It’s been four weeks since I arrived in South Korea, and I have to say—it’s been a pretty amazing ride so far. I’ve gotten to explore parts of Gangnam, take in the peaceful atmosphere of Bongeunsa Buddhist Temple, get lost (in the best way) at the massive COEX Starfield Mall, and look out over the city from the top of Lotte World Tower. On the food side, I’ve started branching out beyond Korean cuisine and have found some solid spots for Japanese, Indian, Italian, and even Mexican food scattered throughout Seoul. Every week has brought new discoveries, and the city constantly surprises me with how modern and efficient it is.

But while I’ve been exploring the city and tasting its cuisine, there’s one cultural adjustment that’s been unexpectedly tough: Korea’s social norm of minding your own business. This is the biggest part of South Korea’s culture that I am struggling to assimilate with so far. Coming from a place where casual small talk, spontaneous interactions, and helping strangers out are just everyday things, I’ve found it very difficult to get used to the extreme discretion and quiet distance that outlines so many social interactions here.

At first, it does feel kind of nice. No one stares at you for what you’re wearing. No one asks you nosy or annoying questions. You’re basically free to exist in your own bubble without interruption. But over time, that bubble starts to feel a very isolating. People avoid eye contact on the everywhere from subway stations and bus rides to when your ordering food or even just saying sorry for bumping in to someone. There’s a strong sense that everyone is expected to quietly navigate life without interfering in anyone else’s.

There are definitely times when this restraint feels like emotional distance. Back home, making light conversation with a stranger in line or chatting with someone at the bus stop is totally normal. Here in Korea that is not the case. Not because people are unfriendly, but because initiating a random conversation can come across as intrusive. It’s a kind of cultural humility that prioritizes giving others privacy—but it also shuts down the potential for spontaneous human connection, which is something I respect about other countries.

On a more positive note, I have not experienced this same level of distance at my workplace. In fact, my coworkers have been surprisingly warm and engaged from the beginning. My boss and coworkers regularly check in with me, offer help without hesitation, and seem genuinely interested in getting to know me, both professionally and personally. There is a strong sense of team spirit in the office and that has created space for more openness and support. I don’t feel the same emotional isolation at work that I sometimes do in public spaces, and that contrast has helped me stay grounded while adjusting to life here.

What makes life outside the workplace harder is that, because South Korea is such a homogenous society, there’s not always an understanding that foreigners might find these norms unfamiliar. There isn’t a ton of hand holding or spoon feeding more most things. The expectation is often that you will just pick it up on your own. So while you might stand out physically as a foreigner, you can feel invisible in emotional and social terms. People may notice you, but they won’t necessarily engage with you, which can be a lonely place to land in. It’s a very unique experience, feeling super visible and completely unseen all at the same time.

Despite all of this, I have come to appreciate that kindness in Korea just takes a quieter form. Like when someone will scoot over to give you space on a packed subway without saying a word, or when a convenience store clerk adds a small free item to your bag just because. Or how cafes leave out boxes of umbrellas on rainy days for anyone who might need one. There’s a subtle generosity baked into the culture—it’s just not loud or obvious.

So yeah, adjusting to Seoul means rethinking how connection works. It means understanding that respect here often looks like silence, and care doesn’t always announce itself. I’ve had to learn that just because someone doesn’t ask about your day doesn’t mean they don’t care. And just because people don’t speak to you doesn’t mean they’re ignoring you. That’s been a little bit of a experience for me so far—but it is certainly fascinating.