unless you make the first move, people may assume things about you. I often struggled to introduce myself, even to say my name. Having grown up trained to guard my family’s privacy — my father once held a public role in South Korea — I carried that secrecy in my body long after he retired. That reticence probably read as mystery to others, and sometimes misunderstanding followed.

I also encountered new words like Global South, which I had never heard before. Some friends from formerly colonized countries would call me “people like us.” I was confused — Korea had never been colonized by the West — yet somehow, they sensed kinship. It made me reflect on how identity isn’t just history; it’s perception, and context.

There were undercurrents of classism, racism, and sexism. Things felt more streamlined between the Commonwealth countries — the UK, India, South Africa, and others — because of shared institutions and systems inherited from empire. The same patterns existed in other European contexts too.

But after the pandemic, something shifted. As I learned more history and connected with people personally, I realized that most of this isn’t personal at all. People here are warm and kind, like everywhere else. I just needed to become more certain of who I am — and more direct about it.

For many years, I was confused about my own cultural identity, as many expats are. In South Korea, I was often told I wasn’t “Korean enough.” Outside of it, I didn’t belong to the immigrant community either — I wasn’t an immigrant. Among the first-generation Korean immigrants abroad, I still wasn’t Korean enough; I was called a “banana” — yellow on the outside, white on the inside.

In places beyond Korea, I was still seen as “the other,” often reduced to a student, a foreigner, an expat. Those were my early experiences — until I began to transcend the labels altogether. For a while, I tried to adopt a new identity: a global citizen. But I soon realized that not many people could truly relate to it unless they, too, came from diplomatic families or had lived in multiple countries and cultures themselves. Most people wanted a simple answer — something that fit neatly in a box.

This is a living document. I’m still learning, still connecting dots between daily life and the deeper histories that shape it.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

I’d love to hear from you:

• What culture-shock moment eventually became something you now find comforting or normal?
• Did any of my observations resonate — or feel completely off?
• What small ritual defines “home” for you that outsiders might never notice?
• If you’ve moved between cultures, what’s one thing you wish you’d known before the move?

Share your reflections in the comments or message me directly. As I continue exploring how colonization, migration, and identity show up in daily life, I’d love to hear your stories too.

Let’s build a more honest, kinder map of our shared experiences — one story at a time.